#i know like its the same amount of limbs as reader insert BUT LIKE IN MY BRAIN ITS DIFF

[bakatenshii]

I'm convinced that the world would spontaneously combust if you started writing slash fics /pos

LALAKAPKAPA YOURE TOO MUCH HAHAHAHA I think my brain would spontaneously combust first if I tried to write again from overworking it,, gotta lube it up with some hornyjuice and rub my lil braincells together n hope they provide some friction,, nodnod

[writteninkat]

Envy | Megumi x reader

summary: "You've been spending a scary amount of time with Itadori, haven't you? Are you trying to make me jealous?" His eyes narrow accusingly at you, making the corner of your lips twitch up, "Is it working?"

f!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: jealous sex, rough sex, manhandling, oral (f!receiving), tied up, overstumulation

• 100 followers celebration

You block Yuuji's fist with two of your wooden katanas, closing one eye when you feel a gush of wind follow after the punch. You back is drenched, your chest is rising and falking heavily, your throat is parched and your limbs feel like they might break at any second.

You push Yuuji away from you with the last bit remaining strength you have before falling on your knees. "Y/n!" Maki yells in worry, immediately running after you. The rest of the second years follow in suit as Nobara kneels beside your exhausted body.

"She's been pushing herself too hard lately, after that fight she had with Megumi..." Nobara's upper cheek flinches at the memory. You and Megumi fought so bad to the point that the two of you were already screaming at each other's faces.

Your heart breaks at the memory and you feel a tear stream down the side of your head. Megumi had left Tokyo that day, and it's been a whole week since. You know he's been trying to contact you, probably to apologize, but being the petty bitch that you are you never answered nor read any of his messages, wanting this to be treated as a lesson for him.

You feel strong arms snake under your back and the rear part of your legs, scooping you up in one sweep. At first you think it's Megumi, your heart races at the possibility as you force one of your eyes open. The small strand of hope dies when you see the same pink-headed boy you've been spending your whole week with ever since Megumi left.

Before you can think of anything else, darkness envelopes you in its arms, forcing you into a deep slumber you never thought you needed.

[9:12 PM]

Your entire body feels light. You expected some sore muscles hete and there, maybe even neck pain? Your eyes slowly flutter open, orange, soft light coming into view.

"Is this what you do while I'm away? Misbehave?"

Your eyes widen at the sound of the voice, your head immediately whipping to the direction from where it's coming from.

There he is, standing in all his glory. Megumi Fushiguro.

Black hair, so soft and smooth. Milky white skin, so plush and void of any blemish. Your favorite part of him were his eyes, surrounded by beautiful long lashes and those dark blue eyes that always manages to capture you in a prison-like headspace.

He's wearing a buttoned-up long sleeve, its sleeves were folded right below his elbows and a silver watch decirates his left wrist. The shirt is tucked in his black pants, a black leather belt hugging his hips just right as his hand rests comfortably inside one pocket.

Your thighs clench together at the sight of him, he looks so grown up and mature. He looks absolutely... sexy.

"Hey." Megumi takes your face by your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. "Let me rephrase my question." He slowly bends his knees, lowering himself so he's in face-level with you. He looks deep into your eyes, "You've been spending a scary amount of time with Itadori, haven't you? Are you trying to make me jealous?" His eyes narrow accusingly at you, making the corner of your lips twitch up, "Is it working?"

Megumi pushes you back onto the bed, pinning your arms above your head. "Every time I call you, he picks up." Megumi seethes, jaw clenching. "Reading his replies instead of yours has my head spinning. I couldn't focus on work because of you."

"You're mine, and no one else's."

You keep your thighs clenched together as you catch your bottom lip in between your teeth. "Prove it."

Megumi doesn't waste a second in pressing his lips on yours, his free hand slowly going down your sides as you lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips. Megumi roughly shoves your legs apart as he lets go of your hands, his hands making quick work of taking off his belt. Once off his hips, he pulls either side apart, creating a whipping sound before inserting the end inside the buckle, wrapping it around your wrists tighlty, making sure you're not getting it undone.

He gets on his knees, looking down at you with his eyes shaded darkly with lust and jealousy. The sight has your cunt throbbing and pooling, dampening your cotton panties. Your spread legs giving your boyfriend a perfect view of the way your slick turns a part of your panties darker.

"I'm going to mark you as mine. And while I'm doing that, you'll referring to me as," He leans forward, lips feathering over the shell of your ear. "master." He whispers, two fingers pressing against your wet pussy.

You mewl at the contact, back arching having caught off guard. Megumi hooks his thumb on your panty, moving it aside to give himself a good look at your shiny, slick-covered cunt. He presses a finger on it, teasing you by running his finger right over where your two folds meet. He watches attentively as he lifts his finger and watches as your juices create a bride between your wet sex and his finger.

"Look at you, all wet for me." Megumi mutters under his breath, smirking after he brings his finger to his mouth, tasting you. "You taste amazing, baby. Wanna have some more of you." He slowly lowers himself, eyes on you. His lips press against your cunt, one lick from his tongue has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your mouth opening as you let out an audible gasp.

Megumi pushes your thighs even further apart, his tongue shaoing circles around your clit as he sucks on it every now and then. He buries his face even further deeper between your legs, his hot tongue oushibg through and against your walls, lapping up your dripping slick. The sound of his mouth sucking on your pussy and his tongue messily and loudly lapping you up has you squeezing your fists tightly, nails digging into your skin.

"Mmmhhmmff- Megumi-!!" You moan loudly, your hips moving on their own as you feel an orgasm tickling you.

Suddenly, Megumi pulls away from your needy cunt and before you could react, he slaps your cunt, catching you and your orgasm off guard. Your eyes widen as your back arches at the feeling of your orgasm hitting you ten times more than it usually does.

You heave, your eyes darting to Megumi, questioning his actions. He smiles at you, mouth and chin covered in glistening slick as he runs his tongue over his upper lip, "What did I tell you to call me?" His voice is a few octaves lower than usual.

"M-master..." Your lips quiver.

He chuckles darkly, fingers moving to undo the button and zipper of his pants. "Remember how that orgasm felt just now?" He asks, pushing his pants along with his boxers down, letting them pool around his ankles. He returns on the bed, pulling you towards him by your hips. He crawls his arms forward, placing your hands on either side of your head. "I'll have you cumming like that the whole night, so be prepared, princess."

He shoves his entire length inside you, causing you to open your mouth without a sound leaving your lips. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight princess." He curses in between his teeth, looking down at where the two of you are connected.

"Too big- so fucking big, Master! Too much!" You mewl loudly, toes curling at the feeling of being stuffed to the brim of him. "That's it, princess, just keep taking all of me just like that. Good girl." He sings into your ear, slowly pushing himself into your tight cunt until his hips are touching the beck of your thighs.

The two of you take deep breaths, calming yourselves before Megumi begins thrusting his hips. He begins slow and soft, making sure you've adjusted to him. His hands are on your hips and your legs are elevated to the air, giving him more access. When he feels you fucking him back with your hips creating circles, he pushes you away by your hips before quickly pulling you back and thrusting his hips along with the movement of his arms. This has him deep inside you, his tip pushing on the bundle of nerves that has you gasping audibly. Megumi snaps his hips into you roughly, his sac slapping on your ass, creating lewd noises as he fucks into your dripping cunt relentlessly.

"Ugh- oh fuck.." Megumi moans out, throwing his head back with his mouth open as he continues impailing himself inside you. The bed creaks at every thrust Megumi does and along with it slowly creeps your orgasm.

"Master! Mmmmhhhfff-fuck, Master! I'm close!" You moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your toes curl, anticipating the orgasm that's about to hit you. Megumi lowers his head, arms pulling your tummy onto his chest as his tongue laps over your hardened bud. When he traps your nipple with his teeth, your back unconsciously arches itself, your tongue lolled out as you rock your hips back and forth, riding out your orgasm.

Megumi hisses as he feels you clenching around him. He pushes himself off you, eyes widening and heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of your fucked-out expression.

Your eyes are crossed as they look up at the ceiling, glistening with tears. A hot flush is spread across your face, over your cheeks and nose and your tongue is lolled out of your smiling mouth.

Megumi bites on gis lower lip, thrusting into you with your expression embedded in his head. Who would have known you could make such a face?

It fuels Megumi's want for you- he pulls you by your arm as his other hand takes you by your lower back. He sets you on his lap as he fucks you relentlessly, watching as you bounce on him. He chuckles, playing with your bouncing tits as he feels you shake on top if him and clench around him once more, your broken moan telling him you've once again hit another orgasm.

"I'm not yet done with you." Megumi growls, pushing you off his lap as he presses your restrained hands on the matress, his free hand pushing one leg further back, giving him even more space to work on your pussy. Squelching and slapping noises fill the room and Megumi closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds like he's listening to an orchestra. His eyes snap open at the feeling of your pussy yet again, tightening around him. "How many times was that already? Four? Five?" He asks, watching as your head limply drops to the side. He watches as your bare chest rises and falls, your fucked up expression light on your face as your tears create marks on your cheeks.

"Princess." He demands for your attention, and you give him exactly that. You open one eye lazily. "We're not stopping until I cum."

You've already decided to let him do whatever he wanted with you anyways, so you nod your head, feeling his stupid smile.

He undoes the belt around your wrists, pulling both of them towards his lips as he presses soft kisses over the red marks around your sensitive skin. "Widen your legs." He orders, pressing your hands on either side of your head. You do exactly as he says, feeling him kiss and leave marks all over your neck and chest as he has his way with you- hips snapping even faster and much harder than before. He continues hitting the same spot- the particular bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

"Mmmff- Master!" You yell, biting on your lips as you feel him finally reaching his end as well, the thrusts of his hips getting sloppier every second.

"Oh God," Megumi growls onto the side of your neck, "Cumming- cumming!" Megumi tries to pull out, but your legs hook around his waist, keeping him buried inside you as he spills his hot seed inside you.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but deep breaths, the two of you waiting for the events of the night to finally hit you both. Before it does, you feel darkness once again wrap itself around you, pulling you into another slumber. The last thing you see before passing out is Megumi walking away from the bed.

[6:57AM]

When you wake up, the strong feeling of deja vu hits you, except this time, you can definitely feel muscle pain as well as your throat being so dry. You open your eyes, heart clenching at the sught of Megumi reading a book silently. You can feel his arm around you and his scent soothing the pain all over your body.

Megumi turns to you, smiling softly as he presses a kiss on your forehead. "I already asked Gojo sensei to give you a day off today. Rest all you want." He says softly, the complete opposite of how he acted last night.

You reach over to cup his cheek, eyes catching sight of the bandage wrapped around each of your wrists.

So he did take care of me right after.

"I'll be your butler for today." Megumi closes his book and places it on his nightstand at his side. "Just relax, anything my princess wants, I'll go get it for her."

"Mmmm, I just want cuddles for now. And maybe a little snack." You smile, raising your eyebrows at the sight of your boyfriend's frown.

"You said-"

"I know what I said, but I'm giving you a complete meal. We fucked after you woke up after passing out, I'm so sorry for being so inconsiderate..." He pouts, pressing his forehead on yours. You smile, coming to a conclusion that you love every single side of this boy. His dominant side, his soft and caring side, even his envious side.

"Let's talk about that jealousy problem you have while I eat."

Megumi flushes, "I wasn't jealous!"

[bisexual-bitch-blogs]

"Bitch Training"

Sub Childe x Dom Fem Reader

Reader is a electro user

POV Childe has been teasing you for weeks on end. Grinding, moaning in your ears, random lewd faces, hell he even it to other people. And when you try to touch him or get near him. He runs away with a shit eating grin. So you decided to trap him and make him your bitch

Includes: Hardcore BDSM, impact play, orgasm control, pegging, bondage

⚡-----------------------------------------⚡

You tossed a paralyzed Childe on your bed with a murderous glare. In return, he gave you a seductive smirk.

"I've been too lenient with you. It's about time I punish you. By the end of this night or day, you should know who you belong to."

Rather than scared, he got excited. You could tell by the tent leaking through his pants. Feeling veins popping up on your neck, you stepped on his crotch. He groans.

"I'll wipe that smile off your face."

You ripped off his clothes knowing that he most definitely has dozen or more of the same clothing.

In his naked glory, you chained each of his limb to the corners of your bed and took out a black circular ring. Specifically a cock ring. Additionally, you also took out a urethal plug along.

"Uhh what's that?"

The confused look on his face, having never seen them before.

"You"ll know in due time. After I prepare you. I will leave to cook our dinner for about hmm 40 minutes best."

You slowly inserted the urethal into his twitching member, making him groan in pain.

"Nnhmgh??!"

Next you put the cock ring on which wasn't all that bad until Childe realized. He couldn't release.

"W-Wait, mistress! I can't-"

You shoved a ball gag into his mouth, quickly wrapping it around his head. You hummed a gentle song when you took out the next items. A purple vibrator in a shape of an egg and your best friend in bed, lube.

Squeezing a generous amount of the liquid in his hole, you then shoved the plastic vibrating toy in deep as you can.

"Mnngh! Nggh!"

Standing up away from the bed, you slowly walked away with the controller in your hands.

"Have fun~! I'll be right back."

Setting the vibrator to a medium, you left the bedroom. Too bad you can't see his frustrated face right now but you'll see it sooner or later.

Set to high.

Set to low.

Set to high

Set to medium.

Set to High.

Set to low.

-Timeskip-

Finishing off your specialty. You happily skipped back into your room, turning off the controller. to see a crying Childe. You almost felt bad. Almost.

"Can't cum? Too bad. You don't get to unless you can show me you can be good. It's time to punish each and every one of your mistakes and correct them. If I don't. What kind of master would I be if I can't tame their dog?"

Taking off the restraints on his limbs and the ball gag in his mouth. You moved him onto your lap but he attempts to take off the plug in this cock so you shocked him, making the ginger scream. You smiled, eyes glinting.

"Bad boy. That's another mistake."

You grabbed a paddle and set it on his firm perky butt.

"I will say everything you did wrong and you shall count. If you fail. We will start all over. Got it, runt?"

The red head sobs.

"Y-yes, mistress.....!"

You rubbed his ass before saying.

"First, you moaned into my ears while I was talking with Xiangling."

! SMACK !

"O-O-One!"

You smiled like the sadist you are.

"Second, you gave me a lap dance but ran away when I tried to touch you."

! SMACK !

"T-Two!!

-Timeskip-

"Then you dare grind yourself on Zhongli!"

! SMACK !

"S-Seven..........S-Seventy...."

You gave the Harbinger a passionate kiss.

"Good boy. You handled it so good."

You took off the cock ring which made the red head whine softly, gesturing at the tiny plug in his member.

"You may have endured your punishment but did you learn anything from it? Tell me."

Gently, laying his back onto the bed. You laid chaste kisses all over his body. Childe's hoarse voice echoed.

"I......I-I promised...not to do it again, mistress...."

You smiled.

"Since you learned your lesson. You get a reward since only good boys get the reward."

The once forgotten crontroller was turned on to a medium as you roughly took out the urethal plug. Immediately, he came.

"Aughnn!"

Putting on the classic purple strap on. You carelessly poured lube all over it. The harbinger was drooling at the sight of it through his red puffy teary eyes.

You spread open his legs, and entered his hole where your cock hit against the vibrating egg.

"Ahhh!"

At first you thrusted in and out of him at a slow pace before speeding up.

"Angghh! Ughhnn! Ahhhh! Aaahh! Mmhhnn!"

As you sped up, you set the vibrator to a max.

"Ah! Haaannghh! Mmnnhhh! Aaahhh!"

His body trembled before releasing onto his stomach. You turned off the vibrator and slipped out of his gaping hole. Soon enough he passed out.

And that is how you train your bitch, everyone. Whenever your bitch does something wrong, you punish him to teach a lesson. On the other hand, you provide encouragement and reward for those things that he does right. It means he understands the rules and your expectations and thus he provides the right amount of attention to detail when performing those tasks. And will avoid doing anything to upset you.

---------

Idk if people liked the post because they like my writing or just the picture. Its makes me a little insecure 😭😥😖

[tranquileuphoria]

�� To you, I bid goodnight

genre : fluff

character(s) : oikawa tooru ( haikyuu! ) 

pairing : oikawa x male! reader

warnings : ooc maybe? 

synopsis : spending a tranquil night in a warm embrace was all he asked for, and who were you to deny his sweet little wish?

word count : 1.3k words

authors note : and here it is! my first ever fan fiction with reader inserts! quite nervous of how this will turn out honestly, but i hope you enjoy reading my work! this is my first time to actually write fluff and i sincerely apologize if tooru was completely ooc and about my writing style. it’s been so long since i’ve written anything so i’m quite rusty and i’ve never actually written for tooru before. but all that aside, thank you for reading and have a nice day! <3 

　

now playing… 

　♫ fireflies by outgoing hikikomori

Watching as the clouds turn into a gentle shade of cotton candy, taking the bright sun into its arms as the moon welcomes itself into the sky, it was once again another evening to welcome a nice and peaceful Friday night.

　

Or so, that’s how it usually felt for Y/n. But not now, not tonight. Drumming his fingers on the smooth wooden desk, his mind wonders to the many possibilities of how tonight would end up, only making him feel a surge of adrenaline rush the longer he pondered over it. His heart was hammering against his chest rapidly that he swore it would leap out the longer he ponders over numerous possibilities for tonight’s faithful event. How did this happen, you may ask? Well if it wasn’t for a certain volleyball captain and setter, who texted him a couple minutes ago— going on about making his way to Y/n’s house and spend the night with him— then maybe Y/n wouldn’t be much of a wreck as how he currently is.

　

And yet here we are.

　

“Y/n-chan~ practice is over! And don’t worry, this time I’m not staying overtime. Anyways, I took it to myself and decided to stay over your place for the weekend to make up for my absence! I’ll be there soon! <3” read the text. That was what all it took to get Y/n completely off-guard, his studies long forgotten as he stares at his phone in disbelief. It wasn’t because he didn’t like it but rather of how sudden it was for Oikawa to decide on such. It wasn’t news for anybody when they hear about Y/n and Oikawa dating, after all they have been together for a month now. But when it came to pushing boundaries and making huge steps in the relationship was Y/n’s job, or so he believed. When he had finally confessed his love for Oikawa, he had promised to the captain that loving him would be worthwhile, that he can prove to him that Oikawa can be genuine and true to himself around him, thus Y/n took the role of building up the relationship in a slow paced process for the captain to keep up with no struggle.

　

Now don’t get him wrong, Y/n was extremely delighted to know that his dearest beloved was slowly warming up to their relationship. He knew that under the captain’s charming and prideful display was a soft and kindhearted man who’s love was solely on both Y/n and volleyball, and knowing that Oikawa himself has decided to take a step forward and stay over his boyfriend’s place only meant he was willing to take down his walls slowly. But a sleepover was something Y/n wasn’t prepared for. The sickeningly sweet image of him snuggling in bed with his sweet boyfriend was just too much for his little heart.

　

His body shivered from the overwhelming amount of adrenaline in his body, fingers no longer drumming against the wooden desk, but rather now with a pen and tapping it on the unfortunate desk furiously.

　

‘Why am I so nervous— its just Tooru. Yeah, he just wants to spend the night, that’s all.’

　

‘…oh god he wants to spend the night. Tooru is staying over— the love of my life is staying over and I haven’t even thought of this thr—‘

　

“Dear? Oikawa’s here for you” And all of a sudden, his mother is at his doorstep, arms crossed with a questioning look as she stared at her son who just dropped his pen on the table suddenly causing her to giggle “how many times do I have to remind you, do be careful with your pens, that’s your tenth one this week and it’s only Friday.” her teasing caused his ears to turn pink— it wasn’t his fault that he fumbles with his pen when he’s nervous! It’s their fault for breaking so easily!

　

Y/n cleared his throat “y-y’know he could’ve just headed straight here…not like he wasn’t here before” he mumbled much softer than he anticipated, eyes scanning his room for one last check to see if everything was neat enough for his lovely visitor. His mother sighed, a soft smile threatening to reach her lips as she looked at her nervous wreck of a son, noting how both parties were just as nervous about the night to come. Oh young puppy love.

　

“I’ll let him know then, you two go have fun!” was her last remark before she disappeared from his line of sight. Y/n’s mind drew blank for a split second as he stared at the open bedroom door, all calm for once while wondering about what to say when Oikawa gets to his room— but the peace in his heart fell short as the sound of unfamiliar footsteps head straight for his room.

　

His heartbeat began to race the louder the footsteps became and it didn’t take long for him to find his sweet beloved one step away from his room, a sweet smile on Oikawa’s lips as their gazes meet. ‘Ah, there he is’ he thought ‘the sweetest boy alive’. As if on cue, Oikawa throws himself in Y/n’s arms, his bag long forgotten on the floor as he squeals his boyfriend’s name and quick to snuggle into his chest, one of the many things Y/n loved most about Oikawa. The captain was never shy to express his affection whether by words or actions in both public and private, and while some find that annoying, Y/n found it absolutely adorable and lovable. It made him feel so much more loved because of how much the beautiful setter expresses his emotions and he could only hope that Oikawa could feel the same as he returns the affection.

　

Lovesick wasn’t even enough to express the blooming emotions in Y/n’s chest as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. A soft greeting that came with a light peck on the cheek was all he could muster as his mind clouded over how precious Oikawa was being, the other turning into a light shade of pink from the sudden kiss on the cheek making Y/n feel even more obliged to to pepper him with kisses.

　

“Hey there, cutie” Y/n begun before he could fall into the sweet temptation of drowning Oikawa with his love and affection. “How was your day? Did Iwaizumi-san hit you with a ball again?” He teased, gaining a soft whine from his lover as he pouted “He did! Iwa-chan is always so mean~ I just wanted to brag about you, was that so wrong?” Oikawa whined, snuggling further into Y/n as much as he can, making the other chuckle and coo “awe~ my poor baby~. Though, I think Iwaizumi-san has had enough hearing about me”

　

“But I could talk about you all day without getting tired! There’s just something wrong with him!” Oikawa argued

“now now— you’re just giving him more reasons to hit you if he heard that”

“Y/n-chan!”

“sorry, sorry~”

After a long nice conversation filled with teasing and loving affection that lasted past midnight, Y/n finds himself under his sheets with a soft bundle of brown hair tucked under his chin. Limbs tangled up with arms around one another, Y/n swore that his heart would just burst right there and then. Adding up Oikawa’s relaxed sleeping figure and the soft snores he makes was enough for Y/n to die happily with no ounce of regret. He was far too deep in cloud nine over the fact that he gets a chance to see his beloved Tooru sound asleep and snuggled against him to even acknowledge his own need to take a goodnights rest. With his gaze soft upon Oikawa’s sleeping figure, he wonders just how he would be able to keep his eyes closed when he would rather stare at his beloved for the next few hours.

　

It isn’t every night that he could get to spend his nights like this, but Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way.

[starfaring-princelotor]

Fourth Sight

Summary: Sincline returns to your reality, but something is...wrong.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

Warnings: Blood, starvation, vague mention of suicide.

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

“Day one in the Rift. The Paladins of Voltron have left me to rot in the quintessence field. Sincline’s internal engine has overheated from their final blow. And yet, somehow I still live. No matter, I must get out of here. I know not how much time has passed or how long I have been unconscious, but Sincline is unresponsive to any of my commands.”

Lotor stabilized his breathing, knowing that oxygen would be a valuable resource which he could not squander right now. His suit could only last for so long and if he wasn’t able to get Sincline back up and running, then he would suffocate to death. Time was limited. His body ached something fierce, yet he couldn’t quite be sure if it was because of the fight or due to being in the Rift for...minutes? Hours? Days?

He slipped on his helmet then leaned back into the seat. He can do this. He has to.

“Day five in the Rift. The structural integrity of Sincline has held, which is a good thing. The main generator seems to have taken minimal damage from the blast. On the downside, it is still unresponsive. I can only assume that most, if not all, of the internal wires have burnt out.”

The Emperor was floating in the never ending whiteness, hands prying open the back panel of the immobilized mech with familiarity. Just as he thought. His deft fingers held the frayed wires in front of his face, eyes scrutinizing it to see if there was any chance of salvaging them. No such luck. He wasn’t able to start up Sincline without the right amount of quintessence.

Wait. That was it. Quintessence.

“I have a plan. The Rift is full of quintessence. If I can find a way to transfer it to the core power, then maybe…”

“Come on...Sincline, come on!” Lotor gritted his teeth together, trying his damn best to get any sort of reaction out of the machine.

Yet, no matter what he did, whether changing the mechanics of the interior engine or rewiring only the necessities, nothing worked. Lotor doesn’t understand. He and Allura made the robot from the same comet as Voltron. It should have been equipped with an automatic energy regenerating sequence in case of emergencies. He slammed his fist against the window in frustration, only to regret it instantly.

He shouldn't be using his energy like this.

“Day 12. Sincline is unable to absorb the quintessence in the field. The mechanism is...it is broken. I just need a small spark, just a little bit to get it working again. From there, it should charge on its own. Oxygen levels are decreasing. I am on the last of the nutrient supplies. If I get out of here, remind me to thank the doctor for having the foresight to pack food.”

If? No, when. When he gets out of here. He IS going to get out of here or he’ll die trying.

Hunger pains were the worst. He hated them, out of everything he had to do to survive, feeling your own stomach eat itself was a horrendous experience. Lotor has been through it before, but even then, he could eat dirt and survive with the consequential sickness that follows. Yet, there was nothing here. He did not have the ability to eat metal. His rations have run out. All he had left was half a bottle of water.

“Day...23. I am unsure if it is the quintessence or if I am losing my mind. I saw something out there. The Rift creatures have sensed me. I can only hope my sword is enough to defend myself.”

But he doubts it. Lotor curled over his stomach, gripping it as it rumbled in starvation. Again, he squeezes the handle. Sincline still did not respond.

He wasn’t desperate. Yet.

Not even with the gaping wound throbbing at his side. It gushed blood from the vicious bite that lovely Rift creature bestowed upon him, but the upside? Raw quintessence was healing it very slowly. It did nothing to rejuvenate his energy, though. Lotor was breathing heavily from the fight, limbs shaking from overexertion and...from fear.

That creature was tenacious in a way only savage animals crave when hungry. Not for blood, rather for their next meal ticket, and if Lotor wasn’t careful, he would find himself being eaten alive soon. He was weak, prime for picking if he couldn't figure out how to get Sincline back online. His suit no longer had any oxygen left to support him. He was stuck inside this mech. He would die in this mech.

The bracelet around his wrist radiated a faint red glow, the indicator telling him what he already knew. Lotor felt sick staying in the Rift for so long. No food, no air, and soon, no way of escape from those ravenous Rift creatures who would devour him piece by piece. He was lucky the last one was small, a scavenger no doubt, but how long until bigger ones find him?

Lotor bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. He couldn’t die, not yet. Not like this. He worked too hard, came too far, for it all to end in naught. The Alteans, the Galra, every planet that suffered under Zarkon, they’re relying on him, on his return to restore balance to the universe. To return it to a time of peace, to soothe the scars left behind by his father’s tyrannical rule.

He faced that bastard, fought against all odds, survived this long to right the wrongs. His goals were so close, so damn close, yet like everything else in his life, they slipped right through his fingers and stabbed him in the back. Lotor had to keep going. He had to try something, anything, that would return him to the wounded universe he was born in.

A thousand scenarios were already flitting through his mind of all the work he left unfinished. The old Empire he never wanted, now fractured, free to conquer and kill without control. The Alteans he carefully preserved, soon to be completely eradicated now that they were exposed to an unsafe war zone. Everyone was going to suffer because of one little mistake. Because he trusted the wrong people. Lotor trusted Voltron when he shouldn’t have even bothered to accept their help in the first place.

Things were going to be worse now than ever before. And all of this? Fell on his shoulders.

His voice was rough, strained, exhausted beyond belief. “Day 48 in the Rift. No food. No water. What little oxygen Sincline has will only last me one or two more days.”

Lotor gritted his teeth in mounting frustration, his chest aching with sickening trepidation of what the future will hold, whether he was there or not.

“I don’t want to die.”

“Day...50.”

Lotor was tired. Restless. The cockpit of Sincline felt stifling and cramped. He had a pounding headache from lack of water. Lack of...everything, in fact. Sleep would not claim him whenever he closed his eyes. He was too weak to do more than sit up from his seat. And, dare he say, he even thought about eating his own clothes if it meant he would have something in his stomach.

No energy to move, but just enough for him to think about everything that led up to this moment. It was a dangerous path to start and even more dangerous to go down, yet he couldn’t stop himself. His mind would tumble down that pit, he knows this. Yet, after 10,000 years of suffering, of growth, of rebuilding himself over and over again, he knew that he was his own miserable company. Lotor had no one but himself.

It was better that way.

No mother. No father. No Ven’tar. No friends. All of them, gone by his doing. He hated thinking like this, dwelling on the past and what he could’ve done different. It led him to sympathize with himself. You tried your best, Lotor. But did he really try? You did everything you could, Lotor. But did he really do everything? You were a great leader, Lotor.

But...was he really?

His Empire ostracized him, shunned him for being part Altean. And those Alteans he saved? Could they really trust him for being part Galra? Or rather, for being Zarkon’s disgraceful spit of a son? Lotor tried so damn hard to prove to himself that he wasn’t like his evil father. He didn’t murder or kill without remorse. Yet, it didn't matter what he thought of himself.

There will always be people who can’t separate his bloodline and his race. There will always be people who will judge his actions based on his father’s bloody history. He couldn’t escape it. He could endure the abuse, he always has, but fuck, at what cost? How much longer until his will finally gives out?

Those he trusted left him behind. Maybe Allura was right. And maybe, this was a fitting death for him in the end.

“Was there really any hope for me?”

The Rift creatures completely swarmed Sincline, liquid sharp teeth gnawing and biting at the glass separating him from certain death. Lotor gulped and gripped the handles tighter, his knuckles straining against his gloves as he could feel the quintessence begin to overexert his body. The clock was ticking. Eyes were darting around for a way out of his inevitable doom, but he was trapped inside this machine with no where else to go.

“Come out! Come out!”

Lotor was losing his damn mind. Another shrieking growl from the creatures had him shaking his head in hopes to snap out of it. Did they just...talk? Or was he hearing things? One of the creatures raised an amorphous limb and slammed it on the hull, denting it and his chances of survival.

“You smell so good! Let us eat!”

His heart was pounding too fast in his chest, he thinks he might have cardiac arrest before the beasts broke through. The star crack in the shield began leaking in the monster’s formless body, squirming and wriggling closer to reach him. Lotor knew this was it. Now or never. He had to take that chance, regardless if it worked. He may not be able to escape his fate, but his final act of desperation was his only shot left.

“My creator…”

That voice...sounded different. Not like the Rift creatures. Lotor closed his eyes and concentrated on his flickering quintessence. The hunger pains were long gone. The wound at his side? Nothing but a faint scar remained. And his thoughts of anger, of betrayal? They were...soothed. His rage, quelled. His sadness, non-existent. He should've wondered where all his feelings went, why he was actually losing all sensation in his body.

“Sleep, now.”

Lotor helped make this mech. He knows the lions are sentient to an extent. If he can just get Sincline booted with a jolt of his quintessence, then maybe, just maybe, it can escape the Rift. With him alive or not. He can’t let the Rift creatures use Sincline, either for sustenance or for...a weapon. He can't let that happen. Sincline was built to help the universe, not destroy it. Never to destroy it.

Perhaps that was why Voltron defeated him. Sincline wasn’t a superweapon. That was never his goal for this machine.

“I will keep you safe, my creator.”

Lotor’s body chilled. Hi soul pulled from his mortal vessel. Sharp claws dug into his flesh with a sickening squelch, but he felt no pain, for his consciousness was already gone from this reality. And, when the quintessence was gone, the creatures realized their meal was stolen right out of their very hungry mouths.

“Day 51. Emperor Lotor is now under my protection.”

Sincline’s eyes began radiating with life, its sight glowing a threatening hue of purple in the infinite white of the Rift.

“Sir, are you sure it’s wise to leave an inter-dimensional communication stone in this reality?”

The Black Paladin averted his attention from the main screen, looking off to the side as Acxa’s face came into view. The lions were in the quintessence field and, as expected, the locator Kylan created with the blood sample you stored was working perfectly. However, now that she brought it up, he felt that explaining himself would build some confidence with his teammates.

“Yes. The technology here is not as advanced as ours. That may be because the planets have not yet unionized together under one banner,” he paused briefly, “It is...a shame. But we are helping them and, in turn, I have no doubt we will have stronger allies on our side after we find the Emperor. What Kylan showed me about the war here tells me that the Galra Empire needs their leader back first and foremost.”

“Yeah, uh, you aren’t just saying that because of the doctor, are you?” Ezor piped in with a teasing lilt in her voice, “This IS a different reality. We could be helping the wrong people here.”

Their leader smiled at the playful prodding, the ring on his finger suddenly filling his mind with trickles of joyful thoughts.

“Never was a fighter, that one,” he mused with a chuckle, “It is not a coincidence that we met again.”

Zethrid scoffed, “What? So, you think it’s fate that we just happened to pop out at the exact right spot with the exact right people to take us in?”

“Not fate. Perhaps just blind, dumb luck.”

Then, all at once, his Paladins muttered a single word.

“Soulmates.”

“A little unorthodox, but the existence of other realities has still not been fully researched yet,” he shrugged, accepting that the evidence before them was circumstantial at best, “We would have never known it was possible if it were not for Sven.”

An ominous silence fell upon the group, all of them thinking about the human who joined the Guns of Gamora. Who was, unfortunately, captured by Hira and her forces. His location remained unknown and no one knew what happened to Slav. They could only assume the Empress has them under her control now.

“Paladins, let us find this Emperor and bring him back,” Lotor ordered with brave confidence suited for the Black Paladin, “Time is of the essence here, but stay on your toes. The Rift creatures are relentless. If you spot one, do not engage alone. We are not in friendly territory.”

And that was one of their major concerns. While yes, they were searching for Sincline, he was wary of the mech’s self-sustaining capabilities. Moreso, the consciousness of the robot. It was not new information that the lions are sentient. Even he could correlate that Sincline would be just as alive as Voltron.

But now the question remained: would Sincline attack Voltron on sight?

It was the sound of chittering, followed by a meow, that alerted the group of the small, black dot in the distance.

“Good job, Kova,” Lotor tapped a few more keys on the screen, the locator pointing northeast from their current position, “Narti, everyone, proceed with caution.”

The closer the group drifted, the tighter they flew in formation, just in case Voltron was needed. It was a spectacle to behold. Another mech made from the same comet as the robotic lions they were piloting now. Another mech that can pierce the Rift between time and space itself. And its eyes were glowing purple.

“Sir...I have a bad feeling about this,” Zethrid warned, nearly growling by instinct.

“Stand down for now. He is aware of our presence,” Lotor commanded, “Ezor, send him a transmission that we are here to help. If he makes the first move, do not fight him. We do not know what he is capable of.”

Acxa’s thumb was on the trigger, ready to react at the first order to fire. Yet, it didn't come. She heard Lotor hum in thought as seconds ticked by, but nothing was happening. The Black Paladin had thousand of scenarios flashing through his mind. Maybe the Emperor was dead? Or was Sincline watching their every move? Perhaps the quintessence has filled his body? No, if that were the case, then the Rift creatures would have torn the ship apart to shreds by now.

Then...then the Emperor’s quintessence was no longer in his body. That leaves only two options: he is dead or Sincline has captured his soul.

Loud warning signals began flashing across each of the Paladin’s screen, setting all of them on high alert. Even Kova’s hackles were raised, teeth bared as he hissed at the unknown foes in the distance. A dark, inky hoard of Rift creatures were dashing straight at them, sensing their quintessence from miles away. Immediately, Lotor knew they could not handle them all, not even if they formed Voltron.

“Orders, sir!” Zethrid repeated, now understanding that the plans have changed with the new enemies on the horizon.

“It’d be a good idea to run, don’t ya think?” Ezor offered her opinion, “Preferably before they reach us.”

“Zethrid, Ezor, grab Sincline. Acxa and Narti, with me. If those creatures get close, we must protect the Emperor,” Lotor maneuvered his lion ahead of Sincline as Red and Green flanked the rear, “We are getting out of here now!”

Both the Blue and the Yellow lion each latched themselves under Sincline’s arms, making sure to keep their jets ready if the mech decided to attack. No such thing happened, thankfully, and the group quickly followed Lotor as he guided them down the path. The gate was too far and they could not risk a chance of having the Rift creatures find out about it. Or worse, potentially breaking through and swarming the unprepared reality.

The Black Paladin focused his energy through his body, mixing it with the lion’s, then took a deep breath. She responded to his call. She always did. His hands glowed that ethereal Altean magic, transferring his power to her vessel. She opened her mouth and fired a bright violet beam straight ahead, the force creating a swirling wormhole right before the Paladin’s very eyes.

“Ezor and Zethrid, when you go through, head for the gate. We will be close behind you.”

Deft fingers knocked the door lightly, catching the attention of you and the bedridden patient. The medical wing on Kylan’s ship was still useful for helping those relocated from the second colony and, inwardly, you were glad he decided to keep a close eye on them. Except now, without those pods, manual practices must take place. You were a doctor, so of course you kept to your role.

You flicked your finger across the holographic screen projecting from the device on your wrist, occasionally nodding while skimming over the report. “Your quintessence levels have significantly gone down back to normal. Good, very good. Still, I’d like you to get a few more days of rest while your body stabilizes,” you explained while the screen minimized out of sight for now.

“Thank you, doctor.” She was an old patient, very sensitive to quintessence and, therefore, the treatment as well, “Would you kindly tell Lotor I give my thanks, too?”

Your eyes hardened for a few seconds before you gave a firm nod. Everyone from the colonies knew about Lotor’s disappearance, but this patient? She had a failing memory. It felt...wrong to tell her the bad news over and over again, especially if she were to forget it within the next day. That was the quintessence to blame, sadly. Regardless, her health was the first priority here.

This is what you learned about the colony, what Kylan explained was happening there. These generations of Alteans have evolved to the point where their bodies produce too much quintessence. Just as there were those who stayed underground for so long that their skin could not be exposed to the sun without the light burning them. 

Evolution did its job on their species.

But this wasn't just any quintessence. This was pure quintessence, the deadliest form of them all. Letting it fester within their bodies would kill them. You read the reports. You know all the research that Lotor and his crew discovered. And, strangely enough, the process to remove quintessence was quite similar to a procedure you remember from Earth.

Lotor wasn’t draining Alteans. He was using dialysis to keep them alive. Their body was just no longer able to naturally process the slow-build up of quintessence over time. There were still many questions left unanswered, though. Why did Alteans evolve out this ability? What is the purpose of their bodies harnessing so much quintessence in the first place? And, more importantly, did this issue solely reside in their species and only their species?

You had no time to figure it out. Not when the fractured Empire was at your heels.

“I will let him know. Now, excuse me,” you gave the old lady’s hand a gentle squeeze before heading out the door, right where Kylan was waiting.

Clearly, he was out of breath from rushing. That told you he had something of utmost importance to share with you. It didn’t take a single word from him for you to hear the message loud and clear. You read it on his face. The way hope filled his eyes, the small smile, his relaxed albeit disheveled posture. The nod of confirmation when your own questioning gaze widened in disbelief.

“They’ve returned with Sincline.”

You did not even respond back as the two of you quickly jogged to the ship’s hangar. They succeeded. Against all odds, the Paladins actually succeeded. When the doors slide open, there, lying flat on the steel floor, was Sincline in all its glory. Surrounding the mech were the lions and their respective Paladins. You halted besides the group, filled with both stunned silence and doubtful hope.

Yes, that was the mech.

But why wasn't the Emperor coming out of…

“Doctor. Kylan.” The Black Paladin called for your attention, taking it away from the threatening glowing eyes of Sincline, “There has been...a complication.”

“Tell me.”

“Sincline is operational. However,” Lotor folded his arms across his chest and sighed heavily, “It is hostile.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Hostile? What do you mean hostile?”

“What he means is,” Ezor rubbed her neck a bit nervously, “Sincline has chosen to close itself off. No one can get him out of there. The robot is refusing to open.”

“It is a safety precaution. I have seen this before,” Lotor explained as clearly as he could. “The same way only the lions get to choose their Paladins. Sincline chooses who will be worthy to pilot it.”

Now, it made sense. Sincline was denying entry to anyone who got close to it. No one here was worthy in its eyes. Not you, not Kylan, and not even this alternate reality version of Lotor. You needed to know whether the Emperor was alive or not. For the Empire, yes, but with that sickening clench gripping your chest, you needed to know...for yourself, too.

“Emperor Lotor...he is trapped in there,” the Black Paladin bowed his head to the floor, “I can not force Sincline to accept me. I am not its pilot. There is nothing else I can do to help.”

“Sincline is sentient,” you pointed out, “If that’s so...it is watching us. It can hear us.”

Kylan jutted his chin up a bit at your claim, “Yes. If Sincline was made from the same material as Voltron, then it is entirely possible to communicate with it.”

“Isn’t it obvious what needs to be done?”

Now, all pairs of eyes looked at you in question, waiting for your answer. You did this before and it worked. It was time to test that theory again, especially for Emperor Lotor’s sake. For the Empire’s sake. For the universe’s sake. The lions were living beings. There was no reason to believe Sincline would be any different.

“We have to convince it.” Unconsciously, your hand came up to rub at your shoulder, phantom pains reminding you of that fateful day you were shot, “We have to convince Sincline that we are here to help Lotor.”

“Even if Sincline allows it, we do not know what sort of risks lie with this new type of mech,” Kylan countered while holding his chin in thought, “It could be a trap. Animals have been known to lead prey, even those with the most innocent intentions, to their doom.”

“But what if it was someone Lotor recognizes? You worked alongside with him while building the colonies. He trusts you. He knows you. Perhaps the familiarity will lead Sincline to trust you, too.”

Silence. The group all turned to gaze up at the still mech, feeling its eyes warily watch them. Judge them. Listen to them. Sincline was thinking, planning. Learning. It could peer into each and every one of those mortal’s souls. Their past, their present, and even their future. Two of them were truly Lotor’s allies, but only one of them was vastly more important than the other.

“If what you say is true, and we go through with this, you realize what must be done, doctor,” Kylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I can not take that risk considering my responsibility with the colony, with Lotor’s work.”

It was like Kylan said long ago. He would help you find the Emperor, but his aid ended when the potential danger outweighed the cost of him staying alive.

“...I know,” came your answer, unwavering in the face of uncertain grounds, “I will do it, Kylan.”

You trusted Lotor. He had to be in there. You would go into the mind of Sincline, where no soul has ever delved into before, where the unknown most certainly tipped between life and death, where your Emperor laid waiting. Just like Lotor, you had to plan this carefully. Cautiously. For even you knew that it only took one mistake to ruin everything you worked so hard to achieve.

Up to this point, you had nothing to lose. If you died, then your problems would be done and over with. Now, though. Now, you survived this long. You were this close to saving Lotor. Just one more step, you told yourself. The work of a doctor is never done. There will always be lives to rescue, so why was this any different? Why was his any different?

Because you believed in him. You saw first hand what he is capable of. His story is not over. He was the key to saving the universe. Not Voltron. Not through brute force, but the raw determination to build a better future, regardless of what happened in the past. Lotor’s will to bring peace to the galaxy was real.

And you knew as any other did that, although hope is a strong motivator, it takes action to truly accomplish impossible goals.

You knew what had to be done and you would do it for the future the both of you believed in. 

[selfdulgent-selfinsert]

Caught in the Middle. (A self-indulgent, reader insert) Chapter 19:

“You should be more careful sunflower…” Ruviks voice rang through the silence, forcing you to jump in your seat. Spinning around to face him. Standing, no, towering above you with his indifferent gaze; his eyes seemed to glow in the light that danced like fire. “Ruvik… I- I’m sorry…” You trailed off but Ruvik wasn’t going to let you finish anyway. “You are not in trouble this time sunflower. Since you so vehemently insist upon interfering with my work, I have no choice but to let you go about.” He crossed his arms behind his back, his stare turning quizzical. “A beautiful variable, but a troublesome one none the less.” He crouched down and cupped your cheek with his scarred hand; it was rough and cold. “You are so precious to me sunflower… more then you could ever know…” His voice took a stern tone. “But make no mistake. If you become a problem or put yourself into too much trouble I will remove you completely from this equation.” His stare was intense, encapsulating as it pulled you closer to him; into his wed though would you be eaten? You had no idea. His thumb rubbed across your bottom lip, tugging the flesh around and pulling your jaw open to rest on your tongue. You couldn’t describe the taste but something about it felt so right, pushing you forward again to consume more of his digit. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a smirk and he released a guttural noise as you closed your mouth around him. Why you seemed to be so compliant was beyond you but like a pet, you seemed to feed off the reactions of their master. Ruvik had wormed his preverbal fingers into your brain and was refusing to let go, caressing your lobes so wonderfully to push you into his hands. Like putty you melded to him as he wanted, the further you were the harder it was to hold you so tightly, but Ruvik being the inquisitive man decided to let you run around for a while. Like plants surely you craved fresh air, to feel the sun on your petals. With somewhat of a tight leash he would let you be, perhaps distance could make your heart grow fonder; to grow and desire him, his company, his touch. “Such a precious treasure you are…” Ruvik pushed his thumb between your lips. Truly the sight was obscene with your compliant, glazed eyes and how your body pushed into him, forcing him farther into your wet mouth. He so badly wished to put your mouth to other things, but now was not that time, for now, he would savor such a sight until he could fully pull you away. “Such a sight you make sunflower… delicious.” He really could watch you like this forever, he intended to keep you forever. To his surprise, you began to suckle gently on his skin, careful not to graze or damage it. He let out a light chuckle in response, forcing his thumb in deeper and gripping your jaw and prying it open. “Such a naughty thing too…” He pulled you by the jaw father up the stairs you both had been perched on, his thumb pressing down into your tongue. You were so close he could almost kiss you; your body strained to stretch behind and upwards. His thumb dug into your tongue and drug its way out of your mouth, Ruvik then attacked you with his lips. It was suffocating and the amount of pressure hurt, but it was nice. It made your spine shiver and desire pool in your pelvis once more. He held you in place, unrelenting to share dominance. Though he separated, his contact controlled and fleeting. Your body chased after him as he let you go and stood once again to his full height. Your body followed, trying to seek more of his touch, desperate to continue. “You’ll have to behave if you want more dear sunflower… behave.” Ruvik cocked his head to the side, having you right where he wanted you. With that he vanished again, glitching into the void and leaving you in silence. The room seemed to swallow you in its emptiness for what felt like years; crouched still on the stairs unsure if you could move. As if somehow the noise you’d make shifting would disturb the stuffy silence which held you in place. Part of the stone wall in front of you moved, making a grinding sound as it slid upwards, revealing Sebastian after the small cloud of dust and dirt settled back onto the floor. “(Y/N!)” Shouting as he ran over to you, dropping to his knees and sweeping you up into his arms. “I’m so glad you're safe… I was so worried about you! Did it hurt you?!” Sebastian began inspecting you, checking carefully and gently. His hands sent warmth all over your body, still coming down from the euphoria Ruvik infected you with. Closing your eyes as the warmth was so gentle and entrancing; you leaned on Sebastian, resting your head on his shoulder, moving with his breath. “Ruvik was here…” Mumbling into his best and straps. Sebastian’s grip tightened around you, pulling you closer. His warm body in contrast with the freezing stone. “I won’t let him hurt you (y/n). I promise.” You leaned back to peer in Sebastian’s eyes. “Sebastian, Ruvik… Ruvik loves me…” His face was blank in response, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t been clear on your relationship but you obviously knew him. Your eyes felt sore, agitated as you began to weep your hands coming up to hold onto Sebastian’s vest. “H- He doesn’t care about you… He doesn’t care about Joseph, Leslie or Jimenez… I don’t know what he’s doing but he doesn’t care if he hurts you…” Sebastian was silent, in awe of your omission, sure Ruvik had never shown him anything other than murderous intent but the reality hit him hard. A wave of “this is really happening” ran over him, you perhaps were the only one safe from his wrath, he was almost envious of your blatant heaven while ignorant of the hell Ruvik had given you. “I don’t want you to get hurt Sebastian but I don’t know what to do… Ruvik, he makes me feel so strange; like a warm dream but when he’s gone I just want to run away. I’m scared, Sebastian! I don’t know what to do!” Your eyes shut tight as you sobbed, emotion leaking into your body and forcing shakes out with every sob. The climax of your breaking finally happening; Sebastian pulled you back against him, shushing you quietly while wiping your tears, his free hand rubbing your back gently. It was ugly cry time but you felt better with Sebastian there, his actions telling you he was more than willing to help you. “It’ll be okay (y/n)… we’ll figure this out. We will get out of here.” He lay a kiss to the top of your head and waited for you to calm down and let it all out. Surely you needed it now more than ever. Time in here didn’t feel like anything, it could feel stagnant or rush by faster than you could register, crying was one of the latter times. In reality, it was only a few minutes in which you spent sobbing but Sebastian sat with you and kept rubbing your back. Wiping your tears again after you finished. “Thank you…” your voice was small and quiet, sore after crying. He patted your head and lifted you up with him, thinking about how light you were. “Let’s keep going… nothing good can come by staying here.” He pulled out a stone slab from only god knows where, as it couldn’t have fit in his pocket but he placed it into another gap on the same stone slab as the previous piece. As if it was the missing key, the slab lifted up once more to reveal the staircase which the large safe monster had disappeared down. Its darkness radiating and ominous. You gulped as Sebastian took you both into the darkness, though a heavy latched door into a long hallway covered in what looked like mines and spikes on the ceiling. The monster rang out from the other end of the hallway, beating its large hammer against its head; the loud clang reverberating down the hallway. The ceiling began to drop in segments, the spikes dropping to the floor as they quickly came for the two of you but thankfully you hadn’t gone that far down the hallway and Sebastian was able to step you both out of an untimely painful demise. The sound still rang in your ears as the plates lifted and retreated back into the ceiling. With no choice but to move on you were carried down the hall. Getting the chance to notice the Iron Maiden caskets that fit so snugly into small outcroppings in the wall. You could see limbs and decaying flesh peeking through the cracks in the doors. Reaching the middle of the hall sent gears whirring and the door behind you slammed shut, plates once again crushing the floor behind you. Sebastian still held onto you as he began running through the minefield, hoping to escape. The only way out beginning to slide shut slowly, teasingly as if to mock you both. The last door slamming shut as you barely made it under the door. Sebastian set you down and panted, running while carrying you couldn’t be easy but you hugged him tightly in thanks, letting him catch his breath while watching for anything harmful. There were more safes scattered around the floor but you couldn’t see much as the hall took a sudden left turn and you couldn’t see through walls. Eventually, Sebastian stood upright and took your hand, leading you around the corner. “Leslie!!” You basically shouted. He was trapped in a cell, bound by chains and a heavy lock. You couldn’t break this one though you smushed your face into the bars in an attempt to phase through and be closer to Leslie. In a calmer voice, you spoke. “Leslie, Leslie sweetie it’s okay I’m back. I’m here Sweetie!” He clung to you through the bars as best he could, sobbing and shaking. “Leslie, you’re safe. Where’s --?” Leslie cut Sebastian off, mumbling the first half of the missing officer’s name. “Is she here? Is she alright?” Again Leslie cut Sebastian off by repeatedly mumbling the last half of his question. Sebastian put his hand on your shoulder to pull you away from the bars. “Stand back, I’ll get it open.” He then proceeded to slam his foot down on the chain, snapping it in two, leaving the doors to swing open and you to rush into Leslie who threw himself on you. “Get it open… Get it open… “Leslie spoke into your shoulder as he picked at his hands frantically from stress. Sebastian moved over to an adjacent door and began to crank it open while you tried to calm Leslie. Though as the door finally raised another piercing ring burst into the air, invading your minds. Leslie screaming and running blindly into the stairwell, you managed to chase after him but only made it past the doorway as Sebastian screamed to wait. You were torn between them as Leslie disappeared into the darkness, triggering something that forced the door behind you to drop. The bars spreading you from Sebastian before a Solid door dropped down though it didn’t close all the way. A decent crack under the door allowing the light to slip in. You dropped to the ground calling out to Sebastian but his attention was elsewhere; the monster from earlier materializing from a safe scattered in the floor. It’s roar loud and full of rage. “Sebastian?!” Calling out to him, no goal really in mind but more because of concern for your friend. You could only see the monster's feet as it slowly lumbered towards where you knew Sebastian had been standing. Faster receding footsteps and gunshots could be heard alongside the beast, eventually leaving you alone as you kept calling out, like a lost puppy. “SEBASTIAN??! SEBASTIAN!?”

[claitynroberts]

A Tale of Two Alphas: Chapter 2

Summary: (A/B/O alternate universe) After running  from her family, (y/n), a female Alpha, turns to a life of hunting. Answering a call from Bobby to assist Garth and two other hunters on a vamp mission in Branson, she meets Sam and Dean Winchester. Determined, independent, and sassy as hell, Dean can’t control himself around her; causing him to become a not-so-smooth wannabe ladies man. When her family comes after her determined to make her take her place in the familial hierarchy, will (y/n) allow Dean to help out? Or will she give into her family’s wishes?

Word Count: 3471

Characters: FemaleAlpha!Reader, Alpha!Dean, Beta!Sam, Beta!Garth, Beta!Bobby

Pairings: FemaleAlpha!Reader X Alpha!Dean, all other pairings platonic

WARNINGS: strong language, canon violence, a woman not taking shit from anyone, smut (inevitable), A/B/O dynamics (heats, ruts, scenting, claiming, etc.)

(In my A/B/O au all genders are the same as the typical A/B/O rules/dynamics, except female alpha’s, in which mine are not hermaphroditic nor do they experience ruts. Instead they have typical lady parts and also experience heat cycles.)

Read Chapter 1 HERE | Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Badass Barbie & Zoolander

After a few hours of arguing and bickering and reviewing all the collective case information, the four hunters finally came to an agreement. The vamp nest was located in a derelict house on the outskirts of the city. With the numerous amount of vics that had gone missing over the last few weeks, discovering a pattern was difficult. Without a specific victim demographic to go by, because both young and old, male and female, had gone missing, discovering where to begin the stakeout was damn near impossible.

Currently, the four hunters were gathered in a circle behind their vehicles. Each hunter was gearing up, pocketing extra stakes and syringes of dead man’s blood while strapping on machetes. (Y/n) removed her leather jacket and rummaged around in her duffel looking for something, completely unaware Dean was watching her as she did. After a moment she pulled out a black vest and slipped it on over her Bon Jovi t-shirt. With a flick of her wrist she zipped its short zipper and began sliding her own stakes and syringes into the loops and pockets covering the front. By the time she was done, six stakes wrapped around her rib cage, three on each side of the middle zipper of the vest. Above them six syringes of dead man’s blood rested in a similar fashion, causing Dean’s eyebrows to quirk up.

He’d been trying to get a read on her standing since he met her this afternoon, but something was blocking her scent. Dean thought she was probably an Omega, but something about the way she carried herself and travelled alone made him dismiss the thought quickly. If Alpha females weren’t so rare, that’s what he’d peg her as; no, she was more likely a Beta.

Still going about the process of gearing up, (y/n) pulled a total of four machetes out of one of the motorcycle’s saddlebags. With the help of a couple sheaths, she strapped two to her legs, one on the outside of each thigh; two more rested across her back, with the handle of each in easy reach behind her head. Cracking her knuckles she slipped on a pair of black fingerless gloves, slipped her leather jacket into the duffel, and picked up the forty-five caliber pistol, tucking it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. Better to have it and not need it, she thought.

As she turned around she noticed Dean was staring at her, an unreadable look on his face. The other two men finished gearing up and turned toward the group. Clearing his throat Dean spoke up, attempting to redeem himself from earlier in the afternoon. “Okay, we pair off. Two go around back and two come in the front. Guns blazing from two directions...figuratively, of course. Hopefully we’ll catch ‘em unaware and get this over with. Wham, bam, thank ya ma’am.”

Squinting her eyes and pursing her lips (y/n) looked him over. “Sounds doable,” she said. “How we gonna team up?”

“Me and Garth will go in the front. You and Dean, go in the back,” Sam offered.

She glanced up at Dean, a strange feeling beginning to bloom in her chest. He looked incredulous, as if Sam had asked him for a kidney...or maybe a testicle. (Y/n) scowled and pushed that strange feeling far from her mind.

“Wh-what if I wanted Garth?” Dean stammered.

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Sam asked, confused at his brother’s reaction.

“I don’t want to be stuck with Zoolander over here,” (y/n) Said derisively, crossing her arms and popping a hip. Fuck it, if he didn’t want to team up with her, she didn’t want to be paired up with him either.

“Oh, so you think I’m really, really ridiculously good looking?” Dean quipped with a smirk. He was playing it cool, but her hostility was beginning to grate at his nerves. Though his body and his brain obviously weren’t on the same page, he noted, as his jeans became a little tighter and a foreign feeling stirred in his belly.

Rolling her eyes, (y/n) retorted. “No. I’m calling you dumb, Shit-for-brains.” She crossed her arms and rounded on him, bowing up on the man a foot taller than her.

Dean looked aghast, and (y/n) had to smother a self-satisfied smirk. “Would you idjits quit bickering.” Garth broke in. “Look we have a job to do, y’all can fight later. Y’know after we gank these beasties.” He broke away from the group to find a twig, which he broke into three pieces differing in length. “We’ll draw straws, or I guess in this case twigs, for partners. Shortest straw will go with me in the front of the house, the other two...you’re on your own with the back.” He shrugged.

Sam, Dean, and (y/n) each grabbed a piece of the broken stick, revealing them a few seconds later. As eyes scanned the piece of wood each hunter held, it turned out Sam had drawn the short stick. He grinned, waving it around. “Oh c’mon!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m stuck w-with…Badass Barbie over here?” He stammered.

“Them’s the breaks, Deano,” replied Garth as he and Sam turned to leave. “Oh,” he said, turning back around. “I uh—I wouldn’t piss her off too bad,” he finished with a wry smile at (y/n) and Dean.

“Be ready to storm the nest in five minutes,” Sam said as they walked away.

Snorting and rolling her eyes (y/n) turned on her heel and began tromping toward the woods. “Wh-what are you doing?” Dean hollered after her.

“Heading toward the back of the house, Winchester.” She rolled her eyes as she walked on.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to—“

“Do not finish that sentence. We skirt the edge of the forest around to the back of the house. The foliage gives us extra cover from the vamps’ eyes.” She said as she marched forward pushing low-hanging limbs out of her path. She stopped just before another much larger and bushier limb, a wicked glint in her eye. Spinning around she looked at Dean, storm clouds in her eyes and a steely exterior. He looked taken aback, though whether it was by her previous words or the sudden about-face, she wasn’t sure.

“Listen here, Winchester,” She began. “This is a pretty cut and dry case. If you can’t be more intelligent than this you’re going to need to go sit in that precious Impala of your’s. I’ll be damned if you pull a wrong move and get me killed tonight,” she seethed. Too many emotions for him to name swirling in her eyes as they stared at each other.

Dean’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water. Leveling a finger at him she continued, punctuating each sentence with a sharp jab to his pec muscle. “When we’re finished here, I’m going to eat some dinner, get shit-faced drunk, and pass out in a plush bed at the ritziest hotel in this hellhole of a tourist destination. Capice?” She cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment, waiting for a reply. With a chuckle she lightly smacked his cheek and turned around, pushing through the limb and letting it fly back in Dean’s flabbergasted face. When the foliage made contact, she giggled to herself.

Dean was left pulling leaves from his mouth and rubbing a hand over his very sore pectoral. A snarl ripped out of his chest as he followed her through the woods. Damn, the more time he spent with her the more he wanted to put a fist through (y/n)’s teeth, and the more a certain body part wanted to insert itself in a completely different hole. God, he had to get himself under control.

A couple minutes later (y/n) and Dean were crouched in the flora on the edge of the woods about thirty yards from the back of the house. “T-minus thirty seconds,” (y/n) said as she glanced at her watch.

“Listen, we need to talk,” Dean replied.

“Unless we can have the conversation in, oh, about twenty seconds, ain’t happening, Winchester.”

“I just wanna make sure—“

“As long as we are all making smart decisions we will all walk out of here alive. Simple as that.”

He looked at her incredulously. Sammy’s safety was always foremost in his mind, and how she picked up on that he didn’t know.

“It’s go time,” she said as she watched the hands tick down the last few seconds. Rising from her position she walked toward the house, a woman on a mission. Dean trotting along behind her trying to catch up.

As they approached the back door, Dean moved forward giving it a solid kick right above the lock. Breaking it inward and allowing them entry. (Y/n) unsheathed the two machetes at her back and slipped in first; blades raised and at the ready, taking in the scene around her. The kitchen was clear, as was the dining room to the side. A crash came from the front of the house as Sam and Garth forced their way in as well. A moment later a larger commotion broke out. Exchanging looks, Dean and (y/n) rushed through the house and into the living room where the other two hunters were squaring off with eight vamps.

The dingy floors and peeling wallpaper lent itself to the sinister atmosphere of the dilapidated house. “You take Asshat and Buttface,” (y/n) motioned to two vamps on the left. One was a college frat type and the other was just...ugly. “I’ll take Swazye and Pimple-face,” She motioned to the two on the right. Making eye contact with Dean, the two nodded at each other and jumped into action.

With a guttural snarl, (y/n) leaped forward swinging the machetes in an arc toward Swayze. Before he knew what was coming, his head was rolling on the floor and his body slumped into a heap. Flinging the hair out of her eyes she smiled down at the corpse. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” she grinned to herself at the joke. A second later Pimple-face came flying at her, fangs bared, knocking her to the ground. Her blades flying away. The vamp was on top of her in a flash, a hand at her throat squeezing hard.

“That was my boyfriend, bitch,” Pimple-face growled at her, threading her free hand in (y/n)’s hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to look at her. “I’m going to take pleasure in gutting and feeding on you.” She snarled with a face splitting grin. (Y/n)’s hand slipped between the two of them, reaching for her vest of munitions. Grabbing a stake from its spot on the vest, she shoved it cleanly up between the vamp’s ribs and into its heart, effectively incapacitating it. Kicking it off her, she stood to her feet and drew another blade.

“Guess I beat you to it,” she panted. Looking around (y/n) noticed there were a total of four vamps dead, her two, one of Dean’s, and one of Sam’s.

Sheathing her blade and picking up the two that were knocked away during her fight, she ran over to help Garth. He had already depressed a syringe of dead man’s blood into the vamp’s neck, and (y/n) took that as an opening to swing her machete through the air, slicing through flesh and gristle, separating its head from it’s body. “Garth, you alright?” She asked, panting as the body hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Yeah, I’m good. Nice slice,” he replied near breathlessly.

Together they spun on the remaining three vamps. Dean and Sam were each grappling with one, the third looked between Garth and (y/n). Realizing she was outnumbered she bolted out the door. “I’ll go after her, you stay and help the boys,” Garth called as he took off into the night, quicker than she thought he was capable of.

As she turned from the door, Sam was thrown across the room into a half-rotted wall, causing it to crumble down around him as he lost consciousness. As she swung the machete at the vamp, aim perfect for decapitation, it threw up a hand to parry the attack. The metal of the blade made a clanging noise as it landed on the time-worn hardwood floor across the room. She slid another stake from the vest spinning it lengthwise in her hand as she circled the vamp.

“You hunters and your need to save everyone,” he laughed darkly. “You’ve no idea what you all walked into.” Grinning he started moving in tandem with (y/n), both waiting for the other to make a move. “I’ll make it easy on you,” he said. “I’ll kill you first, then I’ll take out your boyfriend and gigantor over there. When the little squirrelly one comes back from chasing down Beatrice, I’ll end him too. All your deaths will be painless, of course.” A Cheshire Cat grin splitting his face.

(Y/n) chuckled. “I don’t think you know how this truly ends.” Slicing with the machete she drew the vamp’s block, leaving an opening to thrust up with the stake, catching him off guard. Kicking his knees out from under him she leaned down, covered in the blood of his fellow comrades, and snarled in his ear. “You’ll never win.” Grabbing him by the hair, she forced his face up to look at her. “You’re kind will never win.” She snarled, giving his head and extra jerk backwards. “That you can count on.” Gritting her teeth and raising her blade she made a clean cut through his neck. His body fell limp and his head dangled from her hand, her fingers still buried in his hair. Her chest rising and falling with the nights exertion.

Dean couldn’t help but watch her take out the vamp that threw Sam across the room. As infuriating as she was, he couldn’t help but be impressed by her. She was tough, fierce, and didn’t take shit from anyone, including him. Too focused on trying to discern what the feeling in his stomach and chest was, he didn’t catch the vamp coming at him until he was on the ground, pinned beneath the creature. As he struggled, the vamp brought it’s fangs dangerously close to his neck to rip out his throat. “Killing Dean Winchester. This is the greatest night of my life,” she hissed out with a chuckle. “Well,” she cocked her head to the side studying him for a moment, “at least top five.” A breathy laugh erupted from her chest as she moved back towards his carotid artery.

Attention drawn by the commotion on the other side of the room, (y/n)’s eyes fell on Dean pinned beneath the bloodsucker. A growl ripped from low in her throat as she delivered a swift hard kick to the vamp’s ribs, knocking her off Dean and down to the floor beside him. With a terrifying roar she dropped a knee to the vamp’s chest, raising the machete high above her head and swinging it down with all the force she could muster. The white-hot rage coursing through her imbedded the blade into the floor as the vamp kneed her in the ribs, knocking (y/n) off balance and into the corner.

Rolling to her knees, the vamp looked between Dean, sprawled on the floor cradling his left hand, and (y/n) desperately trying to wrench the machete from its place in the floor. A sneer appeared on the bloodsucker’s face as she spoke to (y/n). “I’ll kill you first, sweetie, so your mate can watch,” she turned toward Dean next, “then I’ll come for you.”

Forgetting the blade in the floor, (y/n) stood, reaching for one of the other weapons strapped to her body. Lightning fast, the vamp was on her; a hand around her throat pinned (y/n) to the wall as she slid her body up off the ground. (Y/n) scrambled, attempting to get purchase on something in order to take the crushing force off her windpipe. Desperately she clawed at the vamp’s hand, wheezing out words as she tried to come up with a game plan. “Go ahead. Kill me.” She choked out. “He won’t care,” her eyes darted to where Dean was struggling to get up. “I don’t know the guy.” Labored breath. “And he’s certainly not my mate.” She ground out.

“You humans are so blind,” she giggled. “I can smell the connection between you two.” The vamp lunged for (y/n)’s neck as a glint of silver metal flashed through the air. Her grip loosened immediately, and (y/n) slid down the wall quickly, her knees smacking the floor as her legs buckled under her weight.

Dean had risen unsteadily to his feet, pulling (y/n)’s machete from the floorboards. Seeing her at the mercy of the bloodsucker fueled a fire he didn’t know was burning deep within him. Once the creature had been executed, he slid down the wall beside her to gather himself. What was that, he thought. The only other people he was this protective over were Sam and Cas, and he borderline hated this girl...didn’t he? She was rude and crass and annoyingly bossy, why would he ever care about her that deeply? Sighing, he thunked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths of musty air to center himself.

(Y/n) knelt there for a moment, breasts heaving and covered in vamp blood, while her emotions began to wind down. As she tried to sort through where the rage came from when she saw Dean pinned to the ground, life hanging in the balance, she looked over to see him sitting against the wall beside her, eyes closed. Could the vamp be right, she thought as she took in his profile. As far as mates go it could be much worse, at least he’s somewhat attractive. He was awfully banged up. A few scratches and some lacerations around his neck and face, an injured wrist, it appeared, but altogether whole and very handsome.

Cracking an eye he caught her staring at him in his peripheral vision as a grin split his face. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” He didn’t miss the softness that had come over her features as she perused his injuries.

Rolling her eyes, she climbed to her feet and allowed her stoic mask to slam back into place. “C’mon, Winchester. Let’s grab Sam, case the rest of the place, and go find Garth,” she said as she reached out a hand to help him to his feet.

“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat, handing her blade back. “Yeah, I’ll get Sammy up, you check out the rest of the house. The three of us will clear the basement before we try to find Garth and the other bloodsucker.” His demeanor was back to normal, cocky and in-charge, even though he had one hand.

Snorting, (y/n) nodded her head and quietly cased the rest of the building. A few moments later, she came back into the living room, noting that Sam was up off the ground. Wobbly but at least he was awake. “The ground floor is clear, Winchester,” she said addressing the eldest.

“Right, good.” He replied. Together the three of them moved toward the basement door, Sam opening it as Dean led them down the steps, followed by (y/n). The stench of death hit them before they were able to make it to the last step. Fanning out, the hunters walked around the dim, dank basement checking for signs of life.

“All gone,” (y/n) called from her side of the room, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

“Same,” Sam said as he met her at the foot of the stairs.

“Yeah, so were mine,” Dean replied.

Pushing her emotions aside, (y/n) spoke up. “There’s too many to bury,” she said as she looked around the basement turned tomb. “We’ve gotta salt and burn them.” She looked between the brothers.

Breathing in deeply, Sam looked at Dean. “She’s right.” Dean merely nodded at him.

A few moments later the three were back in the basement, spreading salt around the room and across the bodies as they soaked everything in lighter fluid. They climbed up onto the staircase and took a last look at the carnage as Dean tossed the lighter into the pile of corpses. Once the fluid caught, the three hunters hurried out of the house, knowing it wouldn’t take long for the dried out wood to catch fire as well.

Tags: @captainsherlockwinchester110283 @speakinvain @katsanders @shamelesslydean

[creative-type]

Worth A Thousand Words III: Oda and Stealth Character Development

So...what’s the point of the Skypiea arc? It’s a question One Piece fans and detractors alike ask. I don’t know the answer, but it was probably because Oda thought it would be cool. By its very nature One Piece is not a tightly woven story. Rather, it’s  a sprawling adventure epic, and it does sprawl epically.

Skypiea is, however, an excellent arc when it comes to Straw Hat development, and today I want to focus on one scene in particular with regards to my favorite Nico Robin. 

No, not that one. 

While there is a certain significance to the fact that a survivalist like Robin would choose to side with the Straw Hats over the hugely powerful Enel, the moment Zoro catches Robin is more important to Zoro than Robin. He was the most openly against her, the one who trusted her the least for the longest amount of time. Here Oda is showing us in big flashing lights that, yeah, Zoro has accepted Robin as part of the crew. 

But I don’t want to talk about big, flashy character moments. I want to talk about this

Robin actually gets a pretty decent chunk of screen time during the Sky Island Saga as a whole. It was easier back then because Oda was juggling six main characters instead of nine, but it’s pretty easy to tell he was giving Robin special focus. 

This makes sense. Firstly, Robin was a former enemy, so there’s a need to separate Nico Robin from her Miss All Sunday persona. Secondly, as important as Robin’s dreams are to the narrative as a whole, her position on the ship is the only one that isn’t strictly necessary. Any pirate crew requires fighters, cooks, navigators and the like, but very few would deem  “archaeologist” as a position needing to be filled. So immediately after adding her to the crew Oda makes up a situation where Robin’s skills are helpful and necessary

In this scene Robin also establishes she’s the only one in the crew who’s even heard of the sky islands, while giving some much-needed wisdom to Nami. This, along with what we’ve seen in chapter 218 and the end of 217 gives us what we need to know about Robin’s personality and position in the Straw Hat’s crew. Then shortly after stealing Jaya’s eternal pose from Masira (showing off yet another skill usually relegated to Nami) Robin almost disappears from the narrative entirely and is largely absent from the Jaya sub-arc.

To be fair, up until this point she had been wearing Nami’s clothes, and Robin is, like, almost a foot taller than she is. Some shopping is justifiable here, but it brings me to one of the most important things to keep in mind when analyzing Robin as a character:

Isolation and Distance

One of the best ways to visually convey that a character is emotionally distant is to physically separate them from other people. When Robin first showed up as Miss All Sunday she was sailing the ocean alone. During her confrontation with the Straw Hats about their route she sat far above them where she couldn’t be touched. She left that argument with only her rad turtle ship for company, and spent a surprisingly large amount of the Baroque Works Saga apart from Crocodile despite ostensibly being his partner in crime.

Robin continues to be less than engaged after joining the crew. Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp  fool off with one another constantly. Sanji and Zoro fight. Even Nami is known to smack the rest upside the head when they’re being stupid. Robin alone sits above all their antics, not showing her first face fault in a series lousy with them until well after the timeskip.

It’s pretty easy to pick up in the dialogue that Robin never calls any of the Straw Hats by their actual names, preferring to refer to them by their occupation (or their nose, in Usopp’s case). But the use of impersonal nicknames can’t be the reader’s only clue to Robin’s personality. Both Vivi and Robin have a habit of calling Zoro “Mr. Bushido”, but while the desert princess is kind, personable, and if anything cares a little too much, Robin is distant, standoffish, and at times even cold towards others around her. 

You can even glean some insight from her fighting style. Robin doesn’t have to be in the same room with someone to kill them. She attacks from a distance, relying on stealth and surprise to snap necks and dislocate limbs. It’s brutally efficient and deeply impersonal, perfect for an assassin - or, perhaps, a young girl who was forced to learn on the fly how to fight against much larger opponents who showed no restraint or mercy.  

This is something that was emphasized more in the anime where they had the benefit of knowing Robin’s backstory ahead of time and working little clues into the post-Alabasta filler. They’re a little on the nose at times, but episode 131 is a good example of what I’m talking about here, especially when emphasizing the fact that during the early chapters after joining the crew Robin often doesn’t speak unless directly addressed. To quote Oda in the Volume 71 SBS:

Reader: Robin always talks about creepy things in front of the crew. But her own thoughts, she often thinks of fun stuff like “cats” or “Dress Rosa”. Why doesn’t Robin talk about these things with the crew to make them laugh?

Oda: Even though Robin likes cute things, she’s a bit dark/creepy herself, so if she tries to put these cut thoughts into words there is a chance it may come out as scary/ominous. That’s the kind of woman Robin is.

Robin censers herself to avoid sounding weird. There’s enough evidence of her macabre sense of humor (spoke aloud) to assume that she has embraced her morbid self...most of the time. But Robin has been an outcast her entire life. Even before the Buster Call the citizens of Ohara were calling her demon/monster/creep/insert appropriate insult here.

(For those who don’t remember, the bruise on her cheek is from the other kids who were throwing rocks at her )

Robin spends large stretches of the Skypiea arc by herself, which further emphasizes the importance of what group interaction we do see. Robin has been hiding behind a well-crafted facade for nigh on twenty years because she needed to be a demon in order to survive the cutthroat world in which she lived. 

Which takes us to point number two

Survival

Robin is all about living to see another day. Or she was until Crocodile shanked her (more on this below) Because of her past, she views the world through the lens of a survivor. It shapes how she thinks and how she acts, and Robin at this point doesn’t know any other way to live. 

Robin has been miserably lonely for a long, long time, but believes if she allows herself to get close to others they’ll betray her. She learned the hard way not to trust anyone and that to let your guard down is to die. We see in Alabasta that Robin isn’t afraid to use deadly force against those who get in her way. 

She’s got a bit of a mean streak, too. Though Robin didn’t kill Tagashi, she almost crippled her. That leg injury could have ended Tashigi’s career as a swordsman, which is almost crueler than killing her outright.

When Robin’s backstory is revealed in full the audience is always shown as Robin being the one betrayed, and never the betrayer. I think this helps garner sympathy, but her interaction with Crocodile shows that she’s not above a little backstabbing herself. Aokiji says that every organization she’s ever been a part of no longer exists, and I think that’s only possible if her reputation is at least somewhat deserved. When it comes to finding out the truth of the Void Century, Robin has literally the worst tunnel vision ever.

Which brings me to my last point

Openness to Change

Throughout the Sky Island Saga Robin is a woman who has lost her reason to live. Her only lead to the Rio Poneglyph was a dead end, and she doesn’t find Roger’s message until the end of the arc. That leaves a big chunk of time where she’s staying with the Straw Hats just because she can.

I think if she were as truly as fiercely pragmatic as she (and others) claim then she has no business on the Going Merry. Half of what the Straw Hats do is idiotic and should get them killed, and it’s amazing that they’ve survived this long as it is. Since Robin had resigned herself to death during the tail end of the Alabasta arc, we can assume that the idea of dying doesn’t bother her. Yes, Luffy made her go on, but she’s still stuck in this directionless limbo.   

This is important because it gives Robin something other to focus on than the Void Century. Her desire to find the True History consumed her to the point where she was willing to work with Crocodile for four years and bring a “good” country to the brink of ruin. Without this obsession driving every decision Robin makes, she can take a step back and see the Straw Hat Pirates for what they really are.

The Stealth Character Development

Robin is not the focus of chapter 253. It’s a transition chapter situated between the first and second halves of the Skypea arc. The Straw Hats have reunited had their obligatory split the party moment that happen with frighteningly regularity. The crew are setting up camp as night approaches, comparing notes of what they’ve discovered so far.

Until this point, Robin has been with Zoro and Nami. These two make up 2/3 of the Straw Hats who showed initial distrust to Robin, and at this point Zoro stil hasn’t accepted her as one of their own. Yet they treat her with respect, and Nami especially seems to look up to her as an older sister figure.

Then Nami finds the other half of Cricket’s house, and without hesitation Zoro follows the comparatively weaker crew mate through the incredibly dangerous forest, which displays a trust for one another that would be very appealing to someone like Robin.

When the Straw Hats finally reunite, everyone is on good terms with one another. Remember, at this they’ve have stumbled into the middle of a civil war, made enemies with an unknown entity with a god complex, branded themselves as criminals, and almost gotten their ship destroyed. Some of their misfortune is just that - misfortune. But bad decision making plays at least a part of their current circumstance. It would be easy to turn on one another, and I think most pirates would. Just see how Usopp reacts when he sees what’s happened to the Merry

Anyone who has read the Water 7 arc knows how much Usopp loves this ship, but his first concern is Chopper. Compare to how any one of the Baroque Works agents reacted when someone failed a mission. Instead of falling apart during a time of crisis, the Straw Hats come closer together. 

Chapter 253 begins with the crew setting up camp. Once again Robin goes off and does her own thing, this time finding a hunk of rock salt to use for cooking. Sanji predictably praises her, but he also reveals that he’s got a brain in his head by saying how important salt is to survival. Tick another box in the Straw Hat’s favor.

Every one of the Straw Hats helps set up camp, even the captain (useless as he may be). More than that, they each reveal a little of their talents. It’s sort of a reverse of what happens earlier in the arc when Robin showed off for the rest of the Straw Hat’s benefit. Through this Robin sees that the Straw Hats aren’t just good fighters, but smart and skilled as well. 

After establishing the location of the gold and making plans for the next day, Robin makes a practical suggestion

This sequence marks the beginning of Robin’s stealth character development. She’s speaking here as a pragmatist and a survivor. Her point is valid, and any sensible person would have agreed with her. 

The Straw Hat Pirates are many things, but sensible isn’t one of them. Luffy turns to Usopp in complete disbelief, while Usopp basically says “Go easy on her, Cap, there’s no way she could have known.”

Until this point, Robin has not been questioned by the Straw Hats. She’s not seen this sort of reaction directed at her, especially by Luffy. Her face says it all

Robin’s expression is pretty neutral here, but you can’t hide that sweat drop XD. She’s genuinely concerned that she’s made some sort of mistake. Remember, in Robin’s dog-eat-dog world a making a mistake is tantamount to death. She’s spent twenty years allying with people who at the very least distrust her, and more often than not try to kill her. And now, stuck up in in such a precarious position 10.000 meters above ground she has to be especially careful.

It’s okay, Robin, you’ve not done anything wrong. Luffy is just a dork

Note that Nami - the other survivalist in the crew - immediately jumps to her defense. They’re outnumbered by Zoro and Sanji, who have already made a giant bonfire. 

Before we know it, the Straw Hats are partying with a bunch of wild wolves (Oda, plz...). They’re stuck deep in enemy territory on the night before a planned raid on the city of gold...and the Straw Hat Pirates are having a blast. Usopp’s playing the drums, Nami’s getting plastered, the rest are dancing their little hearts away, and Robin...Robin is smiling. This has got to be one of the most surreal, bizarre situations she’s ever seen.

 Which brings us back to the image I started with

This says a lot about where Robin is at this point in the story. We can’t see her face clearly, but it’s established on the other half of the spread that she’s enjoying herself. Yet she remains distant, both physically and emotionally. The only thing that’s keeping Robin from joining in is Robin herself.

The Skypiea arc is important to Robin’s development because it rekindles her dream, but more than that it gives us moments like this where Robin is exposed to something she’s desired for twenty years, something we see later she’s always wanted but never believed that she would have.

The Straw Hat Pirates accept Robin unconditionally and show her a side of life that she’s never seen before. Even without knowing her entire backstory, by the time the Water 7 arc rolls around the audience genuinely believes that Robin would sacrifice her life, and the lives of every one else in the world, just to save the Straw Hat Pirates, and that wouldn’t be possible if Oda hadn’t given us this scene and others like it. 

To put it another way, I fully believe that Robin would still make the same decisions during Water 7/Enies Lobby regardless of whether she found Roger’s message or not. The Skypiean Poneglyph furthers Robin’s part of the plot, but chapter 253 furthers her character arc.

What makes this all the more impressive is that Oda trusts his readers enough to figure it out for themselves. Unlike the anime, he never calls attention to Robin’s isolation and her gradual warming to the crew. Gan Fall wakes up on the very next page, and the focus shifts to more exposition, ending with the big reveal of what vearth is and why in the it’s so important. The development is stealthy. 

Oda never makes a big deal of when Robin starts calling the crew by their real names during Thriller Bark. He doesn’t shove it in our face when she feels comfortable enough to tell Franky off for being stupid in Chopper’s body during Punk Hazard. He’s constantly using small moments all throughout the series to show how the crew has changed and grown, which is partially why people don’t think the characters have much depth.

It’s there, but without reading carefully it can be lost with everything else that’s going on. Just compare the Skypiean party to the end of Enies Lobby and tell me that Robin hasn’t changed. I dare you.

[greasygyeom]

TItle: Backseat

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: It’s a wild ride. Yugyeom x Reader. Foreplay (maybe?)

“Noona, shift, fast.”

You look up to see Bambam waving at you urgently.m

“What where? What the fuck?” you ask absolutely puzzled.

“We don’t have time, just shift up a bit” he says getting in. “Mark hyung also has to fit in the back seat”

“Shift where B? There won’t be enough space for four of us.”

“Just sit on Yugyeomah, don’t be dramatic.”

You gape at him blankly. You really don’t want to spend an entire car journey propped up awkwardly on Yugyeom’s thighs but don’t seem to have much of a choice. You move yourself up slowly, trying not to inconvenience him and make eye contact; literally witnessing his soul leave him. He proceeds to look into his bag, that’s kept between him and Bambam, while you proceed to sulk.

“I just don’t see why Mark can’t sit in your lap, he’s probably lighter.” You mumble slyly, only to be caught by Bambam. “Noona, you’re the shortest. Your head is the only head that won’t bump the roof of the car.”

Of course, you pinch his waist rather demonically for that statement.

“Hurting me wont make it untrue,” he wails. You dig your nails in a little further until he apologises frantically.

“Ssh, keep it low, don’t wake them up.” You point at the front seats where Jackson had already managed to quietly slip into the passenger side, to sleep peacefully, like the rest of them.

You hear a heavy sigh escape from behind you. His breath on your neck sends a shiver down your limbs. He shifts under your weight, pulling you towards him, and you find your lower body mimicking his curvature; your ass fitting perfectly in the dent between his waist and legs.

“Noona, are you comfortable?”

“Yeah.” You reply, looking back at him. “I’m the one sitting on you, don’t worry about me, I feel bad already.”

“I’m good. I can’t even feel you, yet.” His eyes, in that moment, look sinful; like he was conspiring an entire plan to devour you whole. You feel a familiar tension rise between the two of you, the one that makes your heart race, the one you constantly choose to ignore; the one even Bambam knows about and occasionally brings up in private conversations.

“Noona he’s shit scared of you.”

“Good.”

“You are so weird. Why can’t you just admit it”

“B, I’ll admit it when there is something to admit.”

“Don’t lie to me, I know you too well. You want him; and I know him too well too.”

You feel his left hand lightly graze your thigh and rest around your stomach. Simultaneously, an alarming amount of heat travels through your body like forest fire, destroying everything in its way.

Your eyes travel to Bambam, to check if he witnessed this interaction. He looks knocked out cold, conveniently with his headphones in.

“How does it feel, noona?” He whispers into your ear.

“How do you want me to feel Yuggie?”

His other hand coils around your thigh, gently parting your legs, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts.

Your breath wavers, as a sharp gasp escapes your mouth.

“That’s exactly how.” He says digging his teeth into your back through your tshirt.

“Fucking brat.” You curse under your breath, wondering how fast this would turn into a disaster if anyone was to wake up. But perhaps this lingering threat turns you on even more. You start to rotate your hips, looking around cautiously with a straight face, even though the chances were slim. It was half past midnight after all.

His grip around you tightens, pushing you harder onto the bulge that was now begging to be let out.

“Fuck, noona, don’t do that.” His voice is heavy with a lust. “Not in the car!”

An evil grin shines in your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be playing games you can’t win then baby.”

He finds his way inside your tshirt to get back at you for making him restless with your hip movements. You bite in a moan as he loosens your bra and squeezes your breasts without any mercy to spare. With his other hand he discovers a secret way into your underwear thanks to your loose shorts.

He strokes you cautiously, your wetness sticking to his fingers, making your insides throb faster than a metronome on codeine.

You continue to grind on him rhythmically - forwards and backwards - slowly, softly, enticing him into a trance. He buries his lips deep in your neck, mouthing profanities.

“Noona I swear I’ll make you pay for this. You’re making me so hard in the back seat of a fucking car without even touching me properly.

“Imagine what would happen to you if I did.”

He growls and thrusts his hips upwards as soundlessly as possible.

"Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“But you’re gonna have to control yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because in about 20 minutes we’ll reach your dorm.”

“Fuck you, noona.”

You shift all of your weight to his left thigh, turn your spine at an odd angle to face him, look straight in his eyes and tease, “I’d like to see you try Yuggie.”

You’re barely in a comfortable position but with his protrusion drilling into your butt through your clothes, his fingers leaving trails of desperation all over your sensitive spots, you’re tempted to surrender yourself. You lay the back of your head to rest on his shoulder. He extracts his hand from below and licks his index finger before inserting it into your mouth.

In. Out. In. Out.

You press your body harder into his coiling your left arm around his neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair.

In. Out. In. Out.

Your tongue is furiously slithering its way around his slender finger, your teeth occasionally digging into his flesh. You shift up and place your free hand on the mountain peaking through his pants, playing around it, making his body tremble in agony. You can feel his heart beat its way out of his chest and into yours. The synchronisation is impeccable.

You bite at his finger rather harshly, causing him to curse a little louder than expected.

“We should stop.”

He curls both his hands around your waist tightly and pouts “Why? I don’t want to you stop.”

“Because one more left and we’ll come to a stop and everyone will wake up.”

You can still feel him stiff under you and it takes every ounce of control in you to not dry grind him again.

Taking in a long deep breath he hides his face in the nape of your neck, placing soft kisses on your skin. “I can’t stop picturing you naked Noona.”

You giggle, still dizzy from the events of the last hour, “imagine a very angry naked Jaebum instead.”

“Ew.”

“Eewwww” you repeat, mocking him the same way he mocks anything remotely mushy done by Jackson or Mark.

He narrows his eyes in displeasure. The car turns left. Seizing his last chance for the night he pulls you into a bone crushing back hug tilting your head in his direction and places a gentle kiss on your lips. The heat released between the two of you feels like a 20kg block of solid hot metal cutting through a frozen lake.

You kiss him with an urgency of wanting to taste every part of him and pull back as the apartment building comes into sight.

There’s that silly grin again on his face. You quickly nibble at his nose before elbowing Bambam.

“Bitch, get up.”

You shift from Yugyeom’s lap to Bambam’s as everyone slowly stirs out of their deep slumbers.

“I can’t feel my fuckin legs and its your fault.” You exclaim causing Jinyoung to look back.

The immediate change in your demeanour  throws Yugyeom off his centre.

“Why is your mouth so wide open are you waiting for a fly to enter it, Yugyeom?” Jinyoung asks.

He completely ignores the question and slides his side of the door open.

“Fuck my life my knees literally don’t exist anymore.”

“It’s all because you’re short Noona.”

“Shut up Bambam”, you roll your eyes, giving him a hug” I’ll see you guys soon.“

Saying bye to the six of them takes up an extra half an hour of your life, and then you turn toYugyeom.

There’s that look in his eyes again, this time a confirmation that he really wants to devour you whole. You bite your lips. “Bye Yuggie.” You go up on your toes and fling your arms carelessly around him, feeling his heart accelerate along with yours.

“Bye Noona.”

“Oh and next time I’m not going to let you go.” He slyly slips into your ear.

You smirk to yourself and gently nibble at his neck.

“And there will be no clothes.”

[artificialqueens]

The Parent Trap (Biadore) [Chapter Six] - Henny

A/N: I am baccckkk!!! Thank you so much to my readers for being so patient with me. I’ve been kinda busy lately, but I’m slowly starting to get the hang of my new schedule. ALSO, thank you so much for asking if I’m okay, YES, I am super duper fine, but of course, schedule is kinda driving me crazy. Honestly, I’ve had a writer’s block, too. So, I didn’t know where this story was going at one point. So thank you so much for sticking with me <3

I also know that this chapter is super messy but I’m just trying to keep the whole story going :) So, if you stick around a bit more, it’ll get better. I’m just a few more chapters away from Biadore <3

OH! And shout out to all of the fans who’s been with me 100%, you know who you are!!! :D

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Portia leaned back on the tree as she watched a bird fly to a nearby branch. She watched as it fluttered its wings before wrapping them around itself. The moon was high in the sky, casting a luminous glow around the camp. She shouldn’t be outside, not to mention it’s dangerous to be alone around this time.

She sighed deeply, the sound not quite heard in the middle of the forest. She wrapped her jacket tighter as she waited another five minutes in the darkness.

CRUNCH.

Portia jumped as the crack of the leaves reached her ears. She turned faster than she thought possible. Her eyes landed on a silhouette, a tall black silhouette wearing a hoodie.

“Fuck, you scared me, dickhead.” She breathed and the silhouette said nothing, only holding out a key. She reached out for it before the figure pulled back and showed her an open palm. Portia rolled her eyes and fished out the $50 dollar from her jacket’s pocket.

“Here.” She placed the bill on the silhouette’s hand. The black figure let out an amused sound before handing her the key.

“You do know that this is illegal, right? I could get fired for this. I hope you know how risky this is for me.” The figure said as he shoved the bill in his jean pockets.

“You’re doing me a big favor, Steve. I won’t snitch on you, don’t worry.” Portia reassured. Steve mumbled a ‘whatever’ before slipping back into camp.

Portia grabbed her backpack from the ground, slung it over her shoulder and ran towards the cafeteria. The hall was very big and quiet, unlike how it is in the morning. She made her way through the chairs and tables stacked up, sneaking behind the counter to where the kitchen was located.

“Porsche, did you get it?” Taffy asked, crouched down behind the counter. Portia followed suit, crawling towards the stockroom. Portia didn’t answer, only showing her friend the shiny key.

“Where’s Bry?” Portia whispered, inserting the key into the lock. She turned it until she heard the soft click.

“He’s waiting by the backdoor. He’ll help us carry it and at the same time watch out for the adults..” Taffy answered as they entered the stockroom, standing up as soon as the door closed. Portia flipped the light switch, illuminating the room. Rows and rows of food and drinks lined the hall. This camp spared no dollar in making sure that they were fully stocked for the summer.

“Holy shit. Am I in the chocolate factory?” Taffy whispered in awe as her eyes skimmed over the stacks of chocolate and whipped cream in the fridge.

“We might as well be with this amount of chocolate. Come on. We don’t have much time.” Portia said as she shoved bottles of honey in her bag. She moved to another shelf to retrieve the bottles of ketchup and mustard. Taffy retrieved the two jars of mayonnaise Portia had given her, fitting easily in her bigger backpack. She then ran towards the fridge and grabbed the entire shelf of whipped cream.

As soon as they were satisfied with their loot, they tiptoed to the backdoor and opened it, startling Brian in the process.

“Holy shit. Why didn’t you guys knock or something? Fuck, I nearly–” He rambled before Taffy interrupted him

“Shut up, Bry! Your voice is going to wake up the whole camp, damn. Just– just get the big buckets of chocolate under the counter. We could use those.” She ordered. Portia looked over at her friend and smiled.

“I love the way you think, you know that?” Portia swooned as they walked towards their cabin. Taffy wrinkled her nose and giggled softly.

“I learned from the best. Come on, hurry up, slowpoke!” She teased before shoving Portia’s shoulder playfully. They had a short race to their cabin; Taffy won. The girls laughed as they settled their bags outside the door.

The two entered the cabin, to their surprise, everyone was awake.

“What are you guys doing up?” Portia asked and stared as everyone eyed them suspiciously. Brian entered the cabin, huffing in and out. “Guys, don’t make me do the heavy lifting alone! I can’t prank someone and be tired at the sam– oh shit.”

“UMMM! What he means is…” Portia tried to explain but a girl (Maria?) help up her hand.

“We know what you’re up to and we want to help.” Maria said with finality. The trio shared a nervous glance at each other.

“We don’t want to drag you into this… You don’t have to help us, we got this…” Portia continued, wringing her hands.

“They messed with our stuff, they already dragged us into this.” Maria said, moving her leg to kick the cooler in front of her, which Portia didn’t notice before. She peered on top of the cooler, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the water balloons.

“You got water balloons?” She asked, sounding like a child during Christmas, asking about her presents.

“Honey, some of them aren’t water…” Another girl… CHELSEA! smirked.

“Ewww… please tell me that’s not urine.” Taffy wrinkled her nose in disgust. Portia dropped the balloon in her hands as soon as the suggestion was brought up.

“Oh, God! No! I meant to say some are condiments like fish sauce and vinegar and stuff like that!” Chelsea clarified, chuckling after.

“I like you guys already.” Brian laughed as he hauled the cooler outside.

“So.. are we doing this or what?” Maria asked, already walking out of the door.

“Let’s go.”

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The team moved in the night quietly, carrying their supplies with them. They found the Winds cabin, lights off and silent. Perfect. They moved closer to their target, steps taken cautiously as they approached the door.

“Is it locked?” Chelsea asked. Portia tried the doorknob which turned with ease.

“Dumbasses.” Portia chuckled as she pushed the door, making sure not to emit any sound. The team huddled in the middle of the room and proceeded to put their plan into action.

Once they were done, they collected all traces of their visit, except the obvious ones. They retreated back to their own cabin, alarms already prepared to ring an hour earlier to watch their masterpiece at play.

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Nerissa’s alarm woke her up and everybody else. Of course, since they were all early risers, this was a normal occurrence. The sun had already seeped through their curtains. Nerissa smiled as she stretched, eyes still closed as she let her bones and limbs snap back into place It was a beautiful morning.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

Probably not. Nerissa eyes snapped wide open, shock entering her system as she took in the state of their cabin.

“What the hell?! OH MY GOD!” She heard Aaron shriek as he sat up from bed drenched in something sticky.

“FUCK. EW. EW. EW. SHIT GET IT OFF ME!!” Alex cried, dusting off something from her body. Nerissa didn’t see at first, but when her eyes landed on the big ass tarantula on Alex’s head, she nearly fainted.

“What the hell is going on?” Nerissa asked, shouting at no one in particular. Just then, she heard laughter from the window. Her eyes met the familiar ones through the screen; one smirked, one glared.

“YOU!” Nerissa growled. She stood up and was about to march outside until her foot got caught in something. She thought nothing of it, until a shitton of balloons fell on her head. Nerissa stood frozen in the middle of the room, too shocked to move a muscle. The smell of the fish sauce, vinegar, and soy sauce eventually filled her nostrils which caused her to gag and nearly throw up.

“THAT GIRL IS THE LOWEST PIECE OF SCUM I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED MY ENTIRE LIFE.” Nerissa exclaimed as she fell on the floor.

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“Geez… Calm down, Beyonce!” Portia laughed with her friends as they watched the whole cabin trip all over themselves, making them more look idiotic then they had intended.

“Good morning, you lot!” A woman had greeted, Portia didn’t take note of who it was, until Brian shook her arm to get Portia’s attention.

“Wha– holy fuck…” Portia’s smile dropped as she saw the woman, a councillor. Her eyes widened as the councillor approached the Winds cabin, announcing “Surprise inspection! First up! Winds!”

Portia ran as fast as she could, blocking the door from the woman.

“Ma’am, I don’t think you should go in there.”

The woman’s brows knitted together. “Why not?” she asked,

“One of the girls got sick, so it’s a complete mess! I heard about it, I was about to–” Portia tried to explain, her eyes lingering to the bucket perched on the door. Portia’s heart started to beat faster, fuck. This is going to fuck up her chance to be here. They’re going to send her home.

“Actually, no. We’re fine! Unless Ms. Noriega knows something we don’t.” Nerissa poked her head out, still soaked from God knows what. She clearly saw the reason for Portia’s near breakdown.

“See? Nothing to worry about, Dear.” The woman beamed, patted Portia’s shoulder, to comfort and move her. Portia whimpered as she moved to side. The councillor pushed the door and as expected, the whole bucket of chocolate poured on her head before the bucket fell on it.

“I told you it was a mess in here!” Portia exclaimed, watching the councillor pick herself up.

“She should know! She did it!” Nerissa accused, the other girl didn’t bother to deny it.

“Noreiga! Haylock! Pack your bags!”

The two girls looked at each other with hatred, shock, anger, and most of all; disappointment.

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The two girls sat side by side in front of the head counselor, Ms. Everett. They have never met her before because she was never meant to handle the children unless needed, and in their case it was definitely needed.

“So, do you want to tell me what happened?” She asked, her voiced etched with understanding.

“Well, Portia, here, sabotaged my cabin!” Nerissa did not hold back, she was not going to go home. She had tried so hard to convince her Dad that she was ready, and this will only prove him right and never let her out of his sight again.

“Oh, yeah. You’re so innocent. Ms. I-placed-your-bed-on-the-roof-and-vandalised-your-cabin.” Portia retorted, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Well, you’re the one who took my clothes and made me walk naked! I swear, Ms. Everett! She’s been out to get me since day one!” Nerissa huffed.

“Honey, please. If I wanted to come for you, I’d come into your room at night–”

“WHICH YOU DID!”

“Listen, here, queen. Stop acting so innocent as if you didn’t do it first. I’m simply trying to up the competition.”

“You know what, Por–”

“STOP! I’ve had enough of this. This is so upsetting to see! You’re sisters, how can you say that to each other.” Ms. Everett rubbed her temples as she watched the two girls argue in front of her. Portia and Nerissa both straightened up at the word, both instantly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Everett. But, we’re not sisters. We haven’t even met each other.” Ms. Everett didn’t reply, but continued to rub her throbbing temples.

“Sisters, not sisters, this is not the behavior we want in this camp. We’re gonna call your fathers and tell them to expect you earlier.” Ms. Everett informed them as she reached for the telephone beside her computer.

“Ma’am! Please don’t send me away! This camp has been the best thing that has ever happened to me, I can’t leave right now. You have no idea how long I’ve begged my dad to finally let me come here! Please! I’m begging you!” Nerissa’s eyes were rimmed with tears and Portia just started sobbing.

“I-I’ve drea-dreamed of this mah-my entire life. I was ah-arrogant and st-stupid! P-pease! I can’t dis-ah-appoin-ointment my d-da-dad. I have so-oh mu-uch to pro-oo-ve to him. We’ve been through ah-a lot! I c-can’t break his h-heart like t-this!” Portia begged in between sobs.

Ms. Everett sighed, placing the telephone back into its place. She grabbed a file from a drawer and flipped through it.

“Okay, fine. I’ll give you a week to prove yourself worthy to stay. We won’t tell your parents, IF you actually managed to prove yourself. Of course, we won’t let you go that easy. Portia, you’ve stolen supplies from the kitchen, not to mention destroyed property. Honey, chocolate, and wood aren’t very friendly to each other. And, Nerissa, you’ve vandalised the property and also destroyed a few amenities…” The head councillor read out loud. Portia and Nerissa hung their heads in guilt.

“Because of this, you will be pulled out from your activities, you are no longer allowed to talk to your friends, you will stay in the isolation cabin, you will work for the camp, and you’ll do all of this together. This is effective starting tomorrow, for a week. After that, you’re free to join your other activities but will be required to work kitchen duties. Are we clear?” Ms. Everett instructed in a no-bullshit tone. She eyed the girls once again before repeating, “Are we clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am” The girls said in perfect unison.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS:

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

[thatsparrow]

rules of the game - chapter nineteen

SUMMARY: Your breath is catching in your lungs and your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you feel like your whole goddamn body is shaking. Your world has narrowed to the anger and fear-induced tremble in your limbs and the rough and relentless hold of Negan’s fingers on your skin and the amused, expectant look he wears on his face as he looks down at you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck  — 

–

After saving you and your group from a pack of walkers that would have guaranteed your death, Negan has you down on your knees with a barbed-wire wrapped baseball bat in your face and a decision to make: surrender everything you own over to the Saviors, or join the Sanctuary and agree to work for him.

And even though he’s acting as if you have options, there’s really only one choice you can make.

FANDOM: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV) CHARACTERS: Negan, Original Female Characters, Original Male Characters, Lucille, Saviors ADDITIONAL: Reader-Insert, Mild Gore, Slow Burn, Road Trips

[read on AO3]

[first chapter]

Your shadow is a smudge beneath your shoes when you get out of the car, a black brushstroke of paint sitting under your boots as you stand in the weeds on the shoulder of the road. After following the same two-lane highway for the past fifteen minutes or so—blindly trusting Negan's intuition after he’d turned off the main road—the two of you had pulled off the cracked blacktop and parked the Ford under the shadow of the trees bordering the pavement. By now, you figure the serpentine stretch of tarmac must have wound its way behind the town you’d left this morning, putting you at the intersection of—god willing—the path Chase might have taken after he left.

That is, if he even made it out at all.

“Alright, sir," you say as you lean back against the closed passenger door, throwing the words over your shoulder to where Negan is pulling Lucille from the backseat. “What’s the plan?”

“Best start praying to whatever god you believe in, sweetheart.”

You turn on your heel, letting your elbows rest on the roof of the sedan as you look Negan’s way.

“That an order?”

“Consider it a friendly fucking suggestion,” he says, glancing up briefly to meet your eyes. “Given that Plan A is to comb through miles of woods and back roads for some dumb fuck who does not fucking want to be found, I’d say praying would be a smart first step.”

And you don't really have a response to that, so you settle for checking the gun at your waist and the knife at your—

“Oh, goddammit.”

“Fuck’s the matter?”

You look up at Negan, giving him a smile that has nothing to do with amusement and everything to do with your own thoughtlessness.

“My knife,” you say, frustration sharp in your words like broken glass buried in a sandbox. “I dropped it back in the CVS. Fucking of course.”

“What about the gun?”

“Still works fine, far as I can tell. Out of bullets, though.”

Negan gives you a brief nod before rounding the car to pop the trunk, pulling the supply bag from the back and dropping it at your feet.

“There’s a box of ammo in the bag — might as well reload while we’ve got the time.” He flashes an easy smile as you kneel down to unzip the duffel. “Surprisingly enough, that gun ain’t actually too fucking useful without any bullets.”

“Well, shit. You don’t say.”

You’ve got your head lowered and fingers busy reloading the gun as you respond, not even bothering to look up at Negan as you toss out the words on an impulse. And with his face out of your frame of vision, there’s a moment where you have to wonder if your sarcasm just crossed another line. But then you hear him let out a slight laugh—that low, back-of-the-throat chuckle that spills out like sap dripping from a maple—and it’s a reflex to let the corners of your mouth turn up as well, a slight smile sitting on your face like a sideways parentheses.

With the gun reloaded, you zip the bag shut and pull yourself back to your feet, tucking the metal piece into the waistband of your jeans.

“Ready to go?” You ask, loading the supply bag back into the trunk and clicking the latch closed.

“Just about,” Negan says, setting Lucille down against the side of the car before his hands reach down to his belt buckle.

“…For the record,” you say, tone dry like blistered sand as Negan undoes the metal at the front of his jeans. “When I asked if you were ‘ready to go’, that’s not really what I was referring to.”

“Mind out of the gutter, sweetheart,” he says, looking up at you with an amused expression as he pulls the leather out of his belt loops until he’s unhooked the knife holster hanging at his hip. As easy as anything else, he extends the sheath in your direction, handle pointing towards you.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a knife,” Negan says, one eyebrow quirked. “Didn’t think that part would need elaborating.”

“It’s your knife,” you say, brows drawn together slightly in response. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“Think of it more as a loan than a gift.”

“Don’t you—fuck, I don’t know—need it?” The words feel hollow as soon as you say them, especially with walker blood puddling on the cement around Lucille's barbed-wire barrel. Still, this is Negan's knife you're talking about, and you can't even begin to reconcile the image of that weapon in your hand.

Negan rolls his eyes, setting the blade and holster on the back of the sedan as he rethreads the leather of his belt back through the loops at his waist. “Fuck’s sake — listen, sweetheart, we both know that out here, you only pull a gun when you’ve hit your very worst case scenario. I’ve got Lucille while you’ve got one handful of ‘jack’ and another handful of ‘shit’. You need a knife, I have a spare. It’s not fucking complicated.”

“You sure—“

“You know, all of this sounds an awful lot like you questioning me. That what’s happening right now? You really gonna throw a fit and blow your shot over me trying to do you a good turn?” Negan shakes his head slightly, wearing an exasperated look you were sure was reserved for someone looking after a three-year-old.

“No, sir,” you say, tone hesitant but compliant as your fingers close around the hilt of the knife.

“Fucking better,” Negan says, picking up Lucille from where he'd left her leaning against the tail lights. Feeling like a kid playing dress-up, you weave the holster onto your own belt, painfully aware of the almost too-heavy weight of the blade at your hip and how laughably oversized it is on you, built more for gutting something feral or fitting into the palm of someone like Negan. Still, you can’t deny there being a certain comfort in that serrated edge—sharp like sharks’ teeth—sitting just within hand’s reach.

“Now that we’ve got that fucking ordeal over with,” Negan says, swinging Lucille up onto his shoulder, “time to get moving.”

“All joking aside, what is the plan here?”

“Jokes aside? Christ, sweetheart — the fuck is the fun in that?”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to fix Negan with an unamused look.

“Always so serious,” he says, not entirely under his breath. “Well, seeing as how this has all been one big fucking game of guesswork so far, why the fuck stop now?” He looks up and down the road for a moment, consideration lingering briefly in the lines of his face.

“Here’s the way I figure it — assuming loverboy headed out of town moving away from the direction of the Sanctuary, assuming he headed in a relatively straight line, and fucking assuming nothing killed him on the way, he should’ve ended up roughly here. But all bets are fucking off whether he decided to keep going through the woods or stick to the road.” Negan frowns slightly, exhales like he’s still trying to make sense of his thoughts. “Current plan—or as close to a plan as I can come up with—we’ll check the woods and see if we can find some sign of him. If not? Keep heading down the road and hope we pass him. We still come up with fucking nothing? Stop the car, rinse, fucking repeat.”

It hits you at that moment how completely fucking pointless this is. Honestly. Because you can’t come up with a plan better than the one Negan just proposed and because you’re no damn tracker and, short of a sign in neon spray paint, you’d never recognize a trail Chase might’ve left through the woods. Truth is, you’re running pretty damn low on hope right now, your reserves of optimism like a gas gauge ticking steadily towards empty.

But, however slim it might be, there is still a chance of finding him.

And—fuck it—you’ll hold fast to that slender string even as it frays like unraveling thread in your palm. Wrap your fingers around the last scraps of optimism you can see, even as you gain nothing more than a handful of paper cuts.

“All sounds good to me,” you say, wearing a smile that doesn’t reflect how you feel. Tone cautiously light because fuck letting Negan know that all his negativity and realism might be getting to you. “You ready?”

“Might as well get fucking to it.”

And, hand hovering loosely at your side, Negan’s figure the overwhelming factor in your periphery, the two of you head side-by-side into the trees.

Predictably, the next few hours turn up less than fucking nothing.

Which, all things considered, is about what you expected. Chase's trail went cold the minute you chased the wrong voice down the wrong road, and ever since, you’ve been clinging to a train of reasoning that amounts to little more than finely woven bullshit. He didn’t leave a trail because he doesn’t want to be found. He didn’t bother with breadcrumbs because he’s more than ready to lose his way — because as far as he’s concerned, his story might as well end in a witch’s oven.

At this point, who are you really still searching for? Who is this really about?

Are you actually out here for Chase, or are you doing this for yourself?

The sun is starting to sink like a deflating balloon when you reach a signpost for another town a few miles up the road, the first indication of anything established since you’d gotten back on the highway. And it’s as close to a lead as the universe is willing to offer, more of a sign than any of the crushed leaves and broken branches you’d tried to pretend to make sense of when you and Negan had explored the woods.

“What do you think?” You ask Negan as the Ford passes the sign, metallic backing shrinking quickly in the rearview.

“Guess it wouldn’t hurt to check things out,” he says, tone unreadable. “If nothing else, sundown’s a little too fucking close for comfort and we need somewhere to hole up for the night.” His eyes flick down to the clock on the dash, one hand coming up absently to trace a line over his jaw. “Can’t do jack for loverboy tonight, but we should have time to find something a little fucking better than sleeping in the fucking car.”

“Not like I’m complaining,” you say, taking the time to stretch the stiffness from your shoulders. “I can honestly say I’ve spent enough nights in shitty backseats or the goddamn trunk to last a lifetime or two.”

“Fucking amen.”

The shadows are starting to stretch a little too long across the pavement when you finally reach the town, the main road cutting through a small strip of quiet downtown as the sun finishes its final descent below the trees. And it looks quiet enough—empty streets and abandoned cars parked against the curb and the occasional silhouette or two of a walker—but you’ve been running these lines long enough to keep your guard up as the wheels of the Ford ease over the tarmac. Not a thought but a habit to keep your eyes skimming across the storefronts, ears tuned for the sound of an undead cluster hidden down an alley, muscles tensed and ready for the worst.

But things seem alright, and even if you know how deceptive that can be, it’s getting late and you and Negan need to start making some quick decisions. Keeping close to the main road, he turns the car down a side street and parks parallel to one of the buildings, windows un-shattered and walls mostly free of bloodstains.

“We’ll head in through the back door,” Negan says as he turns off the ignition, inclining his head towards the brick facade. “Don’t want to spend the whole damn night clearing the building, but it looks secure enough so fingers-fucking-crossed it doesn’t take too long to deal with whatever shit is waiting inside. Grab the supply bag from the trunk and follow my lead.”

“Yes sir,” you say, voice slightly absent as your eyes skate a restless back-and-forth over the building, tracing a path between the windows while you look for those familiar signs of trouble. But the shades seem undisturbed and you can’t spot anything worse than a thick layer of grime and you find yourself a little less tense as you climb out onto the sidewalk, fingers hooked around your backpack straps. You can see Negan's silhouette as you make your way to the trunk, pulling Lucille and his own shit from the backseat as you unlatch the back and hoist the duffel over your shoulder. Hanging back a few paces, you follow his footsteps across the sidewalk and over to a side door set into the bricks, playing lookout as he works at the hinges stuck fast with rust. And then the door is creaking open—a little louder than you’d like—and it’s nothing but dim shadows and faint outlines and the beam from Negan’s flashlight cutting through the dark like the bright white warning of a lighthouse.

“Ready?” He asks over his shoulder, voice low, adjusting his grip on Lucille as your hand drops down to the hilt of your borrowed knife.

“Ready enough.” You answer in a similarly quiet tone, eyes glancing up only briefly to meet his.

“Then tally-fucking-ho.”

And with that, there’s nowhere to go but forward.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to do something like this, but you wouldn’t still be breathing if you’d let repetition erase your instinct for fear — if you’d become numb to the sensation of standing on this tightrope. Staying alive has never been anything less than a balancing act, and you’ve seen too many slip off that wire from not giving the undead their due.

Cities don’t get decimated by an inconvenience. The whole fucking world doesn’t fall by the hands or teeth of something inconsequential. There will always be so many more of them than there are of you, and the day you forget that is the same day you pull the pin of a grenade and drop the explosive at your feet. At that point, dying is only a matter of time.

And you can feel that same sharp edge of uncertainty in your stomach as you tiptoe on bloodstained boots into the shadows, that familiar bitterness on the back of your tongue. But you’ve got the broad shoulders of Negan’s frame standing in front of you like a battering ram, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little more secure—Jesus, a little more safe—with him there.

You can’t tell whether it’s funny or unsettling, that you could put Negan and safe in the same sentence without the trace of a joke. And, honestly, you’re not sure you really want to find out which one it is.

It doesn’t take long to sweep the two-story building, for you and Negan to trace a Pac-Man pattern through the back offices of the small accounting firm, taking out a few walkers still outfitted in their pencil skirts and button downs, knotted ties hanging loose around withered necks. But other than a low-lying feeling of sadness—an occasional sting at the sight of family photos pinned up on cubicle walls—the building offers no surprises and soon the two of you are setting up camp in the break room on the second floor. And as far as small-town break rooms go, it doesn't offer much — walls painted an unexciting shade of taupe and secondhand appliances on the Formica countertops and coupons pinned to the refrigerator with cheap magnets.

Still, you’re thankful for its relative cleanliness. Even more thankful for the windows offering a vantage onto the street, and for the couch sitting along one of the walls, weathered cushions parallel to a couple half-empty vending machines. And with a couple battery-powered lanterns and flashlights suffusing the room with a dim glow, you could almost call it homey.

“Got any preference for first or second watch?” Negan asks after the two of you eat a simple dinner, stretched out on the sofa with his boots propped up on one of the armrests.

“You’re really giving me a choice?” You say, tone skeptical as you sink down into one of the chairs around the break room table.

Negan gives you an easy smile in response, sitting up just enough to shrug out of the sleeves of his jacket. “Not like it does me any good if you pass out halfway through your shift. Remember, sweetheart, my first interest is always in keeping myself alive.”

“At least you're consistent,” you say, answering the amusement on Negan's face with a wry look of your own. “I’ll take first shift then.”

“Fine by me.”

It’s quiet as the two of you settle in — you cleaning walker gut off the knife blade with take-out napkins from one of the drawers, Negan shifting slightly on the couch cushions.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You've still got your head down as you throw your question to the room, almost like you're talking to the blade in your hand rather than the man on the sofa.

Negan doesn’t bother turning to look your way, but you can see that half-smile curving up the corners of his mouth at your words. “Shoot.”

“It’s not like you really want to be out here, right?”

He tilts his head in your direction, tone even as ever. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

It’s a thought that’s been sticking in your mind for the past couple hours, a curiosity crystallized at the sight of Negan’s tall frame stretched out over a too-small makeshift bed.

“It’s just…” you break off, eyes dropping down as you try and figure out how to phrase it. “You can’t be enjoying this — you can’t be wanting to put up with this shit. You don't, do you? Wouldn't you rather be back at the Sanctuary?”

Negan props himself up on one arm, gives you a steady look that’s equal parts patronizing and exasperated.

“What are you trying to ask here, sweetheart?” He fixes you with a level stare, eyebrows arching up slightly. “You're really wondering if I’d rather be here — freezing my fucking balls off on a beaten-up couch with more stains than a motel bedspread, or back in my apartment — lying on silk sheets in a king-sized bed getting blown by one of my wives.” He inclines his head towards you. “That the question you need answering?”

You duck your head for a moment, sure there’s a slight flush in your cheeks as you meet Negan’s amused look. “I mean, I probably wouldn’t have phrased it in exactly those terms — but, yeah?”

“You honestly telling me you cannot figure that one out for yourself?”

“Then why are you here?” You ask, the words blurting out before you can think better of them. It's tempting to look away, but you make it a point to keep your mouth set in a firm line, to meet Negan's eyes as he watches you with an expression you can’t quite parse.

“Curiosity is a dangerous fucking thing, sweetheart,” Negan says at last, the weight of his gaze heavy as you shift slightly in your seat, one knee pulled up to your chest. “One of these days it might get you into trouble.”

“Is that day today?”

It's heads or tails whether he'll answer with anger or amusement, and you feel nothing but relief as he lets out a slight laugh at your words, the tension dissipating from the room like water slipping down the drain. And you can see him smiling, seeming in spite of himself, as one hand comes up to massage his temple.

“Fucking christ — you do not know when to quit.”

You're tempted to say something else, but you wait, almost certain that Negan's got a few more words waiting on his tongue. And you can't tell what it is about this moment—whether it's the lack of adrenaline in his system or the simple fact of having his feet up that's got him so relaxed—but you're somehow sure that you haven't burned through his reserves of patience just yet.

As if acting in response to your thoughts, Negan pulls himself upright, back propped up against the armrest and shoes sliding to the carpet as he shifts his body until he's facing you. "Do not fucking take this to mean that I value your persistence, or some shit," he says, giving you a disgruntled look that doesn't feel genuine, "but purely in the interest of getting you to shut up so I can enjoy a few fucking moments of peace and quiet — fine, I'll give you two reasons why I'm out here in Bumfuck, Nowhere rather than sitting pretty back at the Sanctuary.

"Reason number one, sweetheart — I'm still here because I am a man of my word. And that doesn't just extend to bargains or threats with communities who have more canned goods than common sense — no, that holds even for two-bit deals with stubborn fucking assholes who don't know well-enough to stop fighting, even when they have got nothing left."

Indignation rises like a reflex in your throat, but you're the one who asked for his words. You don't get to bite just because you don't like what he's offering in his right hand. And you're sure he can see the way your shoulders tense under your jacket—because he's Negan, and because the smiling bastard always seems to read you better than the big, bold text of a billboard—but he doesn't address your reaction, letting the moment go with nothing more than a half-smile and continuing on that same train of thought.

"I'm still here because I made you a deal and—like your very own fairy fucking godmother—gave you three days to get shit done and because your time isn't up just yet. And while I have not and will not keep it a secret that I find this whole fucking endeavor an exceptional waste of time, as long as you decide to stay out here and haven't hit the deadline, then I am not going fucking anywhere."

Something about his words isn't entirely satisfying, but you know you're lucky to get whatever scraps of truth he's offering.

"And the second reason?"

At that, the half-smile on his face widens into a full-blown grin.

"Plain-and-fucking-simple, sweetheart — because fucking shit, do I want that favor you're offering."

You can't help but feel a little hesitant under the look he's giving you, one that suggests he knows something you don't, like he's read ahead to the end of this chapter and is laughing at the punch line you can't see coming. "You do know I don't really have anything to give you, right?"

Negan just lets that smile linger, the one that always manages to stir goosebumps from your skin. "Wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Should I take that to mean you've already got something in mind?" You want to deliver your words in his same easy tone, but you can't help the slight furrow in your brow or the uncertain edge in your voice.

"Not about to start giving away all my secrets, sweetheart," Negan says, shifting on the sofa until he's lying down again, one arm resting under his head. "Let's just say I've got a couple ideas."

"Anything I should be worried about?" You don't really expect him to respond with any kind of honesty, but your common-sense can't hold back the questions that curiosity has left on your tongue. Besides, by now you know Negan well enough to be cautious of the thoughts he's hiding behind his Cheshire cat smile.

"Guess that depends on what might give you cause to worry."

He's not giving away anything in his tone, but you can't help the places your mind goes at his words — the train of thought you take to all the worst things he could ask of you.

Then—surprising you in the most embarrassing and unwelcome of ways—to the things he could ask for that you're not entirely sure you'd object to.

As if Negan can see the medley of images in your mind's eye like he's flipping through hotel channels, he smiles up at the ceiling. "So tell me, sweetheart — the fuck is it that's got you so wound up? What do you think I want from you that's put such a twist in your panties?" You can hear the grin in his words clear across the room, the one that seems to suggest he knows exactly what's made you fall so silent.

You can feel the flush in your cheeks burn a little hotter, ducking your head even though Negan's not even looking your way. "On second thought, I don't think I want to know what you've got planned," you say, hearing his all-too-familiar laugh filling the corners of the room.

"Not a fan of being on the receiving end of so many questions?" Negan asks after his amusement subsides. "Well, fuck — now who's not playing fair?"

"Hold the phone — you've always gotten the option of not having to give me a straight answer," you say, the corners of your mouth turning up slightly as you lift your head to face him, grateful as anything for the change of subject. "Don't see why I should have to follow different rules."

Negan tilts his head until he's looking your way, a spark of amusement in his eyes you're sure is mirrored in your own. "Think we both know things are not nearly as fucking interesting that way."

"Speak for yourself," you say, still smiling while you give him a shrug. "Personally, I think I've had enough interest to last a lifetime."

It's clear that Negan's got another rapid-fire response waiting at your words, but at that moment you both hear the sound of something knocking against one of the storefronts down the street, and you never get to hear whatever one-liner he had sitting on his tongue. And it's not like the walker is any kind of a threat, but the noise is enough to remind you of why you're here — that you're not trading jokes surrounded by cheap appliances and dusty carpets because you enjoy Negan's company. Picking up the knife from the table and tossing the blood-streaked napkins into a trashcan, you holster the metal at your hip and shift one of the chairs to a spot near the window.

"It's still early enough," you say to Negan, "but all things considered, I'd rather get an hour or two more sleep if possible. You mind calling it a night?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug, letting your abrupt change of pace go unremarked as he eases off the couch and moves to dim the lanterns so the room quickly fades to black. "Not like my day was any easier than yours that I'd object to a little more shuteye." He settles back against the cushions, his figure little more than a shadowy silhouette in the dark. "If there's nothing life-threatening before my shift, feel free to act like I've got a 'Do Not Disturb' sign tattooed across my forehead — understood?"

"Yes, sir," you say, taking the seat at your post by the window, flashlight in hand and shades separated just enough that you've got a decent view of the streets. And it doesn't take long for the rhythms of Negan's breathing to change, mellowed out into the steady white noise you'd grown familiar with from the nights you'd spent on the road with Marie and Chase and Luke and Wendy. Hell — with only the sounds of quiet inhales and exhales for company and your hand hovering close to the hilt at your belt, you could almost forget  where you are or who you're with. Could let your mind fall back to a simpler time when you knew the shape of your companions' characters as well as you knew the calluses on your fingertips. When the question of trust wasn't such a complicated fucking thing.

Because that's the heart of the matter that's got you so goddamn confused—the pit at the middle of the peach you've been so careful to chew around—isn't it? That you think you might be starting to be changing your opinion of Negan in ways you're nowhere close to comfortable thinking about.

That—fuck—you might even be starting to trust him.

As soon as you give freedom to even the notion of the thought, you feel like such a fucking fool. Sinking back until your spine is following the curve of the molded plastic, you're tempted to shake your head at yourself — because you should know better than to let your better judgment be swayed by a few easy words and a charming smile. Because you've heard the stories that survivors at the Sanctuary tell about Negan, and if even a tenth of them are true, they should be enough to convince you that no small gesture he makes is worth your confidence. After all, he said it himself, didn't he? And said it more than once, too — that his first and only priority is keeping himself alive, full fucking stop. No room for anyone else in that kind of an equation.

And as for saving your life earlier? Hell — all you can assume is that, right now, you're worth more to him alive than dead. You should know better than to mistake his self-interest for anything other than what it is.

They're uncomfortable thoughts, but not illogical ones, and you'd be deserving of an early grave if you ignored them just because you don't like the way the sharp edges of the truth sit in your stomach.

Rolling your shoulders like you're trying to dislodge the discomfort that's weighing on you, you prop up one foot on the edge of your chair and return your full focus to the world outside the window. Fucking enough wondering about the man stretched out on the couch — why don't you remember what you're goddamn priorities should be and settle for making it through the night.

It's earlier than you expect when you feel Negan's hand on your shoulder, when you hear his quiet whispers urging you awake not long after you'd changed shifts. You need a few moments to blink your eyes open, vision adjusting slowly to the dim shadows and not helping you make sense of the expression on Negan's face.

"What's—" But your words are cut short when he rests a heavy hand over your mouth, shushing you with a slight shake of his head, the calluses of his palm rough against your lips.

"Best if we stay quiet, understand?" Negan asks in his low voice, waiting for your silent nod of assent before he removes his hand. You shift until you're sitting upright, eyes following him closely as he eases his way back to the window, peering briefly between the blinds.

"What's going on?" You say, mirroring his quiet tone as you start lacing up your boots.

"Nothing good." He says, that sharp edge in his words evident even in his whispering. "Think you're gonna want to make sure that gun's fully loaded, sweetheart — looks like we've got trouble."

[language576-blog]

Grab the Right Extension Cord for the Job Every Time

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Grab the Right Extension Cord for the Job Every Time

Quick Check Extension Cords

“Extension cords are workshop necessity, but they can also be a messy ache. When in a rush, I grew tired of not easily being able to tell the length of each extension cord. There’s no need to haul out and unreel a 100 ft. when a 50 ft. will do! So, I simply marked both sides of the cord with a permanent marker indicating their length. Now I know exactly which cord to grab for the need of each job! ” — Dave Switzer

This brilliant cord organization project takes a cue from the kitchen .~ ATAGEND It’s so easy to DIY, the instructions need no words–literally.

Check out these 25 tips-off and tricks to take your measurement mastery skills to the next level:

1/ 25

Story Pole A story pole is like Cliffs Notes for your project. Displaying the measurements for a given project in actual size rather than numbers, the story pole is a one-stop resource that saves hour and eliminates headaches during layout and quantify. Commonly used by carpenters to mark the height of siding, windows and doorways, a story pole can hold dimensions for all kinds of projects, from furniture house to masonry. A close relative of the story pole is the layout stick, frequently used when framing walls. They’re a great time saver and one of the best framing carpentry tips-off around.

Hand Measuring The best tape measure is the one that you have on hand when you need it. But if you don’t have a tape measure, opportunities are you have a hand!

The next time you’re sitting around watching TV, break out a tape measure and learn the dimensions of your hands, thumbs and limbs. For some people, for example, two fingers together is 1 inch, while for others, it’s 1-1/ 4 inches. Measure the width and length of your hands, and the distance from fingertip to forearm for both right and left sides. Then the next time you need a ballpark measurings, simply use your own hands to compare lengths. In the meantime, here’s another handy measuring tip-off: an in-hand notepad right on your tape measure.

Synchronize Measuring Tapes One time-saving task site trick is to keep a tape measure near your envisage, and the other near the installing region. Whether you’re inducing measurements and running the saw yourself, or cutting to call outs from an deputy, this is a great way to induce the job move fast. However, it can also lead to difficulty if the two tape measures are not exactly in sync.

Although the measuring marks on the overwhelming majority of videotapes are accurate, the hookings can get bent or warped over day. To verify accuracy, pull a line on a known straight edge with both tape measures and compare their marks. Ideally this should also be done at the start of every job, but at the very least, take a few seconds to verify that no serious damage has passed if one of the tapes is fallen or otherwise abused. The good news is that this is just one of many ways to get the most out of your tape measure.

Measure to Mark Instead of Bending the Tape Employs a tape on tight spaces often involves bending the evaluate videotape and doing your best to get a read. Eliminate tape wholly by dryfitting or holding the piece to cut up to the project. If you’re cutting from material too large to hold up to your project, attain your own marking sticks! Simply take two sticks of scrap material, one objective of each cut at a 45 deg slant. Place one on top of the other, with the slant ends point out. Spread the sticks out until the two angled sections touch the inside of the area being measured. Bind the two pieces together with painter’s videotape, then rotate to remove( the angled sections will allow you to slide the sticks out easily ). To build your cut, simply lay the taped pieces on your material and mark with a scribing knife or carpenter’s pencil. This technique is just one of the many shortcuts for trim carpenters on the familyhandyman.com !

Yarn Measure If you need to measure the outside diameter of the cylinder or sphere, you want to use a flexible measuring videotape. But if you don’t have one on hand, a cheap and simple solution can be achieved with a duration of yarn, twine or similar material. Simply wrap one loop around the item being measured, mark it with your finger or a black marker, then lay out the yarn on top of a tape measure or ruler to get the precise measurements. Merely be careful to exert the same amount of force on the yarn when you measure it as when you wrap it around the object. Keep a tape measure handy at all times by setting up this simple holder for any store pegboard.

Don’t Trust Factory Edges Here’s a hack that’s been known to pros for years, and more DIYers should practise in the field. Just because boards of lumber have factory-finished edges doesn’t mean they are always square. Before pulling a tape and marking a cut, check to make sure that it’s a reliable edge. This is easily done by throwing a velocity square on the end of the lumber. If the edge seems off at all, only slide the speed square over and shave off a fraction of an inch to make it square. It’s a few seconds of run that can save hours of aggravation in the long run. This trick is only one of many clever utilizes for a velocity square, a perennial favorite tool of craftsmen around the world.

Secrets of the Tape Measure Hook Millions of people use tape measure every day, but very few of them are aware of all the different ways that they can be utilized. If you look at a quality tape measure, you’ll see that the hook at the end has a few unique qualities. One is that it should be somewhat loose on its studs. This allows it to slide in or out to allow for accuracy whether taking an inner or outer measure. This also means that the first inch on a tape measure is inaccurate by the amount of that motion( usually 1/16 inch ). So if you need to take the measure of a small item, use a section further up the tape.

Another feature is the hole in the tape measure hooking. Not all tape measures have this feature, but if yours does, you’ll notice that it’s precisely the right sizing to latch onto the head of a screw or nail. This allows DIYers to latch onto a fastening head and get on with measuring without worrying about the tape popping free. For more great tape measure tips-off, check out this video from Family Handyman editor Travis Larson.

Circle Layout Tool If you want to make quick measurements and create accurate arc and circles, then this tip-off is perfect for you! Being careful to center your holes, drill a 1/8 -inch hole through every inch mark on a ruler or touchstone. Place a pin through the first hole( at the 1-inch mark) where you’d like the circle or arc to be centered. Add 1 inch to the radius you want to layout, and insert a pencil into that modified number. Then, utilizing the pin as a pivot, rotate the pencil to mark the circle. Wooden rulers and yardsticks are available for cheap and sometimes for free from big box stores. Thanks to reader Edwin Constantino for this smart hacker !

Water Level A water level is a period honored style to discovery equidistant height. Especially useful on irregular floors that would make straight measuring difficult, the water level is a sort of low-budget laser level. Stimulated with water and clear plastic tubing, it uses the principle that water at two ends of the tube will equal out at the same height to assistance craftsman ensure that their marks are at the right level. There are many circumstances where this is helpful, including ensuring that multiple wall hangings are installed at the same height.

Custom Spacers As a DIYer, you’ve no doubt realized that repetitive activities can create a headache. Eliminate multiple measurements and reduce the room for error, by substituting spacers for tape measures. A perfect instance of this is installing tile, deck boards or any other material that require consistent gaps to allow for grout or expansion. While some people might simply throw down a tape measure between each tile or board to make sure spacing is accurate, a smarter DIYer knows that there’s no reason to expend so much day and attempt. Use dedicated spacers, or even regular objects such as pennies, quarterss, or 16 d nails to eliminate measuring while still ensuring consistent spacing.

Use your Tape Measure as a Story Pole We’ve already discussed how a narrative pole can save day on the job site. Now we’ve got a trick to explain how you can traveling with one in your pocket. In the same route that measures and lengths are marked on a story pole, mark the duration and sizes of your current project cuts immediately onto your tape measure with permanent marker. Use an array of colors to keep the different items distinct. If you need to check a sizing, simply pull out the tape and look for the appropriate coloring. Once the project is over, merely wipe down the tape with acetone to remove the marker and leave your videotape fresh, clean, and ready for the next undertaking. For a more detailed overview of this tip, see this Family Handyman article .~ ATAGEND

Library Tape Measure in a Box Store There’s nothing worse than that moment when you’re picking out material in a big box store like Lowe’s or The Home Depot, and realize that you’ve forgotten to bring your tape measure. Don’t waste time by running back to the job site, only borrow a tape measure from the tool dept. Almost all tape measures are displayed with the videotape easily accessible, so that potential purchasers can try out the springtime action. That entails there’s no need to remove it from the packaging. Just use it to stimulate your measurements. But please make sure you return the videotape to the tool corral, and don’t left open lying around the stacks. Here are 13 more secrets that Home Depot employees won’t say to you.

Easy Math with Two Rulers If you’ve ever struggled to add fractional measures while on the job, this tip is why you! Let’s say you have to add 5-3 /8 plus 7-5/ 16. Normally this might be a head scratcher, but watch how easy it is with this hack. Simply pull out two tape measure or rulers. You know that the total will be less than a couple feet, so pull out that much on the first videotape. Then find the 5-3 /8 mark. Now, starting at that point, lay out 7-5/ 16 on the second largest tape, laying it side-by-side the first one. Look over from the second largest mark, and you’ll see that the first tape reads 12 -1 1/16. That’s your answer–no math involved! This hack is just the tip of the tips and tricks available to woodworkers at Family Handyman.

Kerf-Width Pencil Lead A kerf is simply a term that refers to the thickness of a comprehend blade. You need to know your kerf thicknes to make accurate multiple cuts on any project. A common novice misstep runs like this: A new DIYer needs six 1 foot durations of material, so they buy a single 6-foot-long stick; but after the cuts are attain, the DIYer is shocked to find that they’re almost all short! The reason is simple: Our beginner forgot to factor in the 1/8 inch thickness of the blade.

Luckily, eliminating this issue is even simpler: Trim your carpenter’s pencil to the thicknes of your comprehend blade. When measuring, verify all cuts are to the inside edge of the mark, and you’ll even be able to take multiple pieces from the same board without having to worry about overcuts. Here are even more circular saw tips-off to help you speedily master this essential power tool.

Slant-Rule Board Divider Here’s yet another tip-off for how to reduce the amount of math needed on the job site! If you need to divide material into equal portions, simply angle your tape measure across the face. When you do, adjust the videotape so that it lands on a mark easily dividable by the number of pieces that you want. If you need to divide a piece of lumber into one-thirds, for example, pull the videotape from the front corner to anywhere along the side where the tape defines at an even 9 inches. Then mark at inches 3 and 6. Note that these distances are not 3 inches! Once you angle the videotape, you are no longer measuring distance but instead spacing. This is such a great time saver, it warranted its own write up here .~ ATAGEND

What’s in Your Wallet? Just like knowing the measurements of your own body, it can be a great time-saver to know the measurements of the items commonly in your pockets. In the US for example, dollar bills are 6.14 inches long. Fold a bill in thirds and then in half, and you’ll have a ruler approximately 6 inches long, marked in increments just slightly longer than an inch.

This won’t be accurate enough for precision cuts, but very useful to check the size of fasteners or off-shaped objects. Similarly, coins and charge card are standard sizes, and can be easily marked in order to measure. For instance, a U.S. quarter is just under one inch in diameter, a fact that’s especially useful when ballparking small sizes or shimming anything that might get wet.

Origami A sheet of standard printer newspaper in the US is precisely 8 1/2 inches wide by 11 inches tall. Because paper is cheap, it makes a great improvised ruler, and folding and bisecting it can help you zero on in on more precise measurements. Fold in a corner of the paper, for example, and you’ll have a diagonal line only under 14 inches long. Or fold it into thirds or quarters in either direction to get smaller durations. These paper rulers are useful for measuring curving surfaces, and are part of the long DIYer tradition of improvising tools when in need.

Putting Your Foot in It If you’re ever caught without a quantify tape and need to get a mid-sized distance, the easiest answer may be to pace it off. There’s often too much difference in a normal stroll stride, so it’s more accurate to use the heel-to-toe method. Don’t depend on the length of your bare foot or shoe size, as that’s a measure of the inside of the shoe; a sizing 10 run boot is significantly longer than size 9 sneaker, for example. Know the outside dimension of your shoes, especially of shoes that you frequently wear on chore sites.

Ballparking Landscapes Measuring yards and lots can be time-consuming, but depending on your project, you are not able to need an exact area. This is especially true when figuring material needs for jobs like fill grime or grass seed. The easiest way to get a rough estimate for an open space is to make a mental comparison with a space you’re already familiar with. This might be another project you worked on previously, or any consistently sized space, such as a football field. If you’re familiar with an American football field, you should be able to get a rough idea of the space you’re working in the field of. A football field( without end zones) is just over one acre. Two fields( including aim zones) is about a hectare. And of course this trick works with any athletic that has a regulated field sizing. Baseball fields vary in size, but most major league parks are about 2 1/2 acres. This isn’t the method you’d use if you need the specificity of a real estate survey, but it works great when ballparking area for lawn repair.

Quick Cabinet Pull Measurements Forget tedious evaluate and remeasuring when installing cabinet drawer handles and pulls. Mill drawers are square, so tracing a pair of lines from corner to corner will give you an intersection at the dead centre of the drawer face. If you’re installing pullings, you’re set to drill your hole. If you’re installing handles, use a combination square to capture the distance of the center to the edge, then drill holes to either side at a distance that matches your handle situated. Check out this article for more tips-off on installing cabinet hardware .~ ATAGEND.

A Pint’s a Pound The old expression “A Pint’s a Pound, the World Around” isn’t exactly true, but it’s good enough for ballpark measures. A pint of water weighs about one pound, so a quart weighs two pounds, and a gallon weighs about eight pounds. Like most ballpark estimations, it gets farther afield the larger you go, but if you only require a quick calculation of water weight, it’s a great rule of thumb. Keep this tip in intellect if you’re looking at installing a water feature, such as a pond or waterfall.

Know the Width of Your Tape Base Most measuring tapes have the width of the tape shell published on its base. You’ll notice that most tape measure basis are also flat. This is a feature, designed to make it easier to make inside measurements. If you’re measuring the thicknes of a rough doorway opening, for instance, don’t bend the videotape and guess at an exact measure. Instead, insert the whole tape measure into the opening, and take the measure from one side to the other, then add in the thicknes of tape measure. Familiarize yourself with the tape’s thicknes, and this will rapidly become second nature. Dig into our archives for more reviews and tips about tape measures.

DIY Marking Gauge If “youre going to” scribe a line on your project material, a marking gauge will let you lay things out without the many steps involved in measuring off multiple marks and connecting them with a straightedge. But what if you don’t have a marking gauge? Fortunately, there’s a DIY solution!

Take a combining square and drill a 1/8 -inch hole at the 1-inch mark. Be careful to center it precisely on the 1-inch mark, and don’t run much over 1/8 -inch diameter. Set the combining square to mark out 1 inch beyond your intended measurement, then place a pencil in your 1/8 -inch hole. Now simply slide your square along the edge of your material, and let the pencil mark a nice crisp line. If you thought that was fun, check out this other hacker to turn a combining square into an instant, custom drawer manage jig.

Scribing Tool Let’s return to that amazing hook at the end of your tape measure. Look closely and you’ll be pointed out that the hook is strong metal, and many models have a hook with a serrated edge. This is no accident! It’s an intentional feature, allowing the hooking to be used as a scribing tool.

The next time you can’t find your carpenter’s pencil, measure backwards from the edge of your work material. Pull the tape hook taut against its rivets, then push it into the wood or other material. The serrated edge will leave a mark in the wood fibers, allowing you to scribe for the perfect cut. No pencil required!

Improvised Marking Gauge This hack takes the previous two items on our listing and combines them to take it to the next level. Instead of simply scribing a short mark, hold the tape measure against the open edge of material with your index finger, and press gently down on the hook. As you move across the material, the hooking will scribe a cut line. This provides the ease of a scribing tool and the accuracy of a marking gauge.

Even better, if you’re working with drywall or another material that’s knife-cuttable, simply use a utility knife pinched to the end of the videotape hook, and guide the knife straight along the cut line. If you’ve ever been on a large drywall job, opportunities are you’ve considered pro hangers employing this technique to completely eliminate the mark-and-cut step of the installing. Master this tip-off and you’ll be on your route to cut and hanging drywall like a pro.

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