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newx-menfan · 2 months ago

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Laura Kinney isn’t the “Goodie Two Shoes” fans make her out to be…and other thoughts…

Part 1: “The CRINGE”

Let’s be honest- we all KNEW I would eventually get here…after doing write-ups on Surge, Hellion, AND Prodigy…since X-23 is one of my all time favorite characters…

If there is one thing that drives me totally NUTS about X-23 fandom though (and fandoms, in general)… it is this weird fan attitude that Laura Kinney…aka “X-23”…aka “Wolverine”… can essentially “Do No Wrong”….

She’s the “BETTER” Wolverine. The less “TOXIC” version. The PERFECT Wolverine.

You see it in comic clickbait articles ALL the time- Laura is, essentially, the PERFECT answer to all the problems of the original character….

If you happen to mention ANY sort of criticism against X-23, textually or just about the character ingeneral - “She’s a bad friend”… “She can be kind of selfish”… “she is objectively a derivative character that is based off of a more popular X-Men”…people will look at you like you just kicked their puppy or said something really cruel…

And what’s interesting to me about all of this is… X-Men is KIND OF a book essentially about very flawed people, all trying to survive. That was, after all, Marvel’s WHOLE sell for years- they had the “relatable”, “real” characters…. where DC comics had “Gods”.

You would think, with characters EATING another planet, living out problematic “antebellum” Dark Phoenix fantasies, having psychic affairs, saying the “N-word” repeatedly, starting out as villains… it’s kind of accepted that ALL OF THE OTHER X-MEN have made terrible choices at some point or have been written BADLY….

Yet if you go on X-Men twitter… you will regularly see fans yelling that Jean Grey “is the most powerful X-Men” ever, Gambit or Logan are just these perfect “girl-dad’s”, or Storm can essentially NEVER be wrong…

And the PROBLEM with this is…it’s made writing these characters ALMOST LOGISTICALLY IMPOSSIBLE…

When Jean, for example, is at GOD LEVELS and ALWAYS morally right… what can you feasibly DO with her character anymore? If you create a villain to match her insane power levels… fans will be upset and complain that the fight wasn’t “fair” and inevitably pull up some vague comic panel to argue just why Jean really should have won …If a writer decides to de-power her OR makes her go evil, fans often will inevitably view it as sexist… so how can you write Jean Grey as still relatable?

New relationships or Scott Summers dying?- Fans often get upset when writers break up the iconic Scott/Jean or Logan/Jean ships…or accuse writers of romanticizing toxic relationships…

Put her in a teaching/mentor/Headmaster role?- we saw what happened when writers tried it with Kitty, Storm, and Logan…they just became pretty boring….

Often writers solution seems to be… just killing Jean off…

This isn’t to shoot down criticisms like “Women in the Refrigerator Syndrome”, “plot armor”, ect…but I do think it’s important to talk about how… possibly… fandom has gone too far the other way… that fandom is basically guaranteeing characters will inevitably become obsolete or unusable… or cause writers to inevitably just repeat the same five stories for nostalgia sake, because they can’t do anything “new”…

This isn’t JUST female characters either- I would say characters like Gambit, Wolverine, Cyclops, Batman, and several others have pretty much the same logistical problem…they’ve been hyped up SO MUCH…that you can’t really DO ANYTHING with them anymore, for fear of angering their large fanbases….

Laura has relatively quickly developed this problem, and it seems like the shelf life of comic book characters is burning out quicker and quicker…

What is it about Laura, that makes her immune to any real criticism within her fan base, in a comic book series where it’s kind of accepted that every character is in some way…horribly flawed?

I am going to go through in these posts talking about why Laura really isn’t the perfect character readers constantly make her out to be… that she actually IS pretty similar TO Logan and a lot of the complaints against him CAN be tied to her as well… and that the biggest problem currently facing Laura AND COMICS in general right now, I would argue, is that writers are not able to admit that Laura or any of the other characters ARE sometimes wrong…or to quote Kitty Pryde…sometimes kind of a “jerk”…

———————————————————————

Part of the reason no one criticizes Laura, is because of her tremendously tragic backstory.

Essentially a modern version of “Frankenstein”; Laura is created to be a replication of the “Weapon X” experiment in miniseries “Innocence Lost”. (I know people tend to focus more on the “Pinocchio” allusions from the book, but I find the “Frankenstein” allusions more relevant…)

Sarah Kinney opts into this program, because, like Victor Frankenstein: she desires scientific exploration without ethical scrutiny.

Focused more on pushing the realms of scientific discovery instead of considering the consequences, Sarah manages to create a viable clone, with the caveat that it is female, because the “Y” gene from the sample is too damaged. It’s only when Rice, another scientist with a Wolverine-vendetta, forces Sarah to be a surrogate to Laura as punishment for her insubordination, that the ethical considerations truly start to come into play for Sarah…

Laura experiences extreme torture, radiation poisoning to activate her mutant powers, coating her claws without anesthetic, creation of the trigger scent (a pavlovian odor that causes her to black out and go berserk), forcing her to kill her Sensei and other targets (and her puppy, according to Liu…), and many other horrors while there.

Sarah, after seeing Laura’s potential for good after Laura spares Rice’s illegitimate kid from being murdered and Laura helping track down Sarah’s kidnapped niece; tries to free Laura and destroy the facility…

Which leads to Rice coating Sarah with the trigger scent and having Laura murder her.

While Laura DOES manage to escape…she now has to live with the fact that she killed her own mother for the rest of her life…

This is pretty much the bare bones summary (I ignored Sarah’s own history of childhood trauma and abuse and the Rice subplots)….

Laura then goes to track down Sarah’s relatives in “Target X”, bonding with Megan, the angsty traumatized niece that had been kidnapped previously and develops her first real human connection.

It’s hard NOT to like Kyle’s adorable version of Laura; watching her riding on roller coasters with Megan, peeping in on people in windows, accidentally getting Megan into trouble by mimicking teachers, hanging out at the boardwalks in San Fran…. Laura is socially inept…but in a relatable way…

Things go to hell however, when it’s discovered that Debbie’s boyfriend is actually a facility agent and spying on them…

Laura fights the Sabertooth-like Kimura, saves Debbie and Megan, helps them go into hiding, and then attacks Logan with the plan to kill them both…only to get captured by Shield….and then is freed by Captain America…

Again a bare bones summary and nothing to really criticize, since Laura has little engagement with people in these situations and is the victim, despite doing some really horrible things. It’s a pretty reasonable storyline and it is, again, a modern comic retelling of “Frankenstein”…similar to “the Incredible Hulk”….

Laura is the monster of modern science, desperately seeking the answers of what it means to be human…

Sure…she kind of/sort of tries to kill Logan…but it’s understandable considering the situation…(and it’s not like Logan doesn’t have a history of trying to kill his own family members in comics…)

“NYX”…good and bad…is kind of the story that PUSHES the TRAUMA NARRATIVE to a ridiculous degree…

I get why on multiple levels…people, including Craig Kyle himself (writer of “Innocence Lost” AND ”Target X”) …HATE NYX.

And truthfully… I personally remember rolling my eyes, the first time I heard about it when it came out…

“NYX”, written by Editor Joe Quesada, was the first introduction of Laura, and technically came out BEFORE “Innocence Lost”/“Target X” but after Laura’s appearance on the tv show “X-Men Evolution”. Canonically…it’s a little more challenging but most fans AGREE NYX comes AFTER “Target X”….

Laura is in NYC and being trafficked by Zebra Daddy (yes…that IS HIS NAME IN THE BOOK…); becoming mute and withdrawn.

When a john kills himself she meets another mutant, Kiden Nixon, and joins a ragtag group of homeless mutants…there’s a whole subplot about Kiden’s dead dad…Zebra Daddy comes after Laura and she kills him to save her friends…

In the end, Laura abandons her friends (because Laura has to be a “lone wolf”); but bumps into them years later after joining the X-Men…

While I will fully admit there are parts of Laura’s story that ARE handled pretty well…there’s also A LOT of voyeuristic panty shots in the art….a ridiculous amount of hand waving…and constant over-theatrics…

———————————————————————

Laura really is that character that teeters on an edge of cringe….

“Female Clone of Wolverine”- admittedly sounds cringeworthy to a non-comic book reader… (and people who remember HOW BAD “the Clone Saga” was…)

“Dating and obsessed with a ‘Draco Malfoy-esque’ sorta toxic copy of Jean Grey”- soundscringeworthy…right?

“Tortured weapon who is forced to become a teenage sex worker out on the streets of NYC and is goth and self harms…”- 100% sounds like an over the top show on CW….

I DO OBJECTIVELY GET why, when Laura first popped up into comics, a lot of male Wolverine fans saw her as just this “edgy CW-like attempt at new readership”… (technically she was CREATED on Warner Brothers “X-Men Evo”…so that’s not totally an inaccurate summary either…)

A teenage Wolverine…with boobs…

Hell…the director of “Logan”, James Mangold, didn’t want to feature her as a teenager…because he thought it sounded like a “CW show”….

“NYX” did feel like something out of a Frank Miller, “Batman: Year One” hallucination. That’s not to say it’s a BAD comic…but it definitely reflects the era of the 2000’s where everything had to be “gritty”….female characters were all heavily sexualized…it was at a time where “Skins”, “Misfits”, and “Gossip Girl” hyped up underage teenagers doing drugs, partying, and having risky sex….

One of the covers of “NYX” literally features Kiden with a pacifier…heavily hinting at “rave culture” and “ecstasy” usage…

I know a lot of modern readers take offense to this book and Quesada…but I do see the other side of it. A big part of Millennial early counter culture WAS indie sleeze….it WAS very hedonistic…it did fit the time period it was created….

“NYX” is a as much of a product of Millennial culture as “Academy X”, “the Ultimate verse”, or Grant Morrison’s “New X-Men” was… it was the same as how “Generation X” or “Jim Lee’s X-Men” was for the 90’s…how all of Claremont’s “Uncanny” and the spinoff books were products of the 80’s culture…and how Kirby’s “X-Men” was for the 60’s…ectera, ecetera…

And the common trend with all of them? They all have some PRETTY CRINGY MOMENTS.

I’m 100% sure, in ten or twenty years, we will look back and criticize how this era of comics incorporated embarrassing parts of youth culture…or writing styles…or counter culture…

But at the same time…her backstory… DOES start to feel a bit ridiculous. It does start to feel like this manufactured, over the top modern “Oliver Twist” or “Great Expectations” to get fans to essentially accept and sympathize with this fairly new character…Like someone just took a bunch of random origin stories and dumped them together in blender, to make the ultimate “SAD” character…

Is Laura really ALL that different from ridiculous characters like Adam the X-treme? Or Birdbrain? the lost Summer brother…Vulcan?

Yet we don’t take any of those characters overly seriously…

It’s moments like watching fans debate whether it’s right or wrong to use the Codename “X-23” for example, screaming at fans who are fine with it because they realize she’s ultimately a fictional character and Marvel on some level needs “brand recognition”…that even if her backstory does deal with real topics and issues…. do you remember that Laura’s backstory is pretty comicbook-y and absurd.

As “cringy” as Laura SOUNDS on PAPER…she works because the writing ultimately did what it was supposed to do. Laura has objectively some of the BEST MODERN COMICS and even books like NYX, are pretty decently written, even if the subject matter and handling and culture are outdated from it.

Laura IS a great character…but she’s also kind of on edge of “cringy”…

And where we can kind of ACCEPT that cringe with Logan and his weird nose-less era…or Gambit referring to himself in third person… or pretty much EVERYTHING about Kitty (ninja…pirate…teenage prodigy…weird waifu for literally every male writer); Laura is this one character that you can’t criticize…or if you DO, it has to be solely around the sexualization of the character…and not the character itself…

I do understand fans getting attached to certain characters…in seeing their OWN trauma represented IN the character and reflected back…but at some point…I do think you have to see the humor of it all too…

That Laura isn’t ALL that DIFFERENT from other products of their time- like clone Superboy…FantomeX…Quentin Quire….Bloodstorm…Maggott…Adam the X-treme…

She just had better writing.

#Laura Kinney #x23 #x 23 #laura x23 #Wolverine #marvel #new xmen #x men #new x men #academy x #new x men academy x #bring back the new x men #innocence lost #target x #NYX #Craig Kyle #Joe Quesada #part 1 #Laura Kinney isn’t the “Goodie Two Shoes” fans make her out to be…and other thoughts…

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animasolaoriginal · 8 months ago

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I n n o c e n c e L o s t 🟪 9

Under the scorching sun, Ben's mind wanders... until he and Nebbia find themselves on the run from a bunch of enemies that bring forth a whole new problem.

lonely cowboy/outlaw ✖️ prostitute who's so much more than that

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

WORDS: 4.4k 🟪 READ ON AO3

Chapter 8 🟪 Chapter 10

Additional warning: explicit sexual content ahead! (The smut tag makes sense now!)

Chapter 9: The Temptation

The constant sway of Thunder's strong steps through the plain have him quickly losing focus. With Nebbia pressed to his chest, wedged between his thighs, held securely in his arm, her feet bouncing slightly, her whole body rubbing against him with every up and down motion, Ben's mind starts to wander.

He sees her outside a small cabin, their cabin, deep in the woods, close to a lake, where she tends to the garden while he hunts or catches fish, where she hangs the sheets out to dry in the soft breeze, her long brown hair moving in the same flow, her skirt billowing around her. She has to stretch to reach the line he's spanned between the trees, balancing on her toes as she fixes the sheets to it with the wooden clothespins, her shirt riding up slightly, exposing just a sliver of soft, pale skin.

It's his shirt, he notices, the plaid one he's given her, so many moons ago. She's tied it around her waist, knotted in the front, the sleeves rolled up, just enough buttons undone to tease at the soft mounds beneath the warm fabric.

When she returns to the cabin, she finds him leaning by the window, watching her. There's a blush on her pale cheeks when she looks up at him. He doesn't hesitate when he grabs her waist and hoists her onto the kitchen counter effortlessly. A little yelp escapes her, then a laugh, her smile warm and happy when she extends her arms and pulls him closer, wrapping them around his neck, playing with his hair.

He obliges, indulges her, leans in and presses his mouth to hers. He can feel the warmth and wetness of her tongue when it moves between his lips, when it meets his, tastes him, licks him, makes his heart flutter, a sensual dance while he steps closer, caging her in, his hands running under her thighs to urge her to wrap her legs around him. She does.

She always does. He deepens the kiss, swallows her mewls when he moves his large hands around her legs and under her skirt to grab her rear, sinks his long fingers into her plump ass cheeks, kneads them, pulls them apart slightly, teases between them. She rubs her pelvis against him, and she must feel how hard he is for her.

He's always hard for her. It's almost a problem, if she wouldn't know how to help him with it. Her hands move expertly, down the back of his neck, fingernails scraping over his broad shoulders, snake around to the front, unbutton his shirt, all while her lips are glued to his, tongue sliding against his, accompanied by frantic little puffs right into his mouth.

When her tongue plunges deeper and he invites it with a gentle suck, her warm fingers scrape over his chest, down his toned abs, lower, lower. His belt clinks when she opens it, her delicate hands gliding down over the bulge, palming him, teasing him. One grips him through the fabric, the other slips into the thin opening between his warm skin and the waistband.

He groans against her, gripping her ass, groping it hard as she brushes her fingertips along his sensitive skin. Impatience makes him twitch, jerk his hips against her hands. She finally unbuttons his jeans completely, pushes it down enough to free his hard erection. He can only grunt into her mouth when she closes her small hands around his girth before she starts moving them up and down, in a twisting motion, how he's shown her, with just enough grip and strength, to make his stomach tighten up.

His hands slip upwards, sliding over her sides, over the front of her (his) shirt, palming at her small breasts, eager fingers playing with the buttons. He's tempted to just rip it open, but she'd be furious with him for destroying another shirt, telling him buttons are hard to come by.

A laugh rumbles through his throat as she keeps nibbling on his bottom lip, rubbing her chin against his beard, the scrape adding to the breathy little moans that tumble over her lips as he slips his big hands into her open shirt and cups her soft mounds, weighing them gently, kneading them carefully.

Her hard nipples press into his palms while she squirms on the kitchen counter, her legs tightening around his waist, feet digging into his lower back. He lets go of her breasts and moves lower, gathers her skirt and pushes it aside enough to expose her pink little pussy with the soft patch of hair right above. He breaks the kiss to look down at it, while she keeps planting soft kisses on his cheek and jaw and down his neck, still pumping his cock expertly in her small hands.

Her folds are glistening, she's so wet, he can tell, and when he tests the waters, literally, she mewls softly. His fingers slip into her slick, up and down, up and down, until he dips two of them into her tightness. She arches her back, tilts her neck back, moans softly at the stretch, and as he starts pumping his fingers in and out slowly, he finds her mouth again, plunging his tongue in, tasting her as breathless whimpers echo in his ears.

She's stopped stroking his cock, and he feels it throbbing in her hold, ready to feel more of her. Kissing her deeply, he keeps his digits buried deep in her cute little cunt, scissoring them, stretching her, massaging her soft insides, while his other hand gently pries her hands off his arousal before he grabs it and brings it closer to her heat.

A disappointed little huff of air escapes her when he pulls his fingers out, only to be replaced by a loud gasp when he presses the head of his cock against her entrance. It's taken her a long time to be able to take all of him, and he thinks fondly about the many times they've tried, endless nights and even longer days, holed up in bed, or on any other surface, each time an inch more, until he could finally bottom out inside her tight wet warmth.

She leans back on her arms, bracing herself as he moves his hips closer, closer, the tip plunges into her hole, sinks deeper, she moans softly, calls his name, and he gets lost in the feeling of being choked so deliciously. So tight... so warm...

“Ben...” Her walls clench around him, pulling him deeper. “Ben.” The heat is intoxicating, he can barely breathe. “Ben!”

His eyes fly open, and he blinks in confusion, squinting at the bright sun, breathing heavily, trying to focus through the haze inside his mind. His stomach is tight and the strain on his jeans is almost unbearable. And against that very obvious bulge presses a cute little butt, clad in a brown riding skirt, tied in the waist, where his hand rests, big and heavy on her flat stomach. He swallows dryly as his gaze wanders higher until he meets Nebbia's bright green eyes.

Something warm creeps up his neck. “Huh?”

A shy smile curls her lips. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, watching him closely, a little too closely for his taste.

It takes him a long moment to realize he's sitting on Thunder's back, under the blazing sun, and an even longer moment that they're no longer moving. The horse's long neck is bent downwards, and he seems to graze peacefully.

“I think you fell asleep,” she whispers, shifting slightly against him. “Glad you didn't fall off...”

“M'sorry,” he growls, rubbing his face with his free hand. “Just a little... daydream, I guess...”

“I think you might have a sunstroke,” she says, tilting her head. “Should have thought to bring a hat after all, eh?” Her teasing tone makes his lips twitch.

He puts his hand on top of her head, feeling her warm soft hair, ruffles it playfully. She tries to squirm away with a soft laugh. Inhaling deeply, he lets go of her completely and pushes both hands through his messy hair, groaning quietly. “Why aren't we moving anymore?” he mumbles.

“Thunder must have felt that you weren't... really with us anymore, so he slowed down on his own and decided to have a little snack,” she explains, turning slightly back to weave her fingers through the horse's long mane.

Ben takes another deep breath and looks around, still trying to fight the remnants of that delicious daydream. Another grunt escapes him. Focus! The horse decided to stop near a little meadow off the path, and he can hear a creek bubbling close-by. When he looks back, however, there's more than a little sunburn prickling on his neck.

They haven't come far. Too close to town still, they shouldn't stay here. But he could use a break, a quiet moment behind a tree maybe... Rubbing his face once more for good measure, he then leans around Nebbia, grabs the horn and hoists himself off Thunder's large back, his boots thudding quietly in the soft grass beneath.

Without waiting, he grabs the girl's waist and pulls her off as well, gently putting her down in front of him. “Let's take five,” he says in a deep growl, already moving past her towards the tree line and the creek. “Stay close to Thunder,” he calls to her, shoving one hand into his pocket to adjust himself.

Goddamn daydream...

He doesn't follow through on his first instinct to relieve the ache with his right hand, instead he walks right into the creek, boots and all, crouches down and splashes the cold water into his heated face. It helps a little. But the guilt burns on. Imagining these things with her, so detailed, so real, it's wrong. He shouldn't be thinking this, not yet, not until he is sure that he's not her –

Another splash into his face. Not. Splash. Her. Splash. Father.

An angry grunt escapes him as he gets up and kicks his boot through the water, scaring away some critters. Fuck. Rubbing his wet face, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he groans a little more. What was he thinking, taking her away? Nothing, that's the problem, he didn't think a single thought. It was all instinct, as usual.

The same instinct that almost got him hanged.

Inhaling deeply, he pushes one hand through his hair, then lowers it and rolls his shoulders. A few more deep breaths through his nose, and he is walking back to her and the giant horse. She's feeding him tufts of grass, watching the animal with a loving gaze, patting his large head. Innocent. So fucking innocent.

Slowly, she turns her head towards him, frowning when she sees him – and the state he's in. “Did you fall into the creek?” she asks, a smirk playing around her lips.

He looks down at himself, shirt wet, boots and jeans wet, hair ruffled, water droplets still rolling down his temples. He only huffs a groan and walks up to Thunder, slipping his hand underneath the saddle. They should take a longer break soon, the poor animal's been carrying them and the heavy saddle for too long now. The brutal sun on his shiny black coat isn't helping.

But they have to get away a little further. Too close to town.

With his mind still spinning a little, battling dreams and memories and future scenarios, he puts his boot into the stirrup and hoists himself up the horse's back, settling into the seat once more. Nebbia stares up at him, surprised. And she should be, he usually puts her on first.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and holds out his hand to her. “Still a little fuzzy in the head,” he says with a tired smirk. She walks towards him, one hand on Thunder's neck, the other about to grab his fingers.

Suddenly he hears hooves in the distance. Dropping his hand, he turns around, instinctively grabbing the reins to make Thunder move. Nebbia steps away with a little yelp as the large animal bows his long neck and snorts loudly at the sudden command. Ben's eyes scan the horizon. The shapes of riders approach, three, no, four. Squinting at them, he can feel his skin prickling.

The West is vast, and meeting other riders in the middle of nowhere is never a good omen, no matter their intentions. He has to be careful. Especially now. Because of her. He pries his eyes from the fast approaching horses and the men on top of them, holding out his hand to Nebbia again.

“Come on,” he urges, looking down at her. Her eyes are wide, fearful, her lips trembling. She grabs his wrist, he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

The sound of hooves comes closer, his heart is racing. He leans down more, his other hand extending. The angle is awkward, he hooks his hand under her arm, grips at the fabric of her blouse, pulls her up.

She clambers forward, small hands gripping at his shoulders, and somehow she ends up facing him, her knees bent and pressing against his stomach, her skirt bunched up between them, the pointy tips of her boots tucked under his thigh. But there's no time.

“Hold on,” he says, wrapping one arm around her back, pulling her against him as she presses her chest into his, arms tight around his neck while she looks over his shoulder.

“Ben!” she gasps, but he doesn't have to see what she sees, he can hear them, circling around them. He tugs at the reins, presses his spurs into Thunder's stomach, urges him on. The large horse neighs in protest, but moves, turns in a half-circle, then falls into faster steps, away from whoever is catching up to them.

“Hey!” a deep voice calls from behind them. “We just wanna talk!”

Ben grunts, pushing Thunder forwards, tightening his grip around the girl on his lap. The horse dashes along the tree line, close to the creek, right beneath the low hanging branches. He ducks his head, putting his hand on Nebbia's to shield her as well. She grips at him, curling into a ball on his thighs.

He's white-knuckling the reins, maneuvering his steed into the forest as the hooves behind him become louder. “How many?” he grunts, then feels how Nebbia emerges from her cowered position and looks over his shoulder again.

“Three,” she breathes.

Where's the fourth? He looks around, ducking from another branch. Thunder's heavy hooves stomp along the soft forest floor, tip-tapping urgently as he tries to move him around the tree trunks. Bad idea to bring a large horse into a dense forest. But he didn't have a choice.

Low hanging branches grip at his shoulders, his arms, scrape over his head. He holds Nebbia tight against him, shielding her, her rapid breaths hitting his collarbone, her fingers digging into the back of his neck, causing shivers to rush down his spine, straight into –

Ugh. Not the time.

The noises behind him are quieter now, and he dares a look over his shoulder. They've fallen back. He looks ahead again, clenching his jaw. They're circling around. He pulls on the reins hard, making Thunder whinny angrily. With another tug and a sharp poke into his side, he makes the horse turn around, not the way they came, but further into the forest.

His heart is so loud in his ears, it's hard to focus on the surrounding noises. Nebbia's panicked little breaths aren't helping either. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing her against him, large hand splayed on her back, fingers curling slightly around her small body. “Don't worry, we'll get away.”

She swallows hard, a little gulping sound against his shoulder. “What do they want?” she asks quietly.

Her, is his first response, but then he wonders why. Why here. Those men didn't look like they belonged to the Daniels family, he would have known. He'd recognize those bastards a mile away. No, those were different men, normal men too, not the law, no Pinkertons, so what do they want from her?

“I'd rather not find out,” he replies, spurring Thunder on more as the trees stand gradually further apart, opening up to a meadow beyond. Holding her in his arm, he leans in a little, grabbing the horn behind her, when the horse falls into a steady canter, the wind rushing in his ears.

He stays close to the edge of the forest, eyes scanning his surroundings. Are they gone? That easy? He slows Thunder and straightens up, turning more to look behind him, listening. Only the birds, the horse's loud snorts, Nebbia's breaths, his own heart. He's about to calm down, loosen his grip around her, but then he sees it.

Movement in the corner of his eye. To their left. He whips his head around, stares into the forest. The rider approaches slowly, stupidly confident, close enough that he can see the sneer on his face. Unfamiliar. Ben tugs on the reins, spurs pressed into Thunder's stomach. The horse neighs loudly, whips his head up, snorts, follows the curve of Ben's arm and turns right.

“Wait!” the man calls after him. “I don't mean any harm!”

Ben looks back at him, sees him raising his hands in a surrendering motion. “What do you want?” he shouts over the noise of his thundering heart, holding Nebbia closer to him. The curious thing turns her head slightly, looks back to the stranger. The hand on her back itches, inches closer to her hip, to his hip, to the gun in the holster.

“Just a look,” the other man drawls, chewing on the stump of a cigar, as his beady eyes wander over the sight in front of him.

The girl on his lap stiffens, grips his neck tighter, gasps, but doesn't look away. Ben stares at the rider. Well-fed horse, wealthy, not the typical cowboy look. A lot of blacks and reds, expensive looking clothes. His age or older. A fedora on dark hair, a clean shaven face.

“Why are you so skittish?” he continues, eyes fixed on Nebbia. “No need to run away from us...”

“I don't trust strangers,” Ben replies darkly, feeling his skin crawl by the way the man watches the girl. “And I don't like being followed, mister,” he adds, tugging gently on the reins, turning Thunder more, ready to bolt again. His hand rests on his gun now, ready to pull and shoot the bastard.

“My apologies, sir,” the other man says slowly. “We were just curious... haven't seen such a beauty in a long while, you know?”

Clenching his jaw, he feels shivers rushing down his spine, more so when Nebbia leans closer against him, holding onto him tightly. “Awful lot of hassle to take a look at a girl...” he grunts, fingers closing around the cold metal of his pistol.

The stranger leans back in his saddle, hands folded over the horn of it, a lopsided grin on his face. “Anything for one of Roberto's,” he says, his dark eyes wandering up to meet Ben's.

He frowns, something hot and heavy sinking into his guts. His mind is spinning. Fuck. It takes him three seconds, while his heart skips a beat, his hand moves back around Nebbia, his heels sink into Thunder's stomach, and then with a tug to the reins, he moves the horse along, spurring him on with a loud call. The animal snorts, neighs loudly, but follows the command instantly, turning and bringing his massive body quickly into motion.

He doesn't look back, but Nebbia does, as they gallop over the meadow, away from the stranger. “He's not following us,” she gasps against him, fingernails digging into his skin as she holds onto him frantically.

Ben only grunts, unsure if that's a good thing or not.

And as they dash away at breakneck speed, Ben's head is hurting from the sudden onslaught of memories. Faces, names, words, threats, cries and shouts and noises, tumbling over each other. Roberto. Roberto... The Daniels don't own the brothel, they're just henchmen, working for somebody else. There are always more layers.

He's been so fucking stupid!

With a sudden grunt, he pulls at the reins, forcing Thunder to turn right. The mystery deepens. He has to know. He has to know! They have to go back. He needs answers.

Nebbia clings to him, her soft but slightly panicked breaths warm against his collarbone. They reach another patch of forest, and he slows Thunder a little, ducking his head when they dash between the trees. His heart races, the horse snorts loudly, he's white-knuckling the reins. Left and right around the thick tree trunks, ducking under low hanging branches, a little jump over obstacles in the path, he's hectic, and they're not even being followed anymore.

Inhaling sharply he stops the horse abruptly. Thunder whinnies angrily, whipping his head up and down, stomping his hooves. Ben closes both arms around Nebbia and just holds her, feels her warmth, hears her surprised little gasps, the tension of her small body, breathes her in, relaxes.

“We have to go back,” he mutters into her soft hair. “I need to talk to your Madam Claire.” The plan is there, she must hold the answers he needs. (Was Keira already pregnant when she got there? If not, who knocked her up? Was it... who Ben fears it was?) But the way is long, and it's completely foolish to return, now that he knows who's really after her. But he needs to know.

“Why?” she whispers against him, moving her hands down his chest before she gives the gentlest of pushes to make him lean back. Their eyes meet, his hands slip to her waist, holding her firmly.

“I have to know, Nebbia,” he says quietly, licking his dry lips. “Have to make sure...” He must not make any sense to her, but she doesn't press, just stares at him with those big, confused eyes that glisten slightly, glowing in the sunlight breaching through the canopy above them.

“Who's Roberto?” she asks after a long moment of just looking at him.

“A very bad man,” he replies. “Pulls a lot of strings around here, his reach is far... I had no idea he'd be interested in a small town brothel... in you...”

The frown on her soft face is almost comical, definitely adorable, and he's tempted to grab her and shower her with kisses. But he inhales deeply instead, rolling his shoulders, swallowing the urge. “You're not bringing me back, are you?” she whispers, chewing on her lip.

His eyebrows almost meet his hairline. “No! Of course not, you won't step another foot in that establishment!” He tightens the grip on her waist, tilting his head. “I'll take you somewhere safe, I promise, then I'll ask your Madam some questions, and will be back with you in no time.”

Her fingers fidget with the buttons of his shirt as she listens, her gaze lowered, jaw working slightly. “What if... what if the answers are not... what you want to hear?” she asks barely audible.

Now his hands are on her cheeks, his thumbs pushing her chin up until she looks at him. “It doesn't matter, remember?” he says softly, leaning slightly closer. “Whatever the answer, it won't change anything. I promised you a better life, I swore to protect you, and I will, no matter the outcome. I just need to know...” It will change a lot, but not the way he'll always be there for her. He'll just have to learn to suppress his urges, control his fucking daydreams...

She licks her lips, he stares at the movement of her tongue, his stomach tightens. Her hands move up his chest, warm, scorching hot through the fabric of his shirt, until he feels her fingertips on his jaw, the scrape of his beard under her soft skin loud in his ears. “It doesn't matter,” she repeats in a breathy whisper as she leans up on her knees, brings her face closer to his, her hands snaking around his head, digging into his hair. “Right?”

He holds his breath, body tense against her. The fucking temptations! Her small fingers press into his scalp, her hot breath ghosts his lips. Her big eyes are full of expectations, desire, need. The exhale he issues through his nose rivals one of Thunder's snorts. Seconds later his mouth has captured hers, his hands pulling her closer, one behind her head, one on her lower back, her body molding into his.

She gasps against him, her small warm wet tongue quickly finding his, the moment heated and desperate, the dance wild and raw. Everything that happened earlier sinks into the kiss, his daydream, the chase, the revelations. And he just feels her, her heat, her body squirming into his, knees pushing between his thighs, just the right pressure. A groan escapes him, a touch like an electric shock.

And as quick and eager as it has started, as harsh and fast it ends, when his hands push down to her upper arms, grab her and lean her back again. She stares up at him, lips parted, trembling, red, rapid little breaths, her eyes big and confused, her cheeks flushed. He presses his own tingling lips into a thin line, tries to ignore the throbbing in his groin, the need burning through his stomach. Instead he focuses on lifting her up, uncurling her legs from his lap, and turns her around until she's sitting with her back to him, legs sideways, tucked between his thighs, but no longer as close, no longer as tempting.

He breathes deeply, leans down and presses his lips to her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “We need to keep going...”

She sighs, body slumping slightly, her small hands closing around the horn of the saddle as she settles in. He leans both arms around her and grabs the reins, gently spurring Thunder on to start moving again. The pace is much calmer as he maneuvers him through the forest, forcing himself to look around, take in his surroundings, look out for dangers, possible followers.

It's eerily quiet around them. But he can't relax, his mind still racing. They're after her, after them. One of Roberto's. Roberto... Roberto fucking DeLuca. This has gotten a lot more complicated all of a sudden.

Chapter 8 🟪 Chapter 10

End notes: I gotta say, this was my favorite chapter to write thus far, and one I'm particularly proud of. That daydream, finally some smut, and how Ben deals with it, then the chase, I love me some action sequences, I hope I got it across as I intended, hectic, fast, thrilling, unexpected. And the plot is finally going places, at least a little more specifically. Back to where it all began...

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

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