#cold steel 100

[nihilismbot]

Hi. My name is Juna Dark'ness Dementia Raven Crawford and I have long pink hair (that's not how I got my name) with fushia streaks and salmon tips that reaches my mid back and minty green eyes like sparkling emeralds and a lot of people tell me I look like Estelle Bright (a/n: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm a Crossbellian but I wasn't in Zero. I have pale white skin. I'm a cop, and I go to a military academy called Thors in Erebonia where I'm in Class VII (I'm seventeen). I'm a prep (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly my school uniform. I love the Times Department Store and I used to buy all my clothes from there. But today I was wearing a white mini skirt with blue stripes on the bottom, a blue jacket with white cuffs, a blue vest underneath, red socks, and black boots with gold trim. I was wearing pink lipstick, natural foundation, black eyeliner, and neutral eye shadow. I was walking outside Thors. It was raining and snowing so there was no sun, which I knew meant a dramatic scene was going to happen. A lot of students stared at me. I put up my hand in greeting at them.

"Hey Juna!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was.... Kurt Vander!

"What's up Kurt?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call to me and I had to go away.

[inkedmyths]

Losing it for a second bc I'm scrolling through my phone notes and came across my middle of the night screaming from when I was first going through Trails of Cold Steel 4 as I was turning into one of those conspiracy theorists with the corkboard in my mind

And then ended both of my rambles with I'M GOING TO CHEW GLASS lmaoooo

[memorydragon]

Yeah, I need to play a happier jrpg next...

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey! I love your Cregan fics💕 is it okay if i ask for another fluff Cregan fic?👉👈 i just can't get enough of Cregan fluff

Poison Berries

Who would win? 100 tongues slandering the lady of Winterfell or 1 Cregan Stark?

Cregan Stark x Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, insecurities, implied body shaming, protective!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this is totally me projecting cos my sis and i got body shamed today. it be ur own family i swear

"Where is my wife?" is the first thing Lord Stark says when he returns from his errands. He grunts as he dismounts his horse, eyes fixed upon the stable boy who takes his horse by the reins.

He grunts again at the lack of response and explains, "she told me she would be here when I returned."

The boy shrugs, "I don't know, milord. 've not seen milady all day."

He huffs and nods. He decides to simply look for you in your shared chambers, thinking you would probably be there. Finding your quarters empty, he heads to the library, then the solar, the kitchen, and soon- "where is my wife?!" is heard and repeated all across Winterfell.

Someone tells him you went into the woods to forage, and so naturally, he asks who you left with. He receives no name, and quickly it dawns you had left the safety of stronghold alone. His heart races. How long have you been out? By the old gods, how long have you been out?

Cregan mounts his horse at once and patrols the land. He screams your name out so loudly it disrupts the surrounding wildlife.

He snaps when he hears a response. He is unmistaken; that was your voice calling out his name. Quickly, he answers your call and rides toward you. He nearly leaps from his horse when he spots you, face crestfallen, hair frosty.

He calls your name again, much softer now, voice laced in worry. He captures your cheeks in his hands, hissing when he feels it's unnatural coolness, "are you well?"

You hold a guilty expression as he moves to rub your shoulders.

"Why have you left unaccompanied?" Cregan huffs hotly, his breath condensing with the air, "has something happened?"

"Cregan-" you place your hands on his chest. He stops rubbing your arms.

He watches how you lower your gaze. His face hardens with concern, "my love, speak to me."

You look up at him, eyes now pinkish and teary.

His jaw clenches. He huffs through his nostrils.

"I overheard... ..."

Cregan's expression softens. He clutches your cheeks, "speak," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "I implore you to speak."

Your sigh turns to fog. You shrug, "they do not think I... I am a true Northern bride."

"True?" he snaps, "you are a Northern bride," he brushes your hair back, "I am Northern and you are my bride."

Your tears become too heavy.

Cregan's stomach churns as he wipes your tears. He hushes you and mutters under his breath, "there can be no truer bride than that of the Lord of Winterfell's."

"I fare horribly in the cold."

"You will grow accustomed to it."

"I do not know how to start a fire."

"Then I shall teach you, if you must lear-"

"But I do not look the part!"

Cregan's face drops.

Your tears begin to turn to frost. Your voice is small, "I do not look like the other ladies. I do not wear the furs well, I do not look shapely... I feel beastly. I was not forged by steel as you are, husband."

He rubs your cheeks, determined to warm you, "and who would slander my wife? Force her to feast on lies?"

You scoff and lower your gaze

"Would that you need be forged by steel-"

You shake your head, "it does not matter."

"It matters greatly," he releases your cheeks, "I will have them answer to their accusations," he clenches his fists, "and we shall see how their furs suit them when they've wet them."

You look up at Cregan, brows furrowing at the sight of his increasing fury.

"I would have them grovel," he mutters, "and sentence them to the Wall if they do not-"

You lips part, "Cregan-"

"Do they believe I would not do that much for the lady of mine own house? My lady?"

"Cregan," you rub the collar of his cloak.

He examines you. A line forms between his brows as he reaches for your wrist.

You look at each other for a moment. His thumb rubs circles on your skin. You raise your brows, "I... I picked a few berries for you," you turn to the basket that laid forgotten on the ground.

His gaze shifts to it.

"Though, I must admit... I am uncertain if they are edible."

He chuckles and takes your hand in his. He kisses your knuckles.

You offer him a soft smile.

The man hums, "perhaps we shall see by feeding them to the slanderers."

You whip your head back, "Cregan."

"A jest... a jest, my lady."

[heliosunny]

Hi hi, I read your lucky egg yuan x reader and thought a bond system was super creative!! So I have a request!!

Can I request a streamer/general Jing yuan playing an otome game where you/the reader are one of the love interests? And he was absolutely obsessed with character!reader that he’d literally drop so much money on the game, but one day, after maybe a poisoning incident, he ends up isekai’d into said otome game. Reader has a favoribility bar and everything and he does all the quests to raise your bar 🤭🤭. And and! If a love interest hits 100% favoribility in the game, they go yandere so maybe a bit of soft yan y/n?

It would also be super interesting to see yuan scheme everything cuz of his big brain 😌😌

I hope you have a good day and stay hydrated!!!

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫.

[𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙣] Chat: — "Jing Yuan, you’re literally broke because of this game." — "BRO JUST DATE A REAL PERSON." — "He’s already too far gone… let him be." — "Who’s your bias again? (Not that we don’t know lol)." — "Watch him go straight to Y/N and ignore all the others."

The chat scrolled at breakneck speed, but Jing Yuan barely paid attention, his fingers already navigating past the main menu. His voice was smooth, teasing, as he leaned closer to the mic.

“Come now, you all know the answer to that” his lips curling into a smirk. His stream setup was pristine—dual monitors casting a cool glow over his silver hair, the dim lighting making his golden eyes gleam.

The title screen of Astral Regnum shimmered before him, revealing the stunning artwork of the heroes of the kingdom. But his gaze, as always, honed in on the one he cared about most. You.

Chat: — "Damn, he didn’t even LOOK at them LMAO." — "He’s speedrunning a 2D romance with Y/N." — "NPCs crying in the corner."

Jing Yuan chuckled, skipping past the banners of the other love interests like they were mere background noise. “Why waste time?” His voice dipped lower, fond. “Y/N is the only one that matters.”

A swordmaster. A warrior feared on the battlefield, but with a heart that only opened to those they deemed worthy. In the game’s lore, [Y/N] was the blade of the Astral Regnum heroes—a relentless force of nature, cutting down enemies with precision. And yet, their favorability system was notoriously difficult.

That only made it more satisfying when he raised it.

He knew what you liked. What you hated. Every hidden event, every dialogue choice that made your heart skip.

And he had spent—How much money again? He didn’t care.

Tonight, he was going to hit the final 100%.

With a flick of his wrist, he loaded his save file—the one where his favorability with you was already in the high 90s.

The screen faded to black.

…A sharp knock at the door.

Jing Yuan blinked, momentarily snapping out of his immersion. Who the hell—?

His chat reacted instantly.

Chat: — "Uh oh, debt collectors?" — "Jing Yuan’s about to get isekai’d, watch." — "Bet it’s his manager coming to stop his spending spree."

With a lazy sigh, he muted the mic and pushed his chair back. He had just reached for the door when a strange, sharp scent flooded his senses.

His vision blurred.

The last thing he saw was the game screen still glowing on his monitor, your character’s sprite standing there, waiting.

𝐋𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝…

The first thing he felt was the cold, the way it bit into his skin—so vivid, so unlike the temperature-controlled room he had been in just moments ago. His ears rang with the echo of distant battle cries, the clash of steel, the unmistakable scent of blood.

Jing Yuan opened his eyes. His smirk returned instantly.

He knew exactly where he was.

Above him, the skies of Astral Regnum stretched endlessly, clouds tinged red by the fires of war.

“…I really hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. He turned just in time to see you- covered in blood, battle-worn eyes feral with focus. Your sword pointed straight at him.

Jing Yuan had always admired you— your presence, your unwavering strength. But seeing you in the flesh, drenched in blood with the weight of battle in your stance?

It was exhilarating.

The tip of your sword hovered just inches from his throat, gleaming under the eerie glow of magic-infused flames.

“Identify yourself.”

Jing Yuan barely resisted the urge to grin. Even in the game, you never trusted strangers easily—it was one of the many things that had made raising your favorability so difficult.

But unlike his first playthrough, he didn’t need to fumble through dialogue choices or waste time figuring out what worked.

He already knew exactly what to do.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender, keeping his posture relaxed despite the threat at his throat. “Ah, forgive me. I seem to have found myself in the middle of a battlefield, and I’d rather not lose my head before I’ve even introduced myself.”

Your eyes narrowed, scanning him like a predator sizing up prey. He knew you were analyzing everything—his stance, his expression, any hint of deception.

Chat would’ve gone wild seeing this. Too bad they weren’t here.

“…You’re not dressed like a soldier” you noted, your grip on the hilt still firm.

He wasn’t. The clothes he wore were a mix of modern and fantasy—game mechanics at work, likely adjusting his form to fit the world. He still had his signature robes, but now they looked more battle-worn, reforged in Astral Regnum’s style.

“Observant, as expected” he mused. “I’m not part of any faction. Just a traveler who seems to have ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Your expression remained unreadable, but the fact that you hadn’t killed him on the spot meant he had already passed the first test.

“Captain!” A voice called from the distance. A scout.

Jing Yuan watched as your gaze flickered between him and the approaching soldier. You had a decision to make—cut him down now, or deal with him later?

The game’s mechanics dictated that you wouldn’t kill someone outright if they weren’t confirmed as a threat. That much, he remembered.

“Tie him up” you ordered.

Jing Yuan barely bit back a chuckle as rough hands grabbed his arms, binding his wrists.

Oh we're doing this route? How fun.

“Smart choice” he murmured as your men hauled him up. “But I do wonder… how long will you be able to keep me restrained?”

You didn’t answer. You only turned your back on him, leading the way toward your war camp.

He didn’t mind starting as a prisoner.

After all— He was still going to reach 100%.

----

Jing Yuan sat calmly, bound at the wrists, as the flickering glow of firelight cast shifting shadows across the war tent. Soldiers bustled outside, sharpening blades, murmuring strategies, unaware that the man they had just captured knew more about their war than they did.

It was strange watching everything unfold in real-time.

Even stranger was seeing you like this—not through a screen, but right in front of him. The real you, expression unreadable as you stood by a large map, analyzing war strategies.

A part of him wanted to watch forever.

But that wasn’t the plan.

You finally turned your gaze to him, those sharp eyes glinting under the lantern light. “You don’t seem particularly concerned about your situation.”

Jing Yuan gave a lazy smile. “Should I be?”

Your soldiers shifted uncomfortably, but you merely crossed your arms. “You’re suspicious. You’re too well-groomed for a lost traveler, and you don’t have the look of a mercenary. Are you a spy?”

“No,... But I might be useful to you.”

One of your officers scoffed. “You expect us to believe that?”

“I expect your Captain to consider it.” His gaze remained on you. “You wouldn’t have kept me alive if you didn’t at least think there was value in hearing me out.”

You didn’t deny it. You're still the same, that calculative and careful one. And yet strangely soft toward those who prove their worth.

He could work with that.

“…Fine” you finally said, tone measured. “You’ll stay here under guard. Prove your worth, or you’ll regret it.”

Jing Yuan chuckled, flexing his fingers slightly. “I thought you weren't the type to threat-”

“Don't test me.”

The chains around Jing Yuan’s wrists weren’t tight enough to hurt, but they were a firm reminder—he was not trusted.

But that was fine.

Because trust could be built.

He watched as you dismissed your soldiers one by one, your fingers ghosting over the map on the table. The battlefield was shifting, and you were at the center of it.

Jing Yuan had watched countless cutscenes of you strategizing like this, studying every small movement, every sharp-eyed decision. But seeing it in person was entirely different.

“You’re staring” you muttered without looking up.

Jing Yuan chuckled. “Nothing, I was just thinking.”

Finally, you glanced at him, arms crossed. “About what?”

“That I can help you win.”

“Oh? And why would a ‘lost traveler’ know anything about war?”

Jing Yuan leaned forward slightly, “Because I know your enemies better than they know themselves.”

That caught your attention.

“Go on”

“Your next battle is in three days. Your enemies will try to flank from the west, but their supplies are running thin. If you push them into a defensive position before they can regroup, you’ll win with minimal casualties.”

“And how exactly would you know that?”

Jing Yuan’s smile didn’t waver. “Does it matter?”

“Fine, I'll test your theory.”

If you followed his strategy, he’d prove his worth.

And when you won?

You’d start to trust him.

The war camp was quieter than usual. Outside, soldiers murmured in low voices, preparing for the upcoming battle.

Jing Yuan stood a few feet away, his hands still bound, watching you with a patient smile.

Just as he was about to speak, the tent flap rustled.

"You're still awake?"

Jing Yuan's smile faltered for the briefest second as another figure stepped inside—one of your close friends. They walked in casually, eyes flickering to Jing Yuan before turning back to you.

Jing Yuan had seen them before, an important side character, someone who frequently appeared in your storyline. But now that he was here, living in this world, they felt like a nuisance.

"I'm reviewing the battle plans again" you replied, rubbing your temples. Your friend sighed, stepping beside you.

"You should rest. You've been at this all day."

Jing Yuan watched as they reached forward, lightly flicking your forehead in a playful manner.

He had never liked this character, even when he played the game. They always lingered too close, always made you smile in ways that should have been reserved for him.

But now?

Now, he was right here, watching them steal your attention.

He could see the way you relaxed around them, how comfortable you were. He knew it was natural—you had a long history together in the game. But that didn’t stop the quiet frustration from simmering beneath his skin.

That should be him.

Jing Yuan let out a soft chuckle, stepping forward slightly, just enough to make his presence known.

“You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “for someone so concerned about their commander’s well-being, you don’t seem too worried about distracting them.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

Jing Yuan’s smile didn’t waver. “An observer.” He let his gaze linger on your friend a little too long before shifting back to you. “Besides, I don’t think they need to be reminded to rest. They know their limits.”

You let out an amused exhale. “You talk as if you’ve known me for a long time.”

“I just have good instincts.”

Your friend didn’t seem convinced, but they let it slide, instead turning back to you.

Jing Yuan barely heard what they said next. His focus was elsewhere—on the small details.

The way they leaned in when they spoke. The way you didn’t pull away. The way your voice softened, just slightly, in response.

He didn't like it.

But he wouldn’t show it.

----

Jing Yuan was a strategist. Whether in the real world or in this one, he always played to win. Now, you were real. And he would ensure that he was the only one who mattered to you.

The game had always emphasized that actions mattered more than words.

So he made sure every move he made left an impression.

He cooked for you when you were too exhausted after training.

He tended to the wounded, proving he wasn’t just a fighter but someone who cared.

He trained with your soldiers, earning their respect.

He always stayed one step behind you, never overstepping—but never too far away.

And every time you hesitated, every time you looked at him as more than just an outsider, his favorability bar climbed.

[ +15 Favorability ] [ +5 Favorability ] [ +20 Favorability ]

It was slow, steady, but inevitable.

Sure he had made mistakes. Like that one moment where he didn't take your concerns seriously.

"Something’s off about this place" you had murmured, scanning the area. "Maybe, but worrying too much causes wrinkles."

You shot him a look. "Remind me why I even talk to you?"

He laughed. "Because you like me."

At that moment? Not so much. [-15 Favorability]

Or that other time when he was overconfident.

"You should fall back. I’ll handle the rest."

You had scoffed, annoyed. "I don’t need you to protect me."

He shrugged. "Still, wouldn’t want you to get hurt—"

You ignored him and struck the final blow yourself. [-20 Favorability]

Still, everything was carefully choreographed—down to the smallest details. And every time you acknowledged him, every time your gaze lingered just a second longer than before, he knew—

Your favorability bar ticked up.

[ +5 Favorability ] [ +10 Favorability ]

Jing Yuan was patient. But patience had its limits.

When another comrade slung an arm over your shoulder, laughing too freely—his grip on his sword tightened.

When someone dared to flirt with you, his golden eyes flickered with an emotion no one caught.

When you smiled at someone else with the same warmth you gave him, a quiet hum left his lips.

For now, he could hold back.

Because soon, it wouldn’t matter.

Because soon, you wouldn’t even look at anyone else.

----

Jing Yuan never gambled. Because every move has its purpose.

And right now—

Your favorability stood at 75%

It was a beautiful number. But it wasn’t enough.

So, he prepared.

𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠...

The system had always been a passive observer. A tool meant to track your feelings, your reactions, your downfall into love.

But today, it would be more than that.

Today, it would be his weapon.

—— Favorability Shop Opened. Current Balance: [Unlimited] Recommended Purchases:

1️⃣ [Memory Trigger Perfume] – A fragrance designed to evoke past emotions and subconscious attachments. [50,000 pts] 2️⃣ [Heroic Crisis Event] – An orchestrated situation where the player can prove their devotion to the target. [100,000 pts] 3️⃣ [Lingerie Set??? ] – Also a valid strategy.... [25,000 pts] ——

Jing Yuan exhaled slowly, amusement flickering in his gaze as he scrolled past the last item.

I'll save that for later.

For now—he bought the first two.

The memory trigger

The next time you saw him, the scent was already on him.

It wasn’t overwhelming. Just a faint trace. Familiar.

You frowned slightly. “What is that smell?”

Jing Yuan feigned confusion. “Does it bother you?”

“No, it’s just…” You hesitated. Something nagged at you. Something you couldn’t quite grasp.

It reminded you of safety. A feeling you had lost.

And deep down, your heart tightened.

“Maybe you’ve smelled it before” he mused, watching you struggle. “Maybe… it’s something important to you.”

You didn’t respond.

But later that night—long after he had left—you found yourself missing it.

And just like that, your favorability rose to 80%

The Heroic Crisis

Jing Yuan knew you were strong. You didn’t need a savior. You could protect yourself. But even strong people had moments of weakness.

And he was going to be there when it happened.

So, when the system triggered the attack, everything was perfect.

Your instincts kicked in immediately. You dodged, countered, struck back.

But the moment you faltered—

Jing Yuan was there.

His blade met theirs. His body shielded yours.

Blood dripped from his arm, but he barely noticed. His eyes stayed on you.

And then, as if in a trance, your lips parted.

“Jing Yuan…”

Your favorability skyrocketed.

90%.

95%.

----

The fire crackled softly, flickering between the two of you. It wasn’t often that you got quiet moments like this. No battles. Just peace.

And strangely—you didn’t mind his presence.

Jing Yuan sat across from you, his white hair slightly tousled from the night breeze.

“Is there something on my face?”

“N-No..Nothing”

“Then why are you staring?”

“I'm not!”

He chuckled. “Not that I mind.”

You scoffed and looked away, but you didn’t deny it. Truth was.. this felt nice.

Jing Yuan stretched his arms behind his head, letting out a content sigh. “You know, this is rare.”

You glanced at him. “What is?”

He smiled lazily. “Seeing you relaxed.”

“I like it.” His voice was quieter this time. “I like seeing you like this.”

Jing Yuan had always been playful, unpredictable. But tonight—his gaze was softer.

And something inside you stirred.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “It’s... nice.”

“Then let’s have more nights like this.”

Your heart skipped. That's not a bad idea.

----

Jing Yuan knew, step by step, you were falling.

Not yet—not completely. But you were softening.

And tonight, he was going to make sure you fell just a little bit more.

The town was lively even in the late hours. Lanterns swayed overhead, casting warm golden hues over the bustling streets. You walked beside Jing Yuan, carrying a small pouch of supplies for your next journey.

It had been his idea to take a detour here. A little break from the usual battles, something about “enjoying the little things.”

But just as you passed by a fruit stall—

“Hey—!”

You barely registered the blur of motion before your pouch was yanked from your grasp.

A small, ragged figure darted through the crowd, slipping between merchants and customers like a shadow.

Jing Yuan reacted immediately.

“Stay close.”

Then he moved.

You both weaved through the market, dodging carts and startled pedestrians. The thief was fast, but you were faster.

“Persistent little one, aren’t they?”

You didn’t waste breath responding—just focused on cutting off the escape.

And then—a dead end.

The thief skidded to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, chest heaving.

A boy, no older than ten. Grimy, thin and desperate.

Your pouch dangled from his shaking grip.

Behind him, three younger kids peeked out from behind broken crates, their eyes wide with fear.

He wasn’t stealing for himself. He was trying to feed them.

You felt something in your chest tighten.

Jing Yuan stepped forward—not in anger, but with a sigh.

“Stealing is a bad habit, you know?” His voice was light, almost teasing. “But... I suppose sometimes, there’s no other choice.”

The boy flinched, hugging the pouch close.

“Please...” he whispered. “I—It’s for them.”

Then, to your surprise, he pulled out his own pouch and tossed it to the ground. The coins inside jingled.

“Go buy food” he said simply. “Real food. Not stolen.”

The boy’s eyes darted between the pouch and Jing Yuan, as if expecting some cruel trick.

“You... you mean it?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, ruffling his own hair. “I’m not heartless, you know.”

You stared at him.

The boy hesitated before dropping your pouch and taking Jing Yuan’s instead. Then, with a quick bow, he grabbed the younger kids’ hands and ran.

Silence stretched between you two as you picked up your pouch.

Jing Yuan smiled, tucking his hands behind his head. “Well, that was fun.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “Handsome too, right?”

You rolled your eyes—but your heart wasn’t in it.

Because for all his teasing and laziness—Jing Yuan was... kind.

And when he turned to you, golden eyes glinting under the lantern lights—

98%

Almost there.

100%

A quiet chime echoed in the back of Jing Yuan’s mind.

It's done.

You belong to me now.

The favorability bar had maxed out, but he wasn’t foolish enough to expect an immediate, dramatic change. No, your obsession was something that would seep in—gentle, like ink bleeding through parchment.

And oh... he couldn’t wait to see it unfold.

----

The battlefield was long behind you. The mission had gone well, leaving only exhaustion and the quiet hum of victory. Now, beneath the vast night sky, a small fire flickered between you and Jing Yuan.

For once, the silence between you was... comfortable.

He leaned back, arms folded behind his head, watching you.

Watching you watch him.

There was a difference in the way you looked at him now. Before, your gaze was wary—guarded, even when amused.

But now?

Now, your eyes lingered.

His lips curved. “Something on your mind?”

You blinked, but instead of denying it, you simply tilted your head. “You’re... a good person.”

His amusement deepened as he sat up slightly, propping his chin on his hand. “Is that so?”

You hummed in response, shifting closer—not much, just enough that the warmth of the fire wasn’t the only heat between you.

And then—you touched him.

Your fingers brushed against his wrist, tracing the faint scars that lined his skin.

“Y/N...”

Your fingers paused, but your gaze didn’t waver. “I was just thinking.”

“How long do you plan to stay with me?”

His smirk faltered for a brief second.

Then—he chuckled.

“Forever.”

He expected a laugh. A scoff. A shake of the head at his dramatic words.

But instead— You smiled.

“I like that answer” you murmured. “You’d better keep it.”

Something in your tone sent a shiver down his spine.

I like that.

I like that a lot.

He had reached 100%. And he couldn't wait to see how far you both would go.

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[muntitled]

𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚'𝙨 𝙇𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pregnancy definitely sucks but you take your complaints too far, and soon, you're left with the laborious task of making it up to Satoru

Warnings: Domestic Fluff, Petty!Satoru, Tantrums, God Complex (It's Satoru), Humor, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Praise Kink, Make up sex, Pregnant sex, Office Sex, Touch starved!reader, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Corruption Kink, Eye Contact, Dirty Talk, Cervix fucking, Lactation kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Subspace, Overstimulation

♡ please excuse me, I'm ovulating

"Is there any way I could park closer? So that your journey might be a quicker one?" Despite his voice dripping with nothing but kindness, you find your eyes narrowing at the taxi driver and his close cropped, black hair.

"I may look fat but my limbs are in perfect working conditions, Sir, I assure you," Admittedly, a low blow. The driver reels back, muttering his profuse apologies which immediately softens your resolve.

It is wholeheartedly unfair. The driver could not anticipate the way in which his words would grate at your wavering kindness. He is essentially blameless and perhaps even considerate in his line of questioning. He didn't have any intentions of insulting you.

After all, It was not his fault that you were currently sporting a nasty bump because Satoru decided to inject you with his release until finally he succeeded and you were burdened with the weight of his spawned and this baby, you feel, is a heavy one. One that has your steel emotions melting into guilt, like the deserted tar under the bright summer sun.

"Just here, should be fine," The taxi driver had gotten an impressive tip to make up for your rudeness and you scooted your way out. Soon, you were on the pavement that led into the forest framed by an impressively maintained torii. The driver eyed the gateway solemnly as you shrugged your backpack on, subconsciously grateful for the sundress combatting the summer heat.

"Have a nice day!" You attempt to soften your voice, as soft as you can make it given your current condition.

Condition.

The thought - that word- has you flinching as you make your way up the mountain. The very reason for this journey playing off in your mind's eye with a freshness.

'Condition?' Satoru, had said when you let the word slip the previous evening. The taxi driver had not been the only one affected by your foul mood but last night you were particularly nasty. Gojo's spawn was on a mission to drain you of all your energy, leeching off your nutrients but expecting you to eat at every hour. The Little Monster was testing your patience and it wasn't even born yet.

'You're having my baby,' Gojo had said, 'Not suffering from a disease.' As you both prepared for bed, Gojo, exchanging his black blindfold for the fluffy pink sleep mask which he had invariably stolen from you, while you wobbled your heaviness into bed.

"Trust me, Satoru, when I say that you honestly could have fooled me.' You scoffed, "This baby is making me sick." It had been more and more difficult to disguise the true nature of pregnancy, especially while everyone around lived their lives so carefree and un-pregnant- but you still should not have said what you said. And Satoru was 100% justified in assuming a tantrum.

You were forced to go to bed, with an ice cold, Satoru, refusing to curl up beside you like he usually did. Instead of brushing up behind you, ready to allay that constant state of need that you were haunted by, Gojo stole his warmth away from you. You went to bed without the sensation of his cock grinding into your ass and his long slender fingers seeking to touch anything and everything until he riled himself up enough to fuck you to sleep. When you thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, Satoru had already disappeared in the morning. He had already gone off to Jujutsu Tech, vehemently ignoring any text message you sent.

And here you were, lumbering your way through the thicket of evergreens that seemed to be growing on top of each other. You would not be surprised if these trees ended up being cursed as well. They invariably seemed to swallow the horizon, doing a stellar job at concealing the beauty of the institution inside.

"Your father hates me," The tiny human incubating inside of you is your only bit of company, and so, you decide to entertain the Little Monster, the closer you get to Jujutsu High. "You're a little demon, but he is too." Your heavy breathing fills the quiet air, "But I still love him and his demonic ways so that really means that I love you too," Unknowingly, your hand had begun to cup the underside of your swollen belly and staying there for the duration of the walk, until the very first towers began to peek from within the evergreens and the sound of jovial laughter reaches your ears.

"Woah-" Itadori is the first person you see once you emerge from the thicket, huffing and puffing with the Wright of your guilt carrying you forward. "Are you... supposed to be here?"

"I'm pregnant, Yuuji, not handicapped-" You began, steadily approaching the temple steps where he and a silent Megumi sat idly. "Gojo, where is he?"

"In his office by now." Replied Itadori, "Hey… did you seriously walk up the mountain just to get some from Gojo-" his crass statement is cut short by Megumi's elbow buried in Yuuji's side and you silently thank the dark haired boy as you drift into the temple.

Despite it all, Itadori's statement may have held a sliver of truth. The walk up the mountain had been a perilous one, admittedly one of your less than thorough ideas, but it also got you the opportunity to see Jujutsu High after 6 difficult months of house arrest. Your innate need to teach and help young sorcerers grow and develop their talents was being made dormant, yet somehow, just being in this place, breathing its air, was revitalising you. You could even swear the Little Monster made a happy little kick against your abdomen. You begin to wonder with shocking excitement what cursed technique this baby would be born with - it's a thought that occupies your mind as you maneuver the relaxing halls of the temple.

The positive energy coursing through your bloodstream only doubles once his door reveals itself at the end of the hall. Your nerves are immediately electrified with a violent current as you pull back the door, enough to slip inside. You could not go 24 hours without Satoru annoying you, and that was apparent. If that made you weak, then so be it.

"Satoru." Your voice comes out quieter than expected as you pull the door shut and turn to face the man seated behind his desk. His seat is reclined towards an open window casting an enchanting breeze, enough to lightly ruffle his pale, white locks. Arms support the back of his head, and his legs are perched on the desk. You can not see his eyes behind his rimless blue tinted shades. Your arrival announces rouses him, and immediately, you can tell you've disturbed him from a nap. Perhaps he did not get much sleep last night either…

"Hmm," Is the only sound he is able to make in the stretched silence, readjusting his position, striving to appear disinterested, "Didn't know they allowed murderers into Jujutsu Tech-"

"'Toru, you've probably killed more people than me,'' You say with a small smile as you venture to close the distance between you too. "And how am I a murderer?"

"You forcing yourself up this mountain makes me think you're trying to kill my baby." You can tell that he is still vehemently angry at you but his head ticks slightly to the side as you make your way behind his desk, pushing his feet off before easing onto it so you can sit opposite him.

"I brought salami sticks and a chicken sandwich," You ease the backpack off your shoulders, ignoring Satoru's head lazily draped on his hand. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning and I know your skinny ass is dying of hunger. You may not look like you eat alot but you and our baby are trying to kill me-"

To that, he had obviously chosen to respond with a crude and petty, 'That'd be my baby, you're referring to. Last I checked, to you, it's a cancer.'

"Satoru, I don't know what you want me to say-"

"I've got a pretty good idea of what I don't want you to say."

Your gaze lowers to your lap as your legs swing above the ground. It is always difficult seeing someone as jovial as Gojo, assume such a cold exterior, especially when it's not in his inherent nature.

"I really wish I can say I didn't mean it, 'Toru but I'm fucking drained," You laugh darkly, "I'm fat and ugly and I can't exercise because this baby hates when I move in a way it doesn't like - even getting up here fucking sucked, but the thought of seeing you kinda helped. Not to mention that fucking housewife next door and her perky tits and her tiny waist, and her non-fat ass-"

"Hey," Throughout the course of your hormonal rant, Satoru has felt himself slide his chair closer to you, until your mnees were directly in front of him. His arms fence you in, while he sat on the edge of his seat, "I love your fat ass, please don't ever diss her again."

His words have you laughing despite the thunderous emotions that had overtaken you just a moment ago. That may have been one of Satoru's many superpowers- allaying the darkened clouds with unexpected sunshine.

"Not to mention my feet hurt constantly, I'm horny all the time and I just wanna feel normal in my own skin. But I neglected your happiness in my own self pity and that's wrong and I'm sorry."

'Please fuck me and never, ever be mad at me again,' is what you would have liked to tack on at the end of that apology but you already felt as if you got enough words out. Truthfully, you really were sitting with a well of need between your legs- the warmth between your stomach only compounding given Gojo's proximity, which only becomes worse as he rises from his seat and slots himself between your legs. You shiver at the feeling of just having him near you.

"Does 'horny all the time' include' right now?" Another violent shiver wracked through your spine as Satoru eases a finger underneath your chin, raising your hooded eyes to his concealed ones. All you can do is nod as your fingers curl around the edge of the desk while your breathing picks up its pace.

"And you're never going to be a mean brat ever again," you're utterly mesmerised by Satoru's pillowy, pink lips crafting every word, so much so that you're unaware of his other hand rubbing along your exposed thigh.

"I'm going to have to hear words, baby." He teases lightly,"I'm going to have to hear that you were wrong," You're not sure what it is about the sing-song voice that has you slipping deep into subspace- perhaps it's the slight condescension sprinkled in with the tone one would use to scold a child. It completely breaks you every time.

Your lips curl downward into an involuntary pout as you say "I'll never be a mean brat to you ever again, Satoru-" a gasp races through your throat as his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your clothed, needy cunt. He is rubbing lightly, almost diabolically slow. Your eyebrows curve into needy crescents as you strive to open your legs wider, hoping his fingers might venture deeper.

"I might forgive you," his broad shoulders are hunched so his lips can reach your ears, "If you stop calling me Satoru and say what you really wanna say,"

He was baiting you for his own rush of pleasure shooting all his blood straight to his hardened cock. Satoru's pants were straining as you realised he needed you to slip into subspace as much as you did. His hand was brushing lightly at the fabric against your clit, but that is as far as he was willing to go. Your breathing is erratic as you attempt to thrust your hips into his hand but your stomach stops you from achieving a lot.

"I need you to fuck me, Daddy," The words drenched with the neediness in your voice is borderline pornopgraphic and it rips a wavering groan from within Gojo's chest.

"You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?" Satoru says now swimming in domspace, while he removes his hand from between your legs to quickly rid you of your sweat-drenched sundress.

"I need you so bad," you admit with an aching whimper as the soft wind rushes over your sensitive nipples. The second he sees them, Gojo's hands are clamped around your pillowy; swollen breasts, squeezing and prodding like a virgin who's never seen tits before.

"Fuck, baby, look at what you do to me," He releases a hoarse laugh as he clamps his other hand around your wrist, forcing your palm around his hard cock straining his pants. "Look at what the fuck you do to me," The both of you release a chorus of moans into the air- you, because his fingers were playing a dangerous game with your leaking nipples and Satoru, because he cannot refrain from grinding into your hand.

His glasses fog as he bends his head to watch beads of milk grow on the tips of your nipple before sliding down your torso with every squeeze.

"When did this start happening?" he asks through clenched teeth before rushing to exclaim, "You're so fucking hot- Fuck!"

"Last night- I wanted to tell you but-" You're immediately silenced by Satoru's lips crashing onto yours while he crowds you, pushing you down onto your back while the sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room. His mouth is absolutely restless as his tongue forces its way inside; eager to push itself against your tongue until you both are kissing each other with a tangle of spit. Your hands immediately find his hair and you pull at the strands as Satoru pulls you to the edge of his desk, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

"You're such a soaked little girl, baby," his voice still condescending and airy, but it riles you up further until you push your hips towards him. "Does Daddy get you this worked up?"

"Yes! Only Daddy can make me feel this way-Just- Please!" Your cries are slotted in the base of your throat as the head of his cock begins to stretch your tense and tight walls. Without thinking, Satoru eases himself deeper, his hips unable to move at a steady pace now that he feels how wet and ready you are for him.

"You're taking your Daddy's cock like a good little girl, baby," his words have you arching off his desk while your eyes fight to stay open. You don't close them because Satoru likes to look at you when he fucks you and so, you fight your way back, until your eyes are pouring into his behind those dazzling shades. It takes everything in him not to cum on the spot, and his cock twitches inside you as he begins to set the pace.

"Oh fuck- Just look at you, Princess." You were fucking magnificent - skin glistening with sweat with a belly swollen with his seed. The image alone affects him more than he initially thought it would. Satoru had strived to get you pregnant because he knew he wanted you to birth his legacy, but the sight of your body naturally shifting to incubate his seed scarmbles the very workings of his brain If you weren't careful, you were going to stay pregnant, every other term.

"You're doing such a good job, Princess. Do you know how fucking beautiful you look?" you are utterly deranged with need, feeling all your sensibilities slip out of you as you're fighting to take even more of him impossibly deeper. His shades hide the true nature of his hooded, fucked out eyes. He's not sure what it is about it, but your eyes on him, watching him pound his cock into your slippery, tight pussy, has him rutting into you with desperation. He loves holding your attention in your most depraved moments - watching you stare up at him like he's a God while he's corrupting every sliver of your cute disposition.

He's pounding against your cervix now and it has your moans bleeding into whorish screams. All the while, Satoru does not silence you. He does not clamp his hand around your mouth, instead he affirms quite the opposite. "If you keep squeezing my cock like that I'm going to make you take my cum." That sentence alone has you slipping into your orgasm. Your back arches off the table and Satoru leans over and latches his lips onto your breasts. He moans around your nipple, as his hand rubs your clit with immense rapidity, in tandem with his stuttering hips.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside you, baby, Tell me you want me to cum inside you," his voice cracks into a desperate whimper, "P-please," Your limbs are shivering as Satoru fucks you quicker, the sensation bleeding into overstimulation as you watch him fall apart over you. He looks utterly gorgeous. The shades may hide his eyes, but his slacked jaw reveals how utterly destroyed he is, with a trail of spit and milk running down his chin. "Fucking tell me!"

"Please cum inside me, Daddy." You pant, looking at him dead in the eyes, "I need your cum inside me," his grip on the desk fumbles and his movements immediately melt into sloppy thrusts and heavy pants.

"Oh fuck- I'm cumming, baby. Fuck, M'gonna fucking breed you-" just as you're forced to endure another orgasm, Satoru's cum explodes inside of you, ripping groan from your hoarse throat.

Gojo is absolutely spent as he eases his cock out of you, rubbing light circles on your thighs, utterly transfixed with the sight of his milky cum slipping out of your cunt.

"I hope I get you pregnant with twins, next time,"

"Get the fuck off of me Satoru." You say feigning anger, which is attested by the smile threatening to blossom over your face. Despite your lightened mood, you still feel monumentally terrible for making him feel bad about your impending parenthood.

"I'm sorry I've been complaining about my house arrest."

"Maternity leave," He corrects with a sigh.

"Same difference," you roll your eyes before noticing his unimpressed and stoic visage. "Only kidding, only kidding."

Thx for reading ♡

[vestaignis]

PAN TREETOP CABINS - АРХИТЕКТУРА ДЛЯ СОЗЕРЦАНИЯ ПРИРОДЫ.

Отель PAN Treetop Cabins, созданный архитектором Эспеном Сурневиком, находится в норвежском лесу и идеально подходит для сказочного отдыха.

Дома-Шалаши, принадлежащие Кристиану Ростаду и Кристине Мовинкель, расположены на высоте 8 метров над землей на стальных опорах, погруженных на 6 метров в скальную породу, что обеспечивает устойчивость при сильном ветре. Сурневик, который также является профессором Школы архитектуры Осло, черпал вдохновение в этом регионе, в частности, в комиксе финской художницы Туве Янссон с из��бражением сказочных персонажей по имени Муми-тролли. «Для меня это подлинное ощущение того, как нордический человек относится к большим расстояниям между поселениями в сельской Скандинавии, одиночеству, темным зимам и холодному климату».

Второй источник его вдохновения, очевидный в дизайне винтовой лестницы, ведущей в хижину, - это пожарная смотровая башня, которая, по словам Сурневика, является частью ландшафта в лесной полосе, окружающей северное полушарие. «Эти пожарные вышки построены так, чтобы в засушливые сезоны смотреть на огромные леса в поисках дыма и огня», - говорит он.

Архитектор Эспен Сур��евик выбрал американскую типологию лоджа с А-образной рамой, потому что он «одновременно интимный по ширине и монументальный по высоте, и представляет собой нечто базовое в своей треугольной форме».

Наружная облицовка зданий из черного оксидированного цинка и стали помогает им сливаться с окружающим лесом. Каждый дом шалаш имеет внутреннее пространство длиной 9,5 м, высотой 5,5 футов и шириной 3,6 и может с комфортом разместить до шести человек. Уютная гостиная, мягкое настенное освещение и светлый пол из твердых пород дерева Энергоэффективные А-образные дома-шалаши обращены к солнцу и имеют большие застекленные фасады, пропускающие свет и тепло.

Для отдыха в домике есть антресоль с двуспальной кроватью, дополнительные спальные зоны, скрытые во внутренних стенах, небольшую кухоньку и камин, а также ванную комнату с туалетом и душем.Интерьеры облицованы сосновой доской, а текстиль в домах сделан из 100% местной шерсти. В качестве отопления есть дровяной камин и деревянные полы со встроенным электрическим отоплением. Из окон спального лофта открывается вид на верхушки деревьев.

«Мое видение состояло в том, чтобы создать что-то, что легко вписалось бы в ландшафт, не внося больших изменений в окружающую природу...» - говорит Сурневик.

PAN TREETOP CABINS - ARCHITECTURE FOR CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE.

The PAN Treetop Cabins by architect Espen Surnevik are located in a Norwegian forest and are ideal for a fairytale getaway.

The Treetop Cabins by Christian Rostad and Christina Mowinckel are located 8 metres above the ground on steel supports sunk 6 metres into the rock, ensuring stability in strong winds. Surnevik, who is also a professor at the Oslo School of Architecture, drew inspiration from the region, in particular from Finnish artist Tove Jansson's comic strip featuring the Moomins. "For me, it's an authentic feeling of how Nordic people deal with the long distances between settlements in rural Scandinavia, the loneliness, the dark winters and the cold climate."

His second source of inspiration, evident in the design of the spiral staircase leading up to the cabin, is a fire lookout tower, which Surnevik says is part of the landscape in the forest belt that surrounds the northern hemisphere. “These fire lookout towers are built to look out over the vast forests in dry seasons for smoke and fire,” he says.

Architect Espen Surnevik chose the American A-frame lodge typology because it is “both intimate in width and monumental in height, and represents something basic in its triangular form.”

The buildings’ exterior cladding of black oxidized zinc and steel helps them blend into the surrounding forest. Each cabin has an interior space measuring 32 feet long, 18 feet high and 12 feet wide, and can comfortably accommodate up to six people. Cozy living room, soft wall lighting and light hardwood floors The energy-efficient A-frame houses face the sun and have large glazed facades that let in light and warmth.

For relaxation, the house has a loft with a double bed, additional sleeping areas hidden in the internal walls, a small kitchenette and a fireplace, as well as a bathroom with a toilet and shower. The interiors are lined with pine boards, and the textiles in the houses are made from 100% local wool. For heating, there is a wood-burning fireplace and wooden floors with built-in electric heating. The sleeping loft has a view of the treetops.

“My vision was to create something that would easily fit into the landscape without making big changes to the surrounding nature…” says Surnevik.

Источник://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Hotel_Review-g3592302-d15293006-Reviews-PAN_Treetop_Cabins-Flisa_Asnes_ Municipality_Hedmark_Eastern_Norway.html/truestory.no/norges-20-fineste-tretopphytter/, //www.architime.ru/news /espen_ surnevik / pan_treetop_cabins.htm#13.jpg, //udom-spb.ru/articles/treugolnyy-dom-shalash-a-frame-kupit.

[snaileer]

The Messenger is Already Dead - 4

Part 1 &2 Part 3

“Talia fell in love with Bruce Wayne!?” Danny says, whipping around to the man in question.

Everything starts piecing together like the worst Fruitloop themed puzzle ever. Danny had seen his face when Batman had removed his cowl of course, and it’d looked familiar, but that could have been anything, he never thought- Bruce Wayne!? His biological father, a man who hadn’t even known he existed, who Danny had never known, was Bruce Wayne? The richest man in America?

“You didn’t know?” Tim asks and Danny wants to scream.

He doesn’t, because that would be unassassiny-like and he’s not 100% sure it wouldn’t come out as a wail- but the desire is very much there. It feels like half of his life-view is crumbling before him.

“No, I didn’t know,” Danny starts tersely, “Talia never told us who Batman- who our father was, not until we could beat her in a fight. I… never got the chance.” He winces at the last statement, feeling the way the room goes colder at the reminder.

“Tt, clearly you would not have been able to anyways.”

Danny feels his eyes flare in frustration as he looks back to Damian, “I was a better fighter than you were, it’s not like you were finishing her challenge any earlier than I was, Damian.”

“The tutors may have favored you but it was not the tutors who bested you was it?” Damian snarled back.

“Whoa Damian-“

Memories flickered through Danny’s mind.

A fight. A snowy cliff. Red. Pain. Cold. Darkness. Green-

“Danny, you good there?”

Danny jerked his head up, not realizing he’d curled in on himself, “I’m .. fine.”

“You sure? You kind of… flickered,” Nightwing said, motioning vaguely with his hands, “Like a lightbulb.”

Danny cringed, “It’s one of the side effects of being like, this,” he motioned to himself, “I’m not exactly meant to exist on this plane of existence so sometimes I.. don’t? I guess? I don’t know, ghostly stuff is always pretty hard to explain.”

A “Hn.” Is all that comes from Bruce.

Danny practically feels their stares close in on him like walls.

“Whatever! The ghost stuff doesn’t matter!” He says, throwing his hands up and rising slightly off the ground, “What matters is that Talia is after me and is probably coming after Damian, so you need to figure out how to stop her. I didn’t come to talk, I came for protection.”

Danny takes a second, mimicking a breath and collecting himself. He couldn’t blow up like Danny, not when he had to make them see him as Danyal.

An Al-Ghul shows no weakness. An Al-Ghul shows no weakness.

“Tt. There is no reason to continue to refuse to call her Mother.”

Danny feels his eyes flare as turns back to where Damian stands, still scowling. Just like he always was.

“I’ve already told you, Damian,” He says, restraining the urge to yell that Maddie was his mom not Talia, “She was not a mother to me and I will not pretend she was when she is the reason I am being hunted.”

“She raised us,” Damian says with a scowl.

Danny feels old anger spark in him, “She trained us.”

He remembers cold nights and hard floors, cruel orders and harsher whips.

“She made us stronger,” Damian says with stone in his voice. Danny hates it, hates it because it’s exactly what they were always told. ‘It made them stronger’ but that didn’t save him so what did it matter? Damian and him never did anything but fight, they never saw each other except to fight, so much so that the first time Jazz invited him to dinner he’d thought she’d poisoned it and tried to burn down the kitchen.

Danny hates it. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

He forces himself to let it go. This isn’t him. Not anymore.

Danny turns away from Damian completely, fists still tightly clenched as he looks Bruce- not his father, never his father- in the eye, “Now that you have proof I am who I say, how do we stop Talia?”

Back to business. Just finish this and you can go home.

Bruce turns back to the console, “First, we need to figure out her goals, and where….”

Danny steels himself as Bruce- as Batman-continues. He could do this.

He could pretend to be a ghost of himself for however long it took.

Pretend that he really had died -stayed dead- that day with Damian.

Pretend that he remembered more about his life in the league than he did.

Pretend he wasn’t an entirely different person now.

Pretend like he still knew who he was.

Pretend like every word from Damian’s mouth didn’t pull him back to a time when he was small, too small, but never weak, and-

Yeah, he could totally absolutely do this.

Definitely.

Danny cringes as the butler tells them all that a meal is ready and everyone starts to move away from the darkness of the cave. With every step into the warmly lit lights of the manor above the cave, Danny feels his hackles rise more.

It feels exposed, making him feel like his lies are muddying just by being there, the warmth of the atmosphere, tones of family, grief, growth, loss, suffocating him as he goes deeper. Knowing that he’s part of that, he’s not going to stay, he’s lying to Damian, he’s hurting him, he’s-

Danny gets one step in the dining room before he sees the family dining table sitting there, an ornate chandelier illuminating the plates laid out at each spot, favorite foods in the middle… and two slightly elder ghosts at the head of the table with love in their eyes as they watch the family sit.

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny takes a staggering step back.

He doesn’t belong here.

Damian notices his retreat, mouth opening to speak-

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny turns tail and vanishes, throwing himself back through the ground with intangibility until he reaches the cave. From there he pauses at the entrance they’d come through, turning back instead of running.

The seconds pause is enough time for someone else to notice him.

“Running already?”

Danny lurches, nearly squeaking as he startles and his visibility flickers. He follows the voice to a figure leaning against a slightly dim doorway on the side. An illuminated locker room sits behind him.

“You’re… Jay, right? The Red Hood?”

The man hums and walks closer, “It’s Jason. You’re the new kid. Talia’s huh?”

Danny wants to shrink in on himself, his muscles tightening as he gets closer, “I’m- yeah.”

Jason scoffs, looking up the stairs like he can see straight to the dining room, “God, B and this fucking family…” He turns a critical eye to Danny without moving his head, “What’s got you fleeing so soon? It didn’t look like you were causing any sort of trouble-“

“I just-“ Danny sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t belong here okay? As far as you all know, I’m not even supposed to exist anymore. I doubt you want a dead kid messing up your family, right?”

Something in Jason’s face twitches, his shoulders shifting, “Take it from me, kid… they haven’t even considered that.”

Danny tilts his head, really looking at Jason for the first time, something tickling at the back of his senses.

Jason doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes.

He looks back through the exit tunnel, turning back a second time, “Tell ‘em I’ll be back okay? Just… not now, alright? But I’ll be back.”

And Jason nods, a silent guarantee.

Danny returns it, finally turning and flying full speed through the tunnels until he meets open air.

It feels slightly sticky compared to the coolness of the cave, but Danny simply looks around to get his bearings before turning into the distance with determination.

He doesn’t stop until he sees the shine of a golden globe pass under him. He enters the hotel straight through the walls of the elevator shaft, dropping his ghost from the second he hits carpeted halls.

And then he pauses…

Which room were they in again?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long, as one of the doors gets thrown open moments later by the lumbering figure which can only be his dad.

“Ghost!” Dad says as he bends through the doorway, ghost-finder in his hands as he looks around until finally spotting Danny, “Danno! You’re back!”

The incessant droning of the ghost-finder is overshadowed as Danny struggles to breath around his Dad’s hug, “He..y.., Da..d” He wheezes.

He sees Jazz come bursting out of the hotel room next. She gives him a hard look before they’re both swept into Dad’s arms and practically carried back into the room.

His mom is there, tinkering on a tool Danny himself had helped design a few weeks ago.

His dad, of course, goes straight for the fudge in the mini fridge. Danny steals the remote from Jazz and plops himself down on the bed free of machine scraps.

Even as he has to keep Jazz from smothering him with a hotel pillow, Danny smiles. He feels his shoulders loosen for the first time all night.

This. This is where he belongs.

—

The demon brat’s twin was… something. They hadn’t really had the time to start forming real expectations, but most of them didn’t expect.. a ghost.

Tim can see the way Bruce’s eyes linger on the wafts of snowy hair, aching guilt lining his body whenever Danny’s back is turned even just slightly.

It doesn’t go away as they all file up to a late dinner. By Alfred’s order, they all go, pair by pair trickling up to the dining room like the most awkward yellow brick road ever.

Somewhere in the stilted chaos, Jason manages to slip out from the group, probably the first time he’s left the manor without fighting with Bruce in months.

Of course that hardly matters when the moment they step into the dining room, Danny freezes by the door, flickering again.

Tim watches as his eyes jump across them all, the table, the room, the chairs- Danny steps back and-

Vanishes.

Damian is lurching towards the door, “Danyal!”

But it’s empty. All of them had felt his presence leave, even if they hadn’t realized that’s what it was, suddenly the room is a few degrees warmer and just a bit emptier than before.

Tim looks to Bruce.

They don’t know what that was, why Danny left. Was he just scared? Or could something have happened to him? They didn’t know enough about ghosts, and what they did know said they weren’t very strong. Boston Brand couldn’t interact with the physical world without possessing someone- Danny had already said he wasn’t meant to exist on this plane, had he run out of strength?

Dick approaches Damian still brooding in the doorway, setting a hand on his shoulder- Damian throws it off immediately.

“I am fine,” he snaps, “Danyal is a coward.”

Bruce stands, “Damian, don’t say that-“

“Why shouldn’t I!? What does he have to fear!? He ran away like a coward and left me behind!”

Silence settles in the room.

Tim decides to break it, “Any chance you’re not just talking about him not staying for dinner?”

A knife pierces the wall behind him.

“I will end you, Drake.”

“Master Damian! I do not have enough portraits to continue covering holes in the paneling!” Alfred scolds, standing at the doorway.

Damian stops, glaring at them all before turning to Alfred, “I’ll take my dinner in my room please, Pennyworth.” Then he turns on his heel and strides from the room. It is too fast to be anything but fleeing.

Steph slumps into the chair beside Tim, “Boys are weird.”

Tim scowls, “Oi.”

“I stand by my statement.”

Tags:

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Also btw, I’ve added this to my Drabble/oneshot collection on Ao3. It’s under my same Username(snaileer) with work name ‘Things That Could Exist’

Hope you enjoyed!

[skzstannie]

"Let the memory-making commence"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: fluff wc: ~2100 cw: none :) summary: After an emotional night, the boys cheer you up and try to give you something to look forward to surrounding the holidays again.

Here's Part 2 to "We'd never want you to struggle alone" Alsooo, I hit 100 followers a couple days ago, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Reblogs are more than appreciated!

Happy Scrolling! || Masterlist

Previously:

You all lay in each other's arms, and you feel incredibly comfortable and safe. Chan's the first to break the silence, "We have five days left until Christmas. What do you say we make some new Christmas traditions? We don't want to replace what you used to have, and you’re entitled to spend your Christmas season as you'd like. But, if you'll let us, we’ll give you something to look forward to about the holidays again. Please?" The guys are all looking at you now, each of them displaying a face that could rival a sad puppy.

You realize now that there's nothing to be scared of. These are your best friends you're talking about, who want nothing but to shower you in love and happiness.

"I'd love that."

So, the guys set out on their mission early the next morning, figuring they better start as soon as possible. After all, they had so many fun things they wanted to do with you before Christmas Day.

You were abruptly brought out of your peaceful slumber from an added weight landing atop your stomach. You startle, opening your eyes to be met with Hyunjin’s hair brushing up against your cheeks. You try to push him off you, holding up your title of being a grumpy morning person, but he won’t budge.

“Get up!” he whines, shaking your shoulders. “It’s already 8:30, and we can’t just let you sleep all day!”

“I’m not asking to sleep all day. I’m asking to sleep until 10, now please get off,” you struggle some more, pushing with all your might. You quickly give up though, finding your attempts futile against Hyunjin’s size and stubbornness.

“No can do, up and at ‘em sunshine!” he grips your blankets and whips them off you in a flash, leaving you shivering from the cold temperature of your room. He’s quick to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and he begins to make his way out of your room.

Your fists pound on his back, your only desire to go lay back down in your warm bed. This doesn’t deter him however, so you give him a nice firm smack to his butt, making him yelp. You swiftly wrap your arms around his waist as he lets you slip a little off his shoulder.

“Hwang Hyunjin don’t you drop me!” you yell, holding onto him for dear life.

“I won’t, I won’t. That just hurt really bad, you little menace!” He puts you down once you’ve arrived in the kitchen, and his hands immediately reach back to massage his poor bum.

“Well, that wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d have let me sleep another hour,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ok, no more Ms. Grumpy Pants, I only wanna make cookies with Ms. Sunshine, so if you could please find out where she is, that'd be great,” he retorts, a sarcastic smile taking over his features.

You roll your eyes but give in, allowing your lips to curve up into a genuine smile.

Hyunjin starts to gather the ingredients for making cookies, slamming cupboards left and right. As you busy yourself doing the same, you look up towards the kitchen entryway upon hearing some ruckus from the hallway. Seungmin and Felix practically bounce into the kitchen, looking way too excited for 8:30 in the morning.

Seungmin makes his way over to you, holding an extra apron that he plops over your head, tying it loosely around your waist. “Thanks Minnie,” you tell him, turning around to give his arm a gentle pat.

“Alright, let the memory-making commence,” Felix claps his hands and giving them a quick wash in the sink, reaching for a stainless steel bowl Hyunjin had set on the counter. “If we wait too much longer, everybody else will get up and crash our cookie making party.”

All was going smoothly, the four of you working together and following a recipe Felix had printed out, until Seungmin got a little antsy and decided to flick Hyunjin in the forehead with a flour-covered finger.

Seungmin laughs at seeing Hyunjin’s expression. “Flour boy,” he calls Hyunjin, breaking out in even more giggles.

In retaliation, Hyunjin grabs a fistful of flour and launches it at Seungmin’s face, leaving the poor boy coughing.

Of course, all hell breaks loose after that, and by the end of your food fight, all four of you end up absolutely covered in flour with a single egg plastered against the fridge door.

You guys managed to finish the cookies, having barely enough flour to make the batches. Once they’ve gone in the oven, the four of you decide to go shower and get cleaned up while they bake.

All the other guys have woken up by the time you’re finished with your shower. They’re all sat around the kitchen, the aroma from the cookies no doubt drawing them in. Chan goes over the plans for today, and you smile at his thoughtfulness. After breakfast- a.k.a Christmas cookies- you’re all going to go sledding, then come back to the dorms for dinner and a Christmas movie marathon.

After you’ve all eaten one too many cookies, everyone goes to get dressed for your first group activity of the day: sledding.

You realize you don’t have any appropriate clothing for sledding, the snow sure to seep through the nice coat you have, so you ask Seungmin if he has any extra garments that'll keep you warmer.

"Yea, let me find some really quick," he responds, diving deep into his well-organized closet. He comes up with two pairs of gloves, one slimmer and one thicker, a thermal, long sleeved turtle neck, a hoodie, and a huge winter coat.

"All of this will not fit on my body at once, Seungmin," you comment exasperatedly, overwhelmed by the weight of the clothes he just threw in your arms.

"Yes they will, and you will be warm. Go get dressed, we're leaving in a few minutes," he dismisses your concerns, leaving no room for discussion. He gives you a light push out of his room so he could get himself dressed and shuts the door in your face.

"Thanks!" you shout through the door, heading back to your room to layer up.

After putting on all the clothes Seungmin gave you, you feel like a marshmallow. A big puff ball, if you will.

You walk to the living room where everyone is waiting for you, ready to complain about how you are not going out in public like this.

They are quick to rebut, telling you how adorable you look while pulling you out the front door towards the readied van in the parking lot.

The drive is uncomfortable, all your winter gear making you all hot, everyone fitting a little tighter in their seats than normal. The ride is short, though, only about 10 minutes before you're all allowed freedom of the outside once again.

You let out a small chuckle upon seeing the hill you'll be sledding down. It's small, no taller than 20 feet, but the guys assure you it'll still be fun. Upon some further digging, you find out you're manager requested you partake in absolutely zero dangerous activities during your day off, and this is all the guys could convince him of.

You guys make your way up the hill, Jeongin and Felix dragging the sleds up. To make things more interesting, everyone decides two people will race down the hill at the same time, and the winner will be decided tournament-style.

Chan and Hyunjin go first, and Hyunjin wins by just a few feet. Next is Felix and Minho, and Minho pulls out ahead. Seungmin and Changbin go next, and Changbin wins by default because Seungmin wiped out about half way down the hill. You and Jeongin, being the maknaes, decide to team up against everyone else and ride together. Of course, this doesn't go without complaints from the rest of the members, Hyunjin giving you guys the nastiest side eye he could muster. The maknaes come out on top, beating Jisung by a landslide. Maybe it's because your sled had twice as much weight on it, or maybe it's because you guys are just better; it's up for debate.

By the end of the day, you and Jeongin reign champions. You all continue to sled for a while longer, and eventually your peaceful sledding session turned into a brutal snowball fight.

The culprit of the snowball fight was Minho, deciding it'd be fun to shove a handful of snow down Jisung's jacket. This of course lead to the development of two teams, Maknae line versus Hyung line.

You guys pelt the oldies for a few minutes, obviously gaining the upper-hand once your makeshift snow fort was built, courtesy of Felix and Jisung. However, you guys surrender once Jeongin is captured and threatened with handfuls of snow down his pants.

Once arriving at home, hot showers are in need, all your fingers and toes frozen to the bone. You get dressed in your coziest pyjamas, accompanied by a big hoodie and fluffy socks.

Chan takes it upon himself to order food in for everyone, and you all thank him before deciding on which Christmas movie to watch.

You reveal that one of your favorites used to be How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the Jim Carrey version, and everyone agrees to start with that one.

Your food arrives about a third of the way into the movie, and you all indulge on the much needed meal. You have some more Christmas cookies for dessert, and by the time you're finished with the food, the movie is over.

You all make light fun of Hyunjin for crying over the ending, but allow him to choose the next movie to try and put a stop to his dramatics. He chooses National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and you're thankful for another comedy.

While the day has been quite fun, watching movies isn't as thought-provoking as a snowball fight, allowing some of your anxieties and negative thoughts to creep into the back of your mind.

You miss your family. You miss the way your grandma used to sit and listen to all your school drama and the way she'd gasp when you'd tell her what your best friend had done for a boy. You miss the way your father used to buy you a pair of earrings every year for Christmas. You still had every pair, your first being cute little bunny studs, and your last being a beautiful pair of Sterling Silver hoops. You miss your grandfather's sarcastic remarks; your mom found them insulting but you always thought they were funny. You miss your mom. Everything about her- her home cooking, her hugs, the way she'd always know what to put in your stocking.

You know now, after today, that it's okay to miss those things. You're supposed to miss your loved ones. However, it is not okay to live in the past and despise change. Your mom would've wanted you to celebrate Christmas with a family as loving as the one you have here surrounding you. You know she would've loved your members, every single one of them.

She would've loved the way I.N was your partner in crime in life, never backing down when you ask him if he wants to prank Chan with you. She would've loved the way Seungmin acted like your older brother, teasing you every chance he gets. She would've loved how happy Felix is, always acting as your light in the darkness. She would've been proud of Han for fighting through his anxiety and how he helped you with yours, never letting you feel alone. Your mom would've loved Hyunjin's art, the way he paints his soul on paper with a singular brush. Your mom would've been impressed by Changbin's health journey and motivation, and she probably would've secretly convinced him to drag you to the gym with him. Your mom would've admired Minho's gentleness towards animals and his love for his cats. Lastly, your mom would've loved the way Chan takes care of you, always making sure you're happy and well.

Thinking back to yesterday and how thoughtful and caring everyone had been, you decide to tell them your creeping thoughts. They, of course, comfort you, Changbin pulling you closer from your spot between him and Minho on the couch. They ask if you want to elaborate on your feelings, but you tell them no. It had been such a fun day, and for the sake of your mental health, you choose to try and busy your mind with the plot of the movie.

This works in your favor, and you’re able to replace your thoughts with laughter. Towards the end of the film, Changbin's comforting hold has begun to lull you to sleep, too comfortable and warm to keep your eyes open any longer.

"Thank you guys for such an amazing day. I had a lot of fun," you mumble into Changbin's shoulder, pulling everyone away from the movie for a second.

You hear a chorus of coos and whispered affirmations before you officially let sleep takeover your restless mind and body.

[homosexualisopod]

You people forgot Kung Pow Penis. You have abandoned the old ways, trading in the cold steel of Kung Pow Penis for a ham-fisted argument that that person 100% isn't going to read. Start fucking Kung Pow Penising bad takes again, stop engaging in stupid shit.

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 6

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of doing the nasty. MDNI!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 6: Chicken Feet

Chapter summary: You and Law leave the crew behind to journey to Punk Hazard. You meet Monet, but seeing Law and Monet together makes you uneasy. Chaos ensues when your jealousy reaches to new heights each time you catch them together.

A/N: HELLO! Thank you so much for your patience friends! Writer's block is gone and it's time to get rolling! This story is canon-compliant, but it's not going to follow the actual story 100%. This isn't proofread so yeah sorry lol

Also CW/TW: slight mentions of the nasty if you squint, use your imagination folks.

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 4k

You were instantly hit with regret when you and Law stepped foot at Punk Hazard. It was a month since you and the captain dropped off the crew at Zou to assist him in his mission to stop Doflamingo, but you desperately wanted to turn around and return for them. But it was too late, and Law seemed amused with the sight of you shivering in the vast cold land of the half of Punk Hazard. 

"Wow, it's not that cold here," Law said sarcastically as he walked towards a large door by a mountainside. While keeping his head forward, you saw him look at you with a smirk on his lips. Annoyed by your captain's sarcastic remark, you stooped to the ground to grab a handful of snow and chucked it at the back of Law's black coat. The man chuckled, clearly unbothered by your tantrum.

"Shut up! If you told me that we would travel to the fucking Arctic, I would've dressed better!" you comically spat at him. 

"I told you (Y/n)-ya, you should've worn that boiler suit." the man tutted back at you.

There was no arguing that. You fought tooth and nail against your captain on wearing anything else but those damned boiler suits, and now you're paying the price for it. So you opted for a cute black fur coat that went down to your knees and black leggings, but it was not enough to keep you warm in the insane cold environment of Punk Hazard 

"I'd rather die than wear those ugly boiler suits! We're not with the crew anyway!" you argued back.

You and Law now stood in front of a giant steel door. With his slender finger, Law knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door scrapped open, revealing a pale white man with spiked black hair. He stood very tall, but he didn't have any legs as it was replaced with gas. His yellow eyes bore into you and Law before his lips turned into a sinister smile.

"Well well well! What do we have here? Shuorororo!" the man creepily giggled. "A warlord at my doorstep? I'm honoured!" Then he took a look at you who was behind Law, and his eery smile widened even more. "And you brought along a sweet treat!"

"Caesar Clown. I came here for some business with you." Law said with a calm demeanour. Although he spoke professionally, there was a slight tone of aggressiveness. "I've heard about your production in SMILE fruits and SAD and I'm greatly intrigued. So, I'm offering that we can be business partners, to help you with production and distribution."

"And why should I engage in a partnership with you?" Caesar questioned.

The tattooed doctor hummed before he gave his answer. "You can use my Warlord status as protection."

The pale man smirked, "I already work for a Warlord. I won't disclose his name, but the JOKER already compensates me well."

"What about extra protection from another Warlord?" you piped up behind your captain.

The two men looked at you. Law stared at you with amusement while Caesar held a bewildered expression.

"That doesn't seem to be a bad idea. Good thinking (Y/n)-ya." your captain said with praise. He then turned his head back at the gaslike man. "The JOKER may be a good employer, but he will backstab you Caesar-ya. But with me, I can be that backup plan just in case things go wrong with your little business, hm?"

"Little?! For your information, my work is greatly sought after! I am the second-best scientist in the world and my work and weaponry directly supply an Emperor of the Seas!" Caesar scoffed.

You stepped up and took your place beside Law. "More of a reason to partner with my captain! If all goes to shit with the production of SAD, who do you think is first to blame?" you piqued up.

That seemed to get the mad scientist thinking. "Well well. You're not just a pretty face after all. Shurorororo!" 

Even though you cringed at the compliment, you couldn't help but swell with pride, seeing that Law gave you a tiny smile of appreciation your way. 

"The two of you come inside! I'm warming up to this idea of being business partners with another Warlord..."Caesar started to ramble as he ushered the two of you inside the facility.

-------------------------------

You really wanted to go back to the Polar Tang now.

The facility wasn't bad at all. Everything was provided: space, a place to rest, and food. But you felt that something suspicious was going on and you couldn't figure out what it was. Law refused to tell you why he wanted to stay on Punk Hazard, but you understood it was all to avoid compromising the mission. He even exchanged his heart with Monet, another person staying in Punk Hazard, so that no one could betray one another.

Speaking of Monet, you hated the woman. Something about here didn't sit right with you, but you couldn't figure out why.

As you walked the laboratory corridors, you spotted that a research room had its door slightly cracked open. Curiosity got to you, prompting you to peek inside. Standing at the door, you touched your chest and muttered 'Calm'. With the newfound Devil Fruit powers you gained a month ago, you could take away sound from yourself and your environment. And it proved very useful now that you were peeking in this room.

There, Monet was sitting on a chair, writing notes on a desk. To her left, was Law, sitting on a couch to her right and Caesar was standing in front of him. They were engaged in a conversation, and you couldn't help but listen in.

"So, you're Trafalgar Law. Also known as the Surgeon of Death. You hail from the North Blue. You ate the Op-Op Fruit." she spoke as she was writing away.

Law glanced at her as she continued to speak. "You also brought your subordinate, (Y/n). A formidable sniper and a cook at the Heart Pirates. She hails from the East Blue. You said she ate a Devil Fruit recently but no information about its type."

Monet turned from her chair to face the two men to her right. "There are former prisoners that are on this island who were affected by a poison gas. Can you heal them?" she asked. 

Your captain continued to stare at her. Meanwhile, Caesar continued the conversion. "I'll let you and your subordinate stay here, so long as you assist me and don't tell anyone else about this lab. Are we clear Trafalgar?" 

"So be it. Also, you are not to tell anyone that (Y/n)-ya and I are here. That includes Joker alright?" Law said firmly.

A light giggle passed Monet's lips. "Caesar, I say that it's fine that he stays here. Besides, he's cute," she said as she threw a wink in Law's direction, much to his dismay. 

An unpleasant shiver went down your spine as your chest started to tighten. 

Now you really didn't like her. That was strike one. 

--------------

 A week slowly went by as you and Law stayed at the Laboratory. You found out that there were children and giant children, who were staying at the lab because Caesar said he was finding a cure for them. Of course, you didn't believe him, and you took it upon yourself to find out that the kids were actually guinea pigs for Caesar and his messed up experiments. But with your given circumstance, you knew that Law had a plan to take down Caesar and the SAD factory, so it was a matter of being patient with him. So the most you could do right now was feed the kids and keep them safe. 

Tonight, you made the kids spaghetti and meatballs, and when you presented it to them in the Biscuit Room, which was where they were staying, they all cheered joyfully.

A small smile graced your lips as you watched the kids eat the dinner they made you.

"This is amazing (Y/n)!" a giant girl named Mocha exclaimed. She wolfed down her portions and reached out her bowl to you. "Seconds please!"

"Good thing I made two buckets full of spaghetti, you kids got big appetites!" you giggled as you gave the girl another portion. 

"I'm so glad you came here! The food you make is awesome!" A blond boy named Sind cheered.

The rest of the kids shouted with joy as they continued to eat. As you were serving the kids their second portions, you didn't realize that Law walked into the room and made his way beside you.

"Oh, hello Mr. Snow Leopard!" A giant kid named Konbu called out.

You turned your head to see your captain with a sour face. He was not fond of the nickname the kids had given him.

"Hey, Captain Snow Leopard. Fancy you seeing here." you teased.

"Don't be copying these brats too (Y/n)-ya, address me properly." he scowled. 

A cackle left your lips while you prepared a plate for him. "Oh, don't be mean. You know these kids are going through a hard time by being here, and we're the only ones decent enough to take care of them."

"You're forgetting that Monet takes care of them as well," he answered back as he reached out to take the plate of spaghetti from your hands.

The smile on your face fell as Monet's name was mentioned. Your grip on the plate tightened as Law tried to take it.

"I see that you're getting comfortable with Monet, are you captain?" you said in a high-pitched voice, laced with discontent. A smile appeared on your face again, but it was clear that you were irritated.

"I would like a plate of spaghetti please." your captain said as he tried to pull the plate away from your iron grip. 

"Hm, I don't feel like giving it to you now." you singsonged. You pulled the plate away from his tattooed hand and gave it to Mocha instead.

"Are you mad at me?" Law gritted, clearly irritated by your actions.

"I don't know Cap, did you do something to piss me off?" you shot back at him.

The doctor grabbed the collar of your black jacket and brought your face close to his. "Don't start this again (Y/n)-ya. If you have an issue then spit it out." he lowly said. 

You raised your right hand which was holding a pair of tongs, and smacked Law's head with it. The tattooed captain let go of his grip on you and proceeded to clutch his head as he stumbled back in surprise.

"You're a smart man, figure it out yourself!" you shouted at him. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Law shouted back.

The two of you grabbed each other's collars and started to hurl more insults at each other.

The children watched the quarrel between you and Law with amusement. They started to whisper amongst themselves.

"They're funny!"

"They remind me of my mom and dad. Now I miss them..."

"Wow, I've never seen (Y/n) this mad before, it's funny!"

You and the tattooed captain were butting heads until Monet made her way into the Biscuit Room.

"Time for your candy!" she called out. The kids dropped their plates and proceeded to run toward the green haired woman. 

Pulling away from your captain's collar, you started to clean up the plates and utensils littered on the floor. "There's your woman," you muttered while cleaning up.

"Hm?" Law said, "What did you say?"

"Hi, Monet! Did you want some spaghetti? I made some for dinner!" you called out while ignoring Law.

Monet made her way to you. "Oh, I would love some!" Then she looked at Law and smiled. "If you haven't eaten yet, would you like to join me for dinner Trafalgar?" 

Law 'tched' in response. In the corner of Monet's eye, she saw your face deepen into a scowl. The sight of you being mad made her smile

That fucking woman was pushing you buttons and she was enjoying it. The handle of the pot started to crack as your hand gripped as tight as ever in anger. However, you managed to shove down your emotions and flashed a fake smile towards her and Law. The doctor raised his eye in skepticism as he saw you set down the pot and prepare two plates of spaghetti.

"Oh, how nice would that be? Here you go! You two enjoy dinner!" you said with fake cheerfulness. Shoving the plates into their hands, you quickly scrambled to set the plates and pots into the rolling cart and sped out of the Biscuit Room. 

"Thank you (Y/n)! Your cooking is always delicious!" Monet thanked you.

The tattooed captain just stared at your back as you were leaving the room. He knew something was up with you. Sighing in exhaustion, he brushed your behaviour aside as he started to think about the mission he was currently in. 

Unbeknownst to Monet and Law, you were unbelievably angry and veins started to pop on your forehead as you made your way back into the kitchen. Heavy stomps echoed throughout the hallway as you angrily pushed the food trolley. With your hands tightly gripping onto the trolley bar, you took a deep breath and sighed. 

That was strike two. One more strike and you were going to beat both of their asses to the snowy grounds of Punk Hazard. 

------------- 

You heard that Law agreed to give Caesar's henchmen limbs. It was one of the conditions that Caesar implemented for you and the captain to stay at Punk Hazard, aside from exchanging the literal hearts of Law and Monet to prevent backstabbing.

So when you were walking across the halls of the laboratory and heard the deathly screams of grown men echo throughout, you weren't surprised. 

"Looks like the captain is performing surgery today." you giggled as you skipped along the hallway. Deciding that you wanted to see the disembodiment in action, you quickly followed the sounds of agony. But as you were nearing the door, the screaming suddenly halted. As you slowed down your pace, you quietly made your way to the door and heard light shuffling and Monet's voice, You leaned up against the door with your right ear to listen.

"Alright, I'm ready Trafalgar," Monet said. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

More shuffling was heard until Law spoke up. "First time? Don't worry, I'll stick it in slowly."

Your entire body froze as your mouth dropped in horror. "What the hell are they doing in there?!" you hissed to yourself. 

You heard a light grunt and a sharp inhale. More shuffling.

"Oh my, that's kind of big now that I look at it," Monet commented. "It feels weird too."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," You heard Law reply. "Now, hold still, I'm going to shove it in."

Oh that was it. That was strike three. And you know what they say. Three strikes and you’re out. And by out you meant that you were going to kill your captain and that green-haired witch.

Your mind short-circuited as you assumed that your captain and that damned woman were up to no good. With your mind and heartbeat going 100 miles per hour, you grabbed the handle and swung the door wide open, screaming; "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?!"

And as soon as you laid your eyes upon Law and Monet, your heart stopped and your feet were stuck in place.

There they were, with Law's back facing you and the green-haired woman lying on her back on the couch. The doctor's left tattooed hand was holding onto her right leg which was up in the air. Your captain's face was turned to you with his face widening in horror, and Monet tilted her head to the left to look at you. 

What set you off was when Monet glanced at you, her long green hair was dishevelled.

Steam started to blow through your ears as you glared hole into Law and Monet. Your entire body started to shake uncontrollably as your chest heaved up and down aggressively.

Realizing that he was caught in a position that already caused a great misunderstanding, Law quickly let go of the leg he was holding onto and scrambled to make your way towards you. What you failed to see was that Monet's left leg was now replaced with a giant talon.

"(Y/n)-ya, you can't just barge into here while-" he started but you cut him off.

"CAPTAIN TRAFALGAR LAW! WHAT IN NEPTUNES GREAT BEARD ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BITCH?!" you bellowed. 

Unable to think straight, you stomped past your captain headed towards the large bird talon on the desk in front of the couch. As you picked it up with your right hand, you whipped your head to glare at the insufferable woman lying on the couch.

"You've got some nerve seducing my captain like that!" you shrieked as you swung the limb towards Monet. She promptly dodged your attack and screamed, running away from the couch and onto the other side of the room.

"(Y/n)! It's not what you think! He just-" she started to explain before you swung at her again.

"I don't want to fucking hear it!" you screeched as you chased the poor limping woman around the room.

"Shambles!" Law grunted. And as soon as he said it, you swung the talon once more towards Monet, only to knock down a bookshelf onto the floor.

You whipped your head to face the captain once more. Law shuddered as he saw your eyes glimmer with hate. It was screaming bloody murder, and he was on the receiving end of it.

"YOU! Oh, you've got some nerve! You men disgust me!" you screeched as you stomped towards the doctor. With your left foot planted in front, your right arm swung up, reading to assault the man with the bird limb.

"(Y/n)-ya wait! Whatever you're thinking, we didn't do it!" he yelped as he jumped to the side to avoid your attack. However, he didn't know that you were quick enough to see through his actions and the back of the talon hit him on the side of his head, which successfully smacked him to the ground.

Your left hand reached out to the pistol that was hoisted on your hip. You drew it out and pointed it to the man on the floor, "Falling for a woman like that? How despicable! I-!" you started to lecture, but your voice drowned out as you realized that your outburst of anger took all the energy out of you.

"I-" you started to speak but your voice failed you. As your hand fell back to your side, you started to wonder why you acted like that. Even if they had something between them, it wasn't your place to care, unless you were...

"...Jealous? Are you jealous (Y/n)-ya?" Law called out as you returned to your senses. The discomfort that once reflected in his eyes was replaced with amusement as his mouth raised in a smirk.

Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heart started to pound. A bright red flush appeared on your cheeks.

"There's no way," you muttered. The limb that once was on your hand dropped to the ground as you stumbled back in shock. Glancing at Law, who now stood up with his arms crossed, you shot a nasty glare as the smirk on his face widened even more. 

"Why would I be jealous?! I was just protecting your dignity!" you sputtered. The captain made a stride towards you as he chuckled.

"What a stupid reason. You expect me to believe that?" he teased. 

He was now looming in front of you as you backed up to a wall. Your head was bowed down in embarrassment as you refused to look into his steel grey eyes. 

"I wasn't jealous..." you lowly muttered.

"Somehow that's not believable," Law answered back. He dipped his head to your eye level so that he could make eye contact with you, but you whipped your head to the side, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Amused by your sudden 180-degree change in mood, your captain stood straight up, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed your forehead.

The once freezing temperature of the laboratory now skyrocketed into a burning hot sensation as Law made an out-of-character advance toward you. Whipping your head up to face Law, your face was now burning hot with more embarrassment.

"Captain! What was that for?" you yelped in surprise.

Law simply chuckled. "Sometimes, I wonder what goes on on that interesting head of yours. One minute you're beating me with a bird limb and then the next I find out it's because you're jealous."

You shoved away the man in front of you and pouted. "I am NOT jealous! I just had to straighten you up and remind you that we're on a mission here!"

"Oh please, if anything, you were the one who forgot that we had a mission (Y/n)-ya." he retorted. 

"Whatever, now help me clean up this mess," you sneered as you proceeded to pick up the fallen books that you knocked down from your rampage. The tattooed captain chuckled and proceeded to assist you in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"(Y/n)-ya?" he said as he hoisted up the fallen bookshelf.

"Yeah what is it cap," you said with disinterest as you continued to collect the fallen items. 

"You know you'll always have me right?" he announced.

Your heart picked up slightly at the confession. Then A smile graced your lips as you turned your head to face Law. "Shut up and put that bookshelf up, Cap," you finally said as you tried to dismiss your feelings. 

The captain sighed as he shook his head. A rumble of laughter started to escape his chest, and you followed suit. Amidst the chaos that happened in one of the laboratory rooms, you and Law couldn't help but share one of the many moments you had with one another, even though the two of you were far away from home.

----------

Bonus Scene:

In the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were nowhere to be seen. That was because all of them were inside the captain's quarters, staring at a small book at the captain's desk. The cover of the book read 'Journal'.

"So, should we open it?" Penguin asked, with his hand hovering over the notebook. 

"Yeah man, let's do it!" Shachi affirmed.

"Guys, what if the captain finds out?" Bepo chittered.

"You idiot, there's no way he'd find out if he's not here!" Ikkaku chided the Mink.

"Sorry..." Bepo muttered.

 Penguin picked up the book and slowly opened it. "Alright you guys, here we go..."

Everyone leaned in and peered over Penguin's shoulders as the notebook opened. As soon as the first page was opened, a bunch of folded envelopes fell out and scattered on the ground. The entire crew crouched down and picked them up.

"It's addressed to (Y/n)," Hakugan announced.

"This one too." Jean Bart said.

"This one as well!" Uni called out.

"Wait a minute, are these all love letters for (Y/n)? And he never gave them to her?" Shachi said bewilderedly.

"Guys, captain's journal is just filled with yearning for (Y/n)!" Penguin cackled as he skimmed through Law's journal.

The whole crew burst into laughter as they crowded around Penguin once more to read what the captain had to say about you.

----------

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

[poopersdoopers]

Apple Pie

Summary: Sanji x Fem! Reader Angst and fluff. TW: jealousy, reader gets literally sick of all the flirting. 100% safe for work.

Im not editing this, good luck y'all. Love you tho!

Sanji had betrayed you for the last time.

You usually weren’t a possessive lover. You trusted the cook to remain loyal to you, but you couldn’t stand those fleeting eyes. 

Every day he would profess his undying love for you.

But every day he would lean into the curve of another woman’s neck to breathe in the scent.

And here you were, eyes fixed on a man who would leap into another’s embrace if given the okay by you.

Perhaps it was Nami or maybe Zoro’s knowing stares at you, that set you over the edge. The way the orange-hair woman shrugged off the cook’s advances, knowing your steeled eyes were always watching. Her eyes darting between the two of you.

Or the way, Zoro would sneer at Sanji’s flirtatious behavior every time the pervert sing-song praises at a woman a third of your size. Even their daily bickering becoming a bit too much for you.

Your Captain had been invited to dinner by a shop-keeper as a thank you for defeating a local gang. Free food was always a deal Luffy could not deny, just as much as Sanji could not deny the company of a beautiful woman or her 8 lovely, unmarried sisters. Great.

The black legged man served out a 6-course meal in the span of an hour and a half. Each sister sang praises, in return were given a sip from the finest flirt of the seas. They blushed at your boyfriend’s praise. Touching.

You could feel Nami and Zoro’s concern loom over the heat of your face. The navigator literally placed her hand atop your thigh and remarked, “I’m sorry, y/n.”

But who were you to deny your flouncy boyfriend’s nature?Whose eyes literally turned into hearts when he looked at you. Whose passion could be felt in each firefly step he took.

That’s when he sets your favorite dessert at the table with a kiss atop of your forehead.

 “For my favorite lady, a tiramisu”. 

One of the 8 beauties gasped in shock.You could hear someone mumble, “I never pictured you with someone like that.” Another sister giggled. You could feel the whole table staring, besides your Captain burying his whole face into a pile of meat. Whispers circulating across the room. Your heart beat increased. Seething anger and anxiety took over. 

Maybe you should stay quiet, let the bad feelings eat away at your soul, and let the blonde have his way with you, before settling into the form of another lover. Maybe then you would learn to let go and move on.

To your surprise, your boyfriend still hovered over you. His eyes burned two holes into your face. The dining room, once filled with laughter and warmth, was stifled with your darkness. 

Great, you always had to ruin things with your stormy moods.

Sanji grasped your shoulder tightly.

“What’s wrong my love -”, you stood up. Now your Captain was alert to your craziness.

“Stop. It’s nothing, go back to your girlfriends. Don’t follow me”, you rushed in search of the bathroom, still feeling the burn of eyes on your back.

In auto-pilot, your hands searched for a light-switch. You stumbled along to the sink, seeing your haggard reflection in the mirror –you had been crying without knowing it. Around your eyes were angry and red. Another embarrassment to yourself and others. 

Sanji had successfully gotten under your skin. I guess that’s what love is, no? 

You felt sick at the fucked up realization and rushed towards the toilet. Gagging up all the bullshit excuses you fed yourself throughout the night and the food you’d barely touched.

The sound of blood rushed through your ears, your body floating outside your body. 

You couldn’t keep doing this anymore. More lecherous women wanting a man who belonged to the world, not you.

The cold of the floor soothed your heated body, as you curled up into yourself. A knock at the door alerted you, that someone heard -they had heard your private sobs and misery. You couldn’t afford to unravel even more in front of someone, not when you had displayed a less than stellar performance as a lover, crewmate, and friend all night. 

Another knock,“Baby, let me in.”

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do more to destroy the first relationship you barely had. Your mind raced, your body heaved.

“I’m coming in”, you braced yourself for impact. They would have to repair the door later, nothing would stop your boyfriend’s fiery kicks when it came to his crew.

You heard his footsteps, saw the shine of his black loafers, and still denied his presence. 

His hands rubbed circles on your back. 

“Oh, Angel, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have forced that dessert on you if I knew you were feeling sick”, you gagged again.

The blonde helped prop you over the toilet. You shed embarrassed tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Sanji”, you tried to muster out between gags. He kissed behind your neck to the juncture of your back, “It’s nothing to be sorry for, we’ve already seen each other at our best and worst. Besides I cannot deny a lady in need”.

You wanted to punch him, “There’s a difference between helping a lady in need and flirting with every woman you see!”

The cook looked at you incredulously, through his bangs. “Is this what this is all about? Are you jealous?”

You gagged at his smug tone, quite sick of him already. -_- Nothing came up, it looked like you were done.

“I’m going to go grab you some water and then we can talk”. You wanted to run from this whole conversation, but your legs were too wobbly. Fuck. Instead you’d stay and wallow in your thoughts, the scent of bile clogging up your senses.

A few seconds later, your annoying boyfriend showed up, with a cup of water. 

“Looks like the whole house has moved to someplace else.”

Oh. Did you cause that as well? “I’m sorry,” your eyes shifted to inspect the number of tiles between you and the bath.

“What are you apologizing for?”, your eyes refused to meet your lover’s blue eyes in fear you’d give yourself away again.

 “Can you stand up?”, you shook your head and heard him sigh in response. Before crouching down beside your shorter frame. His hand wrapped around one of your ankle’s soothing your nerves. The two of you sat there in silence for a while.

Sanji was the first to speak, “Look at me”.  You refused still transfixed on the titles.

You felt him remove his hand from your ankle to grab at your chin. Now you got a better look at the prince in front of you. Dressed in his typical black suit, wrapped around his thin yet muscular body like a glove. His eyes shone with adoration. How could this man hurt you so much?

You wanted to look away but instead you fell into the light of his blue eyes, cast between the shadow of his bangs. 

“That’s my girl”, his lips curled into a smile. You were fucked.

“One of your girls,” you remarked bitterly. “I see the way you look at other women, how you treat them to your kindness for free, and in return they follow you like predators waiting to bite. I’m supposed to sit here and watch?” Your voice broke. 

“What am I supposed to do when the whole world wants you? What am I supposed to do when you invite others into your light? I know it’s selfish but I want you for me and me only.”

“Oh, y/n, you know you’re the only girl for me’, you smacked his hand away. Sanji’s eyes went back to burning circles into your skin. His hand twitched in mid air.  

You began again, angrier this time,“That’s simply not true! I see the way you look at other women’s bodies, the way you whisper secrets into their ears. There’s flirting to flirt — then there’s something else entirely.”

You curled your limp legs up into yourself, feeling the cold of the bathroom tile against your bottom.You were very afraid of the next words to come out of your mouth. But it had to be done, you needed to feel free of this weight again.

“If you want to be set free to be with the beautiful women of this world, I can do it easily. Don’t hold yourself back for me.”

“Easily?”, he murmured.

“You know exactly what I mean, Sanji”, you glared back at him. 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

You sighed, “I don’t want to tie you down, just so I can be happy.”

 A silence filled the air of the bathroom. Your legs tingle, slowly coming back to life, under the gaze you knew all too well. 

Worrying your lip against your teeth, you thought of a future without the man you love. Watching him fall in and out of bars, wrapping his arms around prettier women. Sanji would keep strange girls close to his side, standing close to the street to shield them from the nightlife and traffic. You would watch him curl into and out of hands softer and more secure than your own. And wound yourself each time until all that remained was a fraction of the people the two of you used to be. 

Then finally, he would find the true love of his life. Whom he would kiss across the all blue and never have his eyes linger onto another pair of thighs, slimmer than your own. Or a pair of eyes brighter than your own, ones that have never known hardship or seen the darkest depths of this world.

You were shaking, crying again. You’d yell if you could but your tongue felt too big for your mouth. And there was Sanji, eyes hiding behind the curtain of his bangs.

You felt an arm circle around your shoulders, and pull you into the expanse of the cook’s chest.

“I’m never letting you go”, his other arm wrapped against you, thumb smoothing circles into your shoulder. “I-”, you began.

“I’m never letting you go”, he repeated firmly. He began to pull you into his lap. Now you were even more fucked, you couldn’t escape his embrace easily nor look away from the handsome man. You tried to muster up some wits about you, to win against the warmth that exploded in your chest, but the man was too powerful.

“I’m never letting you go. You are the only one for me”, his lips left kisses across your forehead, unfurrowing your tightly knit brow.

The blonde, cupped your face into his hands. He fervently kissed your closed eyes, before drawing back. 

“I’m sorry for behaving like an idiot. Let me make it up to you for the rest of your life, as long as you will let me?”

You nodded, crying harder now. 

“I hope those are happy tears, my love.” He lifted you up and before you could protest about being too heavy, the man carried you bridal style out of the bathroom and back to the ship. You could feel the reassurance of his heartbeat humming in your ears. And you knew it. You were loved.

When you returned to the ship, luckily enough, everyone was asleep –aside from Robin no doubt reading anthologies about ancient texts again.

The two of you got ready for bed, like you did every night. A quick shower, brushing of teeth, pajamas and a big sleep shirt thrown on, but this time Sanji couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You felt like the prey locked in the sight of a panther, but instead of running away you stayed gladly trapped in the haze of fate. 

He took your hand in his and led you back down towards the kitchen. You sat down and waited for him to make some tea.

To your surprise it was another one of your favorite desserts, apple pie paired with soothing green tea for your stomach.

Your lips tugged into a smile, as soon as the first bite hit your mouth. Brown sugar, soft tart apples, and lots of cinnamon to sweeten up your soul. You went in for the second spoonful, but Sanji had other plans, placing you back into his lap. You blushed. 

“Pervert”, you muttered. He took the spoon out of your hands.

“So are you”, he remarked. You pouted.

“Just because you’re right…doesn’t mean you have to say it.”

He laughed hartley. You laughed with him, snuggling into his chest.

You sat there and let the blonde man feed you small pieces of pie, between small kisses and intimate jokes. Finally finished, you wrapped his hands around his slim chest and looked up at the cook cheekily. His thighs steeled, you could feel his muscles underneath the thin pajama bottoms. 

His legs were strong and capable just like the man you’d come to love after all these years. 

You kissed him on his nose, then his cheeks, before finally kissing him on his mouth. He licked his lips, “Now I want a slice of that damn pie.”

ps Idk if I wanna be that damn mouse or that girl or AAAAAAA

[bonesxbows]

Ghosts of the Void (Arthur Nightingale X Reader)

My Masterlist

You're unsurprisingly plagued by nightmares. Arthur offers to stay with you through the night when he hears you calling out to him, but what ends up happening is more than either of you expected possible in the realm of dreams meeting transference. He doesn't seem to mind though, guiding you through the hellscape of your mind to bring you back to reality.

(WARNINGS) - Character death (in dreams, not in actuality) - Descriptions of panic attacks - Nightmares - Slight spoilers for the hex quest (dialogue spoilers)

I am on a roll with writing about Arthur and not even god himself could stop me at this point

Not 100% if I like how this one turned out, might revisit this idea later. Let me know what you think. Ty for reading :)

Banners by @strangergraphics

You couldn't remember the last time you had slept soundly through the night. The coldness, the darkness, the loneliness in your new surroundings in the backroom felt too suffocating every time you laid your head down. No matter how long you tried meditating or trying to distract yourself beforehand, the nightmares always came flooding back with viper-like speed, swirling in your head in a noxious cloud of inky black abysmal dread until it forced you shooting up straight in your bed, screaming and terrified. You prayed no one else in the Mall could hear you when you did wake up screaming bloody murder, though you doubt your prayers were answered. 

One night it had gotten particularly bad, worse than before. You were back in Duviri, the all-too-familiar execution in full swing. Though it wasn’t your head on the chopping block; no, it wasn’t your body beneath the executioner's sword, the one there now was much more metal and steel than yours should have been. The winds blew his hair and the strands grazed the blade set against his neck. You wanted to thrash against the Dax holding you in place, curse out Dominus Thrax as he began his speech, run to the warframe knelt on the ground and trade places with him, but your efforts were futile. You were frozen in place by an invisible force. And then it was too late; the sword had fallen. You watched in horror as his lifeless body slumped forward, his head severed onto the stone pavement, the lights of his warframe flickering out one by one as his systems powered down. A scream ripped through your throat, you cried out for him, shrieking until your vocal cords went raw. 

That was when you woke up, tears streaming down your face, sweat coating your back, and a sob caught in your lungs. You tried to catch your breath, tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t real, but it all felt so…vivid. Like you had just watched his death happen right in front of you. Again, for that matter. How many times would you have to see it? 

However, your train of thought was cut short when you heard a knock at your door. You caught your breath, waiting for the sound again, making sure you weren’t imagining things, and sure enough it rang out again throughout the room. You wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeves and hurried out of bed to scurry down the steps towards the sound, opening the door to find Arthur, hand raised like he was about to knock again and hair looking less than his usual well-kept look. He looked frantic, like he had rushed to your door in a hurry. 

“Arthur? What…What’re you doing here?” You asked him. His presence wasn’t unwelcome, in fact, you were glad to see him in front of you after the scenes that had just been playing behind your eyelids, but it was still jarring nonetheless. 

“I…heard you calling for me, so I came to check on you.” He hesitated, as if he risked sounding like he was making up excuses to be at your door in the middle of the night, or that he was hearing things himself. You wanted to adore the thought of him caring enough about your well-being to tear himself from his sleep to make sure you were alright, but the mention that he had heard you call out for him made your blood run cold. Had you been screaming that loudly? Or had some other mind link been made during your dream-induced emotional turmoil? 

“Oh…sorry about that…I’m fine, Arthur. You can go back to sleep. I appreciate you stopping by though.” You plastered the fakest smile you could muster onto your face, hoping your defensive walls were tall enough that he couldn’t see over them. Though all it would’ve taken was one good blow to make you crack and crumble. 

Arthur wasn’t fully blind. His experience with Amir had taught him the signs to look for, and he recognized all of them in you. The way you would be the first one awake every day, the discoloration underneath your eyes that seemed to get worse by the day, the weeks you would progressively drag on and continuously get slower on the draw before he would find you passed out somewhere in the Mall fast asleep, the noises that would startle him awake at night that he would tell himself was just the techrot underneath them but in reality was you screaming in your sleep. He had seen it all before, though this time it was even closer to home. “Would you like me to stay with you? Through the night?” 

At first, you thought he was joking, having a laugh and poking fun like the rest of the Hex did with one another, but his eyes were so sincere you were caught by surprise. “You want to? Are you sure?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.” 

You mulled your lip between your teeth, rocking on the balls of your feet slightly as you considered his suggestion. The thought of crawling back to the cold loneliness of your bed seemed daunting; like a trap laying in wait for you, ready to spring another bad dream upon your sleep as soon as you laid down. And he had been the one to offer…

“Okay.” It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it all the same, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face in relief. You stepped back, allowing him space to walk into the backroom, the mechanical door closing behind him as you swallowed your reservedness and threaded your fingers in between his, guiding him up the stairs toward your little loft apartment. He let you lead the way, never once making any signs of objection. The two of you had done this dance a hundred times before; him finding a comfortable spot on your bed, you curling into his side with your head nestled on his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, a blanket tossed loosely over the two of you. Though this time was different, all of the time the two of you had spent on your bed he had never stayed longer than a few hours, certainly not overnight. You had never asked him to, he had never asked if he could, and it was left at that. 

But now here he was, practically a furnace beneath you, his techrot-induced quickened heartbeat thrumming in your ear. You realized why it had never crossed your mind to ask him to stay; how were you supposed to get any sleep with the thought of him so close to you? But then you felt his hand make its way into your hair, his metal fingers mindlessly threading through the strands, a silent lullaby that calmed your mind enough for you to drift back to sleep, cozied in his arms. 

You felt something cold dripping onto your nose, the startling sensation yanking you from your sleep. Your eyes shot open, your hand coming up to wipe the substance off of your skin. Your fingers came back drenched in thick, sticky red. The rest of your slumber that had held on to the back of your mind immediately vanished. You held your breath, looking up towards where the dripping had been coming from, only to be met with a mangled corpse impaled to the ceiling above you, blood dripping down onto you and the surrounding floor. You had been lying in a puddle of the stuff. You swallowed a scream and scrambled up, almost slipping in the sticky mess in your haste. Your heartbeat was in your throat and it was then that you realized where you were, scanning the area revealed a scene that felt hauntingly familiar. Hallways from your childhood, doused in blood and ghosts and sins of the past. The Zariman. How had you ended up here? 

A piercing scream ringing off of the metal hallways and echoing towards your ears cut off your train of thought before it even had a chance to begin. People were being hunted, the body on the ceiling you had found was proof enough of that. You needed to move. Your feet decided for you before your mind did, picking a direction and taking off. You ran down the hallway, taking a left, a right, another left, screams and void explosions echoing behind you. Closer and closer and closer. 

You came across an open doorway and swung yourself inside, praying it was empty as you crouched down, your heart hammering in your head and your breaths coming out ragged. You sat down, curling your knees into your chest and placing your hands over your ears, your whole body shaking. You could hear them, so close to your hideaway; their screams, their shrieks, the splatter of gore as they tore limb from limb. You breathed, in and out, willing them to Just. Go. Away. You didn’t know how you had gotten here in the first place but you wanted out, you wanted to go back. Back to Arthur, back to the safety of the backroom, back to the chaos of 1999, back to your chosen home. You wanted to go back to him. And maybe, just maybe, if you focused hard enough you could will yourself away from this place. 

He had been sleeping, or at least he thought he had been sleeping, and then suddenly he wasn’t. Or…was he still sleeping? He honestly couldn’t tell anymore but he knew he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Cold, void-touched metal walls surrounded him, hallways of someplace he didn’t recognize. He picked himself up off the floor, how he had gotten down there he couldn’t remember, but he stood up regardless, surveying what laid in front of him. A lounge room of some sort, destroyed as if during a fight and furniture flipped over as barricades. Wherever he was had been, or was currently, a warzone. A switch flipped in his brain that set him on edge, his fingers itching for his AX-52. 

He exited the room carefully, seeing more of the same for as far as his eyes could see; battle-torn destruction and void-damaged metal. He heard a scream and whipped his head around, faced with multiple hallways that stretched in various directions. He pressed his back to the nearest wall and waited. One count, two count, three count, four…but nothing ever came. He heard it again, this time closer, but listening more carefully it sounded more like a strangled sob. It took him a minute to realize it was coming from inside his own head. Then he heard your voice. 

“I’m going to fucking die here…They’re gonna kill me!” you were sobbing, choking on your own words as you screamed them out. You sounded terrified. He discovered he hated the sound. 

“Who’s going to kill you? Where are we, love?” he asked, his voice soft in an attempt to soothe you, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

“I'm going to die and…and I’m never-” you paused, hiccups overcoming you as you tried to speak and cry at the same time. “I’m never going to see him again! Fuck! I’m gonna die all alone in this stupid place! I just-” he could hear you sniffle, gulping in air between ragged breaths. “I just want Arthur back.” 

He could feel his heart wretch. Did you not know he was here? You had to have been the one to summon him here, right? He knew of no one else who could. He scanned the hallways one last time, double making sure the coast was clear before heading back to the room he had originally found himself in. He sat down, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on your presence. You had to be in there, somewhere. “Sweets, can you hear me?” he tried, your cries still echoing around his mind. When there came no reply he tried again. “Listen to me; you’re not alone. I’m right here, love. Can you hear my voice?” he made sure to be gentle, but with a twinge of his commanding-ness that he knew, or at least hoped, would grab your attention. His brow furrowed as he searched for anything in his mind that could be a response from you, anything that showed him you were at least listening. 

“...Arthur?” It was meek and hesitant but it was there. He let out a sigh of relief, the sobs had stopped and you had acknowledged his presence. 

“I’m here, love. By Sol, I’m here. What’s going on?” 

“I…I don’t know!” you burst into tears again, he could practically feel the sobs racking your whole body, your cold tears on his face and the nerves of his fingers shaking with anxiety. He cursed himself for not approaching the subject more delicately. 

“Come now, sweets, you’re alright. Nothing can hurt you now that I’m here, you know that. Let’s start with, where are we? Can you do that?” 

He could hear you try to regulate your breathing, a trick he had taught you the first time he had witnessed you having a panic attack. The memory made him smile, just a little. “I…um…we…we’re on the Zariman and- oh Arthur! The Angels! The Angels are coming! Can’t you hear them?! They’ll find us! We have to run! Right now!” you had stayed calm for all of about two seconds, panic zinging through his nervous system as you tried to will his feet to move. But he held them still, his will over his own body stronger than your attempted control while you were in such a frazzled state. 

“Hold on, love, who’re the Angels? Are they the ones trying to kill you?” You didn’t have time to answer him as a piercing shrill scream rang through the metallic halls, this time Arthur knew for certain it wasn’t coming from inside of his mind. He was quick to his feet, looking for something, anything, to defend the two of you with. The room provided nothing. He cursed, grasping for his exalted blade, hoping his protoframe abilities still worked in whatever nightmarish place this was. Thankfully they did, the sword glowing to life in the palms of his hands. The blueish steel was all he needed. He could hear the shrills becoming louder as it screamed, sharp metal claws clanking and echoing off the walls as it searched. The creature was hunting. He didn’t have much time. 

He knew you could hear the monster through his ears, your presence had retreated to the farthest corners of his mind you could find, trying to escape the horrors that awaited you on the outside. But he could still hear you, could still sense you, crying and shaking and pleading with him to just make the thing go away. 

“I’m here to help, love, but it’s up to you. I don’t know what I’m up against. You don’t have to fight this, but you need to help me. I know you’re still in there, you’re still you underneath all that fear.” he was as calm as he could be knowing that an unknown void horror was about to be barreling down on top of him at any moment. But there was no response. And the newfound ringing in his ears could only mean that the creature had found him. 

He dashed out of the room, sliding across the floor and down the hallway, skirting underneath the legs of the lanky abomination. It shrieked, clawing at him with its metal arms. He rebounded, pouncing off of the floor and using the wall as leverage to jump at one of its legs, slashing at the metal, void energy tumbling out as his blade made contact. 

“Arthur,” you called out, his concentration severed at your sudden words. The creature slashed at him and his momentary surprise knocked him off balance, it missed, but only by inches as he jumped back and landed on his calves.“Arthur, I’m here! Aim for its center!” 

He grunted, ducking down as it swung at him again. He rolled, sliding until he was perfectly underneath the monster. His move confused it, its claws slamming down into the ground around itself as it spun around in a circle in an attempt to claw under itself, screeching the whole while. “Look up!” you shouted in his mind, and he immediately obeyed, being met with a center mass of concentrated swirling void energy, the coldness radiating off of the tip of his nose. “See?” 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he replied, kicking up off of the floor into a jump straight through the creature, leading with the tip of his sword. He met the ceiling as it screamed, ricocheting off with his hands and landing onto the floor as the monster crumbled, the two severed halves hitting the floor with a resounded thud. All remains of the glowing void energy were gone, dissipating out of the cracks between the metal like wisps of smoke blown away in a storm. 

“It’s dead…” you told him as if you didn’t actually believe the corpse by his feet. He kicked it for good measure, showing you that it was well and truly not getting back up. You breathed in relief and he could sense the smile ghosting across your face. But it was quickly chased away by the sounds of more shrieks echoing down the halls. Again, and again, and again. As if there was more than one this time. You began to pull away again, your heart rate intermixing with his and beating in his throat. “No…no no no. No! Arthur, I can’t! Not again! I can’t! Arthur!” you were panicking, breathing becoming a challenge as oxygen refused to fill your lungs. It knocked the wind out of him. 

He fell to a knee, propping his weight on his sword. If he didn’t calm you down, and quickly, you would send the both of you spiraling into a panic attack. He could already feel his heart rate quickening, trying to match yours. Damn this transference. 

“You can, love. You’re strong enough. I’m right here with you.” he focused on you, blocking out the noises fast approaching. He spoke slow, steady, like a beacon in the whirlwind of your racing mind, searching for you. 

“We don’t have time for this, they’ll be on us any second!” you screamed in his mind, the essence of tears streaming down your face and ghosting down his skin. You were trying to will him to get up, to run, to do anything but just sit here like prey waiting to be slaughtered. 

“Slow. It. Down. Breathe, sweets.” he commanded, but not in a forceful way. The change of tone in his voice made you listen, though. The gruffness from his lowered octave had a way of pulling your attention and he knew it. 

“I…I…” 

But he didn’t let you continue and instead began deliberately breathing in and out, slowly, surely, steadily. Your mind suddenly went blank, the swirling thoughts seeming to calm as you unintentionally started to follow his example. Everything worked better, clearer, now that oxygen was returning to your system, and by proxy Arthur’s system as well. He could feel your mind begin to calm, the whirlwind slowing into a breeze. Relief washed over his nerves as you continued to breathe like he had shown you, your tears drying up and your heart rate returning to normal. He leaned on his sword and fully stood up, rolling his shoulders back and positioning his feet into a fighting stance just as the clicking of metallic claws rounded the corner down the hallway in front of him, the mass of void and twisted metal creatures coming into view, screeching and screaming. 

“What do we do?” you asked him. Your voice was quiet, timid. He could tell you were still frightened, but you sounded more sure of yourself. Your voice was here, in the current present with him, and not lost or trapped in the fears of your mind anymore. You were relying on him. He had asked you to place all of your trust in him at this moment and you had done so without a second thought. Sol above, he would never forgive himself if he bollocked this up now. 

“These creatures scare you.” it was a statement more than a question but he could feel your presence nod furiously in his head. You watched as he stared the approaching void angels down, his sword raised above his shoulder at the ready, his face carved out of stone as their claws clattered and tore down the hallway towards him. “Then we kill your fear.” his voice was low, threatening, dangerous. Sharp as the blade held in his hands and twice as deadly. He sounded so sure of himself you were almost weary to ask if that was even possible, but you never got the chance to anyway, his blade clashing with void-enhanced steel for the second time. 

There were at least three, if not more that could pop out of the walls at any second. Arthur slashed and dashed around the space provided, nicking the metal appendages of the monsters whenever an opening was available, which wasn't often. Claws constantly crashed down around him, threatening to crush and impale him with every move. Worry chewed at your nervous system. He was part warframe, sure, but he could still only handle so much. He was starting to slow down, the constant dodging and bouncing around wearing him thin. Sweat stuck thick to his brow, drenching his hair. He rebounded from a jump and kicked off of the wall with his foot, coming down on one of the angels with the tip of his sword, embedding it into the corroded metal, inches too far from hitting the mass of energy in the center. The creature wailed and tried to shake him off, leaving his sword still stuck in its carapace and throwing him across the room into a different wall, hard. The impact left a noticeable dent in the metal exterior. He heard you groan in his head, his name tumbling from your lips as if to ask if he was okay. Which only left him more confused. 

He had been thrown across the room by a void-born monster, slammed into a metal wall with enough force to dent it, and yet he felt…nothing? He felt fine, if he was being honest. A little tired from all the fighting but certainly not injured, not like he should have been for someone who had just been flung spine-first into a wall. But you were groaning in pain. The gears began to turn in his head just as the angels found where their plaything had escaped to. 

“It’s a dream…” he dashed away from the oncoming threat, now defenseless as his sword was still out of reach. 

You felt the need to cough up blood but doing so was impossible while inside a warframe, the copper liquid forcing its way back down your throat, Arthur’s words not even registering in your head. “What?” 

“This is your dream, love! It’s a nightmare! This isn’t real!” It had clicked; you were tormenting yourself, running through your worst fears, and causing yourself pain in the process. He hadn’t quite figured out how he’d ended up here with you, but this dream didn’t include him, he was never aboard the Zariman. His pain wasn’t a part of your torment. 

“What do you mean this isn’t real?! It fucking feels real!” You didn’t believe him. How could you believe him when your head still throbbed from being thrown and blood still poured from between your teeth? 

He huffed, sliding underfoot of the metallic beasts as claws swung in his direction again. “You trust me, don’t you? Transfer out of me and prove me wrong, love. I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

You hummed aggressively, though it reverberated through his ears as more of a whine. Whether you believed the facts you were seeing in front of his eyes didn’t matter, you believed him, and that was enough. 

“Let’s get out of here. The both of us, okay, sweets?” He asked softly, his hands at the ready as his eyes focused on the void angels stalking towards him, backing him into a corner. The threat was imminent, but his attention never left you, though, in the back of his mind. You were his way out of this hellscape, his only way out of this hellscape of your memory’s creation, if he could get you to listen to him. He didn’t panic as their claws started to swing in his direction, their shrieks piercing his eardrums, and he didn’t flinch either when their metal appendages came to a dead stop mid-air. Their hulking frames had froze mid-stance, outstretched towards him, but now dead, lifeless, their screams coming to an abrupt halt, deafening silence washing over the area.  

“Okay.” You answered, your voice clear as a bell ringing in his head. His eyes forcefully shut, his protoframe body shutting down as his mind drifted back to reality. 

You awoke with a gasp, tears automatically streaming down your face as you bolted upright, clutching and clawing at your chest as your lungs tried and failed to catch up to the rapid racing of your heartbeat. Arthur had woken up at the same time as you, a groan tumbling from his lips as being forcefully yanked from transference turned out to be a very rude wake-up call. He regained his composure quickly, though, sitting up and immediately pulling you into his lap, cradling you in his arms. Moments like this you reminded him of those old porcelain dolls that used to be everywhere before the techrot took over; small, fragile, one wrong move and he could shatter you into a million pieces that he wouldn’t have the first clue of how to put back together the right way. 

“Arthur…” you called out his name, watery eyes staring up at him. 

He brushed your hair out of your face, the strands sticking to your skin due to sweat, likely from you being fitful in bed during your nightmare. “You’re okay, love.” His voice barely above a whisper in your ear. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out, a fresh wave of tears falling from your eyes. His hand came up to caress your cheek, his metal thumb gently wiping the tears away as they fell. 

“What for?” 

“For…for bringing you into all…that. I…I didn’t even know that was possible. I’m so sorry.” you explained, placing your hands on his chest to ground yourself, the warmth of his frame radiating through your fingertips and keeping you from bursting into sobs. 

He tightened his hold on you, silently reminding you that you were here, with him, in your home in Höllvania, no longer trapped within your dream world. “You reached out to me when you needed me, don’t feel like you have to apologize for that.” he kissed you softly on the forehead, the feeling of his lips lingering on your skin. You crumpled against his chest, exhausted and at a loss for words. “You’re safe, love. They can’t hurt you here.” he reminded you, nestling his face into your hair as he gave you another gentle squeeze. 

He held you there in the dark, for how long you couldn’t remember. You cradled securely in his arms and him wrapped protectively around you, chasing away any further nightmares. Neither one of you fell asleep anytime soon, but when you did, you knew he would be there, your swordsman, his steel at the ready to drive away the monsters that plagued your mind. 

[kettlefire]

Kid Flash & the Prison.

Wally West doesn't believe in the supernatural.

Aliens? Sure. Atlanteans? Understandable. Clones? Yes, makes perfect sense.

Magic and ghosts? Party tricks.

It's not real, and it never will be.

That's the only reason he accepted the stupid bet. He knows Robin was just trying to rile him up, but he couldn't help it.

M'gann was so sure it was haunted. Swore up and down that it just didn't feel right, and tried to talk Wally out of it.

He wasn't going to wuss out in front of her. So he went in. He took up the bet and went inside the haunted old prison.

An hour. He just had to survive an hour in the creaky, dark, damp building.

That can't be so hard, right?

He steeled himself, laughed of the concerned looks, and went straight in. Ignoring the looming voice in the back of his head telling him to turn away.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, a cold chill filled the air, and...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wally could hear the slight dripping of an old pipe somewhere, but that was all.

The prison was just that. An old abandoned prison, falling apart on it's edges. That was it. Nothing more nothing less, and Wally laughed at himself for his stupid fear.

He zoomed through the building, going into every room. Looking at every nook and cranny. Taking pictures so make sure no one could say he stayed huddle at the door.

It wasn't until he reached the Warden's office that something happened.

It wasn't a big deal, Wally was just certain a draft knocked over one of those rotten wooden shelves. That's what the crash was, no need to fret. Wally absolutely didn't jump at the sound.

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and pulled...

Nothing happened. The door refused to open. The knob turned, it wasn't locked. Yet it felt like door might be barricaded, so tightly that Wally couldn't even shove it an inch.

It only made Wally want to get in even more. He's been to every other inch of this prison, he wasn't going to let a rotten door stop him.

But then it happened. Translucent glowing green arms shot out of the wooden door, gripping at Wally's skin in an ice cold and bruising grasp.

He didn't scream. No, Wally shouted. That's all he did. It was manly, 100%, he just got a little jump scared that's it.

His comm crackled to life, and Wally could hear the voices of his team through thick static. He could barely make it out, what with trying not to get pulled into the door.

The old rotten door wasn't a door anymore. It swirled a glowing green and purple color, and the presence of it sent a chill down Wally's spine.

This time, as Wally felt the floor slipping from under him, Wally screamed. A blood curdling sound because this wasn't supposed to happen.

The speedster wasn't sure if he had just closed his eyes, or if he passed out. Yet, when he opened his eyes again he was in a prison.

A prison. Not The Prison.

The walls were a sickly purple grey, the sky above him was inky black with the occasional streak of green. And Wally realized very quickly, he wasn't on Earth anymore.

Maybe he should have been more concerned by the green beings dressed in riot gear circling around him. Or the fact that he was now wearing a grey and black jumpsuit, his super suit and mask completely missing.

But no. No the thing that sent a numbing wave of dread through was the man.

The man, who could barely be called a man, that loomed over him. Dressed in white and black suit. Whose skin was a deathly white.

An almost skeletal look to his face, yet Wally didn't doubt he strength and power in that man.

The man who called himself Warden Walker.

Walker wasted no time in listening a startling list of rules Wally had broken. Rules that would lead him to spend much too long trapped in this ghostly prison.

As much as Wally hated to admit it, that's what it was. Ghosts.

And he had no clue how to get free. Even as he was changed, and lead around the prison. To the mess hall. Even as Wally started down at the food that looked absolutely radioactive.

In this moment, Wally realized how screwed he truly was. Terrified of what would happen next. Would his friends try going into the prison after him?

How much time has even passed? Would his friends end up trapped here with him? Would they get worse treatment? How could a human be in a ghost prison?!

His spiraling panic and stressed came to a complete halt when she sat down. Grey skin and firey blue hair, Wally couldn't help but find her beauty enticing.

Her boyfriend, however, looked as if he could snap Wally in two. Looming forming, looking to be a metallic suit and firey green mohawk.

Wally really thought he was going to get the weirdest beat down of his life.

Except the conversation quickly shifter a plan for a riot. Talk of how to get Wally out of there. Leaving the speedster absolutely flabbergasted. Why would they help?

Every time Wally tried to ask the ghosts why, they kept brushing him off. Until finally he got an answer from Ember. Which only left him with more questions.

"Because the dipstick would be a bigger pain if we let a human stay here."