#something tragic about this post is i wanted to hurry with it but i forgot wayne's colors while making it

[hoboal87]

The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j​ for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

“I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

“Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something. 

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[mousemadej]

The Gay Oar Fic

Chapter 1

Summary: Oarwinn kills someone he probably shouldn't have killed and Oaran pays for it.

Word count: 1439

Rating: Teen and up

A/N: Yes, the title is "The Gay Oar Fic." I figured that would make it recognizable and I'm bad at titles. For context: Oarwinn is the sword and Oaran is the oar, though you could probably guess that. I hope you enjoy this! I have no idea when chapter two will be out, but I'll probably start working on chapter three a few days before I post chapter two cuz I'm already a bit into chapter two now and I don't want there to be a huge gap between release dates. Also, all trigger warnings or content warnings are in the tags, so check those! And they’ll change with each chapter, so keep checking them.

Read it on ao3

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oarwinn stood over the body of his latest opponent and turned to face Oaran and Musashi. Sheathing his sword, he walked over to them. "How did I do?" he asked them.

"You did wonderfully. One day you might even surpass me, though I doubt it," Musashi said with a smirk.

Oaran groaned, swiftly interlocking his fingers between Oarwinn's and leaning closer to him. "Winnie, I hate it when you kill your opponent. You're skilled enough to win without killing them, so why do you do it?"

Oarwinn winced, "Ah, sorry, hun. I promise I'll try not to kill anyone next time."

"Oarwinn," Musashi started in a stern voice. "You mustn't let your lover influence your decisions in battle."

"No offense, Master, but I appreciate Oaran's advice and frankly, I agree with him. Every battle ending in death isn't skill, it's strength. I'd rather have skill."

Musashi seemed taken aback by Oarwinn's response, but he smiled and nodded instead of reprimanding him. “I see. You’re getting more and more independent every day. It’s good to see.”

Oarwinn grinned, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a booming voice behind him. “No!” a man yelled, running into the room. He got to his knees in front of the body of Oarwinn’s last opponent and howled, “No! How could he lose? Musashi!” The man whipped his head around to look at Oarwinn’s master. “Is this your student’s doing?”

Instead of answering, Musashi looked at Oarwinn, who was standing protectively in front of Oaran with his hand on the handle of his sheathed sword and told him, “You’d better get out of here, son. And keep your boyfriend safe.”

Oarwinn nodded and grabbed Oaran before fleeing the room. As they left, the man who had rushed in earlier screamed, “You can run now, but I will get the revenge I deserve!”

They kept walking in silence for a few minutes until Oaran finally spoke up. “This is why you shouldn’t kill,” he said.

“Cause’ we’ll get targets on our backs?”

“No. I mean, yes, but that’s not the point. It hurts people. And not just the person you killed. It hurts the people who cared for them. Just imagine if someone killed me.”

“I don’t want to imagine if someone killed you…”

“That’s exactly my point! If I died you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. It’s the same for me if you died and it’s the same for other people if the person they loved died. The man who threatened you, Kuroda Haru, was the brother of the man you just killed. Frankly, I don’t blame him for wanting revenge!”

Oarwinn opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to argue, but couldn't find anything to say. He sighed, "I hate that you're right."

Oaran smiled fondly and they walked the rest of the way home in comfortable silence.

The rest of the day went by normally. They almost forgot about the whole revenge thing until Oaran left to get something from the store. He was walking to the store closest to their apartment when he suddenly had a gun held to his head. Gasping, he immediately stopped walking and shifted his gaze to see who was holding a gun to his head. "Ah," he said. "You're Haru, correct? The one who threatened my boyfriend?”

“I am. And your boyfriend killed my brother.”

“Ah, yes. Tragic, really. I keep telling him not to kill his opponents. It’s just not necessary! And I assume you’re here to kill me? You know, an eye for an eye sort of deal. He killed your brother so you kill his boyfriend.”

“No. No, that would be too easy. I’m not going to kill you just yet. Instead, you are going to call him and tell him that you won’t be home for a few hours, just to give us more time before he comes looking for you. Then, assuming you’re as smart as you seem and don’t try anything stupid, you’ll come with me.”

“Oh. So you’re planning on kidnapping me? Winnie won’t be happy about that.”

“Winnie?”

“Yes! That’s what I call Oarwinn sometimes.”

“Gross.”

“I know, right? It’s great.”

“Shut up and call him.”

“Alright, fine.”

Oaran slowly pulled his phone out of his back pocket, figuring that the gun to his head was an indicator that he shouldn’t make any sudden movements, and called Oarwinn. He kept his eyes on Haru to check for any hints that he was doing something wrong and put the phone up to his ear.

“Oaran?” he heard Oarwinn’s voice.

“Hey Oarwinn,” he replied, his voice a bit unsteady as he realized just how bad his situation was.

“Honey? Are you ok?”

Without answering the question, he said, “I’m going to be out of the apartment for a few hours. I ran into an old friend and we’re catching up. You remember Ito, don’t you?”

“Of course I remember Ito, but we both know she’s never been a friend. You hate her guts.”

“...”

“You’re not catching up with Ito, are you? Is this about this morning?”

“... I have to go. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. More than anything. I will get you out of whatever mess you’re in I swea-”

Before Oarwinn could finish, Oaran lowered the phone and hung up. When he moved to slide it back into his pocket, it was yanked out of his hand.

“Where to, then?” Oaran asked, trying to keep his spirits up.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Haru said before hitting Oaran in the head with his gun, successfully knocking him out.

"Fuck!" Oarwinn yelled and threw his phone across the room when he heard Oaran hang up. He stood up and got ready to leave as fast as possible. He armed himself with a handgun and his sword, wanting to be prepared for whatever he walked into. He was less skilled with a gun, but you didn't need to be at all smart to know that it would be much more effective than a sword. You know what they say. Don't bring a knife to a gunfight, and I'm assuming the rule is the same with a sword.

As soon as he was ready, he hurried out the door and started walking toward the store he knew Oaran was headed to when he left. No one was ever in the area, so he knew there wouldn't have been anyone to see what happened or where they went.

He scanned the area as he walked and eventually he found a small pool of blood on the concrete ground that seemed fairly fresh. "Nonono please tell me he's ok…" Oarwinn muttered, rushing into the alleyway next to him where there was another drop of blood.

He searched the alleyway thoroughly, checking every door, most leading to the back exit of small restaurants or stores. The last door he opened, though, was different. The door opened to a staircase that led to a dark room that had several doors leading to other rooms in it. He first opened all the doors to see if anyone else was there, then went back to the main room to search for anything hidden.

It was a mostly empty room with a worn-down couch and a cabinet in it. Oarwinn searched the cabinet, then pushed it away from the wall to see if there was a hidden door. There wasn't.

He hurriedly checked the rest of the house, but it wasn't fast enough. "Fuck," he growled as he searched a bookcase. "This is taking too long! He might not even be here." There was only one room left unsearched, though, so he figured he could do it quickly.

It was ten minutes later and there was only one more place anything could be hidden; behind a large emptied bookshelf that was pushed against a wall. He slid his hand between the back of the bookshelf and the wall and pushed it to the ground, figuring that it would be faster and easier than sliding it out of the way.

The bookshelf hit the ground with a loud thud and Oarwinn immediately began searching the wall for a hidden door. He slid his hand across its surface, he knocked to see if it was hollow, he tried everything he could come up with. There was no hidden door.

The moment he knew nothing was there, he jumped to his feet and ran out of the building, muttering a string of curses as he ran. He’d already wasted enough time, he couldn’t waste any more. He had to find Oaran. Fast.

[searchingforstarss]

written for this anon that sent me this prompt a few weeks ago! i answered the original ask & i promise it was meant to be posted sooner but then i realised it was going to be a lot longer than the 1k i originally planned and then the holidays happened and i forgot about it in my drafts so here we are! i hope you see it and enjoy it x

---

“Shit, Parker, you good?”

That’s the only thing Peter hears crackling through his comms the second he hits the ground.

It’s Bucky’s voice, and he figures it’s probably a fair question. He’s just been thrown to the ground by a blast from a some sort of energy gun that one of the crazy guys on the ground is wielding, and he, Sam and Bucky are trying their best to get them to just stop and go the hell home.

“I, uh, yeah, I think I’m-”

There’s a creaking sound above from where he’s still sprawled out on the ground, trying to catch his breath without exacerbating the twinging in his ribs.

He cuts himself off suddenly to raise his gaze, sucking in a sharp breath as he sees the bodega on the corner of 82nd Street that he landed beside begin to lean, the structure looking like it’s beginning to give way, groaning under its own weight.

Before he can even think about opening his mouth again to call for assistance, for someone to help him out of here, anything, the whole thing collapses and caves in beside him, cracking steel, concrete and ply raining down on him.

He screws his eyes shut desperately, curling in on himself. He tries to bring his arms up to shield his head, but before he gets the chance, his right arm is pinned to the asphalt by a steel support beam. It must have have once been holding the building up but it's now clearly been rendered useless considering the majority of the building is sitting in pieces surrounding him.

He waits for the claustrophobia to set in, for the memories of Toomes to come rushing back and debilitate him but they don’t. He lets out a breathy sigh and lets the fact that he can still see the clear blue of the sky above him, the rubble not entirely hemming him in, comfort him. He’s okay. Someone will come for him.

Slightly fruitlessly, he pulls to try and tug his arm out from where it’s lodged underneath the mangled wreck of steel. Usually, he’d be able to lift it off himself without even thinking twice, but with only one working arm at his disposal and his body worn from a fight they were so close to winning, he’s not exactly at his strongest. He gives one last yank, pulling on his right arm with his left but it doesn’t move. Pain races through his muscles and he lets out a muffled groan. “Ah, fuck, ouch.”

“Language, tiny-tot,” Sam jibes, but when Peter doesn’t answer, too busy trying to steady his breathing, his voice grows serious. “Spider-Man. Peter. You okay under there? We saw that building go down on you, man.”

Awesome. Fantastic. How incredibly embarrassing.

This is what he likes about fighting alongside Sam and Bucky, though. They let him have free rein, they trust him implicitly to make his own decisions and they don’t freak out or fly off the handle the second something slightly varies from how it was meant to go - unlike Tony, who seems to find it difficult to deal with Peter getting hurt while fighting alongside the Avengers. Part of him is glad the man is preoccupied with investor meetings today. He would have lost his mind the second he saw the building go down, probably (no, scratch that - definitely). 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Most of it missed me.”

Sam seems to consider this reply because there’s silence over their line. Peter reaches up with his free hand instinctively to shove his comms deeper into his ear through the mask, to make sure it hasn’t just busted as well. In moments like this, he’s grateful that the team forces him and Tony to wear their own earpieces, despite their undying faith in both their AIs, for moments when things go awry - exactly like this one. He’s almost positive Karen is offline after the blows to the suit - both the initial blast and the impact of the building - because usually, she would be chirping in his ear by now, offering him a blow by blow recap of any damage to the suit or injuries sustained and offering assistance, which usually (or, always) involves calling Tony.

“Are you injured at all? In any pain?” That’s Bucky’s voice now, and Peter pauses to consider. He’s not in any actual pain, really. Sure, the steel that’s pressing against his arm and keeping him pinned down underneath the remnants of the bodega is kinda sore, but he’s not bleeding out. He’s had a lot worse than this.

“Nope, no pain. My arm’s kinda stuck though, so I don’t think I’ll be able to get myself out of this one in a hurry…” Peter admits.

“Don’t worry about it, short-stuff. Buck and I will be down as soon as possible, it won’t be longer than ten minutes, just sit tight, okay? We’ve nearly got this.”

“Will do,” Peter answers in the affirmative, “good luck.” Then, the comms line goes silent again.

He’ll be fine. Ten minutes isn’t that long. He can wait.

---

Turns out he and Sam must have a very different idea of ten minutes because it feels like hours that Peter’s been lying here.

That would be all okay normally - he thinks he would probably have gotten the better end of the deal, settling back under here while Sam and Bucky continue to fight, if it wasn’t for the unforgiving, bitter cold of the clear New York winter day.

He’s lived in New York for his entire life, he knows how to protect himself from the bitingly low temperatures of December and January. He’s spent years bundling himself up in second-hand sweaters, coats, scarves (and then usually a beanie and gloves at Ben and May’s, and then just May’s, insistence) before he steps outside. He can deal with the cold. It got a bit harder after the spider bite, getting used the thermoregulation abilities, or rather, the complete lack of thermoregulation abilities of a spider, but he’s managed it.

Even so, this? This is something else. He’s got nothing but the thin material of the Spider-Man suit to protect him against the elements and it definitely, one hundred per cent, does not help that along with Karen being damaged in the fall, Peter’s certain the energy blast must have short-circuited the whole suit because he’s becoming more and more aware by the second that the heater built into the suit is currently completely nonfunctional.

Peter is freezing, lying under the half-decimated building on the icy sidewalk, frosty cold creeping up around him and wrapping him in its frigid hold, binding his limbs stiff and numb.

He’s trying his hardest to not think about this, though, instead trying to focus on the blue of the sky he can still see above him. It doesn’t work that well, not when the tips of his fingers and lips are tingling from the chill in the air and he can barely feel his trapped arm anymore. He’s not so sure that’s a good sign.

He tries once more in vain to pull it free with as much force as he can muster, but that’s not much with the shivers running through him and cold dampening his strength.

He sort of regrets what he was thinking about Sam and Bucky before, and about Tony not being here. If Tony was here he would have had Peter dug out within minutes of the structure collapsing inwards, to hell with anything else he would be meant to be focusing on. It’s a selfish thought, Peter knows, because he shouldn’t want people to sacrifice the whole fight just to save himself from a little discomfort, but god, what he wouldn’t give to be warm right now.

A groan pulls itself from the back of his throat before he can stop it when a gust of wind rushes past, sending a wave of icy air hurtling over him. He bites down on his lip as soon as he hears the sound escape his lips, but it’s too late, and his comms line is crackling to life in his ear again.

“Come in Spider-Man? Are you there? Peter?”

Peter groans again. He’s just cold.

“Mmm, ‘m here.”

Bucky makes what sounds like a slightly unimpressed hum of approval.

“Update us. How are you doing down there?”

Peter briefly considers brushing everything off, but one of the many things Mister Stark has been trying to instil into him, specifically to ‘ask for help when you need it, you self-sacrificing idiot child,’ springs to mind.

“I, uh, just… how long do you guys think you’ll be? It’s kinda super cold down here,” Peter admits, trying to force words out around his numb lips.

“Hopefully only five minutes out now, I’ve just got to take out the last guy on my block then I’ll be straight down to you. Can you wait that long?”

Peter considers. Can he wait five minutes? He thinks so. Plus, he doesn’t want to seem weak. Five minutes is manageable.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’s just uh, my suit’s heater broke, so y’know…” Peter says, trailing off when he hears Bucky bark out a short laugh.

“Of course Stark built you a damn heater,” he quips. “I’ll see you in five. Try not to die from such tragic hardship until then.”

Bucky’s teasing like he always does, Peter can tell, but even so, the tiniest spark of indignation rises inside Peter. It’s not his fault that his stupid spidery DNA doesn’t know how to stop itself from freezing completely.

He wants Tony, but his only link to him has been severed so he knows he doesn’t have any choice but to wait this one out.

---

Seconds and minutes seem to freeze in the chill of the air.

Time slows in the cold.

Peter’s just fighting to stay awake at this point, though he can’t really remember why he’s trying to stay awake? Is someone coming for him? That would be nice, he thinks.

He’s reduced to nothing but the shivers that wrack his body and the icy air that feels like it’s stabbing him everywhere he can reach with a thousand tiny knives, biting him right down to the bone.

At one point, he must have tried to curl himself into a fetal position because his knees are tucked up as close to his legs as he can get them, but it’s not really doing all that much and the little body heat he has left that he’s trying to preserve seems to be rapidly escaping him.

Soon there will be nothing but winter inside of him, not a single spark of heat remaining to sustain him.

He still just wants Tony.

He was on a mission, right? He thinks so. Why isn’t Tony here?

Tony.

Peter’s teeth are chattering as he tries to force words out. He can barely move his lips. “K-K’ren? Mister St’rk? Call Mister St’rk. Pl’se?”

No reply. The faint static continues. Cold surrounds him.

---

There are voices in his ear somewhere, drifting around him, and he strains to focus in on them but the cold running through his veins has paralysed him and he feels like he’s far, far away. He wishes that if he has to be this far away, then it could at least be warm wherever he is, but it’s not. It’s cold.

He doesn’t want to be cold anymore.

He’s cold. So, so cold.

Scraps of metal and wood are being lifted from around him, and he blinks slowly a few times behind the mask. Then the steel is dislodged from on top of his arm, but he just stares at it stupidly. He can’t feel anything. Why can’t he feel anything?

“Peter?”

Peter tries to focus his eyes above him. All he can see is dark brown hair hanging across someone’s face, dark eyes with something like worry in them, maybe. Bucky? He was here right?

Peter isn’t sure anymore. He just wants Tony, but Tony doesn’t have long hair. At least he thinks he doesn’t. This isn’t Tony.

He closes his eyes again behind the mask. Maybe if he sleeps then when he wakes up Tony will be by his side. That’s usually how it works.

His mask is being tugged up off his face and he wants to protest but that seems like a lot of effort. He scrunches his eyes up against the brightness of the afternoon, no longer filtered by the mask. Too bright. Too cold.

“We’ve got you, Peter, you need to keep your eyes open. Do you think you can do that?”

No. He feels as if he’s encased in ice and it’s making his whole body feel heavy; his eyelids are hard to keep open. It’s all too hard.

“Can’t.”

“Shit, fuck, Sam, his lips are blue,” the voice - Bucky?- says, sounding worried.

Are lips supposed to be blue? Before he can answer his own question, his eyes fall shut again and the cold wraps around him, submerging him. The voices are drowned out by the steady nothingness of unconsciousness a few seconds later.

---

There’s a slow and steady bumping movement somewhere beneath him. Peter can’t quite pinpoint where it's coming from because his eyes still feel too heavy to drag open but he’s not sure why the pavement is moving until he realizes that what he’s lying on is far too soft to be the sidewalk.

He’s wrapped in a blanket as well. That’s nice.

There’s a low whirring, the rumbling of an engine, rubber on asphalt, and Peter knows he must be in the back of a van. He would panic, it sure seems like a situation to be panicking, but then a familiar voice fills his ears and he relaxes just a fraction.

“We need to call Stark” - it’s Sam’s voice, but that’s not what Peter’s focused on. Stark. He knows that name. Why does he know that name? It sounds safe and he wants them - “otherwise he’ll have a heart attack when he sees Peter when we get back and I don’t really fancy that on my conscience.”

Why is Peter going to give Stark… Mister Stark… a heart attack? He doesn’t want to do that. No, no, no.

Then there’s ringing filling the van. It’s a little shrill and high-pitched. Peter moves to tug his hands out from where they’re encased in the slightly scratchy woollen blanket to press them up to his ears when the sound is cut off by a voice.

“Wilson? If no one is dying this probably needs to wait, I’m in the middle of-”

Peter knows that voice. It’s the Stark they keep mentioning. Mister Stark. He’d quite like to see him right about now. Is he here?

“No one’s dying, but we just wanted to give you heads up about Peter-” - Huh. Peter. That’s him. He wonders distantly what he’s done. Nothing too awful, he hopes - “before we get back. He’s not in, uh, not exactly in the best shape.”

Rude, Peter thinks.

There’s an immediate change in tone, and Mister Stark’s voice becomes sharp at the edges with a tense kind of worry. “What happened? Do you need me down there? How bad is it?”

“We’re on our way back to the tower now, we’ve got him. He was, uh, stuck under some rubble round by 82nd for maybe twenty minutes or so, but he’s a bit out of it, and colder than he probably should be-”

“And you left him there? For twenty minutes?”

“In our defence, we didn’t realise how cold it was going to be for him, he said he was-”

“Fine, right? Is that what he said? For Christ’s sake, have neither of you learnt that the kid is always full of shit when he says he’s fine?”

The voice - Mister Stark, Peter’s hazy mind has to remind itself - is angry now and Peter doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want anyone to be angry with him, but he’s not quite sure how to make anything better. He whines, low and desperate in the back of his throat.

“Shit. Bad idea. Take him off speaker,” someone is saying, and then Mister Stark’s voice disappears. He waits a minute for it to return, but it doesn’t, the van only filled by the other two voices and Peter doesn’t like this. Is Mister Stark so angry that he left? He wants him back.

He whines again, stupid and needy. Where did the voice go? Where did Mister Stark go? He wants him back.

“M’ster St’rk,” Peter calls plaintively, finally managing to blink open his eye as wide as he can to search for him but all he finds is Sam and Bucky sitting strapped in opposite him. He frowns when he doesn’t get an answer.

Sam glances at him briefly, before turning his attention back to the phone pressed to his ear. Ah. That must be why Peter can’t see Mister Stark. Doesn’t change the fact that he wants him here though. “Look, we’re nearly back at the tower. We’ll talk to you then.”

The tower sounds familiar to Peter. If that’s where they’re going then that’s okay with him. He hopes they get there soon.

After this, everything falls into silence. Mister Stark’s voice still doesn’t come back.

---

When they pull up in the parking garage, Peter manages to stumble out the back of the van, legs still weak and shaky beneath him as he shivers. Bucky casts a strong arm around his shoulders and he leans into the support to stop himself from pitching forward and ending up sprawled face-first on the concrete.

Tony is the first thing Peter lays eyes on.

The man had been pacing back and forth in front of the elevator when they first pulled in but stilled as soon as he met Peter’s gaze.

He’s wearing a slightly rumpled looking suit jacket and dress shirt, the top few buttons undone. If he was ever wearing a tie, it’s been discarded somewhere along the way. He’s got a navy blue blanket gathered in his arms, as well. It’s worn like it’s had one too many trips through the washing machine, but even so, it’s still stained in the odd place if you look close enough, marks that look suspiciously like hot chocolate, and maybe butter from popcorn spillages adoring the fluffy material. Tony doesn’t seem to mind as he cradles it close to his chest.

He steps forward to meet them, taking a few hurried strides before he extends the arm that isn’t curled around the blanket to sweep Peter out from under Bucky’s arm into his own. Not that it takes much effort, because Peter is reaching for him the second he’s close enough.

They meet in the middle and Peter, the cold having sucked all of the little grace he had in his body, all but falls into Tony’s arms, trusting the way his arms shoot out to catch him, wrapping around him and keeping him close. Tony’s warm and it’s nice.

“Hey, Mister Stark,” he murmurs blearily into the fabric of Tony’s suit, where he’s immediately pressed his face into his shoulder. “‘M fine, I promise.”

Tony hums. He’s got his gaze fixed down on Peter, seemingly ignoring Bucky and Sam, who are standing off to the side. Peter feels kind of bad for them, but he doesn’t have the mental energy to try and deal with too many things at once. He’s tired and he still feels like remnants of cold have hidden themselves away inside of him. He can’t stop shaking. He leeches as much warmth from Tony as he can.

“I’m not all too convinced of that, kiddo,” Tony says softly, “but lucky for you, I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix. We can’t get rid of you that easy, huh?”

Peter gives a tiny laugh, more sad and worn than joyful. “Guess not.”

Tony pulls away from Peter for a brief second, only to tug the blanket he’s still wrapped in off. It looks like it might be an old SHIELD issue one and Tony wants it off. He replaces it with the worn blue one that he’s holding and Peter instantly recognises it as the one that lives on the sofa (or folded neatly over the back, if Pepper’s home), that they curl up under during movie marathons, or the nights after the particularly hard patrols when Peter stumbles into the living room and collapses next to Tony and can’t find the energy to move to his own room. It's comforting. Familiar. 

“You’re still shivering,” Tony notes as he smoothes the blanket over Peter’s shoulders with gentle hands.

Peter nods defeatedly. “Yeah. ‘M sorry, I messed up. The suits busted. Karen, my heater, all of it.”

Tony glances over at Bucky and Sam briefly with narrowed eyes, before he asks, “wait, your heater?” Peter pulls back at the sharp, biting tone. He didn’t mean to make him angry again.

He nods cautiously. “Uh, yeah. There was a guy with a gun, um, a ray thing, and he got me with his blast.”

Tony pulls his lips together into a tense line. “We’re calling Bruce.”

“I feel fine. A little longer under this,” Peter says, gesturing to the blanket as he pulls it further around his shoulders, “and I’ll be fine.”

“Nuh-uh. You were lying there without your heater for almost half an hour, do you have any idea how cold it is out there?”

Peter furrows his brows. Uh, of course he does. He’s just been lying out there in the same cold Tony’s talking about. “Yeah, it’s cold, but I swear, I’m-”

“Nope. Not doing this with you, buddy. C’mon,” Tony asserts, and Peter is too tired to argue, plus the weight of Tony’s arm hooked around his shoulders is steadying and warm and he kind of doesn’t want to risk doing anything that might make it go away. He takes a few steps forward before he jolts back a little and spins around in Tony’s hold to glance back at Bucky and Sam.

“Uh, I’ll see you later guys. I’m sorry I kinda got in the way and stuff,” Peter offers suddenly. Tony decidedly doesn’t turn around, but he does pause his footsteps to let Peter take the moment.

“Don’t say that, Peter. You did great. I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner,” Sam tells him. Peter smiles, albeit a little wanly.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter says softly. He hopes they believe him, but the forlorn look on Bucky’s face tells him that maybe they don’t. He also hopes they both don’t notice the way Tony stiffens at Peter’s words, as if he doesn’t believe them either.

---

Bruce only hovers over Peter up in the penthouse for ten minutes or so, checking his vitals and running tests for hypothermia, before eventually deciding that if Peter was hypothermic, that he’s fairly stable now. Tony relaxes back into the couch - where he’s sitting next to Peter, almost shoulder to shoulder - at this.

“I’ll be back up in an hour or two, okay Peter?” Bruce tells him, but his eyes flit over to Tony as well. Peter knows what he’s doing, making sure Tony doesn't let him move from the couch. Jokes on both of them, though, because he doesn’t think he could muster up the energy even if he tried. “I just want to make sure that your temperature has stabilized and it’s not at risk of going south again. You’re sitting around 95 degrees at the moment which I’m happy with considering you run a little cool, anyway. If you can maintain that then I’ll let you go.”

“Mhmm, got it, Doctor Banner. Thank you,” Peter says, giving a sleepy nod in additional confirmation against where he’s still resting against Tony’s shoulder. It seems like a lot of words but his tired mind gets the general gist of the whole thing.

Bruce turns to leave the room and Peter turns his gaze up towards Tony. “You gonna stay?”

Tony nods obviously, as if it was a stupid question in the first place. “Course. It’s my living room after all,” he jests, “plus, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t freeze.”

“Thanks, Mister Stark,” Peter says, completely earnestly, ignoring Tony’s sarcastic comments and seeing right through them to see them as what they are. Tony offering to stay with him. Tony wanting to stay with him.

“No problem,” Tony says, and his voice doesn’t sound as easy as it had before, as if he’s slightly taken aback by Peter’s sincerity. “You wanna try to rest your eyes for a bit?” Tony offers, and Peter doesn’t respond. He's tired and he's just been offered sleep, so he lets his eyes fall closed and knows that he can fall asleep safe and warm.

---

Peter wakes up, once again, to the sound of voices surrounding him sometime later. He feels decidedly less lethargic, but he’s still too comfortable to move so he just lies there and listens for a moment. Tony’s speaking anyway, and he sounds terse again, so Peter figures that maybe right now isn’t the best time to interrupt. He thinks maybe he’s on the phone until he hears Sam’s voice.

“We didn’t know. I had no idea about him and the cold, or why he needed his heater, I swear Tony, otherwise we wouldn’t have-”

Tony cuts him off. “It isn’t just about that though. God, he’s sixteen and he was caught underneath a goddamn corner store and you left him there.”

“I know, I know, it sounds bad, and it is bad, but we were all there because we had a job to do, Tony. You know how it works. There were people, civilians, Peter would have killed us if we left them there to go and help him.”

Tony huffs out a sigh and grumbles half-heartedly in a way that tells Peter that he isn’t actually quite as angry as he’s letting on. He must know that Sam and Bucky are right. Because they are, Peter would have been so mad if they chose to put him above everyone else. He’s a superhero, that’s not how it’s meant to work.

“Yeah,” Tony says, a tiny show of concession. “I know what we do is high stakes and I also know what he’s like. He’s irritatingly stubborn, I get it. Other things were going on, he said he was fine, whatever. But when I send him out with you guys, with any of you, I trust you to protect him. He hasn't got the experience that we do. I needed you both to look out for him and you didn’t. He’s a kid - he’s my kid, that means I need him safe, you get that?”

Neither Sam nor Bucky have kids so they don’t look like they particularly understand the exact sentiment, but what they do get is that fierce protection that radiates off Tony whenever he’s close to Peter is not something to be messed with - ever.

“I - we really are sorry, Tony. Let us know when Peter’s awake?” Sam asks tentatively, and there’s silence for a moment.

“Yeah, yeah, will do. Just get out of my living room.”

 Peter waits strategically for a few minutes, staying still as he lies where he’s burrowed up against Tony. He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of faking it until Tony speaks up again eventually, exasperation and amusement lacing his tone. “You can open your eyes now, Pete. I know you’re awake.”

Peter opens one eye tentatively and offers Tony a sheepish grin.

“How d’you always know?”

“Your nose twitches more when you’re awake,” Tony says, as if that’s a perfectly normal observation to be making. Peter figures that for the two of them and the amount of time they spend together, it probably isn’t that far out of the ballpark of normal - whatever the hell that means when it comes to them. 

“They didn’t mean to, you know. They didn’t know. They looked after me real well, once they got me out and all that” Peter offers, changing the subject back to Sam and Bucky in a way that makes Tony’s shoulders stiffen just a fraction.

Tony gives a one-shouldered shrug after a moment. “Yeah, I know,” he says. His voice sounds slightly defeated, and he sucks in a sharp breath of air. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed at them for not protecting you.”

“I’m Spider-Man, I don’t need protecting,” Peter protests, but Tony just raises an eyebrow.

“I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, kid.” He pauses for a moment. When he speaks next, his voice is lighter. “I’m making your next suit out of merino. Insulating, temperature-regulating, all that good stuff. With a heater and fabric like that, you’ll never even be able to imagine being cold in the suit.”

Peter rolls his eyes up towards Tony. “That seems unnecessary.”

“I wasn’t asking for feedback. This is entirely non-negotiable,” Tony presses on, but he chuckles when Peter tugs one hand out from underneath the blanket and curls it into a loose fist to bump into Tony’s shoulder.

“You worry too much.”

“You get hurt too much.”

“Part of the job, not my fault” Peter counters, voice lowered slightly as he mutters under his breath in that petulant, teenager-esque way that Tony adores because it reminds him that Peter still knows how to act his age underneath all the superhero-bravado.

Tony pauses. “As it turns out, worrying is part of my job as well,” he says gently. Exactly what job he’s referring to goes unspoken, but at this point, they both know it’s probably gone well past the slightly distant mentor job Tony originally undertook.

Peter pauses and considers this. A barely suppressed dopey smile pulls at his lips. “Maybe we both just can’t help it,” Peter decides. Tony nods. This seems fair - and also kinda true.

“You got that right, buddy.”

Peter leans further back against the couch and curls closer to Tony, letting the man fuss for a second and wrap the blanket tighter around his shoulders. There’s probably no need, the shivers have stopped and he’s perfectly still now, body temperature holding steady. He allows it, though, and just burrows into the fluffy fabric. It feels nice to be looked after, to be protected.

He cracks one eye open again.

“Did you really have to call me irritatingly stubborn?”

---

Two weeks later, the weekend is forecast to be the coldest of the winter so far.

Peter wakes the next morning to find a suit made of merino wool, as promised by Tony, alongside a pair of gloves modified to fit his web-shooters, wrapped and sitting at the end of his bed.

He rolls his eyes but wears it once - partly just to humour Tony and partly because it really is damn cold - and he hates that it’s the coziest he’s felt on patrol all winter. He also just looks straight-up ridiculous.

(If he wears it a few more times - only on the coldest of days - then that’s nobody's business).

[obligatoryidolblog]

Sleepwalking Past Hope (Hyungwon - Monsta X) Part 3

Genre: Miniseries with themes of angst and smut

Pairing: Chae Hyungwon/Female Reader Insert

Warnings: sexual themes, alcohol abuse, not nice behavior, possible cheating

Summary: Hyungwon finds solace in the warm embrace of alcohol after Wonho is forced to leave Monsta X, until finding another embrace. But is it as warm?

A/N: Shit, I forgot to post today. Sorry guys, just caught it in time oops. This came to me in a dream and I had to bang it out. I’ll be posting this over the next few days. Total of 5 parts.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

Masterlist

Pushing her towards her hotel room, Hyungwon tried to slow his racing pulse. Those NCT boys had brought out more jealousy than Hyungwon should have been able to muster. Taking a deep breath, he slid his hands around her waist from behind as she opened the door, burying his face in her hair. Placing kisses up and down her neck, he walked her inside, then pulled away, walking around her, eyes sweeping up and down her body.

“Strip,” he said in a quiet, commanding voice. 

She did nothing but raise an eyebrow at him, folding her arms.

Hyungwon felt his eyes narrow, and he grit his teeth, reaching out to pull her close, adding in, “Please.”

A tiny, teasing smile curled the edges of her lips, and she slid her hands up his chest, replying, “Since you asked nicely…”

Hyungwon let a growl slip out as she pulled away, shimmying her skirt down. For some reason he didn’t like her having the upper hand in the bedroom. But he wanted her, and he’d take her any way he could get her. Sitting on the bed, he leaned back on his elbows, watching as she tossed her shirt over her head and began working on her undergarments. 

When she stood deliciously naked before him, he jumped up, winding his arms about her waist and raining kisses across her face and shoulders. With a giggle, she shoved him away and sat on the bed in his place, nodding with a pointed grin to his own clothes. Chuckling softly, Hyungwon ripped off his clothing as quickly as he could, then stalked towards the woman on  the bed who was driving him slowly insane.

Hyungwon lay her back on the bed, crawling over her body. After their hurried coupling in the car, he wanted to take his time, explore the body that had been burned into his mind's eye for weeks now. Sliding his hands over her skin, he once again let his mouth spill out things that it shouldn't.

"You are so perfect, _____," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips over her stomach, "I don't want to let you go. You have to stay."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and he thought he heard her whisper something, but he couldn't be sure. His heart constricted in his chest, and he moved up to brush his lips across hers. Fuck, he wanted her. Completely. This was moving so fast, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sitting up once more, he kneeled between her legs and smoothed his hands over her silken skin once more. Lost in thought, he watched the path that his hands were taking, until her hands covered his own, stilling them. 

Looking up at her, he saw concern in her eyes as she asked, “You okay?”

Sighing, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her hands, holding his own over her chest, and said, “Yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

Laughing, she reached up to cup his face, sputtering in a mock-horrified voice, “You have me naked here for you, and you are busy thinking? What did I do wrong?”

With a snort, he gently lay himself over her, pressing his hardness against her hip and saying with a pointed look, “Oh, you aren’t doing anything wrong, babe. In fact you are doing everything right.”

Sitting up, he grinned, adding, “I just know I’m going to find out you have some tragic past or that you killed someone or that you just want me for my fame or something.”

Smacking his chest with a laugh, she retorted, “My past is boring, I haven’t killed anyone except in my imagination, and trust me, I’ve been propositioned by far more famous guys than you.”

Clutching his chest in dramatic pain, he gasped, “Ow, my pride! You sure you want plain old me?”

Giggling, she yanked him down over her again, pressing her lips to his as she teased, “For now…”

Growling playfully against her lips, he pulled away and asked with a twinkle in his eyes, “There has to be something not perfect about you, aside from the fact that you aren’t swooning over me and fulfilling my every command. Let me guess, your parents were killed by ninjas and you need to avenge them?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed, “My parents are happy and very much alive in Florida last I talked to them.”

Tapping his chin pensively, he went on, “Okay then, you have some terrible disease and you’re going to drop dead just as soon as you make me fall in love with you.”

Snorting, she tugged a lock of his hair and shot back, “You been reading bad romance novels? No, I’m healthy as they come, and I’m not making you do anything.”

“Alright… so then are you married and have fifteen kids at home, and you’re just using me for a fling?” he asked, finally letting a grin slip through.

But his grin faded as her laughter fell off at that.

After a long pause, her eyes drifting away from his, he asked, “_____?”

Finally, just as he was about to move off of her, she said softly, “I don’t have any kids, Hyungwon. But…”

Sitting up, he felt his mouth form the words, but couldn’t hear them through the static that had filled his brain, “You’re married?”

Sitting up in front of him, her hands landing on his shoulders, she said quickly, “Only technically. Hyungwon, we’ve been separated for more than a year.”

“But… what happened?” he asked, not sure why he asked.

Hyungwon found that he was experiencing some strong emotions at the thought of her being a cheater. As wrong as it was, a part of him was hoping that she would say that her husband had beat her, or cheated on her or something equally as horrible, so he could excuse her leaving him. The divorce would just be a technicality then, right? But he begged unnamed gods for her not to say she had cheated. 

“Nothing really happened… we just sort of… drifted apart,” she replied with a shrug. “Hyungwon, we just haven’t filed the paperwork. We are never in the same country long enough to do it, and we don’t have anything to split up, so we figured why bother? We don’t hate each other, we just didn’t want to stay together when we could have a better match out there somewhere. Our marriage has been over for years.”

Looking down at her, he tried to work out how he felt about this. A tiny voice inside of him was telling him that if she didn’t hate the ex and they hadn’t filed for divorce, there was every chance they may get back together. And he didn’t want that. No, he couldn’t allow that to happen. Couldn’t even think of the possibility. This woman was so… everything. And she was attached to someone else. Anger flared as he pictured that faceless, nameless man, envisioned him touching her, making love to her. 

Jumping up, he began pacing, taking a deep breath, then saying in a voice quieted by controlled rage, “So you weren’t going to even tell me that you are still married? What if I really did fall for you?”

There was a pause, then she pulled the sheet over her nude body, her voice turning cold as she shot back, “I already told you, we’re only married on paper. We are no different than you and your ex girlfriend, except that we court shit we have to do. I haven’t even seen him in person in at least six months.”

Spinning to pin a harsh look on her, Hyungwon tried to calm himself, to think rationally, but all he could think was that she was using him, that she’d enjoy their stolen moments then go back to the man whose last name she still shared. And the fact that this tore at his heart only made him all the more upset. Dammit, he felt so much more than he should already.

Just as he was about to grab his clothes and tell her he was leaving, her phone rang. Both of them turned to look in surprise at the hotel room phone. Who would be calling on it? Huffing in annoyance, she snatched it up, answering rather more harshly than she would normally. But then her face paled, and her eyes darted to Hyungwon, making his heart race. He knew who it was on the other end of the line before she even spoke. 

“Hi, Ethan. Yeah, I got here okay… well, I’m actually in the middle of something… no, no, I’ll call you back later… you want to what? … I, um, I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she said to the phone, making Hyungwon’s heart pound even harder in his chest.

“Okay, bye,” she said finally, then sat the phone back in the cradle, turning to him, her face reddened but defiant.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” he asked, his hands fisting at his sides, trying in vain to hide the tearing in his chest at that moment.

“Yeah it was,” she said curtly, tipping her chin up, her eyes narrowing. “And again, there is nothing left between us. So you can get over it, or get out.”

There was a long moment of silence, Hyungwon watching the flickering of her eyes, his emotions at war within him. Fuck, he didn’t want to leave, but he wasn’t sure he could handle this. Just as he was opening his mouth to say something he wasn’t sure of, her face fell.

“Hyungwon, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put it that way. I… don’t want you to go,” she said softly, his heart leaping at her words. “I swear, I have no love for him left.”

Releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Hyungwon swept over her again, pressing kisses to her lips as he said in a rush, “I’m not going anywhere until you make me, _____.”

A tremulous smile spread across her lips and he kissed them more deeply, his hands once more stroking her skin, moving down to her thighs. As he spread them, trailing his kisses down to her collarbone, he shoved away all his doubts and thoughts and simply lived in the moment. He had her with him for the next two days, and no matter what happened, he would hold these memories with him forever, he knew.

Slowly he teased her skin with his lips as his fingers parted her sex, one dipping in to swirl in her juices, preparing her for him. When she lay panting and writhing beneath him, he raised over her, looking into her eyes and sliding into her wet heat. Gently he thrust into her, allowing the feelings he’d been questioning this whole time to be washed away in the pure joy of her flesh and her presence, the sound of her pleasure. 

“_____,” he gasped out, leaning down to press his face to her fragrant hair, “_____, you feel so good…”

Her moan of response and the nails in his back urged him on, made him stroke into her faster. All too soon they were both swept away by climax, Hyungwon only remembering to pull out after he’d emptied himself into her fully. Unable to worry about it, he lay across her heaving chest, trying to gather his wits and his breath, still twitching inside her clenching sheath. 

After a minute, she stroked his sweaty hair, laying her cheek across it as she whispered, “Thank you, Hyungwon.”

Tilting his head up, surprised at the soft tone in her voice, Hyungwon asked, “For what?”

“For not leaving,” she answered with a shy smile. “For understanding.”

Sighing, he leaned up on an elbow and trailed his fingers over her neck, saying slowly, “I’m not sure I really understand, _____. But I know that I can’t just walk away now. But _____… please don’t call him back.”

Pressing her lips together for a moment, she looked up at him, her eyes sorrowful as she said slowly but in a final tone, “Hyungwon, I can’t just cut him off completely. I may not love him, but I don’t hate him. He wants to talk to me about something. I owe it to him to at least hear what he has to say.”

Repressing a growl, Hyungwon pulled out of her, rolling to the side and pulling her close. He had no right to tell her not to talk to her husband, but he was already so invested in this… thing between them. He wanted her all to himself, and the possibility of her being drawn back to her husband made his heart jump to his throat. 

Pressing a kiss to her brow, he said in a quiet sigh, “Okay _____. But I’m going on the record as saying that I don’t like this.”

Giggling, obviously trying to lighten the mood, she flicked her finger across his chest, replying, “Oh, so now you’ll go on the record, huh?”

Snorting, allowing her to lift the heavy emotions, he pulled her tight, saying, “Damn reporters.”

***

Taking her hand, Hyungwon pulled her from the elevator, laughingly huffing, “Come on, we have already been seen together by those NCT fucks… what will some bar-hoppers matter?”

“I’m not worried about being seen with you… unless you get drunk again,” she giggled, tugging at his hand. “I just don’t really want to go to the crappy bar here at the hotel.”

“Yeah well, I don’t want to be far from the bed,” Hyungwon shot back with a wink, releasing her hand and moving behind her to push her towards the small, dark bar off the lobby. “I just need to get a few drinks in you so I can take you upstairs and do things to you that you’ll be ashamed of later.”

“Oh I am already ashamed of everything I do with you,” she said, tossing a playful smirk over her shoulder at him as they entered the bar. 

Hyungwon was about to give her a smart reply, but froze, his grin turning to a frown as he saw who was sitting at the bar. Damn those NCT guys.

“_____! You came to have a drink after all,” Johnny said, jumping off his barstool, revealing a tiny, dark haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of him. “Come say hi to Gina!”

With a sly glance at Hyungwon, who felt like he was missing something, his girl strode over, hugging Gina and laughing, “Hey there, girl! So you came along with these nasty guys?”

Johnny reached out to shake Hyungwon’s hand, and Hyungwon gave him a glare instead walking over to wrap his arm possessively around his girl as the tall asshole laughed behind him.

“Of course,” the short woman replied, her voice tilted with an accent that Hyungwon couldn’t place, “I can’t trust my man alone. He’s too charming for his own good.”

“Yes he is,” Hyungwon growled, giving Johnny another harsh look as he moved behind Gina with a grin. “He was flirting with _____ during their interview.”

Turning with a glare of her own, Gina smacked Johnny’s chest, spitting, “You didn’t tell me it was _____ you were doing the interview with! And what have I told you about flirting?!”

Hyungwon took great joy in the widening of Johnny’s eyes as he sputtered, “Darling, I wasn’t flirting! I was just talking to her as I usually do!”

“Yeah, and that is…” the short woman exploded into another language, pushing Johnny back, and Hyungwon had to hold in a laugh. 

A moment later, Gina was storming off, Johnny running behind her, both of them speaking hurriedly in some strange language. Hyungwon broke into laughter, and his woman chuckled, shaking her head and turning to him as they sat at the bar.

“That was just mean,” she giggled, pointing to an expensive bottle of whiskey as the bartender asked what they wanted.

“No more than what he deserves, the bastard,” Hyungwon said with an evil grin. “He was flirting with my… with you.”

Cocking an eyebrow, she propped her elbows on the bar and fluttered her lashes, saying playfully, “Did you just almost call me yours? Why, I’m flattered, Chae Hyungwon.”

Growling through a grin, he pulled her close again, nipping at her neck and purring into her ear, “Yes I did. You’re mine, _____. Keep that in mind.”

Swatting at his chest as her drink was set before her, she giggled, “Okay, okay, back off so I can drink this and you can go play caveman upstairs.”

Giving her a dangerous smirk, Hyungwon lifted his glass of water in her direction then took a sip, saying, “I’ll drink to that.”

Rolling her eyes, she took a drink of her liquor and then added, “I don’t think that works with water.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at her, Hyungwon shot back, “Now I can’t take advantage of you all night if I have whiskey dick, can I?”

As she was about to reply, someone cleared their throat behind them, and they both turned. The rest of his group was congregated behind them, grinning widely. Suddenly she jumped off her barstool, storming over to poke her finger in Minhyuk’s chest.

“I thought I told you to keep the groupies away from him!” she said heatedly, sending Hyungwon rocketing into confusion.

Minhyuk merely blinked, then said slowly, “We did… he hasn’t touched a girl… what are you talking about?”

She froze, then tossed a grin over her shoulder at Hyungwon, saying, “Okay, just checking.”

Hyungwon dropped his head to the bar, as the rest of the guys laughed, and he groaned, “Fuck, _____. Thanks for the trust.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his back, she said with a laugh, “Hey, with idols like Johnny around, you learn not to take chances.”

“Very smart girl,” came the soft, lilting voice of Gina from behind them, and they turned to find the small woman and her tall boyfriend approaching, her face red and Johnny grinning, her lipstick smeared on his lips.

“I see he showed you his devotion, huh?” she snorted as Johnny gave her a proud nod.

“Let’s just say he persuaded me to give him another chance,” Gina said with a grin and a shrug.

Hyungwon curled his lip at the other man as the rest of the group made their introductions and settled in to begin a long night of merry-making. Hyungwon kept his hand on his girl’s lower back the entire time, staking his claim on her for anyone who would look. But a few minutes later his cell phone rang and he stepped away from the loud group to answer it. 

Seeing his father’s name on the caller ID, he stepped outside the bar and answered, happily talking to his father. After telling him all about the woman he was falling for, he rang off and walked back towards the entrance of the bar, then stopped. She and Changkyun were a little way from the group, Changkyun leaned in close, speaking into her ear. Rage bubbled up as Changkyun pulled away, his hand coming up to brush her hair back from her shoulder. 

She shrugged at Changkyun and turned away, smiling at Hyungwon, and he stormed in, set on beating the living shit out of the shorter man. She caught him before he got to his target, her arm going around his waist, stopping him.

“What the fuck was that about?” he snarled, his eyes still on Changkyun, who was giving him a look that he wasn’t sure how to read.

“What?” she asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “What are you talking about?”

Hurling a finger at his bandmate, who simply stood staring at him, Hyungwon raged, “Fucking Changkyun getting all close to you like that! What was that shit?”

There was a pause, then she grabbed his finger once more, drawing his attention to her as she said, “What have I told you about pointing? And calm down, caveman. He was asking me if you were being good to me, and I couldn’t hear him over these loud drunks here, so he had to lean in. That’s it.”

Hyungwon’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at Changkyun. He wasn’t so sure that was it. Not when the rapper was looking at him like that. He was going to have to have some words with Changkyun. Soon. Looking back down at her, he softened his expression, threading his fingers into her hair and dipping down to kiss her.

“Okay, babe. What say we get back up to that bed before I make any more of an ass of myself,” he said, trying not to look back up at Changkyun.

Grinning, she opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by her cell phone. Pulling it from her pocket, she looked at the caller ID, then back up at him. He knew from her expression that it was her husband. Pressing his lips together, he motioned for her to take the call outside the bar, and followed her out into the lobby, picking up her conversation.

“Yeah, I’m still busy. I’m out with someone… I don’t know, Ethan… Wait, you’re where?!” she said, spinning, her face paling.

Shit, her husband was in town. Hyungwon could read it on her face. And he didn’t know how to stop her from seeing him.

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

You must be he I was seeking

Summary: Roman and Logan have been best friends as long as they can remember, but will it stay that way?

or

Roman and Logan are huge idiots.

Pairings: Logince, backround (but still a lot of) moxiety and dukeceit.

Warnings: mentions of bullying, friends fighting, there is quite a lot of angst but  with happy ending :)

word count: 5690

a/n: Hello everyone, it’s been quite a while since I posted any fic, I am quite proud of this one so I hope yall enjoy it. I originally wrote this for @sanderssantas fic exange for the lovely @therealmoshar! (go check them out!!). I have always wanted to write enemies to lovers and a soulmate au so I absolutely loved writing this. 

The title comes from “To A Stranger” by Walt Withman. 

you can also find it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804592

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

Roman was practically bouncing in his seat at lunch, or more than usual anyway. It seemed today he was surpassing even his sibling in hyperactivity. His mom smiled softly at him.

“You’re going to Logan’s later?” She said knowingly.

Upon hearing his best friends name Roman’s face lit up.

“Yeah I’m gonna, “ he said between haphazard bites of his sandwich “Imma pick him up from his house, after lunch!”

Remus rolled their eyes next to him.

“It’s tragic to be the only one with manners here,” they said.

It is to be noted that they said this while practically covering the entire table and themselves in peanut butter and jelly.

Roman playfully shoved them after he finished his food.

“Shut up, Ree,” he said.

To which Remus responded by sticking their tongue out, before going back to their food. Then Roman looked at his mom with his best pleading puppy dog eyes.

Carmen laughed at her children fondly, shaking her head.

“Fine,” she said “You are excused, Roman.”

The moment she said it, he bolted from the table to put on his shoes.

“Be back at seven!” she shouted at him.

He ran back into the room, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and raid rushed:

“Will do, thank you, bye!”

“Love you!” she called out in the general direction of the hallway.

She heard a very loud “Me too!” and a slam of the door.

She couldn’t help but laugh. He reminded her so much of when she had been young and met her soulmate; she and Isa couldn’t get enough of each other either. Absentmindedly she touched her arm where a garden of flowers is tattooed on her skin and she smiled.

Then she turned back to the table.

“Remus! Do not feed peanut butter to the cat!”

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

Roman knocked excitedly at Logan’s door.

They were going to go to their secret clearing in the neighborhood park. Well “secret”, technically anyone could come there, but there were never any people there.

It was a small clearing with a bench and overgrown plants all around. Roman insisted that the place had to be magical, Logan on the other hand said it was simply forgotten due to poor municipal planning.

Whoever was right didn’t really matter in the end, it was their favorite place to be.

Logan’s dad opened the door, he always looked very similar to Logan, with his dark skin and black curly hair, although Logan’s was shorter. The biggest noticeable difference was his tattoo on his neck that consisted of various little birds, the very same that his mother had.

Anyway, Logan’s dad smiled at him and said:

“Logan’s upstairs, you know the way.”

“Thanks Mr. Sanders!” Roman said, and ran up the stairs.

He practically stormed into Logan’s room.

Logan looked up from Foundation and Empire, annoyed, until he realised who had just charged into his room.

“Roman!” he said, a little too enthusiastically considering they had seen each other yesterday.

“Yeah, now come on Lo! We gotta go to the park!” he said grabbing his friend’s hand and pulling him downstairs.

Logan shook his head at his impatient friend, but did not stop him.

“You do know we still have about six hours of playtime, right?”

“Yeah yeah but the dragon witch is not going to defeat herself!”

Logan could not really argue with that.

He quickly put on his shoes and could only say a quick goodbye to his dad before Roman grabbed his hand and took off towards the park.

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

They played happily for hours, occasionally Logan would point out inconsistencies in Roman’s stories which he always answered with a variation of:

“It’s magic, Specs!” or “we are playing pretend, calculator watch”.

Roman liked nicknames.

And Logan would give in and follow Roman’s nonsensical plot. Logan always liked Roman’s stories a lot, secretly.

They played until the sun started setting, then tired out and content they sat on their bench, surely late for curfew and not bothered by it whatsoever.

Logan rested his head on Roman’s lap, to be able to properly point at the stars and show them all to Roman.

And although Roman couldn’t really remember all that he was told he always listened carefully, slowly threading his fingers through his friend’s hair, smiling at Logan’s beaming face.

It was time to go home and a comfortable silence fell over them.

Roman sighed content and said.

“We will always be together, won’t we Lo?”

Logan sat up and looked at his friend.

“Always is a very long time, Ro.”

“You think we won’t?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Roman laughed

“It's almost as if you like me, nerd.”

Logan tried to give him an annoyed look, which ended up looking more along the lines of “desperately fond”.

“For the record,” Logan said. “We will be together forever.”

Barely above a whisper but with the conviction one could only have when speaking an absolute truth.

It was strong wording, but such are the things you say when you have yet to turn nine and the world seems simple.

And they believed it, with all of their hearts, they really did.

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

Then middle school rolled around, and everything went wrong. And as far as Roman is concerned, it was all Logan’s fault.

A few months after they started middle school Logan already seemed to change so much. He was quiet and reserved, which is something he had always been, but never around Roman. He was also always seemingly busy.

Roman didn’t know about how kids made fun of Logan in class, how slowly but surely Logan began to believe his only redeemable quality was his grades.

It’s not like Logan told him.

What made it harder is that they weren’t in the same class anymore, so they only saw each other after school.

More and more often Logan would be studying, or taking extra classes, which he didn’t even need in Roman’s opinion.

Roman got increasingly sadder, and quietly wondered what happened to his best friend.

As far as Logan was concerned it was all Roman’s fault, because he had replaced him.

One day Logan arrived at Roman’s house, unannounced, sure, but they did that all the time.

Or they had done that once.

Remus opened the door and seemed genuinely surprised to see him.

“Logan…” they said, pitifully?

“Hello, is Roman home?”

“Yes, but,” they hesitated “he has a friend over.”

Logan’s brain short circuited, a friend? Of course Roman could have other friends, many people at school liked him. He was allowed to have other people over that weren’t him.

It still didn’t sit right with him.

He walked up the familiar staircase to Roman’s door, which was easy to find because it said “Roman” in cursive red and gold and covered in stickers.

He heard Roman’s loud laughter mixed with someone else's.

He opened the door to find Patton Jones in Logan’s usual spot, next to Roman on his bed laughing at a joke only the two of them understand.

The two on the bed stopped abruptly when they saw Logan at the door.

“Logan!” Roman said excitedly, because they hadn’t seen each other in more than a week.

“It’s good that you are here,” he continued.”Now you can meet Patton!”

Patton smiled in a way that seemed to light up his freckled clad face, he seemed lovely with his sunny smile and golden curls, Logan felt something akin to anger bubbling in his chest, he immediately did not like Patton.

“You must be Logan,” Patton said happily “Roman talks about you a lot.”

Logan completely missed Roman blushing, and instead realised that the feeling bubbling up in his chest was something as stupid as jealousy.

“I can come by another time.”  he said.

“No, no its going to be fun!”

The rest of the evening was awkward. Roman and Patton had jokes and stories Logan didn’t know. Logan couldn’t shake the horrible feeling in his stomach.

Logan left before dinner in a hurry.

Roman was extremely confused, why couldn’t Logan even be just nice to Patton.

Patton was sweet and if Logan didn’t appreciate that, Patton was Roman’s friend.

“I am sorry Pat, I have no idea what’s up with him.”

“I think he might just be jealous, Ro.” Patton said softly.

But Logan was not an idiot, there was no reason to be jealous, Roman was sure Logan knew that. But of course he didn’t tell him that.

“No, I think he is just being a jerk.”

Patton shook his head sadly, he didn’t like it when people were hurting.

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

Roman and Logan saw each other less and less through middle school.

They didn’t talk about the things that bothered them or anything really, and soon painful silence fell over them when they hung out.

Things didn’t completely get ruined until about a week before summer vacation.

“My parents agreed for you to come along with our vacation.” Logan said, pretending very hard that everything was fine.

They had always gone on vacation together, he saw no reason for it to be different this year.

Roman shifted uncomfortably.

“Still the week of the 11th?”

Logan eyed him dubiously.

“Yes? It’s always been that week?”

Roman looked at the ground guiltily.

Logan stared at him baffled.

“You forgot?!” Logan said, way too loud, his fists clenched, his body tensed up.

“I am so so sorry Logan! I am going camping with Pat that week but maybe-”

Logan saw red.

Of course he thought what did I expect?

“Fine! Go hang out with Patton then!” he yelled, trying very hard not to cry.

Roman threw up his hands.

“I don’t know why you hate Patton so much!”

“I don’t! I just-”

“You do.”

Logan clenched his jaw so hard he wondered whether he could break his teeth like that.

Roman looked at him with a challenge.

“This is preposterous Roman, we are not toddlers anymore.”

“So you admit you dislike Patton.”

Logan slowly breathed in and out.

“I do not.”

Roman shook his head.

“Oh yeah? You merely hate when I hang out with him? God forbid I want to have a friend that doesn’t ditch me because he is a such a fucking nerd!”

Roman regretted the words the moment they left his mouth and saw Logan flinch.

Logan looked back at him as if he had just been slapped.

Kids at school said those things, but Roman, Roman wouldn’t.

Yet he had.

Logan felt tears prickle in his eyes.

“Logan...“ Roman said softly.

“I hate you!” Logan shouted, before storming off.

Roman did not run towards him, nor did he try to reason with him.

He just shouted “Fine!”

And ran back home choking back tears.

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

3 years later.

Pretty much everyone at Gainesville High School knew Roman Reyes and Logan Sanders.

Roman Reyes was known as a semi-popular theatre kid, that many people knew either because he constantly got the lead role in the school’s play or because he was signed up to at least 10 different extracurricular clubs and activities. Most people liked him well enough, although he usually sat at lunch only with Patton Jones and occasionally his twin.

Whom was another reason he was known across the school, people tend to remember you if your sibling blew up the lab, on multiple occasions.

Logan Sanders was a genius, who had won more science contests than anyone else at the school ever. Everyone also liked him well enough, or at least they said so ever since he started hanging out with Deceit - who did have a real name, supposedly, but made up a new one every time someone asked him - and Virgil Decker. Who were both rather punk/emo and would not hesitate to fuck you up if you messed with their friends. They had a very interesting brand of psychological warfare they had used on Chad Carson when he had spray painted Logan’s locker in freshman year, no one had dared to mess with him since.

Anyway, they had many things in common, Logan and Roman.

They both had a tendency of arguing with teachers, they both had interesting brands of extra, they both liked to wear skirts occasionally.

And mostly everyone knew them because they knew that letting those two in a room together was about as catastrophic as letting an atomic bomb go off.

Some of their arguments and fights were famous.

Like the time they argued for two periods about the correct interpretation of a single line in Hamlet , derailing poor Ms. Chase’s math class.

Or the time Roman joined the debate team loudly announcing to anyone who would listen that he was doing it to kick Logan’s butt. In retribution Logan had auditioned for the role Roman wanted in the school play. They now shared the role, much to the demise of the whole theatre cast and crew and director Thomas Sanders.

Or the time they were doing their standard comparing grades and bickering shenanigans which escalated in Roman pouring water over Logan, which in turn got Roman covered in an unholy mix of coffee and red bull.

Everyone tried to separate them as much as possible, but it seemed somehow those two always ended up stuck together.

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

Patton sighed as Roman shouted yet another stupid nickname at Logan, who was sitting all the way across the cafeteria. Logan shouted back a “burn” that sounded suspiciously like a rap verse.

Patton gave a sympathetic smile and wave at Virgil who seemed to be faking slamming his head onto the table in frustration.

Virgil saw him and blushed timidly and waved back, which in turn made Patton blush.

He looked down at his arm looking at his forming soulmark. He had made friendship bracelets is whole life, he was in fact looping one now. A green one, Remus had bitten through their old one. Now he had the simple design of one on his right wrist, a blue one with a little purple heart in the middle. He really, really hoped Virgil had the same tattoo.

Roman didn’t notice his very obvious crush and instead started ranting about Logan, again.

Patton tuned him off as much as he could.

“You two are like Harry and Draco.” Patton cut him off, hoping Harry Potter might make him stop.

Roman scoffed.

“I hope you mean that he is Draco.”

“You have been talking about him for the past ten minutes!” Patton countered.

“First of all clearly I am a Gryffindor, second of all he is just so-”

“Infuriating!” Logan said to Dee and Virgil who were totally paying attention and hadn’t heard this all before.

“Oh,” Dee said, rolling his eyes “you hadn’t mentioned it.”

“I haven’t? Well in that case-”

They were saved by an impromptu lecture on everything infuriating Roman had ever said and done by Remus, who slammed their lunch on the table. They proceeded to crawl on Dee’s lap casually.  Virgil muttered “get a room” which earned him a middle finger from Remus.

“Can’t you shut up about my brother for one second Lolo,” they said “there are more subjects, you know.”

Logan did not give in.

“Doesn’t your brother regard you as a traitor?”

“For sitting with my soulmate?” Remus rolled their eyes “You are so dramatic, nerdy wolverine, besides Roman may be a pain in the ass, but he is also a romantic.”

Logan wrinkled his nose looking at Deceit and Remus’s intertwined arms. In full display was a currently simple, but surely one day extremely extra green and yellow serpent tattoo that coiled around both of their arms, making it hard to make out where each of them ended or started.

They were ridiculous. And so was his mark, it was not visible but it was a simple and way too cartoonish bunch of stars under his left shoulder blade.

Soulmates where stupid, in Logan’s opinion.

“It’s not like any of you like Roman, I am in my right to find him aggravating and-” he saw all of his friends looking at him incredulously. “What?”

He distinctly heard Dee mutter: “Lord grant me patience, because if you grant me strength someone will get murdered.”

“Well, I mean Princey isn’t my best friend but,” Virgil shrugged “ I like him well enough, plus his antics in debate club are always entertaining.”

Logan looked at Virgil disbelieving, then at Dee who smirked a bit.

“He certainly is dramatic and annoying, I’ll give you that but then again,” he gestured vaguely at his company on the table “a lot of people are.”

Vrigil rolled his eyes, Remus simply nodded in agreement.

Logan scoffed.

Since when does Deceit hang out with Roman anyway, well aside from play rehearsal and the fact that he is his soulmates brother and- , Logan thought, realised he was being stupid and shook his head.

“I have seen you hit Roman with a morning star, Remus, you can not tell me you enjoy his company.”

“It was play rehearsal!” Remus defended “and we are siblings, it’s different.”

“I can’t fathom any of you enjoy his company he-”

“Well don’t be like that, you two used to be best friends.” Remus said nonchalantly.

Virgil stared at Logan baffled, Dee burst into laughter.

“I am not joking!” Remus said amused.

Dee shook his head.

“I know, darling, but it's not like we have had to endure daily rants on how dreadful Roman is, and it turns out they were fucking best friends!”

Virgil just kept staring at Logan quizzically.

“Yes, Roman and I were,” he hesitated not sure how to phrase it “..close, but we were children, it was quite some time ago.”

“What happened?”

Logan looked briefly across the cafeteria to Roman’s table, where Patton was tying a friendship bracelet to Roman’s wrist.

“He found new friends.”

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

Logan hadn’t quite realised how much he missed Roman, but now that he had been lying wide awake for quite some time, memories of both of them unable to get out of his head, he supposes it’s a lot more than he initially thought.

He really does like his current friends, but somehow Roman had been different, they had been so very close and Logan had believed they would be together forever.

There was still a picture somewhere buried under books on his desk he couldn’t bring himself to throw away.

It was a nice spring day, they had their arms around each other, they were both smiling so wide it seemed impossible, they were probably around ten years old, childhood innocence still in their eyes. And Roman was looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Where had that look gone? What had happened?

Logan’s chest ached with nostalgia,and although he had previously never ever considered sneaking out, on this night with a full moon and thousands of stars he quietly slips into his coat and shoes.

He opens the front door silently and he walks calmly to the clearing in the park.

Their park.

He gets there and goes to sit on the bench.

Their bench.

He looks up at the sky, he looks at the stars that he once considered theirs.

A deep melancholy settles into his chest threatening to blow him into pieces.

Tears prickle in his eyes for times long gone.

He is snapped out of his thoughts by a soft, surprised, achingly familiar voice.

“Logan?” his best friend, his rival, a stranger says.

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

Patton had never been mad at Roman before. Sure Roman could be a bit much, Patton had been frustrated, annoyed, aggravated, perhaps a tad angry.

But today it seemed he had finally crossed a line with him. Roman was, as usual, ranting about Logan.

Patton had sighed heavily.

“Now you are just being mean, Roman, I know you miss him but-”

And ok, Roman may have exploded a little, stating that he was better off without Logan in about ten different ways.

Patton had huffed and said in a tone Roman had never heard from him before: “Fine, see you tomorrow.” and he walked away.

And now in the middle of the night Roman couldn’t shake Patton's words out of his head. Mostly because he had been right.

He did miss Logan.

He looked at the little stars, just under his shoulder blade in the mirror. They always reminded him of Logan, and his ceiling full of glow in the dark stars. Too bad Logan hated his guts.

He put his shirt back on and looked through the window, out to the full moon and the stars.

He made his way downstairs careful not to wake up his moms’. Downstairs he bumped into Remus who snickered at him.

“Sneaking out little brother, I always figured you were too much of a goody-two-shoes for that.”

Roman eyed his sibling dubiously, they were wearing a neon green skirt with suspenders over a black crop-top, knee length boots, and those weird long fingerless gloves.

Roman wondered how they could possibly be related.

“First of all, what are you wearing? Second you are also sneaking out and third we are twins! And i was born first!”

Remus laughed and grabbed a rat out of their skirt pocket.

“Can you believe how easy it is to rile him up, Woody?” they said to the rat. “Isn't he ridiculous?”

“You are sneaking out with your rats?”

Remus carefully stuffed the rat back in their pocket and said: “Dee is having a party!”

As if this was an explanation for the rats. Also Roman knew very well Deceits “parties” consisted of either vandalising public property with anarchist messages or some other sort of public disturbance.

Roman shook his head and walked towards the door.

“Don’t get arrested, I won’t bail you out this time.” he called over his shoulder.

“I make no promises.” they said before disappearing through the kitchen window, for some reason.

Outside he wondered whether Logan joined them in their mischief these days.

Logan seemed like a rational individual, but slap a decent hypothesis to any shenanigans and he will call it an “experiment” and go along gleefully.

Or he used to anyway.

He walked towards the park remembering all the trouble they had gotten into, chuckling sadly at his memories.

He made it to the clearing as if last time had been yesterday, and not years ago.

There to his surprise was Logan Sanders, looking up to the sky and...crying?

“Logan?” he asked, unsure of whether or not he was dreaming.

Logan looked at him, a little bit shocked, but mostly he looked tired.

They stood still for a moment staring at each other tension everywhere.

Finally it was broken by a small, exhausted voice.

“I am tired of fighting, Roman.”

He looked so sad, so small, Roman wanted nothing more than to gather him in his arms.

He didn’t, instead he sat next to him.

“I think I am too.”

Silence fell over them again.

“Then pray tell,” Logan said. “What are we doing?”

Roman looked down at his hands.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “You promised you know.” Roman said bitterly. “Forever.”

Logan looked back at him, anger clearly bubbling right back into his stomach.

“Maybe we would’ve if you hadn’t replaced me!” he spat with venom in his voice.

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise he turned to Logan baffled.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Well it was clear you favored Patton, which I suppose should be fine, but-”

“Hold up! Time out!” Roman said shaking his hands. “You were jealous? You thought I liked Patton better?”

Now Logan looked equally baffled.

“I- yes?” he said.

Roman burst out laughing. Logan really didn’t get the joke.

“What?” he demanded.

“I thought you didn’t like me anymore! I mean we never hung out anymore and you seemed so distant.” he gripped Logan’s hands firmly into his own. “I love Patton don’t get me wrong, but I started hanging it with him because I was so lonely,” he looked into Logan’s eyes “without you.”

“You were?” Logan said his voice so small.

Thus Roman realised he was an idiot, a petty, stubborn, stupid moron .

“Yeah, I was.” he sighed sadly. “I am sorry, for what I said then and well for everything.”

Logan shook his head.

“It was so long ago.”

“I should never have said that.”

Logan smiled just a little bit.

“I apologize too, for everything.”

Roman smiled back.

“Man, I thought you were being a jerk to Patton for no reason.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to laugh, a little bitterly and with bitten back tears.

“Patton seemed so perfect, and with everything people were saying at school,” he looked away from Roman. “I did not think there was a way I could compete with him.”

Roman did hug him then, clutching to the back of his shirt, pressing Logan close and said:

“No one could ever compete with you, Specs.”

Logan’s heart soared, he hugged back and clung to Roman like a life raft, he let out a shaky laugh, a breath of relief and said very quietly but full of conviction:

“No one could ever compete with you either.”

They stayed in the park way too long, remembering old times, making plans for times ahead. Perhaps it should’ve been awkward, but somehow it wasn’t, they fit like two pieces of a puzzle, just like they always had.

They had years to catch up on, but soon they realised that their lives were still intertwined, their friendship group was pretty much the same and they shared extracurricular activities. They had never really been separated at all.

They did still bicker, but they didn’t fight and their words lacked bite or venom.

So they ended up pressed against each other, looking up at the stars. Logan’s head rested on Roman’s shoulder.

“Look it’s Cassiopeia.” Roman said, pointing at the constellation.

Logan couldn't quite bring himself to be embarrassed about the way he giggled.

“I thought I was supposed to be the astronomy guy.” he said.

Roman smiled into his hair.

“I did listen, you know, when you talked about the stars.”

Logan looked up at the stars and held Roman closer, he remembered, now how it had been so easy to promise him forever.

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

The next day at Gainesville high school everyone was fairly sure the apocalypse had just started, because Roman Reyes and Logan Sanders had eaten lunch together, with all of their friends, who all seemed delighted and not at all bothered by it. And not just that they had, supposedly also sat together in all classes they could.

“You are kidding me, babe.” said Remy Katz taking a sip from his starbucks iced coffee.

“I swear I am not!” said a very baffled Emile Picani, “I saw them at lunch!”

“You sure they weren’t try to poison each others food? Secretly murdering each other through pure passive aggressiveness?”

Emile recalled how he had seen them, their smiles blinding, looking at each other as if they hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“Yes, I am sure,” he said smiling “They seemed happy.”

-----------

Logan and Roman’s friends had varied reactions to finding their years long rivalry had ended with a good conversation and some hugs.

Patton was so utterly delighted he hadn’t been able to be mad at anyone, especially after Logan’s very sincere apology, the gist of which was “I was a jealous thirteen year old, and I am sorry.”

Patton had hugged Logan very tightly and handed him a blue bracelet with a little star in the middle.

Logan smiled surprised.

“How did you know I liked astrology?”

Patton smirked and said: “Roman talked about you, a lot.”

Roman turned cherry red and sputtered some nonsensical words.

And of course all his friends were kind enough to laugh at his expense, really loudly.

After that Virgil offered his reaction which had been something akin of “Fucking finally.”

To which Patton said: “Language, babe.”

And Roman got his revenge by laughing very loudly at Virgil's very red face.

Which was not much of a revenge at all because Patton felt so very sorry that they were laughing at his poor boyfriend and so kissed him quite sweetly.

To which Remus shouted: “get a room!” which they shouted while sitting on Dee’s lap with their legs coiled around each other.

Dee had then shook his head, looked Roman up and down and said: “I suppose we can add another moron to our group.” A statement that no one argued.

Everyone ate happily together, bickering loudly and laughing a tad too loud.

Patton and Virgil tentatively held hands under the table; their bracelet tattoos giving an illusion of hands bound together, content and forever.

Deceit and Remus ate, as always, half on each others laps, their arms twisted together to show the serpent seemingly pressing them together.

As for Roman and Logan? Well I hope it is established by now that they are clueless morons.

Yes, they were friends again, and everyone pretty much assumed they had figured out they were soulmates as well.

But

It took them a week more.

It all happened over lunch at Roman’s house, Roman was eating, or well he was shoving food in his mouth as rushed as possible.

His moms shared a knowing look.

“Are you going to Logan’s later?” Carmen aksed.

Roman’s face lit up and made something of a sound of agreement.

“After lunch!”

Everyone at the table couldn’t help but smile at his besotted face, even Remus.

“Well I am glad I don't have to hear your rants about not having a soulmate anymore, they were getting exhausting.” They said brightly.

Roman practically dropped his fork in shock, eyes wide he turned to his sibling.

“What?” Roman said, trying to process the sentence.

“Wait, you seriously hadn’t figured it out yet?” Remus said dumbfounded.

And when Roman, still shocked, shook his head, Remus burst into laughter joined by their moms’ not so subtle chuckling.

Roman on the other hand was freaking out.

“Oh my Gods! Logan is my soulmate?! Oh my- I- What?!” Roman sputtered.

Which just made Remus laugh harder.

“How do you know?” Roman continued “When did you see Logan shirtless? Wait! Do I want to know?”

Remus waved their hand dismissively.

“I got sulfuric acid on his shirt, doesn’t matter, long story, but like...you really didn’t know?!”

Roman felt like his world had been shaken upside down.

He had to-

“GO! I have to go!”

Carmen, who was still laughing said: “you are excused, Roman.”

As soon as she said that Roman bolted out of the door, nearly forgetting his shoes.

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

Roman knocked on Logan’s door excitedly. Logan’s dad opened the door and smiled down at him.

“It’s good to see you again Roman!”

Roman nodded politely, still practically vibrating from emotion.

Logan’s dad seemed to notice, laughed and said:

“Logan’s upstairs, you know the way.”

“Thanks Mr. Sanders.” Roman said as he dashed up the stairs.

Upstairs he actually barged into Logan’s room.

Logan looked up from his book and did not even try to hide his glee as he said:

“Roman! You are early.”

He also did not hide his surprise and subsequent rush of warmth to his face when Roman blurted out: “Take off your shirt!”

“I- wh- what?” he stammered.

Roman laughed, still bouncing.

“Ok, ok,” he said. “I could’ve frased that one better, wait let me just-”

Then Roman started taking his shirt off, oh Goodness Gracious-

“Roman what in the world are you-”

Then Roman turned around.

And Logan’s heart either stopped or started beating so fast he couldn’t properly feel it anymore. Because there, covering Roman’s right shoulder blade was a perfectly glitterly, stupidly cartoonish little galaxy.

“We are soulmates.” he stated.

And then again, and again and again getting steadily more excited as he went.

Roman looked on at his shiny face and wondered if it was possible to die of fondness and cuteness overload.

“Yeah, L.” Roman said, giggly and breathless. “We are.”

Logan came closer, laughing now, joy clear on his face.

“Oh,” he said shaking his head. “We are such idiots.”

“Oh yeah we are.”

Logan came to his senses only for a second to realise that Roman was still shirtless.

He coughed pointedly, Roman smirked.

“I don’t know, pocket protector, don’t like what you see?”

Logan swatted him lightly and gave him a fake scandalised look

“Put a shirt on, Roman.”

Roman pouted but obliged and put on his shirt, making a whole show of turning around and putting on his shirt as slowly as possible.

He turned around.

“So-” he started and never finished, because Logan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him.

Roman made a sound at the back of his throat between “delighted” and “please God more”. And he kissed back, practically making them both fall on Logan’s bed.

Their kiss, they both agreed, had to be magical, they were soaring flying and pulling each other closer and closer, practically melting against each other. They giggled and laughed and whispered sweet nothings that meant the world and nothing at all.

They ended up pulling apart only for the insufferable need for air.

They sat up on Logan’s bed,panting, pressed against each other, looking up at Logan’s glow in the dark stars in pleasant silence.

Roman gently brushed the hair out of his soulmates face and said softly:

“We will always be together, won’t we love?”

Logan smiled and leaned into his touch.

“Always is a long time, beloved.”

Roman tenderly brushed his cheek.

“You think we won’t be?”

Logan closed his eyes, smiling contendly.

“That’s not what I said.”

God, I love him so much. They both thought.

“Gosh, it’s almost as if you like me, nerd.”

They both giggled.

Then Logan pulled Roman even closer and whispered into Roman’s ear, very faintly, but with the conviction one could only have when speaking an absolute truth.

“I know we will be together forever.”

And they believed it, with all of their hearts, they did.

[jadekitty777]

Love is Bold/Snow Day

Okay, today’s order of business? Posting up all my entries from the Shipwreckedfanzine (Read it here!)

I’m doing two in one for this post - my two Fair Game entries!

First up, the poem I wrote for front matter. I’m only going to enclose a link to Ao3 for this one, because tumblr doesn’t allow me to format it the way I want (and it looks really nice formatted properly).

Ao3 Link: Love Is Bold

Word Count: 156

Summary: A tragic love poem between a Bird and a Clover. [Hint: There's a gimmick to it, can you figure it out?]

~

Second up, is my fanfiction entry! I’m super proud of this one, so I hope you all enjoy it too!

Rating: K

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 2.1k

Ao3 Link: Snow Day

Summary:  Qrow’s having a bad day. Clover and Ruby might just have the solution to cheer him up.

☘~☘~☘~☘~☘~☘

The vials of dust jingled softly inside the case as it was set down beside the dozens and dozens of others that had made it here on the multitude of trips before it. Clover straightened up, rolling out the ache in his shoulder as he announced, “Alright, that’s the last one.”

“Finally.” Qrow’s response was distant in the hall. While he didn’t have a problem carrying some of the load into Amity Arena, he absolutely refused to go into what he called ‘an explosion waiting to happen’.

Penny clapped her hands together, looking positively thrilled. “Oh, splendid. I cannot wait to tell the general that we were 12.5% more efficient on today’s run.”

“I’m pretty sure all he needs to know is we succeeded.” Ruby offered as they all headed out of the room.

Qrow glanced at them from where he was leaning against the wall. “Nah, add it to the report. Bet Jimmy loves hearing about how his tin soldiers are becoming more efficient.”

A retort was on Clover’s tongue, but Penny beat him to it. “But I’m not made of tin. I’m made of 100% carbonite steel. See?” She hit her head, the hollow ring echoing almost eerily down Amity’s empty halls.

Clover almost couldn’t contain a laugh over the flabbergasted look on the other man’s face or the way he mumbled, “Not what I meant kid.”

He turned back to the door to set the security locks, before ushering his team on down the hall. As they stepped outside, he could see Penny’s calculations appeared correct. Usually, between the round trip, off-loading, and handling any Grimm encounters along the way, they didn’t get back until well past sunset. However, from the position of the sun, they were definitely going to be returning with some light still in the sky.

“Alright,” He turned to the team, “We’ll do a quick perimeter check before heading back. Penny, Qrow, go ahead and do an aerial sweep. Ruby and I will handle the ground.”

“Affirmative, sir!” Penny saluted before taking off, all smiles.

In contrast, Qrow just waved him off with a flippant, “Yeah, Yeah.” Before he burst into feathers and a bird took flight.

He watched him go, pursing his lips some before glancing at the smaller girl beside him. “He’s in quite a mood today, isn’t he?”

Ruby just seemed sympathetic. “Yeah, he gets like that. Dad used to call them ‘Uncle Qrow’s Grumpy Days’.”

He snorted softly. Yeah, that about covered it alright. “What do you say we do something about it?”

Mischievousness glinted in her silver eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

☘~☘~☘~☘~☘~☘

It was a fortunate thing that Ruby’s semblance was speed – as it was the only reason they were able to clear the perimeter in record time while also setting up for their ambush.

Clover had not made a snow fort since he was eight and it looked about as well-crafted as it had been back then, with uneven walls and a section on the verge of complete collapse. Meanwhile, Ruby was getting their snowball supply ready, stacking them up like firewood piles in every corner of their little fortress. Busy as they were, he almost missed the report of Penny’s rocket boots blasting through the air.

“They’re coming back!” Clover warned.

In a flurry of petals, Ruby was gone, already standing at attention in front of the truck. Clover hopped over a wall, jogging over to join her, both of them trying to take a casual stance by leaning back against the front bumper and taking on the air that they’d been waiting an excruciating amount of time. Ruby hammed it up even more when they landed, bemoaning loudly, “What took you guys so long? We finished forever ago.”

“I apologize, I will work on my speed!” Penny said with a nod.

“Don’t bother tin-can, you’ll never be up to this pipsqueak’s standards.” Qrow rolled his eyes, but it was hard to deny the absolute fondness of his tone.

“I am still not made of tin.”

“I- uh, nevermind.”

Clover pushed off the truck, cutting in, “Anything unusual to report?”

“Nothing to the east and northern sides for at least three miles.” The living android detailed.

Qrow’s was even more succinct: “Nah. We can move out.” before he slunk on by, heading for the back of the truck.

Clover shared a knowing look with Ruby. She nodded, speeding after her uncle and slowing his gait by getting in front of him. He took up the rear of their group, fingers twitching with anticipation as he waited for the moment.

“So, Uncle Qrow!” The huntress chirped, walking backwards as she spoke with him, all open smiles as if she wasn’t planning to utterly deceive him. “Yang was telling me this really good joke the other day, wanna hear it?”

“Sure kiddo, lay it on me.”

“Knock, knock!”

“Oh gods.” He groaned.

“Uncle!”

“Okay, fine. Who’s there?”

“Snowball.”

“Snowball, who?”

Hearing his cue, Clover had Kingfisher out and extended in one swift movement, throwing its line towards their fort and, with just a little bit of luck, snagged one of the snowballs on its hook. With a hard yank, the ball went up and flying through the air – and perfectly nailed Qrow right in the side of his face.

Ruby burst into laughter as she pointed at him. “Snowball you!!”

Slowly, Qrow rose a hand to his face, wiping off the flakes of ice stuck to his cheekbone and hair. Then, with a predatory deliberateness, he turned on his heels, catching each of their eyes, and declared war: “You both are going down.”

Still guffawing up a riot, Ruby sped away for their fort while Clover hooked another snowball on his weapon.

“Wait, what’s going on? Are we fighting?” Penny asked in confusion.

“I’ll explain in a second kid, we got to find cover!” Qrow grabbed her wrist, ducking under his and Ruby’s combined fire as they ran around the truck.

He took the opportunity to join Ruby in the fort, the girl already hard at work at making more ammo. He took one from the pile, placing it on the end of Kingfisher. “Watch this.” With a flick to his pendant and a swing of his arm, he lobbed the snowball up and over the truck.

A second later they heard Qrow’s angry squawk. “HEY!!”

Ruby’s eyes lit up like stars. “We’re going to destroy them.”

He just laughed, readying for the retaliation.

☘~☘~☘~☘~☘~☘

The terrain had become a battlefield.

Ruby was a whirlwind of terror, zipping around Penny at high speeds, throwing volleys of snowballs in rapid succession before hurrying away for cover.

The android didn’t take the abuse lying down though, circling her swords in a windmill pattern to collect snow piles on their ends, before shooting missiles of snow in their direction.

Clover covered his head under the icy shower, racing across the field for his own target who was loaded up on snowball ammo. With a war cry on his lips and his fishing rod swinging low, he struck, but his attack missed completely as Qrow disappeared into feathers. He squinted against the sun as the other flew up high only to nosedive down, transforming again halfway down and pelting him from above.

“Ah, what?! You keep them between transformations? That’s unfair!” He cried, protecting his face as the other landed right in the path of his escape route.

“Better luck next time!” Qrow gloated in triumph as he continued his merciless assault.

Over his makeshift shield of arms, Clover could see the bright grin on his face and fell in love with the way it made his eyes light up like gemstones. He could have stared forever – but he had a game to win.

As Qrow’s ammunition ran low, he made his move, skirting to the left and plucking one of the flying snowballs on his hook. He spun around with all the grace of an ice skater and at the end of his full rotation, struck the other huntsman in the face with it. Another swing and this time, he had his ankle caught.

With a yank, Qrow went tumbling into the snowbanks, a breathless laugh leaving him.

The noise was so unexpectedly nice, Clover forgot himself as he allowed himself a moment to just listen – and quickly became the victim of one of Penny’s snowy waterfalls.

“Penny, you’re supposed to make them into a ball!” Ruby called from the only remaining wall of their fortress that had survived thus far.

“Oh, got it! Be right back!” She said before taking off towards the tundra.

“Uhhh, okay!?” Confused but knowing an opportunity when it presented itself, Ruby’s gaze slid to the only combatant left.

So did Clover’s, smirk growing.

Qrow blinked as the gravity of the situation fell on him. “Uh oh.”

They all scrambled for the snow, but the little huntress was the fastest, pelting her uncle with a fast ball to the gut and a curveball to the leg. He tried his best to retaliate, only to wind up tangled in Kingfisher’s line as Clover dragged him forward and cruelly shoved a handful of ice down the back of his shirt, drinking in his angry screeches. Then Ruby was there again, piling even more snow on his tattered cape and throwing it up over his head like a reverse poncho.

“Okay, that’s it!” The fishing line was suddenly empty as Qrow morphed out of it, somersaulting through the air only to land as a human several feet away, Harbinger in hand. He twisted it back, changing its form mid-spin, and burying the curving blade of the scythe into the snow. He swung it towards them and a wave of ice followed.

Clover ducked and rolled under the torrent, leaping forward to try and entangle the wild fighter while Ruby zipped around to get him from behind, her own weapon out now. He had just managed to hook Kingfisher into the hole near the base of Harbinger’s blade when a shadow darkened the area around them.

They all looked up, wary.

And then blanched.

“Snowball acquired! Targets locked!” Penny declared proudly as she effortlessly held the jet plane-sized ball above her head. “Probability of winning: 100%.”

“Uhhh-! Penny!” Ruby shouted futilely.

“Goodbye.” She smiled cheerily as she threw the weapon of mass destruction their way.

Clover saw Ruby dash one way.

Qrow the other.

He shut his eyes and accepted his fate.

☘~☘~☘~☘~☘~☘

Even with the heater going full blast, there was a lingering chill in the truck as they headed back home. Clover rummaged through the crate where they kept the supplies, pulling out the first blanket he could find and heading to the front so he could drape it over Ruby’s shivering shoulders.

“T-T-Thanks.” She said around chattering teeth.

As he walked away, he heard Penny ask, “So, was I a good combatant in the snowball fight?”

“Y-You were the b-b-b-best!”

Their words faded into background noise as Clover continued his search, shoving aside water bottles, unperishable food rations, clothes, flares and other items. “Oh.” He said once he’d hit the bottom of the box.

“Problem?” Qrow asked from where he was sitting back against one of the walls, rubbing his arms for warmth.

“Well.” Clover rose out the only blanket left as way of explanation.

One fine eyebrow rose. “You gotta be kidding me.” For a second, he thought he was bemoaning their circumstances – until he added, “You’re pulling that trick on me?”

He coughed down a laugh. “You’re giving me more credit than I deserve. Though,” He didn’t hold back a flirtatious smile, “Won’t complain about fortunate circumstances.”

The other huntsman rolled his eyes, fighting down his own smile. “Just get over here.”

And really, there just was no denying that command, was there? Clover settled down beside him, spreading the blanket between them. They had to press in close, everything from their shoulders to their hips touching with an undeniably tender warmth.

Qrow tugged his end a little tighter, lent a little more weight onto him. “You know what? I reject what you said.”

He looked down towards the head of black hair rested comfortably against his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“About this being fortunate circumstances. You give your semblance credit for everything. But this one?” He pointed a thumb at himself, smug. “This one’s all mine.”

Clover’s mind tripped over itself to process what he’d just heard. In the rare instances Qrow would talk about his semblance, it was always with dejected contempt. But today, there was a hint of pride there. A sign that things were changing for the better.

“Yeah.” He agreed, taking a gamble and resting his own cheek against Qrow’s hair. “This one’s yours.”

When no protest came, Clover shut his eyes and smiled.

In more ways than one, things were changing.

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

20 Seconds of Courage -Part 19

The Elementalists au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 1835

Warnings: This is a very dark chapter. Assault, rape, murder, blood splatter, and suicide are all here, as well as gun violence and arson. Read at your own risk. (Please don't hate me, I don't even know how this got so far, but it's fairly fitting for a Halloween posting lol)

Series Master List

Complete Master List

  “Oh my god.” Oriana groaned, immediately trying to grasp the back of her head, but finding herself restrained, her wrists and feet tied. “What the hell was that…” She looked around the unfamiliar setting, her head throbbing. “Where….?

The room she was in was luxurious. She was lying in a four-poster queen size bed. She was laying on top of white satin sheets and wearing a white satin slip. She had nothing on underneath and was barefoot. “How in the world….?”

“I wouldn’t think about it too much. You won’t be here long. Loose ends don’t stay loose for long at all. And you, my dear, are a huge loose end.”

She froze, hearing the voice coming from across the room. She knew that voice. Her eyes immediately shifted, finding Jason’s immediately. “Jason, what are you doing? Haven’t you done enough to me already? What more could you possibly want?”

“It was never supposed to go this far. You were never going to be anything other than a decoy as we hit the real target. You really fucked up those plans, and you will pay the price. Since our big payday is no longer coming, we could try to hold ransom from Beckett for you, but….this is much sweeter isn’t it? Finding his true love, devoid of life, wrapped in white satin soaked in crimson blood? I know I’m looking forward to that view. Just like I was his sister’s. Of course, that had to be hurried, and it became rushed and sloppy. But this…you…will not be rushed. It will not be sloppy. You will be beautiful even as you die.”

Jason stood up, sauntering towards her as though a predator. The glint of a knife drew her attention. He noticed.

“Oh this? This knife and I go a long way back. It’s my...sacrificial one, if you will. You aren’t the first person we’ve had to put down for getting in our way. For the rich ones, the real targets, I have another. But for you…”

He arrived at her bedside, smiling down on her. “This knife is for little bitches like you, who don’t get out of the way fast enough.” He pressed the tip into her neck, drawing a drop of blood. He grinned as she winced.

“I’m not normally one for drawing things out. It’s such a rush, such a high, taking someone’s life. But I want your lover to know how greatly you suffered. I want him to know it’s his fault that you did not go peacefully. He’s going to wish you died the way his sister did. Instant. Didn’t feel a thing. Here one minute, and the next…gone from the earth.” He sliced her arm, a trickle of blood coming out.

“You might wonder why you’re dressed like that. A tiny slip, naked underneath, surrounded by white. Your arms and legs tied up so you’re spread open for anyone to see that perfect little pussy of yours. There’s going to be alooooot of fun happening here. Maybe not so much for you. But you’ll be bleeding out anyway, growing weaker and weaker, but still feeling every sensation brought to you. I bet I can even make you cum as I slit your throat. Dying during an orgasm…now that is a good way to go. I guess I’m feeling generous right now. Or maybe I just want to see you shudder in ecstasy at the same time you choke on your own blood.”

“Why?” She whispered. “What did I ever do to you? What did Beckett ever do to you?”

Jason sneered. “That bracelet…I loved seeing you wear it. Completely oblivious it belonged to someone else, someone important. It took me a few years to wear you down and get you to date me…honestly you are such a tease. So, it’s been years since I’ve fed my innermost desires. And this is pure poetry.”

“How?” She cried.

“You haven’t figured it out, yet? You made my relationship with Lisa public. She could no longer be used to satisfy my bloodlust. So it was fucking perfect that Beckett Harrington, brother of the last person to meet their untimely demise by my hand, picked you to start a relationship with. He caused quite the trouble for us, leading the search for Katrina’s killer. But there were no leads to go on. Everything was a dead end. Absolutely no trace of me was left behind. So, I forgot all about him. Until a few months ago when he applied for a position. At first I was nervous, but then I realized, what a beautiful thing it would be, to work with him, mentor him, become his friend. I never had the chance to make it happen. It would have been one of my finest moments, having him open up about his tragic past to me, letting me relive it through his eyes.”

“You’re despicable.” Oriana spat.

“I prefer the term, God. I alone have held lives in my hands. Just like right now, I have full control over you living and dying. If that’s not God, I don’t know what is.” He was practically singing his triumph. “I just want you to die. But not until after I’ve had you again.”

Jason climbed on top of her, unbuckling his pants as he went. “It’s a pity things went this way. I enjoyed you so much. The things you can do with that tongue of yours….” He eyes turned black with desire.

Oriana opened her mouth to scream, but Jason’s knife was immediately on her throat, breaking through her skin. “I don’t want to kill you until I make you cum, Oriana. But don’t think I won’t.”

Jason lined his cock with her center, and just as he was about to enter her, the door to the room slammed open.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A voice boomed out.

Jason jumped off of her, yanking his pants back up.

“Are you a fucking idiot? You want your DNA all over her, inside her? I told you to leave her alone. Why are you even in here?” Michael strode into the room, not sparing a single glance at Oriana. She felt like the wind was knocked out of her.

“M…Michael? What…how…why…?” She gasped.

He turned his cold gaze to her. It was so cold she actually shivered. “You don’t actually think this one is smart enough to pull shit off by himself, do you?”

Oriana gaped at him, and he chuckled with a sneer. “God, I thought you were smarter than that. But then again, you wore a bracelet an ex-boyfriend gave you around a new boyfriend. That was pretty stupid. I didn’t think girls actually did things like that.”

He turned back to Jason, leveling him with his gaze. “Although, it’s not as stupid as giving someone a trophy to wear anytime they like. So here I am, getting my hands dirty so we don’t spend the rest of our lives in prison because of his complete and utter idiocy. And, as you can see, he has a flair for the dramatic.”

Michael shook his head in disappointment. “I never wanted to hurt you, Oriana. You’re a beautiful and bright girl. But unfortunately, I’m left with no choice. Jason, get over here.”

Jason went up to Michael, smiling widely. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“It is. Go to the bed and take your pants off again.”

“But you said…”

“I changed my mind. I want to watch you destroy her. I haven’t actually seen you do this before. I want to experience the thrill of it.”

Grinning wickedly, Jason went to the bed, sliding his pants and boxers down, kicking them away. He climbed on top of her again, and Oriana finally started crying. She couldn’t help it. This was it. This was how her life would end. Before she could even register what was happening, there was a loud BANG! Jason fell heavily on top of her, motionless, blood everywhere.

Oriana screamed as his blood splattered on the white satin and her skin. Michael looked at her, his face blank. “Welcome to your murder suicide, Oriana. I was actually going to wait a bit longer, but I just can’t stand listening to that man speak anymore. And although I’m not opposed to killing you, I have no desire for him to rape you. I’m no monster. Jason’s messed this up so bad, and I don’t have room for more mistakes. Getting close enough to do it is good enough and all I need.”

Oriana was hyperventilating, seeing the gun in Michael’s hand, and the hole in Jason’s head, his lifeless eyes looking into hers. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs to scream.

“But…I…he…”

Michael bellowed a laugh. “I can’t understand what you’re saying. SPEAK.” He cocked the gun, aiming it for her.

“…How…?” She croaked.

“Oh, how is it a murder-suicide? Well, I’m going to untie you. Then I’m going to anonymously tip off your dear Beckett Harrington about your location. People already know you’re missing, and they’ll suspect Jason of being with you. Beckett is already mad with worry, and he’s been publicly jealous and angry in the past. He’ll come in, see you and Jason about to fuck since you’ve missed him so much, and he’ll be so blind with rage that he kills you both. And then I’ll reappear to put a bullet in his own head, and make sure his fingerprints are everywhere they need to be, especially on the gun. Absolutely no loose ends. But just in case there’s any doubt whatsoever…”

Michael left the room for just a moment, returning with a few candles, placing them by the curtains and the bed, lighting each one ceremoniously. “There was so much commotion, a couple candles fell over, and since there was no one left alive to correct that…everything will be consumed in flames. I would use gasoline to speed things along, but who shows up and commits a crime of passion armed with a can of gasoline? Besides, you and Jason definitely would have had romantic lighting as you restarted your affair.”

“Where are we?” She whispered. “Someone will see or hear something. Those gunshots.”

“We are miles away from anyone. This house is long abandoned. Some very fancy furniture though.”

“Please don’t do this.” She begged. “I’ll leave the city, I’ll take Beckett with me. We’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone. Not even each other.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “That’s the best you can come up with? That’s the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard.”

Her whole body was trembling, feeling crushed by Jason’s dead weight, his blood dripping on her. She looked Michael square in the eye as he rose his gun back up and put his finger on the trigger.

“Goodbye Oriana.”

She let out a scream as the gunshot rang out, the house falling still as a candle fell over and lit the curtains on fire.

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[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Three

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and sex.

A/N: Probably the shortest chapter of the series. (Is that stressin’ me out, probably. Will I end up posting the next chapter sooner, probably)

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Welcome Wagon

Follow the music.

It reminded her of a poem she’d once read, about a pied piper who’d played his music to lead rats and children away.

Whether he judged her a rat or a child would be down to how she performed in the next few minutes.

‘Stay as close to the truth as possible, my girl.’

Wiping her hands on her skirt, Ada passed a small fire place. A man knelt stirring a pot suspended over it. He didn’t look up at her, just continued muttering to himself as he tasted the stew.

Another man did look at her, though, a blond man leaning against a large tree that seemed to be at the centre of the camp, a cigarette between his lips. He didn’t say a word, his eyes just followed her. She glanced at him, and his lips lifted. She looked away.

Priorities. The leader first.

And there he was.

Dutch sat on a chair next to a record player, the music sounding gently from it, another cigar in his hand. Arthur stood in the centre of the tent, no longer wearing the coat she’d so tightly clung to, the sleeves of his faded blue shirt rolled up, his back to her. She faltered in her step slightly.

She’d been rude to him that morning. She hadn’t regretted sending him away but it didn’t exactly put her in his favour now, and she needed to pass the judgement of two now, rather than one. Arthur was often described as Dutch’s right hand man in the newspapers, so it was obvious the kind of sway he could hold.

What she couldn’t help but let bother her more, though, was that she had lost control in front of him. It had been years since she’d cried in the presence of someone else and here she’d done it in front of a complete stranger. Still, perhaps that would lean her character in his estimations towards being gentle.

Or a normal person grieving.

Inhaling a slow breath, Ada cleared her throat as she stepped up to the tent.

“You wanted to see me, Mr van der Linde?”

Dutch lifted his head and smiled, sitting back in his chair. “Ah, Miss Sawyer.”

Arthur turned, and just nodded at her, as if they hadn’t shared a traumatic experience. Well, she supposed it was an every day occurrence for him, she just another victim caught in the cross-fire; his responsibility for her done.

“How do you do?”

Her gaze flicked back to Dutch as he spoke, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “Fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. Please, sit.” He stood and brushed off the chair before stepping aside, moving to stand beside Arthur.

Stepping into the tent, Ada moved to the chair, sweeping her skirt under herself, and taking a seat, her back straight, her chin lifting. She noticed then, as she’d moved, so had Arthur and Dutch, the former now stood where she had, his boot propped against the foundation of the tent, the latter sitting on the edge of the bed. 

So, she was to be caged in. Perhaps a tactical move, perhaps subconscious. They weren’t new to this at all.

Folding her hands in her lap, she looked to Dutch.

“Now, I know this will be hard for you, Miss Sawyer, but I’d like you to tell me what happened last night.”

She licked her dry lips as she tightened her grip on her own hands. “Well, I couldn’t sleep last night so I went downstairs to get a glass of water. Then, I heard gunfire coming up from the town. We live...” She paused and licked her lips again. “We lived in a house behind the town so we didn’t know what was happening. Then I saw men with masks on coming up towards the house and I told my family to go out to the barn, we had a wagon in there, I thought it would be easy for them to get away but, uhm...” She cleared her throat. “I was going to stay behind, give them a chance to get away. We’d planned somewhere to meet in case of an event like this, so I was going to meet them there but... They killed my family. They shot them. My mother, my sister and our uncle. And then they came after me so I ran. I ended up in the centre of town but it was chaos. There seemed to be a shoot out at the Sheriff’s office so I went in the other direction, down the stream. A man tried to attack me so I shot him.” She faltered slightly, here, in her hurried retelling. “I had to. Then I ran and took cover in the cabin and that’s where Arthur and I encountered one another.”

She glanced at him as she finished, and he looked to Dutch a second after.

Dutch shook his head slightly as he gazed at her. “I’m truly sorry that happened to you, Miss Sawyer. Do you know why they attacked?”

Arthur huffed out a short laugh. “O’Driscolls don’t need a reason.”

“No, they don’t, but they had one this time.” She looked between the men now as she spoke. “The Sheriff and his boys captured a small group of them yesterday that had been loitering outside of town. They were going to be hung tomorrow, the Mayor was going to make a show of it to try and dissuade any future activity. Obviously, it didn’t work out.” 

“Tragically.” Dutch raised his eyebrows as he nodded, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “Do you have any other family members, anyone who might be concerned about you?"

She shook her head as she laced her fingers together. “No. My father passed away when I was a child, as did my brother nine years ago. There’s no one else.”

The older man shook his head with a deep sigh. “You’re a very brave young woman, Miss Sawyer. I won’t ask you to recall anymore painful memories. Thank you for your time.”

She nodded slightly, the faint smile returning to her lips.

“Like I said to you earlier, you’ll be safe here and looked after. Miss Grimshaw can find some things for you to do to keep your mind off of the awful events that have happened to you. We’re glad to have you here.”

“Thank you, Mr Van der Linde.”

“Please, call me Dutch.”

She inclined her head as she rose to her feet. “Then please call me Annie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled. “You have yourself a good day now, and let me know if you need anythin’.”

Arthur watched her as nodded at him and exited the tent, his eyes following her.

He’d watched her the whole time she’d spoken.

Last night he’d seen her cold and ready to pull the trigger, and then mere hours later she’d broken down and wept, and then the coldness had overtaken her once more. Of course, not without reason, he knew the various ways people processed grief, but now she wasn’t under any extreme circumstances he could see the real her, and she was... not cold again, not exactly, but there was a guard up... and something there he couldn’t quite place.

Christ, he couldn’t figure her out. She was clearly educated from the way she spoke, but she could handle a gun, had kept her head in a gun fight, had even given him shit during it, but... Shit, he couldn’t put his finger on it. She was a walking contradiction.

Arthur would do anything to protect the camp and the people in it, and secretive, complex people upended the order of things. Still, time would tell, perhaps the guard she had up was a product of grief and being surrounded by strangers. Christ, she’d just been brought into the Van der Linde gang camp. Hell, he’d been in the gang so long he often forgot the kind of reputation they had and what idea it might give normal people.

Stop thinkin’ so damn hard, you fool, it ain’t healthy.

He exhaled a long breath as he stepped up into the tent and took a seat on the chair she’d vacated.

“What d’you think?” Dutch asked, his cigar between his lips.

The younger man shook his head, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles as he folded his arms. “It’s sad. She’s obviously in a lot of pain.”

“Indeed, but I meant about the O’Driscolls and their latest venture?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow, eyeing him. “What do you think?”

Dutch smiled, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Colm don’t give a shit about his boys so we can assume the attack on the town was a display of power, or he doesn’t want the law finding somethin’ out from those boys. He’s hiding somethin’.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Somethin’ profitable, though, I am very certain of that.” Smoothing his moustache down with his thumb, Dutch nodded in the direction the woman had walked. “Keep an eye on Miss Sawyer. I get the feelin’ there’s somethin’ she ain’t tellin’ us, whether it’s important or not I want to know.”

So, his instincts had been right.

Nodding, Arthur drew his legs in and stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And, like that, it was over.

She’d passed the judgement.

Her heart had pounded the entire time but she’d kept her breathing steady. Lord, she must have only been in there barely five minutes but it had felt like an eternity, every word she’d said being carefully chosen before she spoke it. She knew she couldn’t relax properly, though, until the next few days had passed. That would be the real test; if she could ingratiate herself into this group with no fuss and just... live her life.

There had been no asking her if she would like to stay. Did that surprise her so, though? She’d seen their camp, could probably roughly pinpoint where they were based upon the lake the camp overlooked.

No, she was to stay, the decision had been made for her.

Where the hell else was she supposed to go? Well, there was a place.

No.

No, she would just have to take each day as it came. Mourn, move on, live. Build herself some sort of a life, starting now.

Returning to the wagon she’d been taken to earlier, Ada pushed a stray curl out of her eyes.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

The older woman looked up from where she was sewing a skirt, a smile quickly lifting her features. “Hello, dear, how are you?”

“Fine, thank you.” Ada stopped before her, clasping her hands in front of the belt at her waist keeping her skirt up. “I was wondering if I could perhaps help with any work?”

The older woman, entirely delighted, patted the stool beside her. “Yes, of course, dear, that would be wonderful. How are you at sewin’?”

“My mother taught me.”

“Oh, wonderful!” 

Once Ada had seated herself, Susan placed the skirt in her lap and handed her the needle. “There you go, sweetheart, you carry on fixin’ that. Lord, it’s nice to have a girl who actually asks for work. I’m gonna see where those other lazy dead-weights have gotten to.”

Lord, I hope I don’t get on her bad side, Ada thought as she watched Susan stride away, barking out names.

It was an easy fix, two seams having come apart, but Ada gave it more focus than needed, happy to lose herself in making sure each stitch was perfect. Happy to not think about the past or the future for a little while.

Over the next few hours, Miss Grimshaw only disturbed her to ask once if she would perhaps like to take a nap, she must be tired, to which Ada declined and the other woman looked delighted once more, and to give her the next item to fix.

She sewed sleeves back on to their shirts, patched over holes in trousers and blankets, and reattached buttons.

She was left alone and that suited her fine. She could hear people carrying on with their work, laughing and talking to one another, and she was grateful no-one came to talk to her. Yes, she wanted to find her place in this group, to be fully accepted to make life easier, but for now she just wanted peace and quiet, and to avoid any questions. That seemed like the appropriate thing someone in her current situation would do.

The setting sun and calls for the whereabouts of stew finally made her lift her head. Rolling her shoulders and straightening her back, Ada flexed her numb fingers as she tipped her head back. Various muscles ached but it gave her a detached sense of satisfaction to see the pile of completed garments beside her. She’d completed something, no matter how menial it was, but she’d also proven her usefulness to this camp.

Placing the shirt she was halfway through aside, Ada massaged her hands as she watched the members of the camp congregate around the fire pit she’d passed earlier. The man she’d also passed earlier was once more knelt beside it, this time stirring a large pot and insisting it wasn’t quite ready.

“Come on, Pearson, it ain’t hard.”

“It just needs a few more minutes.”

“Since when did you care so much about how the food tastes?”

“Shut up and back off.”

A low whinny drew her attention away from the bickering. Beyond a tent, she saw Arthur atop his horse, trotting towards a hitching post. Red dust coloured his trousers and boots, and the legs of his horse; he must have been out most of the day. She watched him as he dismounted and tied the reins to the post, his lips moving. He stroked the horse’s neck gently, murmuring to it, and lifted his head, searching for someone. Turning his head, his eyes landed on her.

She swiftly averted her gaze.

“Hey, you want somethin’ to eat?”

The blonde woman, Karen, stood before her, a bowl of stew in each hand. Getting to her feet, Ada accepted one from her with a light smile.

“Yes, thank you.”

“No problem. Come over here and sit with me and the girls,” Karen continued, beckoning her with a twist of her head. “Otherwise Grimshaw’ll corner you and there goes your evenin’.”

“She’s been very kind to me.”

Karen snorted as Ada followed her away from the wagon, an eyebrow arched. “Yeah, you give it a few hours, honey, you’ll see the viper underneath.”

Nearing another fire pit with logs surrounding it, Ada saw the two other girls she’d glimpsed earlier, though couldn’t remember which one was named what. Karen rounded one of the logs and took a seat, shuffling over so Ada could sit beside her.

“Girls, this is Annie Sawyer. Annie, this is Tilly and Mary-Beth.”

They nodded and smiled at her in a familiar way that suggested they had already poured over and discussed the little details they knew about her. Ada sat as she smiled, their inclusiveness easing her a little. But was it for a reason, or just out of kindness?

“We’re real sorry about what happened to you.”

Ada looked to Tilly as she spoke, nodding slightly. “Thank you.”

“Those O’Driscoll boys are evil,” Mary-Beth added, the corners of her mouth turning down sympathetically. “I’m so glad they don’t come this far south.”

“Nah, we just got those Lemoyne Raiders to deal with here, and they sound like a real pain in the ass.”

“Who are they?” Ada asked Tilly, lifting a spoonful of stew to her mouth.

“Stubborn Southerners,” Karen interjected, to which Tilly raised her eyebrows as she shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah, that about sums ‘em up.”

“Do you have much trouble with them?”

“No, not really. Well,” Mary-Beth tilted her head as she pursed her lips. “Arthur and Sadie had some trouble with them a couple of days ago, and Javier and Bill said they were ambushed by a small group. Think Arthur might’ve been threatened by them a few times, too, actually.”

Ada tried to memorise the faceless names as she nodded, a corner of her mouth lifting. “Not much trouble at all, then.”

Mary-Beth blinked, before a laugh suddenly burst forth from her. Tilly joined her, and Ada felt an underlying tension, most likely caused by her grief and their wish to not upset her, dissipate; there would be no need to tip toe around her.

Ada’s smile widened, and Karen added, with a grin of her own, “Yeah, they’re just a minor nuisance. Hardly noticeable at all.”

I never thought I’d miss the God damn snow.

Arthur exhaled heavily as he guided Ophelia towards the hitching post close to his wagon. Heat he could usually handle, but sitting and walking out in it all damn day whilst trying to discreetly map out the Grey and Braithwaite lands was not his idea of a good time.

Dismounting with a soft grunt, he rolled his shoulders, feeling his shirt clinging to his back with sweat, and carefully lifted the reins over Ophelia’s head. Loosely wrapping them around the post, he stroked his hand along her neck.

“There’s a good girl,” he soothed her lowly, his other hand brushing down her forehead. “You had a fine day, didn’t you.”

Licking his dry lips, Arthur looked over to Dutch’s tent, hoping to find him sat on the chair or the bed. Finding it empty, he turned a little, scanning the camp for any sign of him. Nearly everyone was gathered around the stew, Dutch not among them. He didn’t usually take a bowl until everyone else had, anyway. His gaze drifting beyond the hungry members of the gang, it settled on Miss Sawyer, sat by the girl’s wagon, Karen holding a bowl out to her.

Bein’ nice or nosey?

He dropped his hands from Ophelia and moved to the nearby table.

“Kieran.”

Kieran lifted his head quickly, nearly dropping the pestle and mortar in his hands. “Uh, yeah? Hey, Arthur.”

“Hey, would you brush Ophelia down for me? I’ve gotta speak to Dutch.”

“Sure thing, I’ll do it now.” Shoving his chair back, Kieran stood, hastily gathering the pestle and mortar and uncrushed herbs into his hands.

“Thanks. You know where he is?”

“Uh, no, I ain’t seen him.”

“All righ’.”

“What do you want to talk to him ‘bout?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow.

Releasing a nervous laugh, Kieran then nodded swiftly and quickly strode towards Ophelia. Shaking his head, Arthur fished a packet of cigarettes out of his satchel and flicked it open with his thumb as he scanned the camp again. Drawing a cigarette out and placing it between his lips, he began to walk towards the lake, slipping the packet back into his bag. Maybe Dutch was having another one of his thinking sessions down on the bank, as Arthur was oft to find him.

Finding a pack of matches in his bag, he lit his cigarette as he passed Dutch’s tent, and inhaled long and slow as he shook the match to extinguish the flame before dropping it to the ground. Returning the pack to his bag, he squinted as the setting sun suddenly blinded him, emitting a muttered, “Christ...” as he took the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and removed it, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Raising his other hand to shield his eyes, Arthur looked to Dutch’s usual spot as he moved down onto the bank, and found it empty.

“Arthur!”

Turning at Susan’s voice, he inclined his head as she approached, that always just a little too sweet smile on her lips.

“Good evening, Arthur.”

“Good evenin’, Miss Grimshaw.”  

“Dutch has asked after you. He’s just gone to his tent.”

Of course he has.

“All righ’, thank you. Hey, how’s Miss Sawyer been doin’?” he swiftly added as she began to turn, his voice lowered slightly.

Susan folded her arms as her eyebrows rose slightly. “Fine, actually. Well, quiet, but that’s to be expected after what she went through. She’s been workin’ all day, mendin’ things. She’s been a great help.”

So you adore her and you’re never gonna let her leave.

“I’m glad to hear. Thank you, Susan.”

“No problem."

Taking a drag of the cigarette as she strode away, Arthur headed in the opposite direction, back towards Dutch’s tent.

He’d wanted to see for himself how she would spend her first day in camp, whether she would do as Sadie had and isolate herself until she was ready to talk, or have another break down and cry for most of the day. However, Hosea had asked him to map out their current target’s lands to aid them and, well, that had seemed the priority. Besides, he couldn’t have hovered over her without it being noticeable, and he didn’t want to draw the camp’s attention to his and Dutch’s interest in the new member.

Clearing his throat as he rounded the tent to the opening, a chorus of feminine laughter mingled with Karen’s recognisable cackle suddenly erupted from the other side of camp.

Glancing over his shoulder with faint interest, he then paused.

Annie Sawyer was sat amongst Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth and she was smiling. It was a real smile, too.

Good.

It was the first thought that entered his mind, then followed closely by that faint unease again.

And not expected. Grief makes us all do strange things... Includin’ not grievin’ at all.

“Ah, Arthur.”

Turning to Dutch, he nodded as he stepped into the tent.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” Dutch gestured to the chair opposite him, placing his book beside him on the bed. “It concerns our dear Mr Trelawney.”

“Fantastic.”

Laughter echoed across the camp once more as Arthur took a seat, closing his mind to it.

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[philosopherking1887]

I also forgot to mention that TW, a ~man of color~ wrote a movie where a white colonizer (ODIN) was PRAISED, UPLIFTED, & CELEBRATED BY THE NARRATIVE AND OUR PROTAGONIST. TW even made sure Thor got an eyepatch at the end as symbolic emulation. A man of color made THAT MOVIE, and they're stanning? Because he's brown?? By their own logic, TW suffers from internalized racism bc he wrote that shit, and anyone who likes the movie is racist/has internalized racism. Not my black ass. Fuck that movie.

I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to answer this… I had to get through a mountain of grading in a hurry because I have stupid grading anxiety so I procrastinate, which makes everything worse because I have to do it all at once instead of spreading it out.

I found the post where I talk about how benevolent racism is part of the reason people aren’t allowed to criticize Ragnarok or Taika Waititi. Even if there are genuine, serious problems with the work of a POC—not just the characterization mess or the complete unlikability of the main characters (I gotta majorly side-eye the people who find Ragnarok!Thor “relatable”), but the Social Justice-y problems that you would think they would take seriously (the stereotypically queer-coded villains; the implicit slut-shaming of Loki; the toxic masculinity all over the place; the one-line dismissal of Jane Foster, a brilliant female scientist, to be replaced by a woman who is considered more powerful and therefore “more Thor’s equal” because she can beat people up)—you’re not allowed to point them out, especially if you’re white, because all criticism of a POC constitutes racism.

Honestly, this kind of reminds me of the standard Leftist line that westerners are not allowed to condemn human rights abuses in non-western countries, especially formerly colonized countries, because (A) western countries aren’t perfect (duh) and (B) everything that’s wrong in formerly colonized countries is to be blamed on European colonialism. It seems to me that (B) is extraordinarily patronizing: it’s like they’re saying that victims of colonialism (always people of color) can’t be held responsible for anything because they can’t be expected to know better, almost as if they’re children whose wrongdoing is always to be blamed on the adults’ bad parenting.

I also found the post where I discussed how Loki’s story could (and should) have fit in with the (purported) anti-colonialism message. And there’s another post from someone else that’s been in my drafts folder for a while because I wanted to say something about it but I never seem to have time, which is very relevant. The OP is gushing about how Ragnarok is this groundbreaking, subversive critique of colonialism… but then someone with American indigenous heritage reblogs to add that Loki is also a victim of colonialism and makes the comparison with Native American/ First Nations children who were taken from their parents and adopted out to white parents or indoctrinated in abusive boarding schools. That essay was presented not as a criticism of Ragnarok—which the reblogger seemed to think had sufficiently dealt with Loki’s trauma in the “fictional retelling of his relationship with Odin” presented in Loki’s play about himself—but as a rebuttal to the claim in a “literary review” of Ragnarok (which falls all over itself to hail TR as “the coolest, slickest, funniest indictment of white supremacy that you’re likely to see for a long, long time”) that Loki has no relationship to Asgard’s imperialist past and is just “a character who doesn’t care as long as he gets his.”

Interestingly, the reviewer added a note in response to criticism of that characterization saying that he “personally really like[s] the character” and acknowledges “his complicated, and often tragic, backstory of otherness and biculturalism,” but insists that that “do[es] not make him NOT fundamentally power hungry.” Which… kind of wasn’t the point of the criticism? It was that in a rundown of how the various characters were related to the history of imperialism, all he said about Loki was that he “doesn’t care as long as he gets his.” Whether or not Loki can rightly be characterized as “fundamentally power-hungry” is a complicated question and depends on how sincere you think his “I never wanted the throne” protestation was and how much you think conquering Earth was his idea as opposed to Thanos’s.

But the fact that the reviewer had to be reminded of Loki’s connection with Asgardian imperialism—as a victim of it, not just as a beneficiary—points to a basic problem with Loki’s depiction in Ragnarok, which is obviously what was freshest in the writer’s mind (and I doubt he had rewatched the other movies recently): that despite its claims to provide a comprehensive critique of colonialism (and no, it wasn’t being subtle), it was so intent on ridiculing Loki and minimizing all of his problems that it had to downplay or dismiss any respect in which he could be considered a victim of colonialism. That would have made Loki sympathetic, which the movie wanted to avoid at all costs.

It is completely baffling to me that Thor turns to Odin’s Force ghost for strength and guidance and this is not problematized at all. If Ragnarok was trying to make anti-colonialism its theme, that scene seems like it should have been from a different movie. I wonder if that came from the aspect of the movie whose message was (in the words of an interview with Waititi, which I found screenshotted in this post, and which I presume is a paraphrase of something he said) that “a home is still a home, however you may feel about its inhabitants.” This message is presented in the context of TW’s insistence that Loki needs to “put away his childish fixations” and “put into perspective his petty family squabbles.” Let’s just think about that for a second: in a movie that is supposed to be an indictment of colonialism, a stolen child being lied to about his heritage and indoctrinated with racist beliefs about his own people is a “petty family squabble” and his resentment about it is a “childish fixation.”

[gveret-fic]

Kara and Lena have a hard time making breakfast prompt, but really it’s so broad go ahead and do whatever!!!

Lena is a fairly decent cook. Her repertoire isn’t extensive and herpatience is limited, and she certainly doesn’t have a little notebook filledwith a grandparent’s timeless recipes or anything of the sort, but she can whipup a casserole or stew or fancy salad without issue. Certainly, a simplebreakfast is no trouble. Neither is breakfast for two. Not even if one of thetwo is a superpowered alien advertised to be ‘fueled by the sun’ when in all actuality she is fueled by goodold calories just like anyone else.

Lena can even—she knows this from experience!—prepare an ediblebreakfast for one-and-a-Kryptonian with said Kryptonian actively trying tohelp. It’s trickier, no doubt, but Lena rather enjoys a challenge.

Preparing an acceptable breakfast for two while wrangling a Kryptonianwho is also simultaneously alien-stoned and experiencing a post-fightalien-adrenaline crash, however—that might be just beyond Lena’s capabilities.

“Kara, please, I need to use at least one of my hands,sweetheart,” Lena fairly begs as she attempts to crack an egg into the panwith both elbows pinned firmly to her sides.

Kara loosens her unyielding grip around Lena’s whole torso, graciouslysliding her hands beneath Lena’s armpits instead, and promptly returns to herattempt to mold every inch of her body to Lena’s back. She plops her face ontoLena’s shoulder for good measure, fluffy wind-tossed hair spilling over, herentire weight now draped over Lena like her very own superhero girlfriend cape.

Arms finally free, Lena quickly dumps a carton’s worth of eggs, twelvetomatoes, four peppers and a head of garlic into the frying pan all at once,just in case her fortune will turn. Patting around the countertop, shetragically discovers she hadn’t thought to grab a wooden spoon. She eyes thecutlery drawer. That’s four whole steps away.

Lena takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and prepares to lug oneadult Kryptonian around her damn kitchen.

“Why are you so heavy?”

“’M made of love,” Kara mumbles.

“Well, I know that much.” Lena shambles over to the fridge;she’s panting by the time she reaches it. “Could you carry at least someof your own love, maybe?”

“No! I give it all to you.”

Lena cradles her spoon and a pack of veggie sausage to her chest and leansKara back against the fridge to catch her breath. She stares longingly at thestovetop, a whole world away.

Her cardiovascular endurance could really use some work.

Kara takes the opportunity to hook one foot around Lena’s shin and slideher hand to Lena’s opposite hip, burrowing her thumb underneath Lena’s tank topto stroke half circles across her skin.

Lena pushes back against her harder. “What the hell did they shootyou with? Spoiled housecat gun? Affectionate octopus ray?”

Kara takes in a long and noisy sniff of Lena’s neck. “I forgot whatyou smelled like.”

“No, you haven’t. You spent the night before yesterday here and yousniffed me then, too.”

“How could I forget someth’ so nice,” Kara slurs mournfully.She slumps even more heavily in her remorse.

Lena groans. “Hold this, at least.” She shoves the sausagepack into Kara’s hand and grips the counter’s edge, using it to drag her way acrossthe kitchen. “This reminds me of that rowing machine,” she wheezes.“Thanks for the workout, darling.”

“I’d do anything for you,” Kara murmurs against Lena’s pulsepoint.

The eggs are nearly done by the time they make it to the stove. Lena hasthe sausages sizzling and bread toasting and is fully immersed in a fantasywherein she’s finally done with this ordeal and Kara is sober and veryimpressed with her newly developed muscles when her butt starts playing Inthe Navy.

“Kara, can you get my phone out of my back pocket? It’s yoursister’s ringtone.”

Kara reluctantly unglues herself from Lena’s ass, making a pitiful noiseand slotting her leg between Lena’s thighs as compensation. As soon as she’sfished out the phone, she’s back to sticking to Lena like a warm and loveableslug.

“Is she with you?” Alex says the moment Lena accepts the call.

“Hi, Alex. Yes, she flew over here a little after dawn. Said shewas hungry.”

“Do you have eyes on her right now?”

Lena glances sideways at Kara. She’s busy rubbing her face along thecollar of Lena’s tank top. “I do.”

“How does she seem? Is she acting strangely? Spiteful or distant?”

Kara grips her gently by the waist and kisses the bump of her vertebra,then bursts out laughing.

“No,” says Lena.

Alex lets out a breath. “Okay. Keep her close if you can?”

“I’ll do my best,” Lena says, straining to guide Kara awayfrom the ticklish spot on her nape.

“We still aren’t sure what the full effects of that vapor might be.We know she’s not emitting radiation and she doesn’t seem to pose a danger toothers, but I want you to be careful, Lena.”

“Mm hm.”

The smell of burning rubber starts emanating from the stove. Lena triesto take a step and trips over Kara’s foot. She yelps, but the impact nevercomes.

“Oh, so now you can suddenly support your own weight,” Lenagrumbles, eyeing the floor half a foot beneath their feet.

“Lena,” Kara says very seriously, “I will always protectyou.”

“What’s happened? Are you hurt? Is Kara exhibiting heightenedaggression?” Alex sounds ready to strap into her kryptonite gear and fly ahelicopter over.

“No, no, no aggression,” Lena hurries to clarify. “Heightenedclinginess, definitely. You can put us down now,” she tells Kara.

Kara helpfully obliges, but then Lena remembers the burning sausages.“Actually, fly me over to the stove, thank you, so thoughtful.” Shepats Kara’s hip.

Alex makes an impatient noise on the phone. “Put me onspeaker,” she commands. “Kara, how are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” Kara replies. “Really comfortbable. I loveyou,” she says to Lena.

“I love you too,” Alex and Lena say in unison.

“I love you too,” Kara repeats.

Lena snorts and plates their food. She slides all of the burnt sausages ontoKara’s plate, hoping that in her current state she might not notice.

“I love food,” Kara croons. “I love food and I love you. Ilove… fyood.”

“I don’t know about this,” Alex says uncertainly. “Maybewe should get her to the DEO. At the very least she could use a sunbath.”

“Alex, you’re being so stupid right now,” Kara says emphatically.“So stupid.”

“I think I can solve this,” Lena says. She turns her head tolook at Kara, and Kara promptly kisses her cheek. Lena bites down on a grin. “Howdo you feel about eating breakfast and then taking a nap out on my convenientlyeast-facing porch?”

Kara giggles, kisses Lena’s cheek again, nods, and keeps kissing.

“That’s a yes from Kara. Alex?”

Alex sighs. “That’s fine.”

“Great. I’ll just grab some sunscreen. Kara?”

Kara snickers. “It’s funny cuz you’re so ill-equipped to live on yourown planet,” she explains.

“She’s so articulate when she’s making fun of you,” Alexpoints out.

“I’m always artictulate,” Kara says. “I’m areporter.”

“You spelled ‘atrocious’ wrong two weeks ago, and you weren’t evenhigh.”

Lena ignores their commentary. She has an entire apartment to trudgeacross, an intoxicated Kryptonian to feed, and some damn sunscreen to put on.

Somehow, she ends up spending the rest of her Saturday morning wedged snuglyunderneath an exuberantly snoring Kara out in the gentle autumn sunlight.

She still ends up ever so slightly sunburned.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 21 – Assaults

“Phew... Phew... Phew......”

“Is there anything that concerns you, my lord?”

Lunark finally opened her mouth, unable to endure Muzaka’s endless sighs.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that...”

Muzaka dropped his head in the middle of his monologue, staging grave sorrow.

“We had such a smart, talented, competent researcher to help us to great extent. But I’ve done nothing for him. And guess what? I call myself a lord.”

Lunark wanted to assure him that he has done more than enough by not making himself an unwanted guest in the lab, but she decided not to and tuned him out.

For the past 2 days, Yuhyung had been working jointly with Adne on the QuadraNet project in the werewolf realm, without any time to catch his breath, as if his life depended on it.

And today is the day he must return to Lukedonia.

“Once you escort him to the nobles, they will take him back to Korea. Is that right?”

“You are correct. But before that comes a more important step.”

“Aye. As soon as he reaches back to Lukedonia, we can finally warm up the engines for the QuadraNet.”

Both Muzaka’s and Lunark’s faces lit up with faint anticipation as he mentioned the initiation of the network they all had been waiting for.

“Boy, nobles are surely busy. And you are surely busier.”

Lunark merely bowed her head to a pregnant comment Muzaka offered.

“So lemme ask you one more time. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“I am simply doing my best as the warrior of wolfkind.”

“But there’s really no need for you to escort him back to nobles, is there? I mean, you’re not the only warrior we have.”

“My greatest appreciations, but I am fine, my lord.”

Muzaka’s face was marred with a mixture of gratitude and ruefulness, until it was painted with a mischievous smile.

“Or do I smell something fishy here? Why are you so eager for this project?”

“...Beg your pardon?!”

“Is there a reason why you need to excel for this project? Like, is there someone you expect to marvel at you? Hmm?”

Muzaka stared at Lunark, sweating and violently shaking her head, like a niece playing pretend at her uncle’s prank.

“T-that is nonsense, my lord.”

Lunark felt her heart sink – no, drown to the abyss of nether region upon Muzaka’s teasing. She feared for a moment that Frankenstein’s name might be brought up.

She thus determined she must and will hide her feelings more meticulously, thoroughly.

It was for more than the fear of getting teased by her fellow werewolves upon having a crush on the blonde human. She knew none of the werewolves should know about this, due to a phenomenon she witnessed two days ago when Yuhyung made it to the werewolf lab.

As soon as Yuhyung made himself available on their land, werewolves buzzed in full interest in him.

So that’s him...?

My, that is the WEAKEST-looking organism I’ve ever seen.

It’d take less than a breath to wind him up on the other side of the planet. Hehe.

In the end, Garda and Lunark, having sensed Yuhyung’s nervous apprehension of the crowd, had to intervene and make them scatter away. Nonetheless, Lunark could see and hear werewolves gossiping and chatting about the very first human to be officially invited to their domain in werewolf history.

By the way, is it just me, or is he kind of cute? He keeps jumping whenever there’s someone around.

I second that.

I would have tried hitting on him, if only he weren’t human.

And then Lunark was held captive to the chatters from young werewolf girls.

Okay, so he’s human. What about it?

I’d thought we’ve aborted anti-human propaganda by now. Remember? We even got help from a human named... Frankenstein, was it? So what about him being human?

Don’t tell me you already forgot how our lord...

Right afterwards, every mouth was sealed tight, the atmosphere rendered frigid at once. They all knew what the last speaker was about to bring up – Muzaka fell in love with a human and gave birth to a half-blood, only to meet tragic end that can by no means be defined as a mere devastation. And now every werewolf alive has come to know of such heritage the returned lord harbors.

As a result, a new, invisible, yet undeniably-there taboo rose among werewolves: love with a human.

Not that anyone dared to acknowledge such taboo, with the throne reclaimed by Muzaka.

And they had another legitimate reason to keep this new taboo legitimate.

Besides, our lord officiated it himself. Getting drunk is fine, and getting broke is fine. But getting laid with a human is not okay.

He said we should rather break a pen that belongs to a certain Mr. Bad Boy and fling it in his face.

I wonder what that means, by the way.

Since love with a human is not strictly illegal, nobody would banish Lunark for her feelings. Nonetheless, she could not even imagine what everyone would be like once it is known that her heart has been stolen by a human.

‘There’s no way I want them to find out,’ Lunark thought.

However, at the same time, she wished she could make it official. She wished she could walk hand-in-hand with her knight, under everyone’s blessing.

‘What are you thinking, Lunark? You don’t even know whether he’ll reciprocate.’

Lunark had to wrestle with her inner voice, until the time has come to take Yuhyung away.

“Thank you for everything. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I-it’s nothing, really! I... I was honored to provide help.”

“Sure. Once the QuadraNet is alive, and once you make it back home, please send my regards to my pal.”

After sharing his good-bye with Muzaka, Adne, and the rest of the werewolf doctors and researchers, Yuhyung tagged Lunark towards the boundaries of werewolf realm. He had thought this trip would be peaceful, albeit brief.

How wrong he was, for this time he found himself two companions, excluding Lunark.

“I see no reason for you guys to escort us.”

“Escort my rear end.”

“We’re taking a walk before going on a patrol, that’s all.”

Kentas and Dorant very nonchalantly replied.

Lunark glanced at Yuhyung, for she feared the puny human would be suffering from pressure of being shepherded by two werewolf warriors. Her fear was proven authentic, his face about to blow up.

Pushing down a sigh, she looked around at her fellow warriors.

“We’ll take off from here. It can’t hurt to hurry, can it?”

She was addressing all three men, and they agreed with a nod.

Once Lunark and Yuhyung were gone, Kentas and Dorant began their usual patrol. It took less than 10 minutes for them to meet up where they first split up.

“All clear.”

“Same here.”

“Now let’s go back.”

“Contrary to my fear, our land can’t be quieter. And that’s a good thing.”

“You can say that again. I couldn’t ask for more if things are kept this wa...?”

Dorant flinched in the middle of his sentence. He heard something he should not possibly and cannot possibly hear at the moment – a whirring alarm that signals intruders at the boundaries of their land.

He realized he was not imagining things the moment he and Kenta leapt from where they stood, when with a bam the ground was shattered.

In midst of a hazy pillar of particles of dirt and earth that soared from where they were a second ago, Kentas and Dorant sharpened their eyes to locate the cause of this.

“What the...?”

Kentas moaned in dismay, while Dorant fastened his lips and glared at their target – or targets.

Before them were slender silhouettes of identical colors, details, and designs, as if they were born from the same mold. It was so very obvious they were a walking epitome of human biotechnology.

Had Lunark left a tad later, and had she beheld these four figures, she would have demonstrated a backflip with her eyes and immediately identified them as weapons created specially against heads of noble clans – the ones handcrafted by the 9th Elder and Ignes Kravei.

*****

Meanwhile, a rocky island near Lukedonia

He knew he should have visited sooner. Although he had been busy ever since his return to Lukedonia, he knew it was an excuse. Moreover, he could not find courage to pay a visit.

He could feel guilt sweeping over him as he stood, partially because he could not make his appearance before this one, and partially because the reason why he visited was not exactly for the sake of paying his proper respect.

“Razark... What am I supposed to do?”

His tone, voice, eyes – they were all plastered with despair.

His hair was still donned in the fashion reminiscent of Razark, just like he did for the night when Deneb Illiness invited Seira.

“I want to be like you... I’m trying to be like you. But I can’t.”

Rael shut his eyes tight as he lamented.

“The patriarchs found me today, and they... They told me... (Rael sighed as deeply as he could.) They told me to ask for Seira’s hand in marriage.”

Rael’s mind swung back to what had happened before he made his way to the rendezvous to pick up Yuhyung.

We hear that a handful of nobles are approaching Seira for her affection.

Deneb Illiness in particular is the most ardent pursuer.

And I see no reason why Kertia should fall behind.

Rael almost jumped out of his skin as he denied joining the pursuers.

He could still remember what he had yelled in Seira’s presence the last time they had met. More importantly, he had no intention of taking Seira’s side this way.

Why, you should be glad, sir.

You will finally get to make the girl yours.

He almost lost it when the patriarchs reprimanded him, but he could not bring himself to actually lose it. He was reminded of the days when he claimed Seira will be his.

Rather than accusing the patriarchs of bringing up such an atrocious idea, he was made immobile in order to curse his past self. By the time he broke free from his resentful reverie, patriarchs were already gone, demanding him to write a marital letter to Seira.

“I know the idea is hideous, not meant to be realized. But you know what...? The idea came up that if I do as they say, they might come to respect me a little.”

Rael minced his lips with his teeth, to the point of almost ripping them apart.

“I know. I’m such a despicable excuse of a noblekind.”

I don’t deserve to be your brother.

I don’t deserve the name of Kertia.

I never deserved to be the head of a clan.

However, Rael was not given the time to spill his self-derision, when he turned rigid as he conceived a murderous presence.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Three objects landed within his identifiable range, with a sound effect that no ordinary life form can dispense.

His instinct screaming at him that it is time for a battle, Rael wiped off in a flash the anguish that was rooted to the core of his facial muscles. He slipped his mask on before he turned his eyes to see how thick is the skin of intruders that dared to challenge him where his brother fell asleep. And his eyes bulked up to twice as their normal sizes.

“How can this be...?”

The colors were different, but the designs were unmistakable. He remembered them; they were the weapons created specially against heads of noble clans.

Ones that Ignes brought with her upon her first visit to Korea. Ones that he had fought himself.

(next chapter)

Yep - it’s time for some fights and dangers. After all, this is a Noblesse fic lol. However, the battle in next chapter will come with a tiny surprise unforeseen in the original webtoon. Find out what it’s like next week!

And one more thing - it’s revealed that Muzaka has come to harbor a very negative stance regarding relationship with human (in fact, he even said it himself that they should rather break Frankie’s pen and fling its pieces in his face lol). This will work as another influence on Lunark’s future relationship with Frankenstein, and I can’t wait to write about it!

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Once Upon a Bed” (Rated NC17)

When Kurt and Blaine's f*cking break Blaine's bed, Kurt decides that Blaine's room needs a bit of a makeover. (1405 words)

A/N: Inspired by many posts I've seen wanting a sassy, skanky, young Dom Kurt and an older sub Blaine. This is also a re-write. Warnings for Dom/sub, humiliation, bondage, financial domination, and anal sex. NSFW.

Read on AO3.

Creak-creak-creak-creak …

“Oh God, Kurt!” Blaine moans, crunching his abs to bring his ass up, and spreading his legs to open himself up wider. “Oh God, yes!”

“You like that, baby? Huh?” Kurt grins. He knows Blaine does. Blaine’s a slut for a good, hard pounding.

“Yes …” Blaine swallows, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid getting sweat in them. “Harder, Kurt! Harder, please!”

“Say the magic words,” Kurt sings, slowing down purposefully to get what he wants.

Blaine’s lips tighten into a line. Kurt’s going to kill his buzz with this bullshit. Blaine could refuse, but then Kurt would stop. He would literally pull the fuck out and walk away. Blaine doesn’t want to say it, but he’s too deep into this fucking to turn back, not with his cock throbbing like it’s ready to explode.

“Please, Master,” Blaine says, trying not to grind his teeth. Kurt hates it when Blaine grinds teeth.

“Please … Master … what?” Kurt asks, frustrated that Blaine’s forcing him to slow down more by being so damned stubborn.

“Please, Master,” Blaine says, struggling to be a good boy and say the right words, “fuck your piggy. Fuck your piggy, Master. Make me squeal.”

“And you’ll do anything?” Kurt slows down even further, using long, purposeful thrusts to help Blaine remember how to beg properly.

“Yes.” Blaine’s jaw drops lower and lower when every one of Kurt’s thrusts ghosts over his prostate. “Yes, I’ll … I’ll do anything.”

“You’ll pay anything?” Kurt asks.

“Yes!” Blaine whines at the agony of his engorged cock threatening to simmer without its promised orgasm. “I’ll pay anything! Just … ungh! Please!”

Kurt grabs Blaine’s legs and lifts them, one over each of his shoulders, and drives inside his body.

Creak-creak-creak-creak-critch …

“You will pay, little piggy,” Kurt teases, flipping his damp, crayon-red bangs out of his face. “Whatever I want. You’ll pay it.”

“Oh God!” Blaine gasps, putting Kurt’s inane demands behind him and enjoying the ride. “Y-yeah … j-just like that, Master. Just like that ...” Blaine holds still and lets Kurt take control – not that Kurt didn’t have it to begin with, especially with Blaine’s wrists cuffed to the bed. But Kurt’s like a machine. It humbles Blaine that, at barely ten years older than his twenty-two-year-old Dominant, he can’t keep up. But then the torment wouldn’t be as deliciously painful as it is if Blaine could. “D-don’t stop! God, don’t stop!”

Creak-creak-creak-creak-snick …

“Jesus, Blaine!” Kurt groans, running his nails up Blaine’s thighs. “You’re so tight. You’re so … Oh, God … I’m cum … cumming … I’m …”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes …” Blaine chants, back arching, wrists rolling.

Creak-creak-creak-creak-snap …

“Master, I’m …”

“Yeah … God … so am I …”

Creak-creak-creak-creak-CRASH!

Kurt and Blaine cum just as the entire world seems to drop down and to the left at a 45 degree angle.

“What the … what the fuck!?” A breathless Kurt shudders, kneeling up and looking around. “Am I blacking out?”

“I don’t think so,” Blaine pants. “Unless I’m blacking out, too.”

Kurt crawls down the bed. With Kurt’s body gone, Blaine feels himself sliding down the satin sheets. That’s when it hits him.

"You … you broke the bed, Kurt!” Blaine laughs. “You broke the damn bed! I’ve had this bed since before high school! It went to NYU with me! I’ve owned it longer than you’ve been alive!”

“Really?” Kurt climbs carefully off the one steady side of the busted bed. “With all your fronting over the amount of trim you got through college, I’m amazed it took this long to snap.”

“Well, most of my partners just lie back and take it,” Blaine explains. “You’re the most violent fuck I’ve ever had!”

“Nice.” Kurt removes the condom from his rapidly softening cock, spurred to flaccidity by this conversation. “Well, come on, Mr. Broadway Star! Buy another one! And make it snappy!! I’m hoping for a round two in about an hour," Kurt scolds, tossing Blaine’s jeans in his face.

“I can’t,” Blaine grumbles through the denim covering his mouth.

“Why in hell not? Serving me is all you’re scheduled to do today, and I want a new bed! Hurry up! Chippity-chop-chop, Blaine!”

“I can’t …” Blaine whips his head back and forth to get the jeans off his face "… because you didn't un-cuff me yet!”

Kurt, who’d been slipping on his own jeans, stops mid-zip, his lips dropping into a small ‘o’. “Oh.” He chuckles. “My bad.” He looks at Blaine, wrists cuffed to the bars of the headboard, pulling with the weight of his body sliding down. “I forgot.” He retrieves the little silver key from the dresser and reaches over to undo the cuffs around Blaine’s wrists … then stops. Blaine, watching impatiently, frowns. Confused by Kurt’s reluctance, he shakes his right wrist, eager to be free of the cuffs digging into his skin.

“Come on, Kurt,” he says. “Make with the un-cuffing. I think my hands are falling asleep.”

Kurt slips the key into his pocket and puts his hands on his hips, re-evaluating Blaine and his situation.

“Hey, you know,” Kurt says, as if a sudden and previously un-pondered thought has just popped into his head. Actually, Kurt’s been thinking about it for a while now, storing it away amongst his arsenal of scenes for the right time. “I’m cleared to use your AmEx card, aren’t I? The one with no spending limit?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, too quickly and without thinking. “Wh---?”

Kurt’s smile, all mock-innocence and Oh, I’m just asking, becomes dark and devious.

“You know, I’ve never been really kosher with a lot of the furniture in this room, to tell you the truth.”

“Kurt …” Blaine jiggles his cuffs as Kurt grabs the jeans that have slid down Blaine’s torso and starts searching the pockets.

“And these sheets …” Kurt toes them with his foot and makes a disapproving noise. “They’ve got to be at least as old as the bed. Tragic.”

“Kurt? What are you …?”

“Also, there’s a pair of shoes down at Bergdorf’s I’ve had my eye on,” Kurt continues, finding Blaine’s wallet with a triumphant a-ha! in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for them to go on sale, but if I have your card, it doesn’t matter if they’re on sale or not.”

“Kurt!” Blaine yanks on the cuffs, testing to see if there’s any way he can snap them, or the bar they’re hooked on. If he and Kurt could level the whole bed fucking, then there’s a chance the frame is weak all over. This has to be, what, the hundredth time Kurt’s cuffed him to it? Blaine puts all his strength behind one long pull, groaning with the effort.

But it doesn’t work. Not even close.

“So I’m just going to take this.” Kurt slides the platinum AmEx card out of Blaine’s wallet, along with a healthy handful of hundreds, and throws the rest to the floor. Blaine’s eyes blow wide when he sees the stash of cash Kurt shoves into his pocket.

“Kurt! You little brat!” Blaine growls, tugging futilely at the silver cuffs with numb wrists. “I swear to God! If you …”

“If I what?” That question, and the swing of Kurt’s hips as he walks, shuts Blaine up. Blaine knows that walk. It means that Kurt is unamused. Kurt sashays up to the broken bed. He kneels carefully on the skewed mattress, staying nimbly out of kicking range as he leans over Blaine’s helpless body.

“Now, now, little piggy. Just sit tight,” Kurt whispers, lips brushing the perimeter of Blaine’s mouth with the suggestion of kisses. “While I’m out, I’m gonna buy something small and tight to wear …” He moves closer, bites gently on Blaine’s lower lip. “Something edible.” He swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth. “And if you’re a good boy and stay nice and quiet while I’m gone, then you can tie me to the bed … and have a snack.”

Blaine doesn’t exactly kiss Kurt back when Kurt’s mouth starts claiming his, too occupied with the image of Kurt bound to a brand new bed, naked except for an expensive pair of shoes and some kind of edible undergarment, entirely at Blaine’s mercy.

“Stay safe and have fun,” Blaine says, shooing Kurt away with a gesture of his head. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

[somevirtualnolife]

A Scowl and a Smile

1268 words Rating: T Pairing: Hawke x Cullen Rutherford Summary: A look back into the earlier years of Kirkwall, when an idealistic Hawke tries her best to pry some information out of the stern knight-captain. Previous One Shot:  Flexibility Author’s Notes: Another fic I posted on Ao3 that I forgot to post here.  Time for a little flashback (as I work on other chapters)~ I wanted to sort of establish the sort of dynamic Hawke and Cullen had back when before things started getting more serious in Kirkwall. I’ve never really pictured them as incredibly antagonistic to each other, but they always got on each other’s nerves. You know, when people work in different departments that have to work together, but also really don’t get along. Anyway, enjoy!

In her youth back in Lothering, Aerianne was never one to get to know templars. Just enough to know what their schedules were and what they looked like. That was the life being the sister and daughter of apostate mages. She cared about her family and wanted to protect them. Thankfully, it wasn’t that huge of a problem, considering the size of the village. They mostly just needed to keep to themselves whenever the templars came knocking. Her father was more than skilled enough to hide in plain sight, and gave Bethany enough tools to do the same. With Leandra, Carver, and Aerianne doing the rest, life was quite peaceful for them before the Blight.

Kirkwall was a bit of a different story. It was a large city, and the Order’s presence was unlike anything she could have imagined. They had almost as much power as the city guards did.  Avoiding them outright just wasn’t an option, so she had to be more creative in protecting Bethany. Oddly enough, this meant helping the templars with certain affairs. It was something she was hesitant to do at first, but she was quick to learn that, while the Order was strict, not all templars followed it as tightly as others.

There were those like Thrask and Keran, who were actually quite kind, and even showed understanding towards the mage plight. Unfortunately, they were much lower ranking than others in the Order, which often meant their hands were tied over certain affairs. Those who held much higher positions were not quite as sympathetic. Which meant that, more often than not, she had to deal with one of her least favorite templars.

“No,”

“What do you mean, no?”

“As I’ve said many times before, Serah Hawke,” the knight-captain said with clear annoyance in his voice, walking across the Gallow’s courtyard. “Your help was greatly appreciated when you helped saved Keran and took down the blood mages, but unless you have plans to up and join the Order, you really have no business being here. Let alone requesting confidential documents,”

Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford. Young, strict, a tragic experience with mages in the past, and followed the knight-commander’s order to a T. If there was ever a poster-boy for the Order, it had to be him.

Aerianne let out a huff, trying to keep up with the knight-captain’s hurried walk. “I’m a concerned citizen, trying to protect our city,”

“Exactly. You’re a concerned citizen. Not a detective, not a noble, not a templar. A regular citizen. And if this is a city problem, then there are city guards for that. Don’t you have a friend that works for them? Bring it up with her,”

“I did and that’s the whole point. You think that young boy caused all those fires, but I don’t think that’s the case. I’d love to take it up with the guard, but it’s a bit of a dead end if there there’s no proof. If you would just let me look at the reports-”

Cullen then stopped right in front of the door of his office and crossed his arms, his annoyance continuing to grow with the rogue. “Even if the apostate-”

“Young boy,” she interrupted. “He’s a young boy who didn’t even know he had any magical abilities. You just can’t go calling everyone who’s a mage outside the circle an apostate,”

“That’s exactly what they- You’re missing the point. Even if he didn’t cause those fires, it’s now confirmed that he’s a mage. He belongs here in the Gallows. That’s the end of it,”

“But-”

“If you would kindly escort Serah Hawke back to the docks,” he said, motioning to a couple of nearby templars to her side, before retiring to his office. Aerianne bit the inside or her cheek, clearly wanting to say more, but just glaring at him instead as she reluctantly decided to walk off with the two men.  

Cullen went to sit down at his desk, letting out a long sigh. How was it that the biggest nuisance at present wasn’t even a dangerous Kirkwall apostate, but a nosy, opinionated Fereldan girl? This was not why he accepted this position.

It wasn’t moments after, he heard three knocks on the door. Before he could say anything, the door quickly swung open, and there was Aerianne Hawke again, a polite smile on her face, which made the knight-captain grit his teeth. She wasn’t going to back down yet.  

“Knight-Captain Rutherford, if you would just listen to what I have to say, I’d quite appreciate it,” her voice had an intentional sing-song sound to it. She may have spent a year in Kirkwall, working for a smuggler’s ring, but that didn’t mean all politeness had to be thrown out the window. “Please,”

“When I told you ‘the Order is in your debt’, I didn’t mean that you come around doing whatever you want, when you felt like it,” his brows furrowed in annoyance. “For a Fereldan peasant girl, you act a lot like a spoiled, Free March noble,”

“And for a Fereldan lad, you are exactly what I’d expect; stubborn, grumpy and incapable of treating a lovely lady as she deserves,” Okay, maybe a little bit insult, but still in a polite tone! Kind of. Plus, he started it.

Cullen scoffed. “Lovely is stretching it a bit, don’t you think?”  

“Look,” she said, sitting down on the wooden chair across from him. “This may be shocking to you, but that young boy does have a family who cares about him very much. They’re worried that your lot will treat him as a dangerous criminal, when he really is just a scared child. They’re not even sure if he actually caused the fires. He’d only been showing signs of using a bit of force magic at most when the fires started to happen,”

“And you think that there’s something more to this. That someone decided to put the blame on the apostate,”

“A young boy,” she corrected. “It wouldn’t be unusual. We both know that Kirkwall has more than its fair share of crime. It could be an arsonist, just grabbing an opportunity when it knocks. Or who knows… maybe it’s someone else with magic, trying to hide their tracks by leading you to other budding mages,”

It was that last little theory did seem to pique Cullen’s interest as she saw a slight twinkle in his eyes. After all, why catch one apostate when you could have two? Aerianne watched him carefully, trying to figure his expression as he stayed silent.

Eventually, a loud, annoyed sigh came out from the commander. “I will ask the enchanters about the boy’s abilities and compare it with the reports we found. If we find anything suspicious, we will inform the city-guard. And if it put’s the family’s mind at ease, I assure that we offer more leniency to children than we do to adults who do this sort of thing. Is that enough to get you to leave my office?”    

“I think so,” Aerianne was actually quite pleased. She at least had some positive news to give the family. They could worry a little less. She then stood up, and gave Cullen a polite bow, though really it came off more as cheeky than anything else.

“I trust you won’t be making a habit of this, Hawke?” he said, crossing his arms, looking at her sternly. It was clear he’d rather not have to deal with this woman constantly bursting into his office, disrupting whatever actual work he may have.

“Only if you give me reason to, Knight-Captain,”

[cotidiej]

Game of Thrones

     So, Game of Thrones is over. The greatest television show in television history. And by many accounts a very disappointing ending. It’s clear that the show runners had very little creative input on how to connect all of the dots in order to get to the final main points required to finish off this epic series. Now, whether this was due to an actual lack of creativity or it was just rushed so that they could get to their Star Wars movies, is a discussion for another time. I do want to talk about this last season overall. This will be a quick post as I don’t really feel like going into a ton of detail as everyone and their mum are writing posts, recording videos, and making memes about how they feel already and I honestly feel like I don’t have that much extra to add.

     Episodes 1 & 2 were great. To me, the whole show (even seasons 6 & 7) has been great up to this point. But it’s clear that D&D were rushing to get everything out of the way as quickly as possible and throw in as many “surprise!” moments as they could get away with. Episode 3 was the beginning of the end. Again, I don’t want to go into great detail as there are plenty of amazing videos and posts discussing why it took a sudden down turn in quality. Needless to say D&D were more focused on spectacle and subversion and they just kind of forgot (lol) about the characters and main themes of Game of Thrones. Not to say that this season is completely void of these.

     Which is why I’m writing this blog post. After episode 3, 4 & 5 was more of the same bullshit. Things happening just for the sake of the plot but having nothing to do with the characters who were supposed to be moving the plot along. Episode 6, however, was amazing. At least in my point of view obviously. With what the show runners have already given us I think they wrapped everything up quite nicely. There were more character moments and hardly any spectacles (at least that didn’t add to the story). I really thought they were going to cop out and have Jon stick with Dany and then have Ary or Tyrion kill her or something like that. But right at the end, at the perfect time, “STAB”. She dead. A tragic end to an amazing character.

     I don’t like what they did with Dany’s character. I definitely think George will be going the same route in the books and I’m all for Mad Queen Dany. Maybe if D&D weren’t in such a hurry to get to their Star Wars movies, they could have given this epic downfall more room to grow and feel more like a natural progression; rather than “oh my friends are dead, time to kill everyone”. Now don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of things in this episode that didn’t make sense; but to me these were very minor issues and nothing that ruined the story as was the case in episodes 3-5. All of the character moments felt genuine and mostly stuck with how the character actually would have reacted, again there are some minor details like all of the lords not wanting to be independent and electing Bran even though most of them knew hardly anything about him; but these aren’t main characters so, whatever, I guess…

     Overall, I think the series wrapped up as well as it could have given everything that D&D barfed onto us this season. Jon has fulfilled the Azor Ahai prophecy (check out Reddit if you don’t believe this) and he acted like a true hero, sacrificing everything, including his love, for the greater good and then getting exiled for it. Dany had the tragic ending she was destined to have. Ary got a Frodo leaving west with Gandalf to go to the undying lands ending which I thought was very fitting for her arc and a nice shout out to JRRT which I’m sure GRRM will do in the books. Sansa looked so bad ass as queen. I really didn’t like her character in the books or in the show but I love what she became and her arc is just awesome, for me. Great times were had, ten out of fucking ten, I totally don’t want to kill myself. PLEASE GEORGE WHERE ARE THE BOOKS?!

[lotus0kid]

Lacey is the newest dancer at the Parrot Club and has the audacity to question why Danny wears such tight suits/why he always adjusts himself.

OUaT/DF: Anniversary Fic the 10th

 “You can save the fucking begging for God, you worthless prick,”Danny snarls, “Or, better yet, try it on some gullible clot who’ll give you thefucking cash you owe me!”

 The woman known within this building as Lacey lets her eyesdrift up from the page of her book just in time to watch her boss reach downand tug at his crotch.  That’s eight, she notes, making a littletick mark on a post-it note stuck a few pages deeper in the book.

The cringing object of Danny’s ire mumbles, “I’ll get it,Danny, no- no worries, honest...”

 Danny snarls again, but for real this time.  No words, just a beastly noise of barelycontained rage.  Another tug.  Lacey makes a ninth tick mark.  “Fucking Christ above, like I don’t hear thatfifty times a day.  Get out, I don’twanna look at your loser face anymore.”

 The debtor scuttles away and Danny gives his next tug a kindof contemptuous flair as he watches him go.  Lacey makes her tenth tick mark before hespins and stalks toward his desk.  Hesits down and immediately shrugs against the narrow confines of his suitjacket.  Three seconds later hehalf-stands and yanks at his trouser legs. Eight seconds later he gets up and goes to the small minibar in a corner.  Just grabbing a glass forces him tostraighten out a bunched-up sleeve.

 Lacey rolls her eyes hard. “Okay,” she declares, “What is the deal with the suits?”

 Danny startles and spins around, blinking at her like heforgot she was there.  “The fuck are youon about?”

 “You!” Lacey cries, setting her book aside and sitting up inthe ridiculous suspended egg chair.  “Honestly,is this like a BDSM thing?  Danny, forreal, are you being dommed by your own clothing?  If so, I think it’s past time to use the safeword, mate.”

 He gapes at her like she’s grown wings, then scoffs and turnsback to the minibar.  “Shut it, I don’tfucking pay you to talk.”

 Indeed he fucking doesn’t. It’s almost cartoonishly sexist, but Lacey’s not above playing the partof window dressing in Danny’s office for some bonus cash in her paycheque.  For her own peace of mind, shebrings along her thickest books for office duty.  It’s become a bit of a game to turn a pageduring the minute pauses in Danny’s tirades, just to make his latest victimflinch.  “Well, I have concerns,” she states.

 Danny whips around again, revealing a face wrinkled inconfusion.  “Concerns?” he echoes with amocking wag of his head.

 “Yes.  About my jobsecurity.  I won’t be hanging ‘round inyour office if you’re in hospital with testicular torsion.”

 Danny grimaces automatically, even though Lacey doubts heknows the particulars of that tragic health condition.

 “Or a loss of bladder control, or a fungal infection,” shecontinues mercilessly, “Or permanent nerve damage in your pelvis!”

 Danny goes a bit pale, but flicks a dismissive hand at her andsips his drink.  “Fucking worrying overnothing,” he grumbles into the glass, then reaches between his legs.

 Lacey jumps to her feet to exclaim, “You’re obviously notcomfortable!  And that’s eleven!  Eleventimes you pawed at your own crotch in the last hour.  It’s not attractive, Danny, I’ll be honest.”  She lets out a heavy sigh, “I mean, if youactually had a suit that fit...”  Lacey imagines Danny could strike quite a finefigure in a good suit, with his lean body, dark eyes, and sharp smile.  You’d hardly even notice the haircut.  “Just, why? Why do you do this to yourself? Just tell me!”

 He sniffs and crosses his arms with a shrug, which onlycreates a new host of unflattering wrinkles stretching across his jacket.  “You’re looking, aren’t you?”

 “Yeah, and laughing,”Lacey retorts, “Or just feeling so sorry for your poor little testicles.  I can’t imagine how low your sperm count mustbe.”

 Danny’s face darkens, and he storms across the room to jab afinger at her.  “You’re not my fuckingfashion consultant, all right?  Or mydoctor.  So keep your idiotic opinions toyourself.”

 “Well you need both of those things, so I guess it’ll haveto be me!” Lacey shouts back.

 “If you think I’ll take the advice of a fucking stripper,you’re mental.”

 Fury blazes in Lacey. It’s one thing for her to perform downstairs for the sweaty mob, andanother to sit still and look pretty in this office, but she’ll be damnedbefore Danny Devine disrespects her for it. Knowing only that she wants him to feel some part of the humiliation hetried to force on her, Lacey darts behind Danny and goes for his waistband,reaching in to yank his damn pants as high as she can up his ass crack.  However, she doesn’t find any pants.  All she gets are two handfuls of warm, suppleflesh.  And it occurs to her, faintly,that of all the parts of Danny she’s seen, she’s never seen the visible line ofunderwear beneath his ill-fitting trousers.

 “Find something you like?” he inquires, displaying arrogancewhile not quite masking a tremor in his voice.

 Vaguely noticing that Danny’s waistband is cutting off bloodflow to her hands, Lacey rips them free and bolts from the office, stillfeeling the heat of his ass cheeks in her palms.

 She hides in her flat until the absolute last possiblemoment before she’s scheduled to take the stage at the Parrot.  Thankfully, Danny’s not there.  He’s probably chasing down debtors.  Either that or building up a sexualharassment suit against her.  Which shecouldn’t dispute.  Weird guilt squirms inher guts and she curses her impulsivity for almost definitely screwing her outof a job.  She knows damn well she coulddo worse than the Parrot, and many women have. She tries not to let it show on her face when she dances.

 She’s almost begun to think he’s let her off the hook when,while on break nursing a gin and tonic, Alexandra behind the bar picks up thephone and her eyes flick to Lacey and back down.  “Danny says to go to his office,” she says afterhanging up.

 Oh fuck, here we go.  Lacey gulps the last of her drink, summonsher bravery, and heads upstairs.  Goingthrough the door, she spots a man standing at the minibar.  And she almost doesn’t recognize him, untilher brain registers the awful haircut. Danny is clad in a royal blue suit that fits like a second skin, butthis time in a good way.  He turns toher- oh god, it’s even got a matching waistcoat- and throws a nod at the eggchair.  “Go on then,” he says.

 Lacey hurries to take her place, though her eyes stay pinnedon him, teeth sunk into her lower lip. Damn, she thought he might look okay in a nice suit, she didn’t knowhe’d look gorgeous.  The book she abandoned after theirconfrontation remains in the egg chair, but she barely reads a word, too busyfantasizing about peeling that suit off, layer by layer.  She also doesn’t add another tally on the post-it.

 Clients and debtors come and go, but eventually it’s justher and Danny left.  He’s bent over hisaccount book, calculating his new totals.

 Lacey can’t help asking, purely for scientific reasons, “Doyou feel better now?”

 Danny’s mouth twists and he lets out a sigh.  “Yes.”

 “I’m glad.  You-ah...  You look better.  A lot better.”

 His gaze wanders over to her, dark and unreadable.  “Thanks,” he says, then his gaze drops backdown.  However, if Lacey cranes a little,she can see the edge of a smile.

 A smile of her own spreads across her face.  And they stay like that, two idiots grinning ina silent office while a bass beat throbs around them.

[monkeydluffy19920]

SaNami in the New World pt. 4 - Zou

A busy December is over and it’s been a long time since the last part so let’s continue to analyze how the relationship between Sanji and Nami has been made huge steps of developments and how it can be seen in the New World. Some of these points taken out have been shortly introduced in  “Reasons why SaNami could happen part 1 and part 2 as well.  Previous parts of this series are handling happenings in Fishman Island, Punk Hazard and Dressrosa. this Zou/Totland arc is currently running but there are already so many important moments and so much to talk about so it’ll be easier to divide these into smaller pieces. In other words this part will handle the happenings from Zou until the retrieval team is formed. Then the next upcoming part (number 5) Tottoland/Whole Cake Island will start from where they sail towards WCI.  Like the previous parts this is going to be a long post but there might be points that we’ve been missing, feel free to make additions :) !

But before starting this part I want to give a special thanks and credits to my fellow SaNami mate @pernanegra​ who inspired me to do these projects. The posts in this series are based on his awesome thoughts from OJ threads (here are links to part 1, part 2 , part 3,  part 4 and part 5). He has made amazingly splendid job by gathering and doing such detailed analyze about Sanji’s and Nami’s nakamaship and I really recommend you all to read them  !

1. Mugiwara re-union and Sanji’s disappearence

Nami and others have survived from BM and we see them in Zou. We can see that Nami is sleeping at the daytime. This is something that I didn’t first pay attention but thanks to Pernanegra’s sharp eye and discovering now this panel became much more interesting from shipping perspective and in general as well. If we think about it, we haven’t seen her taking daytime naps after leaving her home village in canon at least. Back in Arlong arc we saw Nami taking a nap after having a temper tantrum due her upset of betraying her new friends. Pernanegra stated this very well:  Sleeping can be a way to escape reality, to forget the pain and as he menioned, it’s possible that she has been crying herself into sleep. At least she has fallen asleep after great exhaustion most likely caused by worrying, just like in Cocoyashi. Don’t know if this is just imagination but it looks like she is sleeping in a fetal position and one reason why it’s really popular way to sleep is because I’ve heard it brings safety and brings some health benefits because somehow it makes the blood flow well but not expert in these things so maybe someone knows more?

Then Chopper wakes her up but she seems to be very sleepy in the beginning. Once she is awake she becomes happy to hear that others have arrived so they rush to see them. After a while Mugiwaras are reuniting but that joy didn’t last long, at least for Nami  who bursts into tears when Luffy mentions about Sanji and Momo. 

Oda loves cliffhangers and yes, he made us wait for a while before we finally found out what was going on. First there was a welcome/reunion party with Mink tribe and almost everyone seems to have. We know that Nami usually enjoys partying and having some drinks with her nakama but this time it looks like she is not in mood for the partying. Because I read manga and watch anime I like to compare them and the difference in anime was that she was partying with other like she had no worries. Of course manga usually pictures one moment in panel and it might not show everything but for me it left the feeling that Nami would rather be searching Sanji but that’s just one opinion. 

Meanwhile the others are partying without worries Nami intrudes them and asks about Sanji. However this doesn’t lead her anywhere because her crew mates tell Nami that there is nothing to worry about. Luffy and Zoro  are definitely thinking he’ll manage on his own. Their reaction to her question is something that makes the navigator only upset and angry. It is pretty clearly that Nami really is worried about Sanji and she even tells her crew mates to treat his disappearence as a urgent situation. 

Probably many of us were expecting to see the reason for the disappearence when Robin asked Nami to tell what happened before  but we only managed to see that they fought with Big Mom’s ship. That’s informative indeed but Oda wants to keep the tension by not telling immediately what happened. Franky brings Nami back on earth by making her realize she is the one who is behaving oddly here and she finally admits that she hasn’t been rational and she has overreacted telling that she was impatient. Like Pernanegra said, it’s really interesting that back then when they reunited and they were on their way to welcoming banquet Nami didn’t explain at all what has happened in Zou (that they saved the minks, beat down Kaido’s men and face Capone and BM pirates again there) but it might be that Chopper told something while partying or maybe not (because that would’ve kill the party mood). Anyways, only things mentioned by Nami is the letter Sanji gave and that she has been in hurry to save him. 

2. Saving the Minks

Nami explains in the flashback how Curlyhat Pirates (Sanji’s team) were blasting against BM pirates by doing awesome team work. Nami and Chopper feel flattered when they are praised by rest of the crew. Back to Nami’s story and happenings at Zou: Sanji is now their temporary captain and orders Brook to take care of Nami.  Like pernanegra said, Sanji is now “the boss” and he has now different responsibilities that are showed in the Dressrosa part.   By the way their new captain has been a positive influence to Momo because that little samurai wants to protect the ladies just like Sanji ! Their relationship has evolved after Sanji became the captain and started to take care of him instead of being jealous over Nami. 

After sailing arriving to Zou Curlyhats part for a short moment to explore the places. Sanji later finds out Nami is in trouble so he rushes to help her. Too bad the anime ‘killed’ the moment of reunion by making Nami kick him after he makes a cheery mellorine-greeting to her.  Anyways when they go further they learn that Zou is inhabited by Minks and that their home was ambushed and attacked and inhabitants were left to death. Sanji warns Nami about the risks that are around the corner if they start to save them. It is thanks to incident with kids in Punk Hazard that Sanji acknowledges and senses that Nami would want to save them, even though she doesn’t say a word about it.

After Fishman Island  and Punk Hazard Sanji is now able to understand Nami’s thoughts much better than before and he was really right about his guesses. When Nami was attacked by one of the minks, Wanda the navigator swore that they will help the inhabitants and that they are not going to leave anyone behind. (she was so damn brave for keeping her head cool, even though there was a dynamite waiting to be exploded just in front of her). As said, Sanji predicted it right when it was about her intentions, she wanted to help them. There has been a major change in their nakamaship because now they have achieved a level where they understand each other even without words, it’s like mind reading.

With the help of Curlyhat pirates the residents of Zou gets the help they  need. It’s kind of sad that these are the last moments where we’ll see Sanji’s team happy and smiling together for the last time before the tragic happens. This definitely does strengthen the nakamaships between curlyhat members. Minks are so thankful the Curlyhats are treated like national heroes. 

After helping the Minks Sanji rushes to see Nami and others and he is very pleased to see Nami in her new dress and goes all mellorine like usual. Maybe he could’ve controlled himself if he wasn’t that hyped about Mink women but well he wanted to try the “garchu” on her and this is how he fails his chance to be romantic and gets a punch instead and he flies with hearts : D This is a comical gag of course but it would be interesting to see whether there will be a day when Sanji approaches her without any mellorine-overload and would that change something? In other words would Nami punch him if he approached her more seriously?

Funny fact is that he has now seen Nami twice in a gorgeous dress in canon story, first in Thriller Bark and now here in Zou. What makes it more interesting detail is that, in both situations Sanji’s first thought has been that “is Nami a goddess”. Just like Pernanegra said, Sanji is actually the only character that has reacted to her dresses and who makes compliments out of it.

Then comes the trouble, Big Mom Pirates. Again, Sanji takes instinctively the lead like a captain and decides to go for some negotiations with Brook. By the way it seems like Nami isn’t bothered from Sanji’s company at all (otherwise she would’ve avoided him after the punch but they are close to each other even after the “garchu” tryout). Curlyhat captain tells Nami to stay safe with others. If you take a close look to Nami, you can see that she accepts his will but seems to be a bit unsure about the decision. Maybe she did not want to let him go without the whole crew. (note: in Mangastream verson Nami says “I got worried” instead of “we” and in anime she says also “we” instead of “I”. I might have asked this before but does anyone know what she says is in the original manga?)

That might also be the reason why she got caught with Chopper later. This is really interesting thing because usually Nami does it all to avoid getting into fights but now she tried to sneak against the enemy. Forgot to write about this in reasons to love mugiwaras - Nami”-post but this is definitely a sign of Nami’s character development because just like Pernanegra reminds us in his post, Nami did ditch Zoro and left him all alone against Baroque Work members Mr 1 and Miss Doublefinger back in Alabasta or when she openly said in Fishman Island that she is scared while hiding in Franky’s tank. Things have changed, now she is more ready to face enemies from her own will in order to make sure everything is ok. 

3. Invitation to tea party and Sanji disappeares

Since they got surrounded by Capone and others they are forced to go into his castle (seriously that DF power still is kinda creepy). This is where Oda-sensei finally tells us why Sanji left so suddenly and this is what definitely shook part of the fandom, the invitation for Sanji that came as a surprise for everyone.

After the shocking declaration Nami is the first one to react asking what’s going on but Sanji remains silent. He is probably quiet because they revealed his last name, something what he wanted to forget and knows that his family has something to do with this case. Maybe it’s because of the shock but unlike the expectations Sanji is not mellorine after hearing about  the marriage, instead of that he actually dislikes it a lot, even hates it. 

His reaction might sound odd from the first hand since we know that he is a quite a hopeless romantic who always dreams about ladies but if we think about the post about marriage @namibean wrote a while ago this might make sense because as she said, marriages in One Piece have been represented as a opposite to term freedom and this is excactly what Sanji will lose if he marries Pudding. I don’t know whether he knew it from the very beginning but marriage would tie him down to either BM Pirates or to Germa66 and this would mean bidding a farewell to his dream of finding All Blue with Straw Hats and so on.

This has been pointed out in numerous posts but I still find it a very interesting that Nami is highlighted a lot in this disappearece case maybe even more than usual. She shows lots of interest in first hand and keeps on digging information. When they heard about Sanji’s origin Nami brings up something that has happened more than 2 years ago, before time skip: Remember in Jaya when they tried to find gold from Norland’s territory? Nami told to Chopper to dig out as much as he can but after hearing Sanji mention about his origin she tells Chopper to stop the search. It almost feels like Sanji’s story was more interesting for her at the moment than gold what could indicate also to that fact that she might not be as greedy as she looks. 

Nami’s flashback to Jaya could be another remarkable parallel to Fishman Island where Sanji brought up something Yosaku said linked to Nami’s past. This does not only mean both of them have really detailed memories but also that both have paid a really good attention to the necessary things back then.

Sanji still refuses to take part to this tea party. He makes it very clear that marrying a girl he doesn’t even know is ridiculous. Like Pernanegra said, even though Sanji is known to be a womanizer and “a dirty minded ero kappa” he still have some principles. The response is not ok for Capone who tightens up the situation by threatening Nami. Mangastream version says “As you can see, I won’t need to hurt you for you go to the tea party”  We don’t know how much Capone knows about Sanji but at least he managed to hit the nail on the top. Sanji is reacting immediately to see Nami sinking down by Capone’s DF powers

One of the biggest mysteries in this arc is that what Vito whispered into Sanji’s ear. It’s something we still don’t know for sure but my guess is that it has something to do Nami. Not maybe anything straightly related to her but possible that it’s something that affects her as well. Anyways, she is very curious but confused about it.

After Vito’s words Sanji makes the decision and goes for the tea party. He writes a letter to his captain and rest of the crew. Another interesting detail is that he gives the letter to Nami, not to Brook who is his first mate or to Chopper. Really hard to say the reason but maybe he gave it to her was because she is the one he has known the longest among the Curlyhats or if he thinks she is the closest person he can trust (don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Sanji does not trust Chopper or Brook ! but maybe he feels like Nami could take the best care of the letter). This is a bit out of topic but I love how Oda made that panel so intimate for them, even though they are surrounded by the enemies and in the anime episode  Toei highlighted them in that hugging scene.

After the hug he throws his nakama out of Capone’s castle but they want him to go too. It might be just Nami’s tendency to become highly distressed if someone she likes is in danger but she is really worried and wants him out as well. Not talking about romantic aspect when I used the word ‘like’ because she does not only become stressed about her crew mates but also other people she becomes attached, for example she was very worried when rescuing the kids in PH etc. 

Sanji tries his best to comfort them and he gives them a smile telling there is nothing to be worried about, just before the doors to Capone’s castle closes. Nami reacts with two exclamation marks, Brook is pretty much speechless as well and Chopper is in edge of tears.

In manga Capone with his castle tank disappears into woods and the rest of the Curlyhats are left behind calling for Sanji but animation team decided to make it even more dramatic. Intended or not Toei made Nami run after Capone but unfortunately she has to give up and she collapses to the ground and probably keeps yelling Sanji’s name (or something like “noooo”/”come back” etc.). Pernanegra made another good discover but Sanji’s smile might have reminded her of Bellemere who also flashed a smile before the tragedy. This could be one reason why she reacted so strongly to his farewell and why she wants him back so eagerly. No doubt she does not want to lose another important person from her life and she is aware that Sanji is in danger. 

4. Building up the Retrieval team

Then we move to present where Brook sings about Master Nekomamushi . Lyrics are pretty simple but pernanegra was wondering whether the lyrics could’ve gotten inspiration from Sanji’s farewell. Brook told he does not know Nekomamushi and only imagined how he could be. This is pure guessing but what could link Sanji to lyrics is that he decided to face his problems alone.  

Nami’s reply to Luffy’s question about marriage is surprisingly laconic and I don’t think this is usual for her (mostly she always have a answer to questions but now she seems not to have one). It may also be her posture and the size of the panel why her answer catches the eye easily. Like pernanegra said she might be unsure because of thinking of future and how Sanji’s marriage would change the relationship between him and his crew mates.  Now the Crew acknowledge that Sanji went from his own will.  We’ve been writing how Sanji and Nami has been able to read each others minds and actions during their adventures in New World but this time things are different. Maybe one of the reasons that Nami feels so unsure and has a troubled expression is because no matter how logical she tries to think she can’t find reasonable reasons what could explain why he decided to go. This is the first time she isn’t able to understand him and it bothers her.  

Robin tries to comfort the others by saying they shouldn’t blame themselves. She can relate on Sanji because she has gone through similiar situation when she was about to leave the crew.  Zoro however is having a different opinion. Because he witnessed in Thriller Bark how Sanji does not want to be trouble for his nakama marimo is very upset to find out that Sanji has underestimated his friends who were ready to go after him.  He is also mad because Sanji’s disappearence ‘messed up’ the Kaido plan and he makes his opinion very clear. 

Nami’s reacts very strongly to Zoro’s arguments. She is furiously taking Sanji’s side and telling that accusing him is wrong because Sanji did not intentionally end up in his mess. It’s understandable why Luffy is following their argument from aside and does not intrude. After seeing and realizing how important this seems to be for Nami he decides to go after their cook. 

Nami goes to see Pekoms with Carrot, Luffy and Wanda. She is really curious and wants to know more so she can finally understand his reasons. When they hear about Vinsmokes she seems to overreact when hearing that Sanji is linked to ‘evil’ people. When she finally learns why Sanji was leaving she realizes that there was nothing she could do even though she would’ve wanted because the main reason is that BM is blackmailing him extremely. 

When Luffy tells that he is going alone with Pekoms Nami feels a bit surprised and upset. She always thought that the crew would form a retrieval team and Luffy going alone would mean that she would be counted out from plan and this was something she did not expect, especially when she has been constantly talking what they are going to do with Sanji-kun.

When story keeps on rolling and they find out about raftels.  She shows there few moments of self-confidence and one of them is when telling that she will protect Robin no matter what. Oda made Nami burst in flames swearing that she will do bad things if anyone lays their finger on Robin. Intended or not this fiery detail looks like a nice parallel to Sanji because he is usuall the one who sets in fire (for example hell memories). 

Later Luffy is ready for some parties but Nami tells that there is no time for it.  She acknowledges the fact that every minute counts. Nami also tells that she is coming and gives him another reason to join the retrieval team. Even though they were mainly able to come over of the thoughts of guilt she is still feeling that she is responsible for his disappearence and seeing her already being eager to get him back makes me feel that she definitely is worried about him and why wouldn’t she be worried? 

Remember how distressed she was when Robin disappeared they had only little time to find her? Of course these are different cases with different backgrounds and reasons but there are some similarities and as said, it’s in Nami’s nature to become so stressed when it’s about her nakamas.

Like pernanegra said, this situation about Luffy thinking food and fun before the rescue is by the way really similiar to one that happened in Skypiea and it is another parallel because we can see Sanji telling Luffy that there is no time to waste and they have to find their navigator.

Now the have built the Sanji retrieval team that includes Brook, Chopper, Luffy and Nami and from the Mink tribe Carrot and Pedro joins in as well without to mention Pekoms.  They have now agreed to meet the rest of the Mugiwara crew in Wano, after they get Sanji back. 

Pernanegra summed up this part very well telling that Nami has now done 3 acts or redemption since the New World. First she forgave Jinbei and Fishmen in Fishman Island, then she saved the kids in Punk Hazard  and now she has saved the minks. Most interesting thing is that Sanji has been important part of these missions by standing by her side.

Now that they are dealing with arranged marriage we can see how much Sanji is against the idea and after their ways part Sanji has left his nakamas so many questionmarks about the situation but they learn that he had no other choices. Sanji’s departure has distressed Nami a lot and for many reasons.  Like written above for example she is bothered that she can’t currently understand his motives. However she has been the one who has ‘taken the lead’ and pushing others to focus on finding him and refused to be left out from the retrieval team telling. There is again the theme of responsibility around in this arc. Sanji feels like he is the one who must solve this case “he caused” by himself and Nami has been feeling responsible for letting Sanji go away.