#finally... a position where i can show the scars he got from shin in this au lmaoo

[lilpuffyart]

Minya and Godzilla WIP before I head to bed zzz (from IG bc I forgot to take a screenshot before adding text and posting lmaoo)

#finally... a position where i can show the scars he got from shin in this au lmaoo #anyway #godzilla #wip #minilla #minya #puffy art #fanart

[hotwings0203]

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first oneshot thingy (or any piece) that I’m posting here, it’s kind of dark but I think that’s the type of fic I enjoy writing. Let me know what you all think, and any suggestions or feedback is much appreciated since this is the first time I’m using Tumblr😆

Warnings: implication of non-con, manipulation, yandere themes, kidnapping

Pairing: Yandere Dabi x f reader

Smoke curled into your hiding place, invading your senses. You could hear him smashing other various household items around the house, attempting to startle you and make a sound, effectively revealing your hiding place

Which wasn’t a very clever one, mind you.

If you only had a couple more seconds, maybe, just maybe you could’ve dove into the closet and actually hidden with some blankets and clothes covering you instead of your current chosen position, which was under the creaky bed.

You cursed yourself for even starting something so stupid, and getting a rise out of him in the first place when you knew, you knew he hated it when you picked fights over the smallest of things. All he wanted you to do was make him some breakfast, now was that so much to ask for? Did you have to put rat poison in his oatmeal at 10 am in the morning?

You didn’t think you could handle playing this happy-go-lucky fake domestic scene any further; you wanted to go home. You wanted to see your family again for Thanksgiving, you wanted to meet up with your friends and get your nails done and coo over pretty boys, and most of all you wanted to go outside and gaze up at the clear blue sky and just watch the fall colors swirl around you in a halo of leaves.

Dabi let’s you go outside twice every month if you’re being good for him, and if you really please him he’ll let you touch the grass without that stupid shock collar that adorns your neck like an ornament with with him by your side, of course. Don’t think he’ll fully trust you after that stunt you pulled last week when you tried chewing the restraints off your wrists.

He had to salute your effort though, you really might’ve gotten away if he hadn’t surrounded you by his flames before you could touch the door.

Kind of like now, actually. While you’re trembling and cramped unceremoniously under the bed, he’s finished scanning the living room and kitchen for any sign of you.

Shit

That means there’s only two places left: the bathroom and his room, where you are.

Your legs are starting to cramp up and you’re wondering how long you can manage to stay still while this psycho is hounding you out.

“If you quit acting like a pussy and come out within 30 seconds, I’ll make sure to leave your face intact. Can’t say the same about the rest of you though, babe, I’m not feeling very generous or inclined to spare you too much after choking down rat poison.” He all but snarls as you can see from underneath the bed his elbows and jaw curl with smoke, blue flames licking at his shins.

The smell of rotting flesh feels like an ominous foreshadowing of your fate if you don’t think of a way out of this, fast.

You’re pulled from your musing as Dabi slams the bathroom closet door shut, and flings the shower curtain aside violently, indicating no more places are left for him to check for you except his room.

You’re out of time.

Picking up the soap dispenser on the sink counter, he weighs it in his hand, testing it’s material. You’re peeking out from underneath the mattress, unsure of what he’s doing.

You don’t need to keep wondering after he suddenly hurls the glass down on the floor, the dispenser shattering on the floor near the bed mere inches away from where your face was.

You let out a small shriek at the explosion, and immediately still and clamp your hand over your mouth with wide eyes.

But the damage has already been done, and Dabi knows this as he lets out a dark chuckle and saunters towards the bed, turning around and plopping down on the plushy material, his boots right in front of your face.

“We both already know where this is going, little mouse. I caught you, but I’ll be nice and give you one more chance to come to me willingly.”

He leans back on his elbows and tilts his head up to the chafing ceiling. He knows you’ll come, you always eventually do, that’s why he loves you, his sweet little girl who always does what she’s told.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is you making one last break for it, clambering out from the opposite side of where you both are situated and bolting to the door.

He whips his head around at the sound of you desperately fumbling with the lock on the door, when did he lock it? God this is taking too long he’s gonna catch you he’s gonna-

But you’re already out of the door and flying down the hallway as you hear him leaping off the bed and scrambling after you, the house completely silent save for the deafening sounds of both of your own objectives pounding away at the floor in the same direction.

“You fucking bitch, I grant you one last chance to come clean to me and this is the thanks I get? You’re dead little mouse.” You hear him howl behind you, and it scares you at how close he sounds.

But now you see it, you see your freedom at the entrance just an arms length away and you’re touching the door and-

The room is suddenly enveloped by blue fire, the door handle becoming so hot under your touch that you wail as you let go and cradle your bubbling flesh, tears blurring your vision as you whirl around to locate your assailant and captor.

Dabi stands in the middle of the living room, ethereal cobalt lighting up the sides of his face and illuminating the staples that stretch and threaten to rip from the shit-eating grin he sports while looking at your defenseless demeanor.

“I told you to listen while I was playing nice, right? This is what happens to little mice who want to turn into rats so bad. Is that why you wanted to feed me rat poison, huh, baby? You were warning me to get rid of what you might turn out to be, hmm?” He pouts at you, the corners of his mouth twitching when you sob in terror

“D-dabi please,” you bawl, “please let me leave. I w- wanna go h-home.” Your chest heaves at the last word, the pain in your hand paling in comparison to the ache in your chest.

“An-and I w-want you on your kn-knees worshipping the ground I walk on and making good use of that bitchy little mouth instead of whining and sniveling.” He mocked and cooed cruelly, reveling at your helplessness.

You could do nothing but wail louder as he started slowly walking towards you, his eyes narrowed, complemented with dark glint in his pupils while his ever-lasting hellish quirk enunciated his heavy steps.

Dabi finally reached you, and you pathetically pressed yourself into the wall and turned your face as he lifted his hand and stroked your cheek in faux sympathy. His bottom lip was stuck out in a fake pout, mimicking your state of panic.

“You’re not scared of me, right baby? It’s just a game, right? I mean after all I do for you-bathe, feed, and dress you- you only feel love for me, right?”

He was toying with you, in a similar fashion a cat plays with its prey before it pounces.

When you hesitated for a moment too long, his hand by your face heated up its dying embers, warning you to give him what he wanted to hear.

You whimpered and tried to evade his hand, only resulting in his gripping the back of your head and yanking back on your hair roughly so you were forced to look up and meet his amused, dark gaze.

“Ah-ah my pretty bitch. You don’t get to move away from me after all the stunts you pulled today. I’ve had enough of your bullshit so don’t test me any more, now I asked you a question: you love me right?”

At your wits end, you maintained eye contact with him as you shakily tried to nod your head, the movement being difficult to do as he had such a death-grip on your locks.

But he wasn’t satisfied by your pathetic attempt at agreeing, it seemed like he wanted to make your life hell even further and draw this out as long as he could because he clicked his tongue and shook your head like a rag doll in his hands, hair flying across your face and giving you whiplash.

“Use that sharp tongue you got on you before I melt your fucking teeth. You might be a grade-A moron, and a pathetic one at that but I know damn well you’re not mute.” He leans in further, his nose grazing yours as you almost went cross eyed trying to keep him in vision.

“Y-yes Dabi, I love you.”

His silence seemed to scream unimpressed, so you hurried to salvage the situation as best as you could so it wouldn’t escalate the knee-deep shit you were already in.

“And I’m...sorry I was being such a brat today, I just missed everyone I used to be close with. But you were right, I should be more grateful after everything you do for me. It’s not fair that I don’t treat you with the same, uh, affection that you show me. A-and I’m sorry I put... rat poison in your food.” You whispered this last part, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

He snorted, not entirely convinced at your sincerity in the apology but it was enough for him to loosen his grip on your head and take a step back from your personal space.

You sink down the wall to your knees, curling up slightly and taking shaky breaths as you attempt to calm down. The room is still engulfed in flames, but thanks to Dabi’s foresight and extensive planning, most of the furniture of fire-proof (god knows how he got it like that, it’s not like he was the son of the number one hero or anything to accumulate such wealth) so the damage was limited save for your mental state and injured hand.

Dabi crouches down in front of you, an odd smirk on his face as you peer up at him in caution.

“You know, I didn’t say I forgive you princess, or that you’re excused for your little tantrum.”

He cocks his head at you and lifts your chin up towards him with a scarred finger. You blanch at the implication of this ordeal not being over from your excruciating apology, and his disturbing Cheshire-cat grin stretches so wide over his face, you wonder distantly if his stitches are going to pop loose any second.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything, just please don’t...please don’t burn me.” You whisper in defeat.

“Anything, you say? But why? Isn’t it more fun if I brand my name into your back? Oh wait! Maybe I’ll burn you so bad you’ll look like me! Then we’ll really be a matching couple, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I mean if you love me as much as you claim you’ll let me, right?”

He’s trapped you again. If you deny, he’ll ruthlessly berate you for lying to his face and who knows what he’ll do just for the sick, sadistic satisfaction he’ll get from making you stumble over your own lie.

If you comply, however, you’ll look like burnt bacon, just like this fucker.

“I’ll do anything to make you forgive me.” You quietly settle for.

He studies you for a moment, and the uncomfortably silence he grants you makes you shift in your place.

Dabi finally stands to his full height and stretches his arms back with a content groan.

“If that’s the case, then don’t say I didn’t let you choose how you wanted to make it up to me.”

You glance up when you hear the sound of a zipper being undone, and you mouth gapes at his innuendo. You can’t seem to look away as he frees himself from his black boxers, the sound of his belt and pants rustling as they hit the floor.

“Now then, what was that you said about redemption? I think this is a great way to put that mouth to good use, little mouse.”

#tw dubcon #dabi smut #mha x reader #yandere mha #bnha yandere #yandere #yandere dabi x reader #kidnapping #dabi #bnha oneshots #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha dabi

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

You Aren't Fragile

Prompt: After a mission gone wrong y/n is determined to get back into fighting shape, even better than they were before. Bucky notices, and is there when she inevitably wears herself out.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, injury to reader, swearing

Word count: 2K

PART 2 IS UP

Running through the forest, a car, a burst of light and I was on the ground. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t think. All I could feel was the blood pooling out of my side. As my vision began to clear, I looked up at the trees, the clouds, snow just beginning to fall gently landed on my face.

“I am going to die”

As my vision began to get hazy again, I could feel someone lifting me from the base of my back, forcing me to sit up slightly. My vision focused and landed on a set of perfect blue eyes. Bucky Barnes. My best friend. My partner in crime. And my long time crush. It was silly, to have a crush with my best friend, so cliché, but as his eyes met mine, a wave of comfort washed over me, I wasn’t alone. He was here with me. I was ok. And then the world went dark.

I shot upwards in bed, causing a pain to temporarily rip up my side, before taking account of my surroundings. I was in my bed back at the compound. I looked over at the clock on my nightstand, which read 3:24 AM. I sighed, rolling out of bed and changing into some sweats and a tank top, wincing as my arm raised, causing the wound on my side to flare up.

It had been a month since the explosion. It had left an almost foot long scar running from the middle of my ribs to just above my hip. Bucky had carried me back to the quin-jet, and with the help of Natalie and Steve, were able to stabilize me until I got to a hospital. I was in a coma for three days, and hospitalized for another four, before being ordered to bed rest for at least four weeks. During my time in the hospital, the team visited me as often as they could, but Bucky never left my side, bringing me books, and even reading a few to me when I got too tired. They were all so supportive, but a feeling kept eating away at my brain.

I had failed.

I didn’t have magic powers or a super serum to thank for my skills or to keep me safe. I had trained since I was a child, forced to become a lethal fighting machine, which was a great help to the Avengers, and I was happy to be a part of the team. But I was constantly questioning myself. Was I good enough to be here? Was I strong enough? The explosion only furthered my anxiety, and I knew I had to become better.

I made my way to the gym and made my way to a punching bag. I had gotten a bit out of shape in the month and a half on bed rest, but I was ready to get back on the saddle. I needed to be better.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax my muscles, focusing on the bag in front of me. I jabbed with my right arm, and felt pain shoot from my knuckles down to my injured side. I paused, trying to breath through the pain, before striking again with my left hand finding a very similar pain flow down my body. This continued for a few minutes, me punching and trying to move through the pain, pretending like the pain wasn’t there, all the while chanting in my head 'you've been through worse, you’ve been through worse’. That was until I got carried away, whipping my right leg to strike the bag, and as my shin made contact, the pain in my side radiated throughout my entire body, causing me to collapse with a shocked gasp.

I collapsed onto my hands and knees, my left hand gripping my right side, and tears flowing out of my eyes at the sheer amount of pain. I was only down for a few seconds before I heard footsteps rushing towards me, followed by a hand resting on my back.

“Y/n what happened are you doing”? It was Bucky. Of course it was. The man who always found me at my weakest.

“Go away”! I yelled, shoving him away which only resulted in more pain, resulting in me falling into the same position as before, both arms wrapped around my torso. 

“Please” I sobbed, not nearly as loud as before “Please just leave me alone” For a moment the room was silent, the only sound being me trying to suppress my crying. Then, I felt that same reassuring hand, lifting me to my feet.

“You know I can’t just leave you here doll” Bucky said softly, like he was talking to a wounded animal. He gently helped me to my feet, before I lashed out once again.

“I can do it myself” I said, pushing him away, only to almost fall again, but Bucky was there to catch me, lifting me off my feet and carrying me back to my room. This time I didn’t fight it.

He sat me down on my bed and I dangled my legs over the side, allowing Bucky to sit next to me after he turned on the lamp next to my bed. We sat there for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only a few seconds. I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and stop existing. But no matter how much I looked at the floor, Bucky continued to look at me.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, doll” He asked suddenly. I caught me off guard, and I didn’t respond right away, so he continued. “You were in a coma not even two months ago. You’ve been on bed rest since last week. You’re not even supposed to lift heavy objects why do you think you can do this”?

“I need to do it,” I said quietly, but this wasn’t a good enough answer.

“You don’t need to do anything, you need time to heal, you’re broken and-” I didn’t let him finish

“I’m not broken!” I screamed standing but Bucky stayed still, afraid that any movement from him would make my reaction worse. “I am not some fragile piece of glass. I was raised to be a killing machine! I’ve killed people Bucky! I’m trying so hard to get my life back, to do better, to help people but I am constantly reminded that I am weak! I don't have super strength, I don't have super healing, I’m just a nobody, and I need to prove that I’m worthy to be on this team!” 

The room was silent after that, Bucky looking at me with an expression that I could only describe as sadness. He slowly stood, walking over to where I stood across from him, gently bringing a hand up to wipe away tears that I hadn’t realized had fallen, before gently cupping my face.

“You aren’t a fragile piece of glass, and you aren't some nobody, not to the team. Not to me” He said, and that was all it took for me to break down completely. I rested my head on his chest, and sobbed, I let out every anxiety, and fear and pain I had been holding onto for all this time, and he just held me until all that was left was me.

“Why are you taking care of me”? I asked finally, being able to catch my breath and wipe my tears away. “I know we are partners and everything, but you came every day while I was in the hospital. You didn’t have to do that”

“Y/n. On that day, when the explosion happened, I saw you get hit, and the whole time I was running to you, I was pleading, praying, begging any otherworldly force just please, don’t let her be dead. But then I got to you, and you were just so still” I could hear Bucky holding back tears. “I couldn’t stand the thought of having to live in this world without you”

It was now Bucky's turn to look at the floor. “When you were in your coma, I never left. I slept in a chair right by your side, I read to you every day. Told you all the things I wish I had told you while you were awake… Please y/n, I need you to be ok” He finished, finally looking back into my eyes, waiting for a reaction.

“What did you say?” I asked after a moment, causing him to look confused. “What did you say that you wish you could have told me while I was awake”?

Bucky let out a breath, moving his hands to gently rest on either side of my face. “I told you how on the first day you walked into the compound, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. How when you made fun of Steve's’ whole  language bit, I knew that I had fallen for you. I told you that I wish I had made you laugh more while you were still awake, because it's my favorite sound and the thought of never hearing your voice again broke my heart. I told you that in the last three years in working together, I have fallen so, terrifyingly in love with you, and that I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t wake up” There was a beat of silence, tears now starting to form in both of our eyes at his confession “You’re not fragile y/n, you're the strongest, most determined, funniest, kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I need you to take care of yourself, because I don’t know what I’ll do if you get hurt like that again”

I slowly moved my hands up to meet his face, in the same manner his hands were on mine, before finally connecting my lips to his. He seemed to see it coming, because he took no time to respond. It was passionate, but not in a way that is lustful and rushed, but in a way where I was finally able to see him for the first time. It was slow, and kind, and it felt like I had finally come home.

He was the first to pull away, looking into my eyes and smiling, before reconnecting, this time with even more passion than before, moving his hands to my back pressing me closer to him, swiping his tongue along my bottom lip which I gladly accepted. We went like this for a while, before he pulled again once again when he felt my hands move from his face to his chest.

“Sorry, did I do something wrong”? I asked, panicked that I was moving too fast, which caused him to laugh, placing his hands on top of mine.

“No you’re not doing anything wrong, there's nothing I want more than to take this further, I’ve waited literal years to take this further, but you are still hurt, and I don’t want you bleeding all over the place when we get to there” He said, causing heat to rise to my cheeks, but also to cause a laugh to erupt from my chest.

“You do have a point” I laughed, leaning into him again, this time in a hug, allowing the feeling of comfort to come over me.

“I promise as soon as you’re better I’ll help you train and let you beat me up as much as you want until you feel confident, and let me show you how much I’ve been wanting to do this, But for now do you think you can stick to your bed rest? Just for a while longer?” He asked, pulling away to look into my eyes.

“I mean, I’ve waited this long to jump your bones, I guess a few more weeks won't hurt” I stated, causing him to chuckle “But I still want you to come read to me and stuff”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way”

______________________________________________________________

Hope you guys liked it! LMK if you think this should have a part two, or if you have any other feedback. Love you all!

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes smut #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #bucky barnes imagine

[eva-novakov]

“This is a love story?” Eva lifted her legs automatically when he reached the couch so he could sit down as close to her as possible. She pulled the edge of his shirt back down her thighs when her bare legs dropped onto his lap.

“Is that bad?” 

“No…I like love stories.” She thumbed through the book, until Isaac quickly inserted a hand between the pages. 

“I know what you’re doing. Stop it.” 

“Okay, I read the ending first, one time.” She peeled his hand away but flipped back to the beginning, glaring at him over the top of the book. 

“Sure, if one time means every time.” He smiled and smoothed a hand over her leg, turning to his nightly reports in the other.  Her smile was hidden behind the book. “It’s fantasy though, so not very accurate standards when it comes to love.” 

“I wouldn’t know.” She snorted. 

“What?” 

She sighed and lowered the book onto her lap. “I’m almost thirty years old and I’ve never been in love. How big of a loser does that make me?” Her laugh drifted into silence when she found him studying her. “I think I might have been once. But that ended badly. But you should definitely know right?” 

“Yeah, you’ll know.” 

This time it was her turn to study his face. “Have you ever been in love?” 

“Yes.” He said the word without hesitation. 

“Is it too personal to ask why it ended?” 

“Nothing is too personal for you to ask, Eva.” He focused on the hand that was sliding from her shin to her thigh and back again. “She died, a very long time ago.” 

Eva’s heart dropped into her stomach as she inhaled. “…Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-.” 

“It’s alright. It feels like a completely different life now.” 

“I’d like to hear about her someday.” 

“Whenever you want.” He gave her a small smile, brows knitting together. “What about the time you thought you were in love, that ended badly?” 

Her sigh was deep and heavy this time. “I’ve never opened that door for anyone.” 

“You don’t have to tell me.” 

He waited patiently, while she debated whether the journey back through that particular past was worth it. It wasn’t, but he was. 

“I thought we were going to get married one day, that’s why I thought I was in love. And looking back, there were signs that I either didn’t see or I ignored, maybe both. There was always a side of him that just… didn’t feel right. I was so young and he was only my second boyfriend so I was naïve as hell. I was already scarred when I met him, but he was just so confident and imposing, probably too charismatic. He had our whole class charmed, and he just set his sights on me and didn’t give up until there I was, letting someone in once again, past all the warning bells in my head.” 

“Anyway, it was the last day of our N7 test. There were only three of us left at the end. Somehow, the two of us found each other. In the moment, I thought it was fate. Now I realize it had to have been something else. Either way, we were almost out of it, it was almost over. I don’t remember a lot of it. This was the third day of no sleep and hardly no food or water. I remember...civilians that needed protecting. I remember the wave of enemies that were sent at us. I remember screaming at him, when he left me to defend them, by myself. I remember he didn’t even look back. And that’s the last thing I remember before I used the last of whatever was in me to throw  a shield around the civilians, then everything went black.” 

She glanced at him and appreciated the rage flashing in his eyes. “I don’t have to tell you how it works, the hostiles and the civilians were a simulation, the board sees everything, judges how you perform, etcetera. What they told us, is that the first person to make it to the drop zone would graduate. We were all supposed to be separate, not find each other. So I guess he was doing what he needed to, he just happened to think that using me as his own personal wall to victory was the way to go. The irony is that they purposely didn’t tell us that only the first few people who dropped out wouldn’t graduate. So he didn’t even need to do what he did, the rest of us ended up graduating anyway.” 

“Wait.” Isaac held up one finger and Eva had never seen his features display that much anger.  “That test is supposed to be accomplished in an ‘admirable and effective fashion’. That should have ended his career.” 

“I don’t know what he told the board. I don’t know if he threw my name in the fire or if he was fucking one of them or…I never could find out. And they didn’t let him graduate, but they let him try again the next year, and he passed. I went that year, to graduation, because I had friends that had achieved their N7. He wouldn’t even look at me. It was like I didn’t exist. Jackson Vance. Specialization: N7 Asshole.” 

Eva recognized the slow, focused breaths that Isaac was taking as the same ones she took when she needed to not kill someone. Maybe that’s why she kept talking, she was afraid of what he would say when she stopped. Maybe it was  because she wanted him to realize just how damaged she was before he got too deep.

“You know how we’re all required to sit so many therapy hours at ICT, just to make sure we’re holding up against the mind fucks you have to go through while there. Well my therapist told me I had ‘attachment issues’. To which I replied no shit.” She breathed a humorless chuckle and rolled a strand of still damp hair between her fingers. Anything to concentrate on besides his eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip, surprised and angry at the sudden emotion burning in her throat. She tried to breathe through it, but couldn’t stop the single droplet that found its way out of her right eye and she quickly brushed it off of her cheek. “Because in my brain, when something like that happens and your own parents didn’t want you, who will?” 

“Eva.” His hand found her cheek, stroking where the tear had been. She still couldn’t meet his eyes but she could hear the pain in his voice. “You deserve love, you know. You’re worth love.” 

Her fingers curled around his wrist, pulling his hand away to entwine her fingers through his, deciding to barrel through the door before it slammed shut again. “I need you to know I have a history of pulling away. When things get too good.” She shouldn’t have looked, because the emotion in his eyes made her swallow down another lump in her throat. “My job has been both a blessing and a curse. It rips me away from anyone that might want to keep me, but it allows me to run from anyone I might want to keep. All I can ask is that you be patient with me and don’t give up on me if I need to take it slow.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, no matter what speed.” The words slid earnestly through his lips before meeting hers when he tugged on her hand, pulling her up to meet him. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“I don’t know why I told you all of that. I don’t talk about my things. Keep whatever black magic you used to pull that out of me to yourself, sir.” 

“Now who has been reading too much fantasy?” He pulled her hand to his lips as she laid back down onto the couch. “I like it when you tell me your things.” 

“Okay well.” She sniffled, twirling the same lock of hair around a finger. “Can we not talk about sad things anymore?” 

“What do you want to talk about?” 

She saw him visibly collect himself before her eyes drifted shut. “Tell me more about the pink sand.” 

There was silence, then there was nothing but his hands on her and her favorite sound in the world. He told her about the places he had been, about all the shows he still wants her to watch, his favorite books. Her blood leveled, her heart beat slowed and her brain went quiet as she listened to him, sure that she could listen to him talk every second of every day and never tire of it. 

At some point Eva playfully pulled his hand up her thigh and he squeezed it, bringing a smirk to her lips. Later on in his rambling she pulled it up further and she knew they weren’t playing anymore when his words started to falter. She gasped softly when his fingertips slipped past the fabric covering the most sensitive parts of her. He was utterly silent and she writhed as he played with her, his finger brushing over her folds, thumb sweeping over her clit, simply feeling her. Her leg dropped off the side of the couch, spreading her legs and whispering his name. Her bottom lip poked into a pout when his finger stopped and she was jostled as he moved. Her eyes flew open when his mouth replaced his finger, her eyes falling to see his head between her legs. He pulled back just enough to remove her panties and then she threw her other leg onto the back of the couch and tangled her fingers into his hair as he devoured her. His fingers dug into her thighs and she moaned long and deep when his tongue slid inside her. His ministrations on her permeated the silence and she decided she could have more than one favorite sound. 

“Fuck…don’t stop.” She knew he wouldn’t, but she said it anyway in an effort to hold back as long as she could. She faintly wondered if it was possible for him to do this for the entire night and still do his job the next day. Finally one hand untangled from his hair to slap against his shoulder and she was unable to make a sound. He knew by now when she went silent she was close, and he latched onto her, sucking hard as she came around him. 

“I want more of you.” She pushed him out from between her legs and into a sitting position when she finally stopped shaking enough to move. 

Her – his – shirt dropped onto the floor as she moved to straddle him and his hands immediately went to her nipples, leaning forward to capture one in his mouth. Her chin rested on the top of his head, letting him suck on an entirely different part of her that made her shiver and shake in entirely new ways. He was already hard before she started to grind her crotch against his. When he moved to the other nipple, his tongue flattening against it before it disappeared into this mouth, she reached between them and pulled his length out of his shorts. His mouth hesitated, resting motionless against her skin when she started to stroke him. He sat back when she lifted herself slightly, helping her position herself over him. They both moaned when his tip pushed into her, until her mouth found his and they kissed away each other’s sounds when she sat fully onto him, his hard flesh disappearing inside her. She kissed him the entire time she rode him, bouncing on his lap, her hands in his hair and his hands everywhere. 

It was when she pulled away, leaning back with her hands moving to his knees so he could see her breasts move and see him sliding in and out of her that she heard the whine. She looked at him, mouth open with hard breaths, not sure she heard what she thought she did. Until he whined again and she came back to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and fucking him harder at the sound. She could definitely have more than one favorite.

“Isaac.” She stopped lifting herself up and down and sat on his lap, rocking her hips to grind him inside her. Her hands held his face, lips inches from his as she clenched around him. She was close, and she knew he was close. “If I try to run…please don’t let me.” Her entire body shook and she moaned against his mouth as she came, wanting all of him. 

He gasped for breath as he gave her everything. “I’ll never give you a reason to.”

#well this turned into a fucking Thing #was supposed to be a small write Eva #eva fic #jesus #idek if it makes sense i just *try* to write it #isa #i love them

[maomaosmother]

Hey everyone! I don't do analysis stuff on here much, mostly because I normally don't have such detailed thought on my headcanons. So this won’t be a regular occurrence. But ever since the newest episodes of Mao Mao, I've seen a lot of reasons and examples that support my headcanon of Mao Mao having an anxiety disorder. This analysis will contain detailed spoilers for Scared of Puppets, so please be cautious of that! If you’re interested in reading this, please look below! If you disagree with any of this, that’s okay! I respect all thoughts and other headcanons, this is all for fun anyways ;

As someone who has Generalized Anxiety, also known as GAD, this subject is very important to me, and it'd be nice if it was shown correctly more often in cartoons. Most cartoon characters I've seen with anxious habits are just screaming or hiding in a room when confronted with what they're afraid of, and they get over it by the end of the episode. But with Mao Mao, it has felt so different. I've seen tons of signs that make me feel as if he could be suffering from at least one form of anxiety.

Personally, it feels like he has GAD like myself, but he could also have a form of PTSD. PTSD is also an anxiety disorder, if you didn't know! It's very possible to have both, which is called Comorbid Anxiety. I want to try and go in order of the episodes we've had released in the first season, to make it easier to understand all my reasons. So, with that being said, I want to start with the episode that made me feel that anxiety was even a possibility to notice in Mao Mao's canon character; Episode 7, Not Impressed. 

Not Impressed was the first heavy, serious type of episode we got in the series. Mao Mao is clearly happy when gaining the attention of his citizens, so it's extremely noticeable when he gets angry and upset that one single person isn't as thrilled or, as titled, impressed. People with anxiety disorders tend to do two things: they focus on the tiny negative instead of the positives that surround them, and they quickly link their present problems to their past. Both of these are immediately shown, as child Mao Mao is repeatedly popping up in his mind, begging for his father's attention. He forgets about the praise he was just receiving, as all focus is now on the negative. In fact, it happens every time his attempts at impressing him fail. Everyone in the valley seems interested in him, some even watching his dance moves in the middle of the episode. But all he cares about is Blue, nothing is important right then except getting his positive feedback. It doesn't mean everyone with anxiety who feels like this is selfish, it all links back to fearing failure or rejection. Whether it happened in their past, or they were raised to always be right and successful, anxiety disorders can affect your emotions when negative reactions or feedback is thrown your way. In Mao Mao's case, his link in his life is none other than Shin Mao. 

Shin Mao has neglected him for almost all his life. I won't go into the whole family thing, since all of you reading this probably already know about that. But long story short, he's a mentally abusive father. The first glimpse we see of this is in this episode, where the younger version of Mao Mao is ignored by his father, who focuses on only his older sisters. This clearly had a heavy impact on him, and we learn just how bad it was in future episodes ( that I'll talk about ). Blue is eventually tricked into saying he was impressed by Mao Mao, who technically was Chubbum, and a desperate Mao Mao took it anyways. He ends the episode by accidentally talking about his father during an excited shout, and is taken into a therapy session. It hasn't been clarified ever since this episode if Mao Mao still attends therapy, but I am personally hoping he does. This was only the first sign that caught my eye, and there's still more to unpack. Such as, my next point, episode 10: Bao Bao's Revenge. 

Like the family point, most of you should already know Bao Bao, so I won't go too much into that whole backstory. But, it IS a huge point in my Comorbid Anxiety headcanon. People with anxiety have a horrible time with trust. Mao Mao was betrayed by his friend in a tragic way, his tail being taken. While Bao Bao didn't do it on purpose and was just being a typical dog, Mao Mao has very clearly not gotten over it. He has held this grudge for years, and with this grudge, he attempts to push it onto others. Most people with anxiety, including myself, can have this problem: if they see a person as bad, they are hurt or irritated if others don't. That person hurt THEM, so how could anyone see that person as a kind and loving person? Why is karma not biting them yet? They're difficult thoughts to deal with, as it can be unhealthy and affect your other relationships. Mao Mao prepares the villagers for Bao Bao's "vicious attack", and describes him as a horrific monster. When it's revealed that he's a small pup, and the sweetiepies get angry, Mao Mao's frustration increases. He doesn't understand how anyone can see him as harmless or cute. This is a big insecurity issue. Insecurity is a symptom for GAD. 

While Mao Mao does temporarily put his grudge to the side to defeat a monster with Bao Bao, it doesn't go away. As soon as its over, he says he isn't sure whether or not to forgive. After a heartfelt reminder of their memories together, he does eventually forgive Bao Bao and immediately starts planning their life together. This actually happens at least four times in the series; here, "I Love You Mao Mao", "Outfoxed" and in "Baost In Show". It feels like an overthinking symptom, which is a huge GAD/PTSD sign. He quickly lists off his expectations for the future, his dreams of impressing his father and sisters, spending a lifetime with Bao Bao, getting into different scenarios, etc. Overwhelming thoughts of one's future is common in people with anxiety, as you are afraid of not having that "perfect" life you desire. While it is true that people who don't have anxiety disorders also overthink and hope for a great future, it's a pretty frequent thing seen in Mao Mao, more often than the average person. 

Believe it or not, the next three episodes following Bao Bao's Revenge also have signs of comorbid anxiety. 

"Popularity Conquest" has a lot of lore in Mao Mao's self-esteem. He is so desperate to be loved and appreciated, he's willing to change his attitude and appearance. This pink-clothed, higher-voiced, "hipster" Mao Mao was a huge cry for positive attention. This, again, links back to the neglect he received as a child. GAD is more into play with this issue; Too much negative feedback causes him to explode in anger. However, he soon shuts down, deciding to no longer do the right thing, but to try and give the villagers what they like. Mao Mao seems to frequently battle with himself like this, wanting to follow all the hero rules he was taught, but also wanting to give in to his wishes and be given the love and appreciation he never received before. Comorbid anxiety is full of these types of challenges, unsure of what is better for you or what lies ahead. What would he lose or gain from each choice he has to choose from? It's a common battle we see him face in the series. 

"Sick Mao" is leaning more towards GAD, with his illness being an obstacle he believes he can handle with no correct treatments. Heroes being sick is a sign of weakness to him, and he most likely learned this from Shin. He attempts to go along his day, refusing to believe he's sick up to the point where he faints and can no longer deny it. While this is a mix of regular stubbornness, it's clear that he fears not being strong or seen as a hero if he's ill. He gets upset once he finally admits to it, and it takes a lot for him to realize he can still be a hero without having to put himself at a health risk. Mao Mao's constant repetition of "being sick means he's weak" and "heroes aren't weak" is something he's had drilled into his brain by his family, and he believed it for so long due to his fear of disappointing them. This episode showed Mao Mao's agitation, self-destructive behavior, and flashbacks/fears of his past. 

"Thumb War" isn't as different as the points I just made above, in which we see Mao Mao expressing his irrational and unrealistic behaviors once more. Shin expects a hero to always win, and that there's no point in any kind of competition if you don't win it. Mao Mao has also stuck this into his brain, so when he loses, he shows clear agitation and even embarrassment. He learns by the episode that he can lose and still have fun, but again, it took a lot for him to do so ( Adorabat getting upset and giving up, the village seeing his paws, etc. ). 

In case you weren't sure already, GAD is more than just expressing anxious emotions. It can also cause irritation, in which the person can explode in anger if it's too much for their mind to handle. It can also cause unrealistic thoughts of issues and situations. Mao Mao shows this often, with the mental scarring of his childhood usually lingering behind him. The next episode I wanted to bring up for a moment was "Legend of Torbaclaun", which really expressed how unfamiliar Mao Mao is with the concept of "fun". 

Mao Mao is always taking things seriously, sometimes a bit too much at the wrong time and place. This could be from his anxious thoughts of failing at his job as a hero, who should always stay on guard at all times. Letting loose isn't easy for him, and certainly isn't something he's familiar with. People with GAD typically see situations as threatening or serious, when they really aren't. This is basically the theme of the episode, Mao Mao doesn't see the Torbaclaun, yet others say they can and are setting up a whole get-together for its supposed arrival. He does everything he can to stop it, fearing the chaos that he believes could ensue. He goes from getting angry, to upset, to angry and upset again. He only realizes how much he's affected people once they show sadness, and it clearly wasn't his intention to send them home in disappointment. It's almost as if he never truly understood that fun is different for people, and not everything is a serious matter. It also further proves my point that all of this is built on fear when the end of the episode does, in fact, end in a chaotic riot. Mao Mao is seen freaking out, blaming himself for the chaos. 

Most of the following episodes after this one show the same smaller signs that I already explored, like his refusal to believe rules are made up or unnecessary in "Meet Tanya Keys" and pretty much the entire episode of "Small". I saw these signs, but I never really felt as if it was enough to write an analysis or anything. The anxiety headcanon felt more like a "What if" or "Possibly" thing. But what really sealed the deal for me, and what made me write this whole thing in the first place, is the episode "Scared of Puppets". Just a warning in case you didn't read earlier, this will contain high spoilers, so don't continue on if you don't want to be spoiled. With that being clarified, let's break this episode down. 

This one is about exactly what the title states, Mao Mao's fear of ventriloquist dummies. It starts off with him seeing the dummy for the first time, inside a box Badgerclops carries. Immediately after, he begins to sweat and panic, going to a flashback of himself at his birthday party. He experiences automatic anxiety just by looking at the puppet, but when its head falls off and into his lap, he screams in understandable terror. We go back to Mao Mao rocking back and forth on the floor, possibly an attempt to calm himself. He is jumpy, sweaty and even has a shakier voice throughout this episode going forward. Which, I want to applaud Parker for, because it was very well done. He tries to gather himself in front of his deputies, especially Adorabat. He can't even look at the puppet without gagging, and eventually pukes after Badgerclops purposely terrorizes him with it. Nausea and vomiting are definitely common in anxiety disorders, nerves at such a high level upsets your stomach and can also flare up your acid reflux, if you have that issue. 

He still refuses to admit his fears, which irritates Badgerclops and worries Adorabat. Most people with GAD don't like to be open with their struggles, especially if they feel weak or like they've been worrying too much in recent times. Plus, this isn't an uncommon thing for him - denying his struggles and refusing to change can be a nervous habit. Especially when such intense fear, like this one, is occurring. Mao Mao is soon in a CPR class, where Badgerclops hands him a bag that contains the dummy. He is told to demonstrate mouth to mouth procedures on the dummy, and again, we see Mao Mao gagging just at the sight and thought of touching it. He stares down at the puppet in a sweat, his face even turning paler and he closes his eyes as his mind races. His thoughts go back to his father telling him not to be scared, with a bonus punch to the gut of hearing Shin Mao not remembering Mao Mao's age. This is the thought that triggers his first anxiety attack, in which he opens his eyes, screams, and runs off the table. To some people, it may seem like just a typical freakout, but as someone with GAD, this is a very frequent thing that happens similar to this. Sometimes a simple, specific thought can be your breaking point that you can't control. Of course, this is still a cartoon, so during his anxiety attack, he tries desperately to run away from the dummy ( which unfortunately hooks onto his cape ) and ends up causing a fire explosion. Badgerclops knows for a fact at this point about his fear, but Mao Mao still denies it, even after panicking in front of him. 

The next scene, which is set at night time, shows multiple GAD symptoms that were more intense than usual. He is restless for most of the night, getting upset and angry that he's scared. He's in tears and eventually punching the wall furiously, telling himself he's not scared of the dummy. It's close to another breaking point, in which he gets up and goes to try and relax in the kitchen. In there, he ends up running into the dummy laying on the kitchen table. He gets scared at first, then attempts to face his fear by picking it up and slapping it. This isn't enough, obviously, and gets terrified when it slightly moves. He puts it quickly in a wrapped box, and this begins the start of a nightmare sequence. He's hiding under the table, where both the puppet ( in a gigantic form ) and Shin Mao are present. He's terrorized for being scared, and the nightmare ends with him nearly getting eaten by said puppet. He wakes up screaming, sweating and clearly dazed. Nightmares, or even night terrors, are also symptoms for GAD. Mao Mao is clearly having higher anxiety levels than usual, to the point that its affecting his usual sleep patterns. 

This last scene I want to explain in detail, is by far, the heaviest and most clear reason for my headcanon. It hit me hard personally, and I tear up when I watch it. Because I know how Mao Mao feels in this scene, how his physical and mental state functions during such an attack. 

After Mao Mao wakes up from his nightmare, the trio is quickly on a call for a monster attack. At the setting, the stand full of puppets is there, which Mao Mao tries to avoid at first. After the monster hits the stand and sends the puppets flying, they unfortunately land all around Mao Mao in a circle. His anxiety is triggered instantly, trying to keep himself from panicking. He slowly goes from a stand to a crawl, going less verbal and more shaky. Adorabat is attempting to encourage him, and reminding him that admitting his fears is okay, and that they're there to help. He then experiences a big hallucination of being surrounded by puppets, followed by hearing the repeated words of his father. About how he can't tell them he's scared and that he isn't allowed to show weakness, that heroes are never afraid. This can be viewed as a bit of a sensory overload, which is a symptom for multiple things, such as GAD and Autism. But he is then seen closing his eyes, barely able to stare at Adorabat, who is trying to comfort him. He's shaking and stuttering, almost going into a heavy panic attack. When a panic attack hits you hard, you don't want to stare at anything or try to stand or speak, your body is basically overwhelmed and needs to slowly relax before attempting to move. He also seems to have his hands near his chest, which leads to possibly another GAD symptom; Chest pain. He is attempting to tell himself he's fearless, but it becomes too much, and he finally gets the energy to yell that he's afraid of puppets. 

The end of the puppet episode is also a fascinating touch, in addition to what I mentioned at the start of this analysis: Mao Mao doesn't get over his fears! Which I'm happy about, not because I want him to keep going through his fear, but because it's realistic. Fears and anxiety doesn't go away overnight, as much as I wish. I believe Mao Mao is still in the middle of the improving process. So, it's good to know that he's still not okay with the thought of puppets or how his past with them occurred.

It felt really good to write all this out! I really hope I make sense in this, I do tend to ramble on sometimes, so my apologies. In conclusion, these are reasons why I believe Mao Mao has Comorbid Anxiety, especially GAD. Will we see more signs of Mao Mao struggling with anxiety disorder symptoms? Maybe so, I'd be shocked and honestly disappointed if we don't! It's a very important thing to address, that most kids don't seem to understand the sincerity of these days. There's a big difference between regular anxiety, and anxiety disorders. 

If you read this whole thing, BLESS you and I'd love to hear your thoughts on my reasons and headcanon! Thank you so much!

#mao mao #mmhoph #mao mao heroes of pure heart #headcanon #anxiety headcanon #analysis #mao mao spoilers

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Who do you think was the first to fall in love with Yui, Carla or Shin? Which of the two relationships do you think has the best development? And finally, if Giessbach and Krone were still alive, what do you think they would think of the relationship between their sons and Yui?

Ohhhh this is an interesting question, sorry I took so long to answer anon but I had to do a deep dive into Shin and Carla’s DF routes for this so it took a bit of time. I’ve split this into three different sections.

Who fell for Yui first?

This is a little tricky as these boys are not great at dealing with their feelings. What I’ve done is included a list of what I view as key moments in their relationships with her and when they occur in their DF routes.

(This post got REALLY long so I’m putting the rest of it under the cut).

Carla’s route

Dark 10 - Carla allows Yui to go to the library at school after she says she wants to read to distract herself from her current situation. Carla reflects that he did the same thing while confined to Banmaden and while this doesn’t show any feelings on his part, I do think it’s interesting that he draws such a comparison. In the Dark Epilogue they then have a conversation about books and this is the first instance of them bonding that we get in the route.

Maniac 06 - Carla catches the scent of a vampire on Yui after allowing her to go to library (she was talking to Mertz) and accuses her of using his fondness for reading to gain his sympathy. Carla himself is surprised at how angry he feels and while he refuses to acknowledge that it’s because he’d started to trust Yui and feels betrayed, that’s exactly what it is.

Maniac 09 - Carla reveals to Yui what he plans to do with her and basically says he’ll have sex with her right there (fortunately he’s stopped due to his Endzeit in the next scene). I don’t think I need to clarify that he’s not doing this because he feels things for Yui but I’ve mentioned a similar thing in Shin’s route so I feel it’s only fair I highlight this moment too.

Maniac 10 and Epilogue - After Carla collapses from Endzeit, Yui goes get help and Carla can’t understand why she comes back (i.e why she doesn’t run away) and starts to take care of him. Yui tells him that it’s because she feels compassion for him. Carla actually opens up a bit here about his feelings towards his father but goes back to being cold to Yui and pushing her away due to his hang-ups about how he should behave as a king. After Yui leaves he notes his heart is beating loudly and he starts to say he finds her scent irritating, before realizing it might be another feeling. Suffice to say Carla definitely feels something towards Yui at this point but good luck getting him to admit it.

Ecstasy Prologue - After a conversation with Yui, Carla notes that he felt happy because of her but is confused as to why. It’s because you like her you doofus. Again Carla is still in the phase of “feeling something but I’ll die before I admit it to anyone including myself”.

Ecstasy 06 and 07 - Here Yui recognizes her feelings for Carla. As for Carla, he allows Yui to hug him and asks her to dance with him. Once they finish, Carla tells her to go to Shin after he dies but when he’s alone he reflects that he actually doesn’t want Yui to go to anyone else. I would actually say that Carla’s started to love her by this point (or at least something very close to love) but he doesn’t properly admit it to Yui or himself until his vampire ending.

Shin’s route

Dark Epilogue - In my opinion this is the first instance where Shin goes from seeing Yui as just a thing to use to surpass his brother and actually seeing her as her own person. Shin takes care of Yui after she gets sick (although this is because he needs her alive and healthy for their plan rather than because he cares for her) and Yui thanks him. Shin is taken really off-guard by this, because the founders were strong enough that they never needed help (and so never had to thank anyone in return). He also notices scars she has from her time with the Sakamaki brothers and they remind him of the incident with his eye

Maniac 09 - Shin and Yui’s first kiss under less than great circumstances. After Carla tells Shin to hand over Yui and Shin fails to sway Mertz to his side, Shin decides to make Yui his by attempting to have sex with her (fortunately Carla interrupts them before he can do any more than kiss her) (Just as a quick aside, Shin very much seems to associate sex with ownership, as this comes up in Ruki’s DF route too. What he’s doing is very very wrong but I just want to explain his mind set a bit). Now what he’s doing here is dreadful and Shin is definitely not doing this because he loves her. I don’t think he feels nothing for her here either (based on a scene that happens immediately after this) but he’s still very much just trying to one-up Carla.

Maniac 10 - As punishment for what happened above, Carla sucks Yui’s blood in front of Shin while Shin begs him to stop. This is again partly about not wanting to lose to Carla but based on the dialogue I also think this is the first real moment we get any indication that Shin might have some form of actual feelings for Yui. Towards the end of this scene, Yui also protects Shin from Carla’s magic by getting in the way and Yui notes that there was pain on Shin’s face just before she gets hit with and blacks out.

Maniac Epilogue - In this scene we get one of the most important conversations in the development of Shin and Yui’s relationship. Shin asks why Yui tried to save him considering everything he’s done to her and Yui replies that she doesn’t want him to suffer because she know what it’s like to suffer. Shin naturally doesn’t understand her actions at all and says he wants to kill her because her attitude pisses him off (he isn’t serious, he just doesn’t know what to do and so acts like an idiot) but before that  he’ll give her a nice memory by holding her close to him for warmth. Here, I believe Shin actually starts to see that he has something in common with Yui, she feels powerless against him in the same way that he feels weak compared to Carla (although you have to read into the dialogue a bit to come to this conclusion).

Ecstasy 07 - While Yui is taking care of Carla after his condition dramatically worsens (due to Endzeit), Shin reflects that it’s the first time he’s met someone like her and that if they’d met normally she probably would have gotten along with Carla and become his. Shin is definitely feeling things at this point and starting to realize it but he’s not quite there yet.

Ecstasy 09 - After Yui asks Shin not to go and fight Karlheinz for Carla’s sake, Shin views that as her choosing Carla over him and in a monologue he says that he wanted her to choose him and thought she already had. Yui finds him because she wants to talk to him and Shin kisses her and accuses her of wanting to flirt with Carla (because he’s hopelessly insecure and also an idiot). Yui then says she belongs to him and Shin frickin melts. This is where he goes from “cares about her and has started to admit it himself” to “genuinely cares about her”. There’s a bit more on Shin’s feelings for her in his Vampire ending but I think this is where I’ll stop for now.

Comparing the two routes side by side I’d actually say Carla starts to develop feelings for Yui faster than Shin does but  has a much harder time admitting it because of his “I am the mighty Founder King, I can’t have feelings for a fragile human” mind set. Shin has a bit more of a narrow worldview in terms of believing in the absolute superiority of the founders and being incredibly focused on surpassing Carla, which is why I think he’s a bit slower to come around to her (although it’s really not by that much) but I do think he’s much more honest with himself regarding his feelings towards Yui when he does develop them.

Which relationship has the best development? 

Urgh... this is really hard as it depends heavily on whether I’m just looking for at them initially falling for her (DF) or the other routes too.

Just based on DF, I’d actually say Carla and Yui’s relationship has the best development, as it actually addresses some of Carla’s issues. Part of Carla accepting his feelings for Yui is him confronting his idea that kings cannot express their emotions and his own loneliness as well. Even when the other founders were alive, Giesbach’s treatment of him and his own duties/position as heir to throne, left Carla very isolated. While his mother genuinely cared for him, there was little she could do, and in asking him to kill Giesbach (although for the good of their people) it put an immense amount of pressure on him. This combined with Yui telling Carla that it’s okay for him to be selfish, or rather to be true to his own feelings rather than trying to act how he perceives a king should be, is why their relationship is really important to Carla’s character.

Now I love Shin to death but I don’t think the progression of his and Yui’s relationship is quite as nice in DF. A lot of Shin’s route is just dealing with his complicated feelings towards Carla, rather than focusing on his relationship with Yui and while she is crucial in getting him to go back to Banmaden and have that final confrontation with Carla in his vampire ending, ultimately the brothers have to discuss things on their own for Shin to get any sort of closure on that front.

However if I’m looking at the series overall (i.e. DF and beyond to LE and later CDs) then I think Shin and Yui’s relationship has the best development, as he goes from the prideful “humans are dirt under my feet” attitude at the start of DF to actually relying on Yui in his LE route and being glad that he didn’t die in the incident where the Vibora took his eye. He says this in his Born to Die CD and for anyone less familiar with his character I want to point out how much of a big deal this is. Shin’s pride as a founder is a huge part of his character and I’d say he loves the first bloods and believes in their superiority even more so than Carla does. So for him, Carla, the person he looked up to above all others and the future founder king, lowering his head to one of the sub-races was not worth Shin’s life. He says as much in the moment and later when discussing it, that to him it would have been better to die than to see Carla sacrifice some of his (and the founders’) pride. Which is why when he then tells Yui that he’s glad he didn’t die because it otherwise they wouldn’t have met, it really shows how much she (and their relationship) has come to mean to him.

With Carla I feel like the majority of his issues are tackled in DF and while the fact he’s willing to become a ghoul, in order to prolong his life with Yui (and admittedly get revenge for Shin) in his LE vampire ending is also pretty big, I don’t think he’s much more of a stretch for him from DF where he went to Karlheinz (Karlheinz, the person who confined him to Banmaden for centuries) to plead for Yui’s life. I think that although Yui is very important to Carla, Shin is more impacted by being with her in the long time and I like that their relationship continues to develop from DF.

How would Krone and Giesbach react?

Giesbach disapproved of basically everything Carla ever did so I can’t see him being happy with Carla in any scenario. At best I think he’d make nasty comments about how founders (and especially founder royalty) should not lower themselves by having relations with a human and at worst I think they’d be actual threats.

I can’t see Giesbach being thrilled by Yui being with Shin either (he was not a very nice person by the end guys), but that’s because I don’t think he’d view her as being good enough for Shin. If Shin was adamant about being with her then, I don’t think he would do anything to force them apart (because Giesbach did love Shin) but it would lead to some awkward family dinners.

Krone, on the other hand, would probably just be happy that either of her sons had found someone who made them happy.

On a serious note, one thing that I don’t normally mention on this blog but think I should here; although I love DF and the Tsukinami brothers, the idea that anyone who treats you as they do at the start of DF will fall in love with you just because you’re nice to them is for fiction only. I trust you guys to be sensible and keep yourselves safe but I thought I should bring this up when discussing the idea of the boys falling in love with Yui because I don’t want anyone to think that I’m romanticizing what Yui goes through. If you were to meet anyone like the Tsuki bros as they are at the start of DF irl then you should run for the hills and not look back.

I hope this answers your questions anon! Again, sorry I took so long ^^;;

#I don't particular like getting into serious topics on this blog as it's my space to escape from any sort of real world responsibility #and if you're mature enough to deal with the themes presented in DL then I like to think that you should be able to differentiate #between fiction and real life #that being said I don't want you to think I don't consider these sorts of issues at all because I do thus why i brought it up here #I care about all of you and I want the best for you #okay serious talk over hope you enjoyed my overly long post on the Tsukinami brothers #reply #tw: r*pe #Shin Tsukinami #Carla Tsukinami #analysis

[gotemsayingw0w]

Bed

Look, mom, I finally finished the damn challenge two months late!! Ao3 FFN

Kyo has a crooked nose. It was one of the first things Tohru noticed once she had full access to staring at his face, though she had spent plenty of time before they were ever together staring at his face as well. The place where the bridge of his nose deviates from its traditional path is a dead giveaway.

For a long time, it really bothered her. When she first reached out to gently trace the jagged slope with her finger, Kyo smiled at her. A side effect of having it broken at least a dozen times in his life.

It wasn’t the shape or aesthetics of his nose that were the problem, it was the fact that anyone would ever dare hurt him. She cupped his cheek in her hand and frowned, trying to ignore her temper simmering under her skin. It wasn’t as if she actually had the capability to protect him, especially not physically, but nevertheless.

Kyo assured her that he thoroughly deserved to have his nose broken. He reminded her that a handful of times it happened was when she was actually present. It was all Yuki and Haru, he told her. Coupla’ assholes. Although, of course, he at least broke Haru’s nose in return. He never did get the chance to return the favor to Yuki. Maybe one day. Either way, Kyo just laughed it off.

Shishou showed her a picture of what he dubbed ‘the worst Kyo has ever looked.’ It was a middle school class picture. He stood in the back row, a scowl on his face. His eye had a deep, purple crescent moon underneath it. It was taken only a year before they met.

His nose wasn’t the only giveaway of the tumultuous childhood he had. He had plenty of tiny scars all over his hands, proof that he’d been known to punch through unsuspecting windows. He had a puckered spot on his shin, which he blamed on Kagura knocking him into a boulder. But just below Kyo’s left eyebrow laid a deep groove, only about a centimeter long. 

Tohru only received a very cursory explanation of that mark. It was clear Kyo was not keen to talk about it. A permanent reminder of the abuse he’d received before the age of five. His mother had a matching one on her cheek. A dinner gone awry; that was all Kyo wished to explain. Tohru didn’t need the details anyway.

The marks on his body made her want to cry. She couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone intentionally hurting him. And she especially couldn’t stand the physical reminder of what he’d suffered mentally as well. The years of ridicule, abuse, victimization, and fear he had to face. Sometimes it made her cry to think about. While Kyo would assure her that he was fine, that it was all in the past, that he’d let it all go, it still tore at her heart.

“Everyone’s got scars, Tohru,” her mother had said to her in middle school. “Even if you can’t see ‘em, they’re there.” Her mother assured her that scars weren’t a bad thing. They were just evidence of the past. “It’s what you do after you’re hurt that matters.”

But if those physical reminders of his past pain bothered Tohru, her scars bothered him even more. 

Her hands were littered with tiny pockmarks. Burns from pans or the racks in the oven. Tiny punctures from poking herself with a knife on more occasions than she was willing to admit. She had a piece of pencil lead permanently buried in her palm from a mechanical pencil stabbing her while she dug through her bag back in high school.

Her knees had permanent marks from the amount of times she’d tripped and tore through her tights. She gritted her teeth not just because she’d have to buy another new pair of stockings, but because she could never quite believe how she was so clumsy.

Those weren’t the scars that bothered him, especially seeing as she continued to be clumsy well into adulthood. It was the scars she found him tracing in the middle of the night. The scars he would fix his gaze on when she was able to wear summer clothing again. The scars that their son asked about on occasion, only to be met with two adults who couldn’t fathom a way to answer.

Just as Kyo assured her that his scars were nothing to worry about, she did the same for him. It didn’t stop him from pressing three of his fingers to the three parallel lines on her shoulder. It didn’t stop his face from twisting to a look of pain that broke her heart. It didn’t stop him from repeating over and over out loud how sorry he was and it certainly didn’t stop whatever awful things he was saying to himself in his head. 

He had a different reaction whenever she caught him staring at the scar on her opposite side. Long and thin, but deep; the tiny suture marks still very much visible even years later. When she caught him staring at that, she could feel the tension radiating off of him. His jaw would set, teeth clamped together, mouth set in a scowl. No matter the weather, Tohru always made sure to wear long sleeves whenever Akito and Kyo were together with her in a room, though that had only happened a handful of times since they’d left home. 

They were a patchwork quilt of defects, but her mother had, of course, been right all those years ago. It’s what you do after that matters.

And after all of the trauma, the injuries both physical and emotional, what they did together mattered more than ever. Because they created Hajime. And Hajime is the most perfect little boy she has ever known.

Hajime does not know anger. He does not know rejection or exclusion. He does not know judgement or loneliness. Hajime is surrounded every day by love and, in turn, returns it to his parents and those around him. He is kind, empathetic. He is precocious and articulate at only the age of two. He is everything she ever could have dreamed of.

True, that she and Kyo spent hours when he was an infant just staring at him as he slept. At his porcelain face, framed by vibrant red hair and his tiny, cherubic hands. Even now, Hajime’s parents find tranquility in simply watching him play, basking in the smile on his face and returning it back wholeheartedly. Hajime is the center of their world. He melts any residual anger and soothes the pain that lingers in the two of them. 

They are inseparable, the three of them. Hajime joins both of his parents at work every day, following papa around the dojo between classes and playing at Tohru’s feet when the after-school crowd comes rushing in. He helps cook meals, as much as a toddler can, and grabs each of their hands as they go for walks along the shoreline in the evening.

As of late, he winds up in their bed at dawn every day. Sometimes being held by Tohru, other times by Kyo, but oftentimes placed squarely in the center, where both of his parents can cocoon him and squeeze another hour of sleep out of the morning before they can start their day together.

Today, Hajime rose from bed earlier than the sun, and Tohru heard through thick, sleepy ears the sound of Kyo plucking him up by the arm and hauling him up to their bed to share his pillow. She felt the blankets shift subtly as the two boys snuggled in close to succumb once more to silence and calm.

It’s a shrill cry that wakes her up. She bolts upright in bed next to Kyo, who is pulling Hajime up from the floor. Hajime screams in agony as Kyo wraps him up in the blanket, rising to his feet in a hurried panic. Tohru looks on in horror as Kyo holds a corner of the blanket over Hajime’s face, which is profusely bleeding, and she leaps to her feet.

It is a deep, albeit small cut under his eyebrow. Once Hajime’s panicked parents figure out that they alone will not be able to stop the bleeding, Tohru throws yesterday’s dress from the laundry basket over her pajamas. Kyo grabs his t-shirt from the floor and they hurry out to the car, where Tohru sits with Hajime to keep him calm and keep the now-soiled blanket pressed to his face.

Hajime leaves the hospital with three tiny stitches, a swollen eye, and a frown, all courtesy of the sharp corner of the bedside table he collided with when he rolled too far toward the edge. 

At home, Hajime curls up on their bed with the two of them, safely in the middle, a parental shield on either side of him. He falls asleep for an early nap, no doubt a result of the morning’s trauma and the child-sized dose of medicine they gave him to calm the pain and swelling.

After an hour of just watching Hajime sleep, Tohru rises to heat up a late breakfast and returns, two steaming bowls of ramen on a tray in her hands, to find Kyo staring fixedly on the mark, tears in his eyes, as he grabs his son’s hand as gently as possible so as not to wake him. Tohru rests the tray on the offending nightstand and curls herself into Kyo’s lap.

“It’s gonna leave a scar,” Kyo whispers, brushing his lips against her hair. She can’t fathom a supportive response, so she just nods against his chest. “I don’t want him to have a scar.” She nods once more. She doesn’t want Hajime to have a scar, either. She doesn’t want him to ever hurt. She doesn’t want the reminder of doctors stitching him up while he wailed. 

“Now’s the time when you’re supposed to give a positive Kyoko/Tohru spin on things,” Kyo suggests, wrapping his palm under her chin, tilting her head up to meet her eyes. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’s trying to cheer himself up, too. “Didn’t your mom have a whole speech about scars?”

Tohru returns his slight smile. “She did, but I think she was referring to being mugged with a knife or in a fight.” She giggles softly, picturing her mom’s speech if she were here right now. “But she once fainted when I had a bloody nose, so she would be no good in this situation.”

They fall silent and Tohru returns her head to his chest. As they sit there in contemplative silence, a tidal wave of guilt crashes down upon the two of them. She can feel it well up in her chest and she can hear Kyo’s breathing give him away. 

Scars are a part of each of their lives, but not what either of them ever wanted for Hajime. Logically, she knows that kids get hurt all the time. She used to work in a school and now that they both work at the dojo, bandages and first aid kits are a part of their daily lives. But seeing her own child hurt, bleeding, and marked, even though there is nothing she could have done to prevent it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Tohru breaks the silence and asks “Do you think a sparring helmet would fit his head?” Kyo snorts and she smiles, though she is partially serious. “Really!” She exclaims, a little too loudly and he hushes her. “At least until it heals...we don’t want it to get worse.” She whispers the last part.

Kyo hugs her tightly into his chest again. “I’ll try to find one his size.”

*   *   *

The same night, Tohru sits on their bed folding laundry. From the baby monitor, she hears Kyo read Hajime a bedtime story, her heart melting, as it always seems to, whenever he gets into it and switches up his voice for each of the characters. She hears the gentle thump of the hardback closing and being set up on the bookshelf next to Hajime’s bed. She continues to listen as Hajime and Kyo both yawn.

“Papa?” Hajime asks, his little voice floating through the monitor like music. Kyo prompts him to continue and Hajime says “Papa match?” Tohru rises to peek out of their bedroom door across the hall, curious as to what Hajime is saying.

“Match what?” Kyo asks, puzzlement lacing his tone. 

Hajime sits up and reaches his hand out to point to Kyo’s left eyebrow and the scar that sits just below it. With his other hand, he touches his own stitched up brow, though his is on the right side. Tohru smiles as she looks at her husband and Hajime. Hajime points out the scar with no mal-intent and no judgement, just making an observation as he tends to do.

“Yeah, guess we do match, huh?” Kyo responds, smiling and kissing his son gently on his injury. Hajime returns the favor, missing Kyo’s scar entirely and landing a kiss on his temple instead. “You know what mama always says when we match…” Kyo says, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he settles Hajime back down under the blankets. “Aw, so cute.” Kyo croons in a high-pitched voice.

Hajime giggles, a musical sound, and recites a toddler version of her frequent catchphrase “I take a picture.”

“I love you, Hajime,” Kyo whispers, kissing the crown of his son’s head.

“Love you, too,” Hajime breathes, cuddling closer to his side. “So cute.”

#kyoruweek2020 #@kyoruweekofficial #kyo sohma #tohru honda

[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: Movement

Building on: ‘Earthquake’ ‘Night out’ ‘An old buddy’

Word count: 2226

*Another few months later*

“Now, Mr. Luca…” the doctor smiled, “Are you ready to get this cast off for good?”

Luca took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Sure.”

“You’re going to have to wear a brace until after the knee surgery we have planned.” the doctor informed as he prepared the gear to remove the cast.

“Are you sure it’s okay to drop the cast?” Luca hated how shaky his voice felt, “My leg was crushed.”

The doctor nodded, “The X-rays, and the CatScan show that all the breaks have fused. If it wasn’t for your knee, I would’ve set you up with a physical therapist to teach you to walk again.”

Luca nodded, “I can barely believe that I’ve come this far already…”

The doctor nodded, “Starting to look like keeping your leg was the correct choice.”

“It was a bad injury…”

“Sure was.” the doctor nodded, “Any one of the injury types you got could have been indicators to amputate your leg. If that rotary dislocation your knee suffered had torn your popliteal artery, or pressed against it and not been reset in timely fashion, that would not have made your leg viable. The fractures you suffered were extensive enough to question if it would heal, even with surgery… And on top of that, we have the crush injury which wreaked havoc on your muscles and soft tissues, causing compartment syndrome and might have killed off your muscle tissue.”

Luca swallowed hard.

“You got lucky.” the doctor smiled.

“Yeah, I really did.” Luca nodded, “So… When I have surgery to reconstruct my knee… What will that mean.”

“Oh…” The doctor nodded as he picked up the cast scissors, “Dislocating your knee, you tore your anterior and posterior cruciate ligaments. That’s the bands inside your knee which keeps the shin bone from sliding back and forward relative to the femur, -the bone in your thigh.”

Luca nodded.

“On top of that, you tore your medial and lateral collateral ligaments. That’s bands on either side of your knee. Those stabilize your knee sideways. With all four of those bands torn, your knee depends on the muscles in your leg to keep it somewhat stabile.”

Luca nodded.

“Now, some top level athletes tear some of these bands every now and then. Take hockey players for instance, they usually have so much strength in their legs that surgery won’t be necessary. -Of course with some exceptions.” The doctor explained, “You on the other hand…”

“I don’t have any muscles left in that leg…” Luca nodded.

“Well, most of the muscles are still there, but they’re not what they used to be. They won’t be able to keep your knee from dislocating in either the same way as it did, or in more typical ways.”

“Well, we don’t want that…” Luca frowned.

“No, we don’t.” the doctor nodded, “You also injured your menisci… Both of them in that leg. Small tears will heal on its own over time, but unfortunately you have a complete buckethandle tear of one of them and one that’s slightly smaller in the other one. Those might lock your knee up if you were to use your leg. Now, your knee locking up from a buckethandle meniscus tear isn’t exatctly dangerous in any normal way, but I have it on good authority that it’s incredibly painful.”

Luca grimaced, “Yeah, don’t want that either.”

The doctor nodded, “So what we’re going to do is clean up the torn ligaments, and smaller nicks in your menisci. Then we’re going to use grafts from either your hamstring muscles in the opposite leg, or donor grafts, as your new ligaments. And we’ll be sewing the big tears of your menisci.”

“Donor grafts?”

“Yeah. Sometimes your own tissue won’t be right for your knee. Either because you’ve lost too much mass from where the graft would be taken, and to cut out a decent graft would leave you with a deficit in the healthy leg. Or because the site of the graft has some injury that would make the graft likely to fail. For example, we often use patella tendon grafts to fix ligament tears in the knees. Your left patella tendon wouldn’t be suited for that since we had to reattach about half of that tendon after the earthquake.”

Luca nodded for a bit, but had one more question for the doctor before he got as far as to start cutting up the cast.

“How much pain will I be in after the knee surgery? Don’t sugarcoat it.”

The doctor looked up from where he had placed one hand on Luca’s cast, “That’s not an easy question to answer. Grafts from your own body will hurt where they’re taken from. Think of it as having a partial tear in a muscle. It’s about the same pain. I know you’ve had that before.”

Luca nodded, “Yeah, tore some of my bicep tendon or muscle once. My whole arm was painful and bruised after that.”

The doctor nodded, “With donor grafts you won’t have that, but grafts from your own body is preferred in most cases. Less chance of graft failure.”

Luca nodded.

“The reconstruction itself varies a lot. I have some patients who experience minimal pain and swelling, and I have patients who experiences a lot of both as well.” The doctor shrugged, “Some never really need the aid of crutches after the ligament surgeries, and some will need it for a couple of weeks after. But you’re going to have to use crutches for a month afterwards anyway, since we have to sew up your menisci as well.”

Luca nodded. “Okay, and does that hurt?”

“Most patients feel fine after that surgery, in my experience.” The doctor winked, “Slight swelling might occur, but not usually accompanied by pain.”

Luca nodded.

“Now, I’m going to start clipping up your cast. Any more questions before I start?”

Luca shook his head.

 SWATSWATSWAT

  The best way to describe his leg when it was finally de-casted was skin and bones. -And scars. But then again, he hadn’t used any of the muscles in it for months now.

“The scars look good now…” the doctor offered up a satisfied smile, “Even where you ended up having that infection early on…”

Luca nodded, “It’s still a bit redder than the others, though.”

“Yeah, but you can think of it like this, it started healing a lot later than the other scars.”

Luca nodded.

“Can you try moving your ankle for me?” the doctor guided the conversation, showing with his hands how he wanted Luca to move his foot.

“Just go ahead and try?”

The doctor nodded.

Luca tried, but it was like the wrong muscles responded when he tried, and it didn’t work out so well in the first place either. “I can’t…”

“Let me try this one thing first, before you start worrying.”

Luca nodded.

“I’m going to grab your foot and above your ankle and manipulate it a bit. Just let me know if anything’s painful.”

Luca nodded again, and the doctor took hold of his leg.

“That feels weird.” Luca said as soon as he felt the doctor’s hands on his foot.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just feels weird.” Luca shrugged.

“Okay, I’m going to slowly start moving your foot up and down a few times, that will probably feel really weird as well.”

Luca nodded.

“Just let me know when I need to stop.”

“Sure thing.” Luca nodded.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 The doctor was right, it did feel really weird. His ankle had been locked in one position ever since the injury.

The doctor moved his ankle like he was making Luca speed and slow down a car, without using the breaks. He made the motions smooth and paused at each turn.

It felt like he was gradually making the movement bigger, but Luca couldn’t exactly be sure without looking.

“Ah, stop, stop!” Luca winced on one of the turns as the doctor pressed his toes up.

The doctor backed up the movement a bit, “That hurt?”

“Stretched my calf like crazy…” Luca cleared his voice, “Can you go back there again? I just wasn’t prepared…”

“Sure…” the doctor nodded and eased back to the position which had made Luca squirm, “Want me to hold it in this position for a bit?”

Luca thought, then nodded.

After about fifteen seconds the doctor started pressing Luca’s foot back down to a position he felt like Luca could handle, “Now, if you try to move your foot with me, it might be easier for you to connect with the correct muscles when you’re going to try it yourself the next time.”

Luca nodded, and tried.

The doctor chuckled once, “Now, try to relax your thigh. That’s not the right muscle groups. Neither is your seat.”

Luca laughed, “it’s really hard.”

“That’s alright. It is to be expected.” The doctor reassured. “You haven’t moved your ankle in about five-six months, and with all the damage from the injury… It’ll be exactly like learning to move from scratch.”

Luca nodded.

“There, you’re doing great!” the doctor grinned, “Can you feel that you’re using the right muscles now?”

Luca grinned, “Yeah, yeah I think so…”

“I’m going to let go of your foot, try to keep moving it just like we’re doing now…”

Luca nodded, and continued the motion when he felt the doctor let go.

The doctor watched for a few rounds, an amused look on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

Luca paused, “What?”

“You’re impressing me…” the doctor grinned, “Usually I would expect that anyone who had a similar injury to the one you’ve had, would develop drop foot. That they would be unable to lift the front of their foot properly, or raise their toes… You’re actually leading with your toes when you raise your foot. I did not expect that.”

“So, good thing?”

“Great thing.” The doctor nodded, “Now, over to the next exercise… Can you try to move your foot sideways like this…”

The doctor explained the movement by showing it with his hands once more.

“Can you make my stupid muscles understand which of them is supposed to work first?”

“Sure thing…” the doctor nodded and carefully grabbed Luca’s foot, “We’ll start rotating it inward a bit.”

Luca nodded, but yelped when the doctor gently rotated his food a few small degrees.

“I’m sorry, that sounded like it hurt…” the doctor apologized, “Can you tell me where?”

“That stabbed at my knee…”Luca answered, trying to ride out a grimace.

“Okay, like through the joint? From the side in some kind of way?”

Luca nodded, “Just like that…”

“Inside or outside of your knee?”

“Mostly inside.”

“That’s probably your medial meniscus disagreeing with the movement. We’ll skip inward rotation for now.”

Luca nodded.

“Let’s try rotating it the other way.”

Luca nodded again.

The sharp inhale Luca did caused the doctor to stop, “Sorry. That hurts as well?”

“Not as much, but it’s not good…” Luca nodded.

“Same spot?”

“Yeah, not as much… But the back outside of my knee doesn’t like that motion.” Luca shrugged once the doctor had helped his foot back in a normal position. “Not as painful as the other way, but… Still painful.”

The doctor nodded, “Okay, we’ll just wait with rotation until after your knee surgery. Since it’s causing you this much pain.”

Luca nodded.

“Does it hurt anywhere else than your knee when we tried rotating your foot?”

Luca shook his head, “No, didn’t hurt anywhere else. Tingled a bit above where some of your fingers were, but not anything I can call painful.”

“Alright, that’s good.” The doctor smiled, “Then that problem will likely solve itself once we’ve taken care of your menisci…”

“Cool…” Luca grinned.

“Now, try to just relax here while I go grab the brace you’ll be wearing.” The doctor instructed, “I don’t think you’ll need a drop foot brace, but I’ll bring one anyway. Justin case you overwork your leg and it gets too sore to keep your foot neutral.”

Luca nodded, and started gently moving his foot up and down once more.

“That’s great.” The doctor grinned, “And I want you to keep working on that, the goal is to eventually get the same range of motion as in your healthy leg. -But I also don’t want you to start out too hard. You’ll be sore from basically doing nothing now at the start. So don’t over-do it too much, alright?”

Luca nodded, “I’ll try.”

The doctor nodded and went out the door.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “Look at you…” Street grinned as Luca came hobbling towards where he sat and waited, “How does it feel?”

“A lot lighter…”Luca chuckled, “Feels a bit odd.”

“Did the doctor say anything?”

“That it was looking good.” Luca beamed, “And that everything was ready for the knee surgery.”

“That’s awesome.”

Luca nodded, “Hey, we should invite the team over tomorrow night.”

“You up for that?”

Luca rolled his eyes a little, “I’ve been out with you guys like four-five times since my injury. I can take a party at home by now.”

“Just messing with you…” Street grinned,  “I say we order a few pizzas to go along with it.”

“Deal!” Luca grinned, “Now don’t tell too much about my leg to the team if they ask this afternoon or on tomorrow’s shift.”

“I’ll try.”

#dominic luca #Dominique Luca #Luca #swat #s.w.a.t #swat fanfiction #hurt #hurtcomfort #cast #injury #jim street #Street

[overlyobsessedgaygal]

Lines Not to Be Crossed

Roman raised an eyebrow, an unimpressed smirk on his face. The teenager, holding a handgun to Roman's temple, trembled at the sight of the mafia heir. "Don't come any closer to me." The kid swallowed harshly. Roman chuckled. 

       "Now, I'm here to kill this gang because they opposed us. You opposed us. If you were to show us submission then I may show mercy," Roman suggested. He was not expecting the way the kid instantly dropped his whole body into the crowd in a bow. The movement drawing his flimsy shirt up, revealing the lines of scars marring his pale skin. 

           Roman's mouth ran dry. He hesitated between grabbing the gun and tracing one of the worst burn scars to be sure it was real. How could it be true that so many scars fell on this kid? 

    "Stay right where you are," Roman ordered, intending to carry on into a threat. The threat fell dead on his lips at the mumbled words that fell from the kid's lips. 

       "Yes, Master, of course." 

    Roman was tempted to say something, anything, to correct him. Another, more business oriented, part of Roman screamed at him to collect the rest of this gang and end them like he came here to do. Only this time it wasn't longing to be quick about it. 

     Roman snatched the gun off the floor and went to meet up with his men. Remus and Dee were taking turns punching the gang's leader in the face while he spit blood. When he entered all of the men that had been off to the side guarding the others instantly stood at alert, while his brother and brother-in-law simply took a step away from the subject of their interrogation, to give him their full attention and respect. 

      Roman narrowed his eyes at the man on his knees, face an abstract canvas of the night sky. "I was looking for your plans when I came across something else, something oh so interesting. There's another member of your little crew." The man snarled at him but confusion twinkled in his swollen eyes. Roman's men began to snicker at the dangerous tone to Roman's voice. 

        "Tell me who that child that was locked in the closet is." 

         Instantly the atmosphere changed to one much more tense. Dee's hands clenched into fists while Remus had given Roman a questioning look. Logan Sanders ran a harsh mafia but not a ruthless one, children were off limits always and never allowed to be a member of the gang. They were only children. It was a line that had been instilled into all of his mafia and into his own children. 

         "WHO IS IT!?" Roman demanded, he slammed his hand into the man's abdomen and blood splattered onto his shirt. The man coughed and sputtered, more blood flying from his lips to cover Roman. 

          "You can have him if you want. He's a real useless one anyway." The words confirmed the cold not in Roman's stomach. The child was a slave. 

           "Do you own anymore slaves?" The word came out as a feral growl. The man shook his head and Roman decided he was done with the man. He knew the handgun wasn't an option when he had raised it and Dee tugged it from his hand and threw it to their feet, a violent look on his face. Roman nodded at Dee. "Find out as much as you can on the kid. Remy can you tell your husband that we'll need him at the base for an examination," the words were an order not a question and Roman didn't wait for a confirmation before stalking out of the room. 

           He had just stepped into the room where he left the boy when the first scream echoed throughout the house. "Hey, kid." Roman tried to keep his voice stern but warn. As he had predicted the kid hadn't budged from his position. The child didn't respond verbally but he straightened his posture and brought his head further downward so that his nose was brushing the floor. 

             "Do you have any injuries, currently?" Roman asked. 

            The kid instantly shook his head but then quickly corrected himself with a verbal response. "No, Master." 

             "Alright, first important rule. My name is Roman. You will call me by my name. Second important rule is that you don't lie to me, so once more. Do you have any injuries, whether it's bleeding or a bruise?" 

              "Yes, Roman." The boy said. Roman inquired after the injury, learning that it was injuries. "Dark spots on my legs, the kind that hurt to touch." Roman could only imagine he meant bruises. "Burns from my owner's joint along my left shoulder to my forearm. Lashes from a few days ago on my upper back. A fresh brand on my shin and two amputated toes." 

            Roman took a moment to process. "Okay, does anything hurt badly right now?" Roman knew that was not the best question to ask but if he was going to give a report to Emile then he needed to know. "And remember, don't lie. I need to know so I can tell my doctor and he can help you." 

              "The brand, and the lashes, Roman." The boy paused. "Owner said my toes are supposed to hurt and I had to be a good boy about them. He made them really hot so that I didn't get sick." 

               Roman offered a strained smile. "Thank you for telling me about them. What's your name?" 

              "Owner said Anxiety."

              "Anxiety?" Roman frowned, confused. 

            The boy nodded dutifully. "Owner said I'm Anxiety." 

             Oh. Roman resisted the urge to snarl. He was glad he could still hear the bastard being tortured by his men. "What should I call you?" Roman rephrased. 

            "You may call me anything, Roman." 

            "What do you want to be called?" 

            "Vir… V…" The kid cut off. Roman could see the battle going on in his mind based off his body language. 

            "I could call you Vee?" Roman offered, "if that would make you more comfortable." 

            The kid instantly nodded and Roman's concern that the child was simply trying to please him was wiped away when the kid looked up at him with stars in his eyes. "Vee is nice… Mast-Sir-Roman." The last part was tackled on as an afterthought and was almost a subconscious decision if the stumbling was anything to go by. 

            The kid had winced at his own mistake and was awaiting his punishment with tense shoulders. "Alright, Vee. Get up and let's get you to my house." 

            The kid, Vee, agreed almost immediately and this time Roman paid attention to him as he walked. His right foot never taking his full weight, the foot where the men had cut off his toes. Undoubtedly. 

             Roman led Virgil out to the car and got him in the backseat, he wrapped a shock blanket around his shoulders and gave him a cold water from the cooler. With orders to stay in the car and drink some water, Roman departed to take care of the gang. 

              Remus and Dee were fuming, blood coated both of them. Remus even had his teeth and tongue dyed red, which Roman assumed was contributed by the half missing ear. The final gunshot felt much to soon, Roman would have liked to torture the man until he died if his own accord but he couldn't leave the child waiting in the car for long. 

              As the crew was exiting the building Remy ran up beside Roman. "Emile is on his way to the base. Our kids are going to be staying with your papa though, which means we had to inform your dad of why Emile was needed. I apologize, but we didn't want the kids to be there for this." Remy gave Roman a hopeful look. 

             Roman wished he could be the one to tell his father but it is what it is and Remy was correct to not want his kids there. They were the same age as Vee. "No problem. I'll call dad to give him the full story. You go pick up the kids from papa, I'm sure they're tired. Just be sure to shower first, you get bloodier than usual." Roman sent Remy a wink as he slid into the backseat of his car. 

              Vee snapped his head up to look at him with a smile. The water bottle was empty and the blanket had been pulled tighter around him. Roman gave him a small smile in return and gestured to the other two to get in the car. 

         Dee and Remus slipped into the front of the car in one unified motion. Neither of them turned to look at Vee but Roman noted them both scanning him in the rearview mirror. Virgil had gotten tense when the strangers entered the corner and his eyes had locked firmly in the floor. 

         "Vee, this is Remus and Dee," Roman introduced the two. The two boys up front smiled, Remus carefully keeping his mouth closed to avoid showing off the bloody mess. 

           "It's very nice to meet you, Vee. We're going to get you somewhere nice and safe, okay?" Dee asked as Remus started the car and began to drive. The car was moving at a slower, safer, pace than Remus usually drove to avoid startled or sickening the child. 

             "Yes, Master." Vee answered. Both Remus and Roman began to choke and splutter sounds of anger causing Virgil to fold in on himself. 

              "You can call me Dee," Dee said in a calm tone. "You will no longer need to call anyone master or owner as you will have neither of those things." 

              Vee slowly straightened up to look at Dee. "Am I free?" He asked in a voice so small Roman could hear his own heart beating over the question. 

               Dee smiled and turned to look at Vee, meeting his eyes. Vee averted his gaze, swallowing harshly before he slowly brought his eyes back to Dee's. "Free as anyone else," Dee confirmed. 

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #mafia/gang AU #tw violence #tw human trafficking #kid virgil

[dragongirl642]

Breakdown x reader x Wheeljack - intro

Author note:

This is kind of gender neutral as whenever see this → (looked down at me/looked up at me) the first option is female and the second option is male.

Otherwise they're just the first name, last name, eye colour, etc...tags.

This has been really cringey for me to write and I apologise for any unnecessary cringe or weirdness.

You are Silas's lost (daughter/son) because...why not ┐0_0┌

You have a sort of premonition/future sense power and other augmentations due to Silas being an a-hole father-to-be.

Have fun reading. ;)

First person pov:

I trudged up the steps to Jasper Nevada's only high school. Hoisting the strap on my guitar up higher on my shoulder. "New town, new school, new day, new life, new me." I chanted under my breath, eyes taking in every aspect of the school building. A Japanese girl with pink streaks in her hair was sat drawing on the stone guard barrier. A small boy in glasses and an orange jumper moved to join her after he was pushed to the floor by a tall ginger boy; 'Rude! Poor kid's much too young, what did he do...skip every grade?' The popular girls were gathered at the top of the steps with a group of boys; attention on the ginger boy. I raised a hand to adjust my cap and promptly stopped before I could walk into said boy who was laughing raucously with a couple of his mates. Unfortunately for him, he was blocking the door.

"Excuse me." I tried to start off with a friendly approach. My attempt at a positive mood instantly soured when he turned round and looked me up and down like I was some meat on display. He leaned close, too close. "Well what do we have here, a pirate?" I scoffed in disgust, "you're blocking the door." I didn't react to the pirate comment, most people freak when they see my eye patch. 'I have a reason for wearing it!' I was scarred across my eye and even though I can still see through it, people get freaked out by the blood red eye underneath. 'Burst blood vessels if you're wondering.'

He looked to be thinking for a moment when he said, "(I'll move for a kiss/I'll think about it)."

I was just about to give him a walloping when a voice cut in. "Leave (her/him) alone Vince!" We both turned to look at a dark haired teenage boy, who looked decidedly regretful on the fact that he had attracted what was obviously a bully's attention.

"Does Jackie boy have a voice now?" Vince's taunting voice fuelled the fire in my belly and I grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to face me. "You still haven't moved bud." I growled menacingly. Vince just laughed, his mates following suit; "and what are you going to do about it (girly/mate)?"

I smiled and threw my cap directly in the air before, placing a well-aimed kick to his shin. He hopped back and I unshouldered my guitar, holding it by the body I jabbed him with it, winding the male. Moving my hands to the neck of the guitar, I flicked it, catching his left hand in the strap and yanked, he promptly flew past me and landed sprawled at the top of the stairs. I caught my cap in one hand and placed it back on my head. Internally, snakes writhed in the pit of my stomach, 'I promised myself it would be different here.'

His mates cautiously sidled round me when I glared at them and ran to help Vince up. I looked at him, "You better not have broken my guitar and for the record, I don't like bullies."

I then addressed the boy who had tried to stand up for me, "mind showing me where the office is?" He nodded and gestured, "uh...this way." I followed him inside, not without noticing the pink haired girl having what looked like a fit of excitement behind me, and we walked down the school corridors. I looked over to see him staring at me. Attempting to break the silence I spoke.

"Name's (y/n)...what's yours."

"I'm Jack...Jack Darby."

"Well Jack, at least you made the effort to stand up for me, I respect that."

We shook hands at that and I faced forward again.

He kept staring at me, "So how did you get..." he gestured vaguely on his face. I huffed, "it's a long story." Eventually we reached the office and Jack left to go to his form room as the bell rang. I enrolled, picked up my map and class schedule and headed for my form room.

"6C, 6C, 6C..." I muttered under my breath as I looked for said room. I only had to check my map a total of twice before I finally found the room. Through the window in the door I could see the homeroom teacher sat at the front reading. From my small window I could see that g*t Vince sat with his gaggle of mates. 'Great...I've got to share form with that idiot.' Taking a breath to steady myself, I lifted a hand and knocked.

The teacher spotted me and motioned for me to enter; I did so.

"And who are you." They looked at me like I was going to attack her.

I met their questioning eyes. "I'm a new student, I enrolled today."

They nodded, expression becoming friendlier; "Well why don't you tell us your name and a bit about yourself."

I faced forward and gave my introduction. "My names is (y/n) (l/n), I'm 16 years old. I play guitar and piano. I'm a black belt in Tai kwon do, judo and I've trained in various other martial arts." Vince scoffed at that. "I like comic books and eating pizza. DON'T ask me about the eye patch because you won't get an answer." I looked at the teacher, "And that about covers me."

She nodded, "Why don't we find you somewhere to sit...there's a spare seat by Vince" I inwardly wince, "or by Jack." I look over to see Jack smiling encouragingly and gesturing to the seat by him.

I smiled and walked to my new seat, deftly dodging Vince's stuck out foot.

'Come on that's an old trick, he really expected me to fall for that?'

I sat and Jack smiled, "so we have the same form huh...can I see your classes." I wordlessly hand it to him and watch as he grins. "We have all our sciences and history together! I can show you where your next class is."

I nod, "Thanks Jack."

------------------------Time skip to lunch-----------------------

I sat at a vacant table, placing my guitar on the chair beside me. No sooner had I placed a bite of my pizza in my mouth a vibrant pink and black blur raced besides me and shot into the chair opposite me. I stared at the girl I'd seen earlier, she was staring at me intensely.

I looked at her and swallowed my food, "Can I help you?"

She grinned, "You...were...awesome!" She then proceeded to launch into an excited retelling of my earlier morning's exploits. I just ate my food very slowly while watching this girl. 'Is she on a sugar high?'

I felt relieved when Jack walked over and told her to calm down; not that it helped. The small boy in glasses had joined us too.

I looked at Jack, "Friends of yours?"

He nodded, "(Y/n)...this is Miko" I nodded at here and she grinned at me, "and this is Raf." The small boy adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "It's Rafael but most just call me Raf." I smiled encouragingly at him, "well it's nice to meet you."

Miko suddenly burst into questions, "How well can you play? What's your favourite music? Can you teach me a couple of those moves you used on Vince? What's your favourite colour? Ever been to a Slash monkey concert? Did you move here because you fell for the brochure too?" I held up a hand and she promptly fell silent, looking at me expectantly. 'Oh might as well.'

I grinned, took a large breath and said, as fast as I could, "I can play up to grade 8, I like all music, with your parent's permission I could maybe teach you a couple of moves, my favourite colour is (f/c), yes and this town has a brochure?" I took a gulp of air and looked mischievously over at the girl. "How was that for impressions?" The two boys at our table began chuckling in the background. Miko just flipped her hair and laughed, "You didn't get my voice right" she sang. I huffed and tried the squeakiest voice I could muster, "Is this right?"

Jack fell off his chair and Raf had started visibly shaking. Miko started laughing harder and I joined in.

'Maybe this town will be better than...hey at least I've made some friends already.'

---------------------------Time skip to end of school-----------------------

I walked down the school steps into the sunlight. Miko bouncing alongside Jack on my left and Raf on my right.

"Bye (y/n)!" "See ya." "Bye."

I waved as I watched them get into their respective vehicles. Jack clambered onto a blue motorcycle with pink accents, Raf got in the passenger side of a yellow and black Urbana 500 and Miko hopped into the passenger seat of a green 4x4. As for myself I walked a little further down the street before opening the door of my internally modified red Dodge challenger. Horn accents on the front gleaming in the afternoon sun. I'd fallen in love with the design a couple months ago when I passed a similar car when I'd come to look at flats in Jasper; when I was staying in a motel just outside Carson City. Some other students threw me shocked or jealous looks at my car. Just as I shut my door, Jack rolled up to my window; motorcycle growling loudly before quieting down.

I rolled down the tinted window to see what he wanted. He looked at me with a slightly panicked expression and gave a small kick to the side of his motorcycle, before squeaking out a quick, "nice car" and zooming off.

I furrowed my brows, "Weird". Both Miko and Raf's cars passed me really slowly before driving off as well.

I made sure my guitar was safely secure on the floor of the passenger side before stepping on the gas. I drove away from school, I decided to go for a drive to get to know my new neighbourhood.

Jasper is pleasant but boring. "Does anything happen here?" I muttered exasperatedly, before perking up. 'Though I loathe him, I heard Vince mention a race...and its location.' Smirking, I pulled a 180 and headed out of town.

Gas, Shift, Turn...I allowed my body to go into autopilot until I passed the 'Thank you for visiting Jasper, Nevada' sign. Then I perked up, trying to remember the map of the surrounding area I had memorised. 'There should be left somewhere past those rocks'. I thought, scouring the horizon for my turn off.

Out of the corner of my eye, a green flash caught my attention and I looked in my rear view mirror to see just empty road.

"Strange" I mumbled.

--------------------------Time skip to race-------------------

I'd finally found the place. There was a line of cars already forming. I could see some of the girls from school tittering on the side-lines. I pulled into place and a girl walked up to me and tapped on my window. I rolled my window down a centimetre and waited.

She looked nervous. "Um...I'm here to tell you the rules." I cut her off. "I already know the rules of these things, this isn't my first race...what's the prize?" She stopped stunned for a moment before saying, "100 dollars cash." I nodded, even though she couldn't see me and was about to roll up my window when who should turn up but the ginger haired tw@t himself.

Vince knocked on my window. "Hey new guy, you better watch yourself out there." I rolled my window down an inch so he could just about see my face. He looked at me, "Oh it's you...you better watch yourself." With that dark threat he turned to leave. "Let's hope you have better luck than this morning." I called after him. He shot me the dirtiest look before getting in his car.

I rolled up my window and faced forward, another flash catching the corner of my eye. I turned my head to see a red Aston Martin beside me, its side mirrors quickly moving so they were facing back and not towards me as they had been just a moment ago.

"Hmmmm...also strange" I mumbled.

A girl walked out and stood with a flag above her head, I tapped the gas and my engine purred. Intently watching the flag, the second it went down I gunned the engine and shot forward. I soon pulled ahead with only Vince and the red car posing any competition. I saw Vince swing my way and threw on the brakes. He shot past me and instead went into the red car.

"You scratched my paintjob" screeched an indignant voice from the vehicle. With the distraction I zoomed forward once more leaving Vince to the guy's mercy. I slowed when a scraping sound came from behind me. I looked in the rear view to see the red car's driver trying to ram Vince of the road. "You scratch my paint, I scratch yours!" Eyes wide I pulled my second 180 of the day and shot forward, heading for the red car.

We played a small game of chicken before he obviously decided it wasn't worth it and swerved off. He shot me an insult; the word Autobot featuring heavily. 'What the hell is that?' I shot through the empty space, turned and followed after Vince; who was now in the lead. We entered a long stretch and I could see the lights off the finish line ahead. To my side I saw the red car pass me. Not wanting to lose I saw the only option I had left.

"Here's one for victory" I whispered and pushed the turbo button on my dash. Flames spewed from the exhaust pipe as I was thrown back into my seat. My car leaping forward and passing the red car and Vince with no problem.

The finish line was closer than ever and I removed my finger from the button and threw my weight onto the brake. Skidding across the finish line, my car finally shuddered to a halt. 'Thank all that is good for the double suspension.'

A different girl from earlier ran up to me with a small bag, I rolled down the window slightly and accepted my prize. Rolling it back up, I counted my money whilst watching Vince and the other driver cross the line. To my surprise I spotted Jack in the crowd. He was looking at my car with something akin to shock. I debated going to talk to him when I saw Vince exit his car. Not wanting to talk to the boy, I drove off.

It wasn't till I was pretty far from the track that I noticed the Aston Martin was following me. I turned a corner round a large rocky outcrop and turned off my engine. Hand inching over to my guitar case. In my mirrors I saw a green flash round the corner, before both the red car and a larger blue 4x4 drove round the corner. A deep humming began in my spine.

"What the..."

They both skidded to a stop off either side of me. A disbelieving voice sounded from the blue one, "You're meant to be dead Autobot."

'What's an Autobot? Never mind...that voice! WAIT did they say Dead?!'

Before I could dispute this claim the red car spoke, "We'll make sure it's permanent this time."

'They obviously think I'm someone else...time to go!' Before they could come after me, I once more gunned the engine and drove of at high speed. Both cars following.

I headed for the road, making it onto the highway. I risked a glance in the mirror to see them gaining on me. Jasper's lights in the distance, I prayed I would make it. I reached for the turbo button once more.

My breath hitched, as with a jolt I was rammed by the blue one; flipping my car. I held on for dear life.

When it came to a stop I groaned. A pounding in my head alerting me to the fact that I might very well have hit it, very hard, on the dash. 'Hope that's not fatal.'

Hanging upside down I could feel the blood rushing to my head. The red beginning to drip into my vision not helping my new view of life. I looked around and could see the two cars circling mine. I curled up and hit my seatbelt.

#Thunk#

'Ow that hurt!' I readjusted myself so I as the right way up and reached over to unclip and grab my guitar case. Sounds of metal scraping metal sounded just outside my windows and I turned. Pulling the handle, the door opened an inch then stopped. Bracing myself I kicked with all my strength and the door swung open fully.

"Well that was easier than I thought...wait what's this?" That same voice from the red car spoke as I crawled out the door; but from above me. Confused, I looked up. 'Big mistake.'

Two searing red rings look down on me from a sea of black, set in the pale face of a giant red robot. "So it wasn't an Autobot that gave me these" he gestured to some scratches on his frame, "but a human."

"Easier to break than an Autobot." The voice from the blue car spoke up; emanating from the mouth of a hulking blue bruiser of a robot. Two glowing yellow, 'eyes?', looking at me intently. "What happened to its optic?" It began studying me intently.

I pulled my case from the car while thinking of how to buy time. "First off, you totalled my car," I took a shaky breath, "I'm pretty sure that makes us even."

I tried my best to look innocent as I held my guitar case, hand going to the second hidden catch on the side. They shared a look before the red one laughed. "Fleshy...that isn't how this works." The red one's right hand transformed into a circular saw and my eyes widened.

The blue one held out a hand, "Wait...maybe we could keep it." The red one looked at him incredulous.

"Um...its cute...I mean uh...as a pet?" The blue one tried to recover from his outburst, slight confusion on its face. I felt the intense urge to 'awww' at it.

The red one smiled deviously. "Well I've always wanted a human test-subject."

'Good feeling gone.'

#whoosh#

A swirling green vortex opened up beside us and the two vehicles I had seen Miko and Raf get into, came zooming through. I watched in astonishment as they transformed. Metal shifting and gears turning, they became humanoid robots like the first two.

Coming to my senses, I ran behind my upturned car; dragging my guitar case with me. I watched as my saviours leapt to my rescue. The bulky green one tackled the blue robot with the hammer, while the yellow robot attacked the red one. I ducked down, laying my guitar case down I flicked the second catch, opening the back compartment of the case.

Surveying the selection inside, I quickly thought of how to help my robot rescuers. I reached in and grabbed a grenade. Finger sliding through the loop, ready to pull when needed.

I looked over the edge and saw my chance. The red robot had knocked the yellow one back. He was screeching something about his paintjob but I interrupted him. Pulling the pin I yelled, "Hey Red!". He turned to see the grenade flying through the air towards him. He ducked to avoid it but unfortunately for him, it went off just behind him, flinging him forward. The blue robot, knocked the green one away and ran to his companion. He got up and the two said something to each other before transforming and zooming off.

I fished my 35mm calibre pistol out of my case, flicked the safety off and warily eyed the two robots left.

The yellow one took a step forward and I tensed. "We're not gonna hurt you." The green one said as the yellow one beeped soothingly. It sounded familiar and I recognised several different patterns in the beeps. It beeped some more and the green one spoke, "I'm Bulkhead and this is..."

"Bumblebee." I finished his sentence before he could speak. They both looked at me, evidently surprised.

I visibly relaxed at this show off friendliness. "I was a code breaker, I spot patterns in images and sounds. Give me an hour and I'll be speaking fluent beep." I explained jokingly.

Bumblebee beeped enthusiastically, "someone else...understa...yay...hip...ay."

I grinned at the childish display, flicked the safety back on my pistol and stowed it away in my case. I circled my car observing the damage as the two alien robots talked. 'Ooh that's a nasty dent. I'm gonna have ta hammer that out...at least the boot wasn't damaged.' My internal monologue was only interrupted by Bulkhead.

"So we need to take you back to our base for your own safety."

My gaze flicked up, "No can do buster. I need to fix this," I gestured to my car, "unless...I can bring it to this base of yours?"

They shared a look. "But...totalled" Bumblebee beeped, I only caught a few words but enough to get the gist of it. I wagged my finger at him, picking up my guitar case in my other hand. "It's a lot tougher than it looks...only looks bad cuz it's upside down. It'll still drive." Bulkhead spoke this time. "Well...uh...ok. You promise to follow us?" I nodded, "Of course, could you flip it for me though." Bulkhead complied and before I knew it I was driving my dented ride along a dusty, quiet road, heading to an intersection. Bumblebee was in front of me and Bulkhead was behind. When we reached the intersection, instead of turning, Bumblebee continued straight towards a rocky wall; speeding up. I hesitated, but then sped up too. Just as I thought he was going to crash, a giant, hidden door opened in the rock face. We drove into a lit tunnel and rounded the corner into an open space. An orange and white robot stood at a huge, green, glowing monitor, he turned and frowned as I drove in. A blue and pink skinny robot stood by a balcony and looked at my car with shock and sorrow, 'definitely female and definitely Jack's motorcycle'. I parked up besides some human sized stairs and stepped out my car.

"(Y/n)!"

I turned to see Miko come running down the stairs, followed closely by Jack and Raf. Jack looked me over. "Are you okay? I saw Knockout follow you and called the Autobots." I stepped back, hand clenching around my guitar case's handle. "Whoa calm down I'm fine. The red guy was called Knockout huh...what a name! What about the blue guy? And what's an Autobot?" The words came spewing out of my mouth as my brain finally succumbed to the weirdness of my situation.

"Maybe I can clear up any confusion." A deep resonant voice stated and I turned to see a blue and red robot, bigger than all the others, looking down on me. I looked up at him feeling both comforted and petrified off the aura he was giving off.

'This is someone I should respect.' I nodded my head. "Of course, it would be welcome."

He kneeled and looked me in the eye. "I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots!" With that he began to explain to me their history, how their planet was destroyed and how they now fight the Decepticons on Earth, who are led by Megatron. I learnt that the blue guy's name was Breakdown. He then began to introduce everyone.

"You have already met our three human charges, of whose ranks you have now joined." I grinned.

"This is Arcee" the female robot glared at me and I raised an eyebrow at her, smile falling slightly.

"Our medic Ratchet." He hmphed "Just what we need...another human." I grinned and cocked a hip, "I'm sure you'll grow to love me doc." He spluttered at that.

Optimus' mouth twitched and he blinked. "You have also already met Bulkhead and Bumblebee." Bumblebee perked up, "...understands me!" I grinned even wider, "I sure do."

Expressions of happiness to shock to resignation showed on all their faces, Raf suddenly stepped forward and gave me a hug. I stiffened momentarily before warily returning the hug. "It means a lot to him" he whispered before moving back.

I then looked at Optimus, "Allow me to introduce myself, I am (y/n) (l/n), it's an honour to meet you all."

Bulkhead and Bumblebee then began gesticulating wildly and explaining in great detail how when they were fighting Knockout and Breakdown, I threw a frickin' grenade strong enough to knock Knockout down.

Miko heard the word grenade and instantly perked up, "You have grenades!" I took an alarmed step back. The black and pink haired ball of energy looking to become a nuisance at any moment.

Turns out my worries weren't unfounded, as she practically leapt on me; legs curling around my waist and arms latching round my neck in a mockery of a chokehold. "Show me!"

I knew 15 different ways to get out of this, 7 of them being lethal to Miko and the rest would put her in a hospital; so instead I squeaked out a "help" while looking at Jack. The teen pulled the hyperactive girl off me and I got up. Unfortunately in the fall my guitar case had fallen to the side. Raf, both intelligent and curious, quickly found the hidden catch and opened the back compartment. My hand shot out, "Don't touch that!"

In his surprise he jolted backwards, knocking over the case so that it was open to the world.

The kids and the Autobots all stared at the contents of my case. Grenades, throwing daggers, duelling knives, my pistol and a silencer/sniper extension barrel for the pistol, were all neatly laid out and strapped in. I quickly stepped forward and moved to close it when Optimus spoke. "Wait."

I froze.

Arcee stepped in, "What would a teenager be doing with weapons?" the suspicion in her voice, clear for all to hear.

I mentally debated in my head. 'They're alien robots, who would they tell?' The urge to spill out my heart growing. 'It would be so good to finally trust someone...even if they are alien."'

I sighed, "Fine I'll tell you." I closed my case and moved to the boot of my car, "But you haven't seen it all." I opened the boot and lifted the entire bottom out, exposing another compartment containing a suitcase. I removed it, placed it on the floor and opened it to show its contents; it was full of weaponry. A sniper rifle, a pump action shotgun, two more pistols, another assortment of knives, two combat tactical swords, brass knuckles, a tactical war hammer and ammunition were all laid out and strapped down. On one side, a folded cloth package contained my Kevlar suit, some very faded dark stains showing exactly what it had been used for; a hi-tech black helmet with a tinted visor strapped beside it.

"By the allspark!" Ratchet's exclamation causing me to lower my head in shame; my brain going into overdrive.

I took a shuddering breath to calm myself. 'Showed them this...why not give 'em my life story too.'

"I was born into a...a bad crowd, you had to learn early on...heh, let's just say it wasn't for the squeamish. You were trained, given a purpose...I knew more than anyone else...before I even started school. Then one day..." My breath hitched and I felt choked up, I swallowed before continuing. "One day...there was a heist, it went south pretty quickly...I triggered the security override but there were guards...we didn't know...my mother was shot. She was the only reason some of them...didn't touch me." I lifted my head to see the implications of my words sinking in on all their faces. "So I ran...I took my share of all the profits and my weapons...and I ran. I have these, because I'm scared they'll find me. But when they do...I won't go back," my voice dropped, "...not without a fight."

Arcee knelt down, "So you have no-one else you can turn to?" The suspicion was still there, but fading.

"You didn't mention your creator...um male parental unit." I looked at the medic, confusion evident on my face. "Do you mean my father?" He gave an impatient nod.

A sad but angry look found its way upon my face. "I know my father by name only...and this picture." I reached into the case and took out the helmet; I flipped it and from the inside unstuck a photo. I held it up to the Autobots, who all reacted in surprise...and fear. "I see the resemblance," Ratchet muttered.

"My father's name was Leland Bishop...you've obviously met him, huh...my mother asked me to never try to find him...she said he was a monster...worse than the ones we dealt with every day. She told me she ran...after she saw him looking over her pregnancy scans and blueprints for...experiments...and found evidence."

Optimus looked at me worriedly, "Evidence of what exactly?"

I looked into his bright blue optics. "Evidence...that he'd been tampering with her medication...giving her injections in her sleep. She thought it was why...why...I was so good." I looked town, tears of frustration and self-loathing building in my eyes; I closed them. "Why I was so good at killing."

My eyes flew back open when I felt pressure on my sides. Jack, Miko and Raf were all hugging me. Jack looked sorrowfully at me, "We don't blame you for anything (y/n)." Bumblebee took the time to speak up, "where...you staying?" I looked at him, "I rented a room at a motel last night..." I trailed off.

I'd admitted my weakness and was ready to accept the consequences.

Optimus then spoke as well, "If you have nowhere else to go...you will be welcome here."

That was it...the floodgates opened. I began crying; my vision blurred and my chest became uncomfortably tight. My knees collapsed and I fell to the floor. Only held up by the comforting embraces of the 3 human children. I gulped the air as I tried to fight back the tears streaming down my face. For so long I'd been running. 'I haven't cried since...' I started weeping even harder.

One arm wound its way around Raf's small body, almost of their own accord; I just needed to cuddle something small. My other pulled Miko in close, the usually hyperactive girl not protesting at the restricting embrace. Thumps signalled Optimus moving to stand beside Ratchet and I wearily opened my eyes to see Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Arcee all hovering anxiously nearby.

I tried to pull myself together. Long forgotten screams echoing in my head. I shook my head and slowly disentangled myself from the others. Wiping my eyes to try and clear my vision. Finally, I felt like I could breathe again; but the screams wouldn't stop. I held my head, 'shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP!'

I was descending into my own memories, I'd worked so hard to suppress them.

A voice calling "Prime!" and the sound of lift doors sent my mind into a panic. My eyes shot open and I rolled forward, ripping a pistol out of the case, flicking off the safety and firing a warning shot at the intruder.

"Woah...friendly!" Came a startled male voice. My vision cleared completely, to reveal a man duck behind the door. I blinked and lowered the muzzle of the pistol. He peeked round the corner, staring intently at me. I stared back, before flicking the safety off and emptying its ammunition chamber. He walked out onto the balcony and looked at Optimus whilst pointing at me.

"Prime, who is this?"

He was practically yelling and while the stoic Prime's expression remained neutral. I saw and heard both Ratchet and Arcee give exasperated sighs. Bumblebee beeped quietly into Bulkhead's audio receptor and he started chuckling quietly.

Optimus took a step towards the balcony. "Agent Fowler, this is (y/n) (l/n). We have offered them refuge here from their past and the Decepticon threat."

Whilst Optimus had been talking he had descended the stairs so he was stood at the foot of both flights, a meter in front of me and the other kids.

"Little young to be handling a gun. I'm Special Agent William Fowler but why would you need to run from your pa..." he then trailed off, eyes wide at the sight of the open cases of weaponry behind me.

While he stared, I racked my brains. 'That name...it's familiar.'

Optimus answered Fowler's question, "(She/He) is the (daughter/son) of Leland Bishop...Silas."

Realisation bloomed in my brain. "Fowler...you're the agent who helped us!...You kept our existence on that shipment a secret." Fowler's jaw dropped, before he nodded, dumbstruck. "She was pregnant? Hold up...Your mother told you about me?"

I smiled, for once a genuine smile, "Without you...she might not have gotten away." My smile fell, "not that it matters now."

Fowler placed a hand on my shoulder, "Her name was (mum's name) right?" I nodded. "Well it looks like she raised a mighty fine kid...though, what's with the eye-patch?"

Unwanted, a chuckle almost escaped me. I raised a hand to my eye-patch, 'this man saved my mum...he deserves to see what became of me.'

I closed both my eyes and removed my patch. Fowler gasped along with the others. I could just picture what they were seeing. The skin, flaky and dark. An unhealthy blue in patches, the rest a splotchy red. One jagged line of pale scarred skin running down from just under my eyebrow, over the eyelid to curl round below my eye. I opened my good eye, to gauge their reaction to this next reveal. I slowly teased open my 'damaged' eye. Wincing slightly as I adjusted to the light.

If I'd been in a better mood I would have laughed at seeing the blood practically drain from their faces. I could picture it perfectly. The iris had gone completely black, parts of it had also been removed in the operation, making it look like I had one huge pupil, swimming in a sea of red. There was no white in my eye anymore, just a blood red dome. Both my normal eye and my other one focused on Fowler. He took an involuntary step back.

An itchy pain was beginning to bother me, the glare of the lights blinding me; so I put the eye patch back on. Cool relief flooded the side of my face as my eye was once again plunged into darkness.

"It was a...job, gone wrong." After answering Fowler's unspoken question, I turned and deposited the gun back in the suitcase. I closed both that and the guitar case. Replacing the suitcase in the boot and closing the compartment. I closed and placed my guitar case in the boot before shutting it completely. My hands hadn't even left the metal when Jack spoke.

"If (she/he) is going to stay here...where will they sleep? What about school?"

I looked at him. "Honestly school skipped my mind."

I fought the urge to put Fowler in a headlock, when he suddenly laid a hand on my shoulder; "I can handle this."

-----------------------Time skip--------------------------

I opened my eyes to shreds of faint light streaming in through the curtains of the trailer Fowler had got for me. I stretched and yawned before rolling out of bed. 'Well really, it's more of a small bunk.' Trudging over to the small kitchen area, I made a bowl of (favourite cereal) and slowly wandered to the trailer door. Snatching a baseball cap off a nearby hook; I placed it on my head before kicking the door open. I hopped out to sit on the porch step. Bright sunlight and a warm breeze greeted me. Not caring if anyone saw me in my bright (favourite colour) pyjamas. 'I love weekends.'

I watched the small sliver of horizon I could see through the gap in between the large boulders that lined the edge of the base. Hiding my trailer from prying eyes but giving me a perfect view of any approaching vehicles. As the sun rose I watched the sky change from a deep purple, to a blush pink, to a light blue. Breathing deep, I savoured this new freedom.

I allowed my mind to wander. From darkness to light. From smog and the criminal under-city to a life of peace. Well...relative peace. I reflected on my conversation with Arcee a few nights before.

After Fowler had left to get the trailer I had asked the motorcycle bot why she looked like she simultaneously wanted to cry and tear me apart. Turns out that epic car I'd passed earlier was her dead friend. 'Yeesh'. She seemed grateful that I thought he was epic and cool and had said he would've liked the description. We seemed on slightly better terms now, but I can tell she doesn't trust me quite as much as she could.

After finishing my cereal, I stood and jumped back into the trailer. Dumping my bowl and spoon into the sink. I collected an outfit for the day and walked back outside. I turned away from the horizon and approached the rock face. The steel door's camouflage did nothing to hide it from my now practised eyes.

I keyed in the code in the hidden slide-back keypad and walked inside. Passing through the thick concrete tunnel, I opened another door to finally enter the base. The huge hallways were lit. "Ratchet's up" I muttered. 'When is he never up?'

Rolling my eyes, I crossed the hall and walked through another human sized door into a bathroom complex. I took a shower, dried my hair, got dressed and brushed my teeth. Nightclothes under one arm, I walked all the way back out to the trailer.

'One thing good about living here...I'll always stay fit.' I smiled sardonically at the thought. Putting my folded clothes on my bunk. I turned and regarded the bowl in the sink. "Ugh". With a huff, I washed and dried the remains of my breakfast.

"Not disturbing you am I?"

I jumped at the voice that suddenly issued behind me. Turning rapidly and throwing the spoon in my hand. It embedded itself in the trailer wall, inches from Jack's head. He had ducked, hands raised to protect his face, eyes wide at my now engorged pupils.

"Ahhh...STOP it's me."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Don't sneak up on me...you could've lost your head."

He slowly straightened with a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry about that."

I nodded and sent him a smile. Before walking over and pulling the spoon from the wall. With a nonchalant flip I tossed it over my shoulder; grinning inwardly as I heard it land in the wash rack. "You better."

He nodded and backed out the trailer door. After sending a cursory glance around the trailer, I shrugged, picked up my guitar case from its place leaning by the door, unhooked my key and followed him out. He was standing by the door into the base. I kicked the trailer door closed and jogged over. We punched in the code and went inside. Strolling down the corridor I glanced over at the dark haired male at my side.

"So...why're you here so early...it's Saturday!"

He looked at me, then quickly looked forward again after he almost tripped over his own feet. I held back a laugh.

"Um," oh the poor boy was blushing, "Arcee picked me up early cuz I booked off work and I'm spending the whole day here. Raf and Miko will turn up soon too."

We finally reached the main room of the base. Bulkhead and Bumblebee driving in right on time.

Miko bounded over and practically shrieked in my ear, "Let's have a jam session!"

I winced slightly but otherwise nodded in compliance. Bouncing enthusiastically, she practically skipped up the stairs to get her guitar and speaker from by the sofa.

An incessant beeping coming from the monitors broke through my Miko-aftershock. I turned round to see a cybertronian symbol flashing next to the communications window. I frowned.

"Aren't you gonna answer that Ratchet?"

The cybertronian merely grunted before mumbling, "He can wait." This caught Bulkhead's attention, who looked at the screen. His optics widened and he practically screamed, "It's Jackie!" before bounding over to the screen.

"Up up...you'll probably damage it." The medic waved away Bulkhead, who was now practically vibrating with excitement, before opening the channel with a huff. "Yes Wheeljack?" Ratchet tried and failed to conceal the resignation in his voice. The reply was instantaneous.

"Hey sunshine...didn't think you'd answer so quickly."

That sarcastic voice played havoc on my brain. I quickly turned back to Miko, seeking distraction, I froze in horror at the sight before me. She was vibrating, bouncing on the spot and grinning madly; her eyes were also fixated on the screen. She suddenly ran to Bulkhead, I turned tracking her progress. He picked her up and they both started excitedly chatting with the voice on the channel. Briefly glancing away to get my bearings, I walked backwards to stand beside the couch. Raf sat on it, laptop open on his lap and typing away furiously. 'Were those ear-defenders?'

I tapped his shoulder and he removed the protection gear, looking up at me expectantly. I leaned closer. "Who's Wheeljack? And do I need to tranquilise Miko?"

Raf smiled. "Wheeljack is a wrecker who likes to visit from time to time, the wreckers were an elite Autobot faction who specialised in 'wrecking' Decepticons and I don't think you need to tranquilise Miko."

Jack smiled as he sat down on the other side of Raf; picking up a controller of the floor as he did so. "He's right. You don't need to just tranquilise her...you need to chain her to the couch and tranquilise her." I smirked at the dark haired teen; leaning nonchalantly on the arm of the couch, I placed my guitar case on the floor beside it.

I threw Arcee a cautious smile when she approached to watch as Jack started up a video game. The voices excitedly chattering with the screen behind me, echoed in the concrete bunker. "See you in 5!" being one such loud proclamation from Miko. I glanced back over my shoulder to see the girl and her guardian chatting amicably as the transmission cut off; with a tired looking Ratchet beside them. I stood and walked over to the railing, waving an arm for his attention. He huffed, but stomped over anyway; leaving the pair by the monitor.

"What do you want?" He looked at me expectantly. I stared back.

"When was the last time you slept?" He groaned and brought a servo down his face.

"Look...I don't need you to tell me when to recharge I can look after myself." I continued to stare intently.

"Stop that!"

Still staring, brows furrowing slightly for added measure.

"I said stop!"

We stayed locked in deadlock before I spoke, in the most persuasive voice I could muster.

"You haven't had enough sleep and you obviously dread seeing this...Wheeljack," his optics narrowed, "So why don't you go catch up on recharge and I, along with Arcee and Optimus will keep an eye open."

He seemed to consider it for a moment before protesting, "My wor..." I raised a hand to cut him off, "Can be completed later...quality not quantity."

Ratchet rolled his optics and flapped his hand at me. "Fine I'll go recharge...but when he gets here, don't let him out of your site." He then walked down the corridor towards his berthroom.

I watched him go before turning and walking back to stand by the couch. I flicked a glance over at Arcee.

"You caught that, right?" She nods, "Already informed Optimus." I smiled, she sent me a tentative smile back. "Not many people can get Ratchet to take a break." I nodded humbly at the compliment.

I looked at the couch again, 'might as well sit down.' My muscles coiled in preparation to move but in that split second their direction was changed.

"Good ne..." The voice from right behind me was cut off, as I flipped the spry girl over my hip onto the couch. Raf and Jack having only just jumped off in time to avoid collision.

I stepped back, releasing my hold on the girl. "You lot have got to stop sneaking up on me."

Miko merely rolled off the sofa and bounced excitedly, "You have GOT to teach me how to do that!"

Seems nothing can deplete this girl's energy. I froze when the voice from the screen issued from behind me. "I'd like to see what you got too." I turned around and eyed the newcomer. Scars here and there testament to the many battles I could tell he'd been in, 'were those katanas.'

"Name's Wheeljack." He looked at me expectantly.

"I'm (l/n)...I mean (y/n), (l/n)'s my surname." He smirked at me. 'F*£k why did I mix them up?'

Bulkhead wrapped an arm round Wheeljack's shoulder. "Jackie here is the best, we fought together as part of the wreckers..." I quickly thought off a way to cover up my previous blunder.

"Could you tell me about some of your battles? I'm sure you have some awesome stories to tell." Bulkhead latched onto the new subject with glee and I allowed Miko to grab my hand and push me to sit down in preparation for story time. Wheeljack glanced fondly over at Bulkhead before turning back to us.

"Ok I'll tell ya'a story if you tell me one in return."

-------------------------Time skip-------------------------------

I'd spent most of the day listening to war stories from Wheeljack and Bulkhead with Miko before going to bed when she went home and he left in A SPACESHIP. 'I so wanted to take it apart.'

I'd told one story of my own. 'Only because Miko wouldn't stop it with the puppy eyes and pestering till I did.' It was a recount of one of the most successful jobs I'd been involved in.

I'd been "loaned" over to a mafia group. We broke into a rival Don's home and I disabled the security system. We successfully stole over $200 million. I'd gotten quite a large cut out of it too. Of course that had gone into keeping my mum and me off the street and in our "protectors" good books. I mentioned, in brief, the resistance we met; but skipped over the part where I killed a rival guard completely. I'd tried to gloss over that.

{Flashback:

I cast a concerned look at Miko, to see whether she picked up on the fact that I was a murderer.

Thankfully, she seemed to remain oblivious to the fact and excitedly chattered about how much money we'd scored and how I, "met a real mafia boss...like in the movies?"

I nod good naturedly, red staining my mind. "Yeah...just like in the movies." She bursts into questions and asks me whether I've got any more.

Shaking my head I reply, "Not one's I'd like to tell...maybe Bulkhead has some more."

She thinks for a moment, before asking Bulkhead whether he has any space battle stories. He happily said he does and starts recounting one such tale. Periodically asking for Wheeljack's input, who gives it.

All through the rest of the story, I notice Wheeljack keeps giving me these thoughtful looks.

I stared at him, waiting for him to look again. When he looked at me again he caught my eye contact...and held it. We entered a mini-staring competition; unnoticed by Bulkhead or Miko. I felt my cheeks begin to heat slightly, but not enough to reveal my blush fully. Wheeljack noticed anyway and smirked. We continued our contest until Bulkhead nudges Wheeljack for his input. He sways and we break eye contact.

Feeling strange, I refuse to meet it again...and so does he.

'Were his cheeks turning blue slightly or was that just me?'

Flashback end}

(Author note: The potential is there. Now I'm going to branch this off early. Your next adventure determines who you fall for. :)

Breakdown ending          Wheeljack Ending

#transformers #fanfiction #xreader #Breakdown #Wheeljack #transformers prime #tfp

[princesskeda]

Heart of the Oni

After the supposed deaths of their friends and family, Nya, Lloyd, Pixal, and Misako cope with the aftermath of Harumi’s rein and try to move on with the help of some old friends. But not everyone grieves the same way. Meanwhile in the First Realm, the ninja are trying to survive and find a way home. Post S8, this started out as a speculative fiction about S9 but its so much more.

CHAPTER 3

3

              Wu was enjoying his little stick far too much. It seemed that nothing made him happier than a few unmerciful whacks on the unsuspecting body parts of his fellow ninja.  

              “OW…ok, master or not, you’re gonna get it this time!” Jay said, chasing after the giggling toddler who had just given him a welt across the back of his shin. Despite his tiny size, Wu was quicker than one would think and Jay had trouble keeping up with him as he scurried over the rocky terrain.  Wu bumped into Cole, who then turned around and lifted him onto his shoulders.

              “Cut it out, Jay.  We’ve got to find a place to sleep before sundown.  Who knows what we’d find out here after nightfall.”

              “Or what would find us…” Kai muttered nearby, shuddering at the thought.

              The ninja had been walking for hours.  At first, they considered making some kind of shelter from the remains of Destiny’s Bounty.  But Zane pointed out that the creatures indigenous to the realm they were now trapped in may come to inspect something that so obviously didn’t belong.  His suggestion was to find shelter that better blended with the overall terrain, and thus draw less attention to themselves.

From his heightened position, Wu turned and blew a raspberry at Jay, who turned to Zane in disbelief.

              “Hey…you…he…did you see that?! He’s mocking me now!”  He narrowed his eyes at the toddler version of his old sensei.  “Oh, good move!  Buttering Cole up for protection! But just you wait until your hulking nanny isn’t around to save you, tea-breath! Then you’re gonna be hooped!”  

              Zane chuckled nearby.  His smile fell as he calculated the rate of the setting sun. It was hard to make credible predictions about this world, as he had little to no data about it except for what Jay had told them about Mistake’s story.  But he could now tell with more certain estimates that they had less than an hour of light left.  

              “We may all be in trouble, Jay, if we don’t find somewhere…”

              “I get it, I get it. Sheesh.  Find somewhere safe, or we’re all gonna be hooped.  But how does anything in this situation even make sense?!  I mean the sun is BLACK. How exactly does that give light? And how did we even get here anyways?  And DON’T say traveler’s tea, Zane.” he added as his nindroid friend had opened his mouth to answer his question. “Cuz I know.  But what I mean is don’t you have to picture where you’re going to use travelers tea?  That’s how I used it when it took me to my parents…”

              “When did you use traveler’s tea to get to your parents, Jay?” Zane asked curiously.  That did not compute with any information he had stored.

              Jay turned a shade of red and threw his hands in the air. “Ah...you know what?! Just forget it.  Forget I said anything.”  He stomped off ahead.

              Cole and Kai had reached a ridge looking out on yet another expanse of rocks…and more rocks.  The Rock formations were tall and pointed, reminding Kai of teeth from some otherworldly being.  He shuddered again.  

              “This is hopeless.  Why even keep walking?  All we are going to find is more of the same.”  He kicked the ground in frustration.  

              Cole frowned and tried to think of a solution. Suddenly, a small hand tugged at his hair to get his attention.

              “We haf ta make a hows!” Wu said, beaming down at him.

              “And how exactly does he expect us to do that?” Kai asked, annoyed. There wasn’t any building material as far as he could see.  But Cole didn’t answer; he was too busy looking down at his hands, thinking.

              Despite the fact that most of the city…and the country…were mourning the ninja’s loss, Garmadon in power meant that the funeral service had to be as discreet as possible.  That meant only a limited amount of people could be invited.

It had been hard to narrow down who would make the list.  Obviously there were people that they wanted to come, but would be a little too high profile--Cyrus Borg, for instance, or the police commissioner. Others had dealings with the ninja for a long time, like the mailman, but did they really need to invite him?  They had settled on Jay’s parents, Cole’s father, Skylor, and Dareth.  Ronin hadn’t been too keen on the Dareth idea.  

              “Look…I know Dareth is harmless...but he’s also not even remotely ‘stealthy.’  You’re lucky that I’m the only one he’s told about this place so far.  I don’t think he’s gonna be a good option to trust to pull off…”

              “Dareth has been helping us out since we started training Lloyd as the green ninja.  I know he’s a little…unique…but his heart is in the right place.  I’ve never had a reason not to trust him.” Nya said the last line with a meaningful look at the thief, as if to imply that she had had many reasons not to trust him.

“Fine. The brown idiot can come.”

              It was decided that Nya and Ronin would spread the word.  It would be too difficult to disguise P.I.X.A.L and Lloyd was still not in good enough shape to go sneaking around the city.   So the two set off at dawn, heading towards Ninjago city on stealth bikes that Nya had been working on (when she hadn’t been beating the life out of rocks.)

              “I don’t like that you’re coming with.  Those biker goons have been scouring the city for you and your friends for days.”

              Nya felt a small twist of fear.  She had never really worried about going against bad guys before…but these ones had left her scarred.  She pushed away her doubts.  

              “There’s no way that we will ever defeat them if I don’t even have the guts to go to the city.” she retorted.  Ronin pulled his bike up short, causing Nya to do the same. She pulled off her helmet, confused.

              “Defeat? Nya, you guys don’t stand a chance against these guys.  Face it.  They won…and after this service the best option would be for the group of you to disappear and start new lives.”  

              Nya didn’t say anything.  That would never be an option for them, and she knew that deep down Ronin knew that.  But she figured this wouldn’t be the last time he tried to talk them into it just the same.

              “C’mon.  The sooner we get there the sooner we can get out.”  She started her bike again.  

P.I.X.A.L folded another complex paper flower.  Ronin had stashed Rex with lots of different supplies, assuming that the run-aways wouldn’t have much.  It was good that the thief had shown up, P.I.X.A.L mused.   By her calculations they would have run out of food soon.   He had been able to snap Nya out of her anger, but Misako had seemed on edge ever since he had shown up.

               “That’s looking great, P.I.X.A.L.”  Misako had come up from behind her.   P.I.X.A.L looked up.  

              “I thought that perhaps it would make the scene more…appropriate if we had a few decorations.”  She finished off another flower.  “It’s lucky that Ronin showed up when he did.”

              Misako went quiet.

              “You do not trust him.” P.I.X.A.L said. It was more of a statement than a question.  Misako shook herself from her thoughts.

              “Oh…I don’t know.  It’s not that I think he came all this way to do any harm… but I would be lying if I didn’t question his overall character.  He’s betrayed us before.”

              “You think he would turn us in?”

              “No.  Not to Garmadon.  But I also can’t see his interests really matching ours.  He’s no honor fighter.”

              P.I.X.A.L was quiet as she went over to REX.  

              “Should we have warned Nya?”

              Here Misako smiled.  “She can handle herself, P.I.X.A.L.”  

              Her words threw P.I.X.A.L back to a week or so before, when Nya had said the same thing about her to Zane.  She had always admired Nya…so confident and independent. But she felt that she had never gotten a chance to really get to know her.   Perhaps now they would finally have that chance.

              “What are you looking for?” Misako asked, as P.I.X.A.L had been rummaging in REX for the past minute.

              “Candles.”

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#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #Heart of the Oni chapter 3 #Nya #Ronin #PIXAL #cole #kai #jay #wu #zane

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 3

I finally finished the next in the Aedion prequel.  Read Chapter 1.  Chapter 2. 

Aedion shifted the pack on his back and squinted up at the fort that towered up the hill above him as he sucked down some water from his skin.  The sun had dropped just low enough in the sky to glare over the spiked tops of the protective walls, and they probably still had an hour’s climb before they reached it.  Breiner had been distant the whole trip down, over the border into Adarlan, the grudging bond they had been forming at the war camp thinning until it had all but disappeared.  Indeed, Aedion had been nearly silent for the ten day trudge, talking mainly to Deaghall and Iain, ignoring the glares and occasional small stone missiles sent his way by Burr and the other boy he thought of only as Burr’s shadow.  The few younger boys didn’t harass him but followed him at a discreet distance with wide eyes that made him self conscious.  

All but four of the prisoners of war had been released before leaving the camp.  Aedion had watched them file out, and Deaghall had tactfully ignored the wetness on his cheeks as person after person had touched their brows in honor as they passed him.  The four who were retained had been kept in the prison wagon and fed and watered exclusively by Breiner’s most trusted guards.  He didn’t know who they were or what they’d done to result in being dragged along on this miserable journey, but he wished he could help them somehow.  Unfortunately he had no leverage.  Yet.  A situation he planned to change, however long it took.

Hoofbeats sounded behind him just as he was starting up the hill, and he paused as Breiner trotted up, then reined back to a walk without looking at him.  They walked next to each other in silence for a while, the lord standing in his stirrups as his big chestnut dug in to climb.  Soon they had far outstripped the other soldiers, and Breiner said out of the corner of his mouth, “I want you to take care at this camp.”

“Oh?” Aedion replied after a brief hesitation.  He waited, his huffing breaths matching the horse’s as they climbed, but the older man did not continue.  “Why?” he finally asked, stealing a glance up from the corner of his eye.

Breiner’s lips were pressed, tension in every line of his face.  “I don’t know why they insisted you boys come to this camp.”  There was a long pause where Aedion almost gave up on getting more information, but then he continued.  “We’ve passed within a few miles of two other training facilities, including General Paget’s, both more suited for training younger soldiers than this one.  I would have expected to leave you at one of those, and I know Paget wanted you.  This general has…a reputation, though.”  Breiner glanced down, making sure Aedion was paying attention.  “He’s got a bit of a loose interpretation of ethics when handling prisoners.”

Despite himself, the boy huffed a laugh.  “I wasn’t aware Adarlan had any ethical regulations when it came to their enemies.”

“We do,” Breiner assured him.  “But Perrington seems to operate outside the law.”  Aedion’s heart sank like a stone.  He had heard that name.  Met him, in fact, almost a year ago, right before everything went to hell.  “He’s the younger cousin to Duke Perrington,” the lord went on, “the King’s Hand.”  Ah, so not the same man who had stared at Aedion and Aelin across the dinner table with fathomless black eyes, but a relative.  “And he’s part of the reason Adarlan’s forces have the reputation they do.  Be on your guard.”   They reached a more level spot and Breiner clucked to his horse, sending him into a brisk trot.  Aedion watched after him, mulling over the cryptic warning.  He ran his thumb over the subtle ridge of the scar his teeth had left in his palm all those weeks ago.  Aelin.  Rhoe.  Evalin.  Quinn.  Orlon.  Cal.  Marion.  Elide.  Ren.   A pass of his thumb for each name, over and over, with each step he took towards the gate that now loomed close.

*****

As Erik trotted Farus towards the gate, two of his personal guards flanked him on their chargers, Adarlanian colors flying on the standard held by Alfi.  The rest of the soldiers and camp workers were behind them in a loose formation, Aedion at the head with two of the younger boys behind him, the prison wagons and their guards in the center.  All these boys would be better off in Paget’s camp, he thought irritably as the remainder appeared over the crest of the hill.

He halted Farus to one side of the gate as was protocol, Alfi and Iain continuing over the draw bridge and through the paired gates into the fort proper, setting themselves at the head of the lines his soldiers would form.  Erik watched his men approach, Aedion’s golden head bobbing along at the front.  Shit, he thought, he should have told Aedion the required procedure, and he couldn’t break his position now.  But the boy paused and made a bit of a show of pulling out his water skin and taking a drink, acting more winded than he no doubt was, allowing himself to be overtaken by the soldiers.  Clever boy.  When the three younger boys behind him, red-faced and sagging, followed suit with expressions of relief, Erik was struck again with just how canny the prince really was.  How well-schooled already in the leading of men.

Deaghall approached the boys, leading Burr and Dain, and ushered them into the lines now forming as the men entered the gates.  The two older boys made to step on Aedion’s heels as they walked too close behind him, but a well-timed kick up from a booted heel caught Dain on the shin and they backed off a pace.  Erik fought to keep his face straight as Manas’ son furtively tried to rub his shin on the back of his other calf as he walked. Then they disappeared through the opening and he turned his attention to the prison wagon that was now approaching.  The half-dozen guards that surrounded it looked grave rather than relieved as they passed him.  They all knew what was likely to befall those men.

Finally the last stragglers, wounded men who were well-enough recovered to make the journey, limped past and joined the lines, and he sent Farus through at a slow trot.  The horse’s fancy gaits were the reason he’d chosen him, despite the fact that his red coat was considered unsuitable for an officer, blacks and grays being more desirable.  But he heard the murmuring from the fort soldiers and residents as the huge stallion pranced between the lines, shining copper in the setting sun, while he sat tall in the saddle.  The prison wagon was rattling off towards the holding cells as he rode to where Perrington was waiting.  He swung off of Farus and handed his reins to Iain, who had fallen in behind him as he passed before facing the general.

“Walk with me,” was all Perrington said as he turned on his heel and strode towards the largest of the houses.  Erik had never been to this particular fort, but all the permanent forts were set up in roughly the same alignment.  A gravel center square faced up to the general’s luxurious home.  A large dining hall stood opposite, and the barracks were in neat lines to one side.  The armory was adjacent to the large stone keep behind the main house, the stables beyond that.  Stone towers stood in each corner of the camp, with archers manning the upper floors.  Perrington’s living quarters were a bit more spacious than most, and more luxuriously appointed, Breiner noted wryly as he passed into a salon that could have satisfied the King himself.  Perrington seated himself in a large chair, and gestured Erik towards a low couch.  

“So,” Perrington drawled, “I understand you have brought me five Terrasen prisoners.”

“Four, sir,” Erik corrected.  “I was ordered to release the rest.”

The general cocked his head, fingers lightly resting on his lips as he studied Erik for a moment.  “Didn’t I understand that you were to bring me a prince of Terrasen?  Did I not in fact see him myself, lined up with the other youngsters?  Or did you hope to sneak him past me?”

The heat rose in Erik’s face, and not for the first time he hated his betraying coloration, the flush that showed even through the deepest tan.  “I apologize, sir, I was not under the impression he was considered a prisoner.”

Perrington’s knuckles were white on the arms of his chair as he leaned towards Erik.  “Have you gone mad, or is it simply that you have the heart of a nursemaid beating under your armor?  Are you running a sanctuary for wild beasts at that godsforsaken camp of yours?”  When Erik remained silent, the general rose slowly and stalked over towards a table that contained several bottles of amber liquid and a stack of glasses.  Erik had snapped to attention the second the general had stood, and so he remained as Perrington poured two glasses and handed one to him.  “Speak, man,” Perrington ordered, waving him on.

“Sir, I’ve had two months now to observe the boy.  He’s a natural leader and a natural warrior.  He’s respectful.  The other boys follow his lead and the prisoners adore him.  We can use him, sir, to subdue the people of Terrasen with less loss of our own forces.”  Erik took a sip of his drink, more to be polite than because he wanted it.  If he was being honest with himself, all he really wanted was a good meal and to find one of the camp women willing to share her bed.

The general sat back in his chair and surveyed him, amusement seeming to play on his features.  “A natural leader.  Everyone follows his lead.”  He shook his head slowly.  “Don’t you see, Erik, that this is precisely why he’s so dangerous?  You’re looking to shelter a snake and then you’ll be surprised when it bites you.”  He drained his drink in one gulp, and there was a long pause, broken by the small clink of the glass hitting the table.  

“Did you ever wonder why I was made general and you were not?”  Perrington laughed drily at the surprise no doubt written across his face.  “You bested me in every fight in training; you were a gifted speaker, and you’re an excellent strategist.  Don’t think all that went unrecognized.”  He shook his head pityingly.  “But you bought too much into Brullo’s teaching.  You subscribe to the idea that there’s some sort of moral code when it comes to our enemies.  And that’s an idea that some day is going to get you killed.  Probably by this creature whose throat you should have slit when you had the chance.”

Erik mulled this over for a moment.  He had his own theories why, though he had surpassed Perrington through their years of training, the other man had advanced farther than he had, and it had more to do with their last names than with some sort of excessive moral squeamishness on his part.  True, Perrington had excelled in the “Enhanced Interrogation Techniques” while he had performed abysmally.  After all, he had always believed that torture was, in the end, unreliable.  Strong men would withstand it, and weaker ones would say whatever they thought you wanted to hear to get it to stop.  Brullo, his mentor and one of the main trainers of officers, had lectured that compassion towards those we conquered built loyal subjects, while suppression bred rebellion.  

Unfortunately, the latter seemed to  be the way Adarlan was leaning in recent years.

He thought back to his relationship to Aedion, those first moments of calculated violence, his stubborn willingness to die… When it came down to it, he was certain that he had won the boy over more by vomiting after his threatened rape of that girl than by the threat itself.  He raised his eyes to meet Perrington’s cold black stare.  “With all due respect, sir, I maintain the belief that we can expanded our kingdom far more successfully by assimilation than by wanton destruction.  Talented young men who can be cultivated to our side can sway the minds of the people.”

The condescending smirk that had settled on Perrington’s thin lips did not falter as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter, then slowly unfolded it.  Erik could see the seal of the King at the bottom.  “Well,” said the general sardonically, “I see that you have retained your habit of pretty speeches.  And it appears that you are an equally gifted letter-writer, given that you have persuaded His Majesty.”  He indicated the letter.  “But I am not blinded by weak compassion or visions of grandeur.  I will be watching that boy, and when he shows his true nature - as he will - I will be waiting.  And he will be praying for the noose before I’m done.  Now,” he tucked the letter back into his pocket and rose with a startling shift in his tone, “I’m sure it’s been a while since you’ve enjoyed the comforts of a solid roof over your head and sharing your bed with a woman.  Have a good evening.”

*****

Aedion strode out of the mess hall, needing fresh air, needing…a break.  When first he and the other boys had been shown into the trainee barracks, he had been relieved to be accepted by the few dozen Adarlanian boys with no more interest than the others, just a line of casual glances up as he tossed his pack down on the assigned bunk.  But Burr and Burr’s shadow had known a few of the other boys, and by the time they were sitting down to dinner there were murmurs all up and down the table, stares and glares and subtle posturing.  Thankfully the boys didn’t know his true title.  Clearly being a “recruit” from Terrasen made him an object of curiosity at best, more likely one of derision.  He couldn’t imagine what creative torture these other boys would come up with if they had known he was a prince and a member of the Terrasen and Wendlyn royal families.  Not that it mattered.  His thumb ran automatically over the scar on his palm, and he headed across the gravel square, looking for the stables.  Surely Breiner wouldn’t object if he checked in on Farus after their journey.

The scent of horse and hay hit his nostrils and he followed it to a stone structure with a few small paddocks outside.  Ducking through the door, he blinked in the lamp light.  There were several wisened men and young boys setting out hay for the evening, but nobody paid him any notice as he walked down the aisle, looking into the rows of stalls.  Farus was in a large loose box down at the end, and he stuck his head over the door and whickered at Aedion.  Rubbing the glossy neck, he fed him an apple he’d snagged from the dinner table.  The two had made friends in the weeks at the war camp, Aedion having long been comfortable with horses from his frequent assignments to stable duty for various infractions.  Plus Farus didn’t give a shit where Aedion came from as long as he brought apples. When he had spent long enough with the stallion to earn suspicious looks from the stablehands, he found his way out the back door.  Creeping along the grass through the dark, he nearly tripped over a person who was crouched peering around the corner of the barn, just barely catching the scent of lavender and mint in time. He side-stepped at the last second, his boots crunching suddenly on the gravel path and earning a startled feminine yelp, then a hissed, “Shhhh” from the other.

“I didn’t say anything,” he whispered.

“Well don’t start now,” she spat under her breath, standing and spinning to face him.  He couldn’t see much of her in the dark, just that she had lighter hair that gleamed silver in the moonlight and that her head barely rose to his chest.  He ignored her and crept forward and peered around the corner of the barn himself, expecting something dramatic like an execution or a fight, though he heard nothing more than the usual sounds of movement and conversation.  Instead he found a collection of men and women mingling in the square.  Several of the men he recognized from his own camp.

“What are you hiding from?” he asked, still keeping his voice low.  When there was no answer, he looked back at the girl to find her leaning away from him, face still hidden in the gloom.  She responded with an imperious wave, a silent order to keep his mouth shut.  He wasn’t sure why he obeyed but he turned his attention back to the milling forms out in the lit courtyard.  Some of the voices reached him, and he realized abruptly what was going on - a negotiation for the sharing of beds.  He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and was grateful for the dark, determinedly avoiding any glance at the girl.  Breiner seemed to settle on a voluptuous woman in a laundress’ outfit and they strolled out of view.  Deaghall soon disappeared as well, and in just a few moments the square was clear.  

A rustle behind him drew his attention back to the strange girl.  Without a word to him, she had turned to make her escape, but he slipped around her and cut her off.  She pulled up abruptly with a curse.  The moonlight hit her face now and that was real terror he could see in her eyes.  Taking a step back, he raised both his hands and murmured, “Easy, easy.”

“I’m not a horse, you prick.  Now leave me alone.”  She pulled her cloak closer around her as she started to push past him.  

“Sorry.  I’m sorry.  I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”  

She stopped and looked up at him.  “What, do they breed saviors where you come from?  Just go back to your friends and get rested up so you can learn how to kill people tomorrow.”  With that, she shouldered him out of her way and disappeared into the gloom.

*****

Delaney scurried through the shadows, still keeping an ear open for the sound of male approach.  Thankfully this new group was small, only a few officers, and the grunts wouldn’t dare try for that privilege.  When she reached the row of huts reserved for the camp workers, she slipped through the back door of the fourth one and up the ladder into the loft.  Judging by the noises emanating through the single interior door, her mother was entertaining that tall brown-haired lord.  Her brother had moved to the barracks last spring, so she only had her sisters to be careful of as she shucked her shoes and crawled under the blankets that covered their pallet.  Another night safe.  

As she cuddled in against Avis, her mind went to the tall boy behind the stable.  His accent was odd, and his voice still had the inconsistency of transition despite his lanky height.  He must have come with the soldiers, though he certainly seemed surprisingly unaware of the rhythms of training camps.  At least for now.  Give him a few weeks and that careful consideration he’d given her would be trained right out of him.  Avis wrapped a thin arm around her and drew her in closer.  The sound of the child’s breathing was as good as a lullaby, and her last conscious thought was to wonder how the boy had moved so quickly to cut her off.

*****

The next few days quickly settled into a rhythm that was not dissimilar to that of the war camp.  Each of the boys was assigned to help in an area of the camp in the morning, and afternoons were reserved for training.  The main difference was the size, this place encompassing many hundreds of soldiers and trainees and the necessary staff to support them.  Aedion’s first week he was to work in the kitchens; evidently they rotated through there, the armory, the stables, and the gardens, one week at each place.  

He quickly won favor in the kitchens by tackling the giant stacks of dirty dishes without complaint.  The weeks at Breiner’s camp had taught him how to be both efficient and thorough, and with him washing and an unfamiliar Adarlanian boy drying they worked their way through the dishware with alacrity.  As they reached the end, the wizened old creature who ran the kitchens approached and eyed him carefully, calling out, “I don’t know about this new girl.  She seems too pretty to be a kitchen maid.  Or a soldier.” There were sniggers around the room and Aedion grinned down at her.  “I think we should make sure she gets sent to Rifthold.  No doubt she could entertain Prince Dorian quite well, even if she’s a few years older.”

A twinge shot through Aedion’s heart as he remembered the black-haired prince and his “fine lady” manners, but he laughed as he held his hands out to the crone.  “I don’t know,” he replied, “I don’t think they’d let these anywhere near the prince.  He might be contaminated.”  She inspected his large hands, callused and flecked with scars, nails chipped, and patted him on the arm with a cackle.  

“Well, then, we must find a way to make you useful here.  Even if we can barely understand a word you say!”  A chorus of comments on his accent and his pretty face and the length of his hair followed as the other boy showed him where to stack the clean dishes.  

Training was similar to at Breiner’s camp, with somewhat stricter discipline.  Aedion quickly fought his way out of his age group and was put in with the most experienced boys.  Though he was superior to them as well in most regards, he was pleased to see they would learn some new weaponry that he had not yet handled.  He was also to learn to fight more on horseback, something he had up to now received minimal training in.  

Every night after dinner he visited the stables, giving attention to not just Farus, but all the horses.  They didn’t mind his accent, or his size, or his skill, but were content with apples and neck scratches.  The girl he had encountered remained a mystery, and another reason he visited the horses each night.  He had not seen her again.  Not that he was not at all certain he would have recognized her if he saw her, but he thought he’d recall that sweet lavender scent.   He still wondered sometimes what she had been hiding from.  

The shift came on the sixth day.  He had noticed the black-eyed man who had greeted Breiner on their arrival came to watch training every day, had felt that cold stare on him as he parried and blocked and aimed.  Perrington.  He looked little like his cousin, the man Aedion remembered from the days before the world went to hell, other than those eyes.

This time, Perrington called training short and requested all attend the sentencing of the prisoners in the square.  Judging by the lack of surprise, this was a normal occasion, and the soldiers and trainees all bustled onto the large gravel expanse.  Aedion hovered near the back.  He didn’t need to see this, his countrymen sentenced to the mines or to death.  He watched anyway, feet braced apart as men were led onto a platform, their heads covered.  Five men, not the four they had brought with them.  He wondered who the fifth was.  As Perrington’s despicably nasal voice rose over the crowd, his thumb brushed the ridge on his palm.  One by one, the hoods were removed and the men stepped forward to hear their fate.  “For crimes against the crown, you will be sentenced to six months in Endovier…three years in Endovier…one year in Endovier…eighteen months in Endovier.”  These were all truly death sentences, nobody survived more than a few months in the salt mines; they just gave the illusion of hope for ultimate freedom.  Judging by the resigned expressions on each face, the men all knew this.  All for the crime of being soldiers of Terrasen, trying to protect their home from invasion.

Finally the last man had his hood removed, and Aedion gasped loudly enough to earn curious glances from the boys around him.  It was Kenway, one of Cal Lochan’s favorite guards.  Aedion had assumed he had gone to the butcher’s block along with Cal.  His feet moved of their own accord, and he wove through the close-packed bodies until he was but a few rows from the front just as Perrington finished reading the charges against the man.  Kenway was looking out over the crowd, face impassive, giving no indication he was even listening to the summary of his crimes.  Just as Perrington intoned, “And for these crimes against the crown, you shall hang from the neck until you are dead,” Kenway’s eyes met Aedion’s and his eyes widened in shock before he schooled his face back into a neutral expression.

Aedion closed his eyes and began shaking, memories of riding out hunting with Kenway and Cal, Quinn and Rhoe, of sparring with sticks when he barely reached the older man’s waist, of jokes and meals shared all flickering behind his lids.  This was a good man, he thought.  Better than any of the Adarlanians, better than himself.  Kenway had helped Aelin onto her first pony, had given Elide a bouquet of tiny daisies when she had fallen and skinned her knee, had told no one when Aedion had cried after shooting his first deer.  

Without realizing it, Aedion moved right to the very front of the crowd, his eyes fixed on his friend.  Kenway’s face was bruised, his lip split, and though he stood straight and proud it was obvious that he was guarding his ribs.  Perrington had put his paper down and turned his attention to Aedion where his golden head shone above the surrounding men, and it was with a thin smile that he added, “Unless someone shall volunteer to take his punishment.”  It took a few seconds for Aedion to realize what had been said, and he slowly turned to the general as boos echoed out around him.  He didn’t know if this was regular; in Terrasen, volunteers could take on certain punishments, such as whipping or time in the stocks, for nonviolent crimes.  He had never heard of this in the case of capital punishment.  Though he did recall hearing that Adarlan had allowed one member of a convicted family to volunteer to take the sentence for the rest.  

He could feel other eyes on him, and turned to see Breiner slowly shaking his head, Deaghall next to him looking grim.  On the other side of the square, standing in the shadow of one of the buildings, was a slip of a girl in a laundress outfit, reddish gold hair curling past her shoulders, biting her lip as she studied him.  Turning back to Kenway, he saw the older man looking at him with grief and love in his face, giving a barely perceptible shake of his head once he knew Aedion was looking.  Perrington was still staring at him, waiting, as the moment stretched into an eternity.  

Could he do it?  Could he offer his life for this man, who had done so much for his country?  He thought of the vow he had taken to help Terrasen, and how much better equipped Kenway was to fulfill it.  He could barter his life and be reunited with his family again.  Aelin.  Rhoe.  Evalin.  His mother…

Just as he was about to take the step forward, open his mouth to call out, Kenway screamed, a vicious, primal sound, then spun and viciously head-butted the guard next to him, before throwing himself at another.  Despite his bound hands, he fought efficiently, taking down two more guards with his feet so quickly nobody even reacted.  The crack of one’s skull on the wood seemed to spur everyone into action, and soon he was swarmed, even Breiner, Iain, and Deaghall leaping onto the platform to subdue him.  

The boy watched in silence, unable to breathe, as Kenway was dragged nearly unconscious to the edge of the platform where the gallows stood, as his hood was pulled down and a noose settled over his neck, as smelling salts were applied until he was able to rise to his feet, as the floor dropped out of the platform and the crack of his neck echoed through the square even over the jeering, as his feet kicked out briefly and went still.  And still the boy stood as the crowd slowly quieted down, as the wagons rumbled over the cobbles for the other prisoners, as four men approached the brave Terrasen guard with knives to cut his body down. He remained rooted there as the sky darkened, as familiar faces approached, as gentle hands squeezed his shoulder and gentle words were spoken.  It was not until there was a sharp tug on his sleeve, then a pinch to his arm, and a feminine voice whispered, “You must leave now.  Come on, you must leave,” with a frantic urgency that the ground released his feet and he stumbled after the light hand on his arm, guiding him into the darkness.

*****

Erik watched as a young woman approached Aedion and plucked at his sleeve, finally convincing him to follow her.  He was leaving in the morning, taking his men back to their base camp far to the south and leaving the prince behind.  It was clear now why their departure had been delayed; Perrington had wanted to see his reaction to this spectacle.  He must have somehow known that the prisoner was familiar to the boy and hoped to provoke a response.  It had been a close thing, that much was clear.  It was hard not to respect the man for recognizing that and taking the necessary steps to keep the boy alive.  But now Erik must leave the boy to his fate, unable to even say farewell.  He wondered if he would ever see him again.

He wondered if Aedion would have tried to save him, had he been about to hang.  And knew he would have made the same decision as that prisoner had in response.

*****  

Delaney dragged the boy behind her, desperate to get him off the square before the general noticed his odd behavior.  She didn’t know who that prisoner was to this boy, but it was obvious to all who could see his face that he was ready to give himself over.  As if that would’ve saved the man.  She could have laughed at the boy’s naivety if it wasn’t so desperately…sad.

Reaching the granary, she tugged the door open just far enough to slide through, the boy following mutely.  When it was nearly empty like his, it was an excellent spot to hide from prying eyes.  They headed up the stairs that hugged the wall, the grain dust settling on her hair, sticking to her skin.  She sat down on the small ledge that ran under the upper window and pulled him down next to her.  In the moonlight pouring through the window his face was ghostly, shadows pooling in the hollows under his sharp cheekbones and obscuring much of his mouth.

The silence stretched on as the sounds outside slowly died.  Everyone would be at the evening meal, she thought.  She wondered if the boy would be missed.  Oh well.  As long as he was back in his bed by morning she doubted anyone would care.  “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice echoing in the nearly empty building.  He just looked at her uncomprehendingly.  Some instinct told her she needed to get him talking but he might as well have been deaf and mute for all he responded.  Perhaps she’d asked the wrong question, though it seemed simple enough; she tried again.  “Who was that man?”

“Kenway Cranuc,” he said after another long pause, his voiced cracking.  “His name was Kenway Cranuc.”  

She knew that, as the general had named all the prisoners, but she nodded encouragingly.  “How did you know him?”

The boy pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  “He was…he was a guard, for my uncle’s friend.  I thought he was taken when the rest of them were taken.  I thought he was gone, I thought…”  At that he broke down completely, pressing his face to his legs, lean body wracked with sobs.  Hesitantly, she scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, holding tight.  This pose was familiar to her as for all his size, he reminded her somehow of her brother.  She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and waited until he began to quiet, and was still holding on when he whispered, almost too quiet to hear, “He was my friend.”

They pulled apart then, both a little awkward, and she searched for something to say.  “You’re from Terrasen, then?”  He nodded, not looking at her.  The tracks down his face gleamed in the moonlight.  “Well, that explains the accent,” she added lightly.  No response.  “How’d you end up here?”

“I was captured,” he said thickly, then cleared his throat.  “By Lord Breiner’s men, in the last battle before Terrasen surrendered.  Lord Breiner and General Paget decided to let me live.”  He snorted, but there was no amusement in the sound.  He cocked his head then, suddenly alert, evidently hearing something that escaped her ears.  “They’re finished with the meal,” he said, with a jerk of his chin to the window.  “You should go back to wherever you belong.”

Delaney shook her head.  “Not yet.  After an execution it’s not safe for a bit.”  He flinched at the word, and she cringed internally.  “He still would have been executed,” she said, and he looked at her quizzically.  “If you had given yourself up.  They would have hanged you, and then hanged him anyway.”  She wanted to laugh at his dumbstruck expression but couldn’t bring herself to wound him any further.  “It’s how they call out traitors.  Not usually here, there aren’t too many of those at the fort, but it’s common in public hangings.”

“You must think me a fool,” he said, shaking his head, then shrugging.  “Perhaps I am.”

“No, but I think you come from a place where honor still has meaning.”

“It doesn’t here?”

Now she did laugh, a wry, bitter sound.  He accepted that answer with silence.  By this time she could hear the low murmur from the nearby square, and her mouth twisted in disgust.

“Why do you hide?” the boy asked abruptly.

“Because I’ve no desire to take a man to my bed.”

He looked shocked at that answer.  “Surely you’re a bit young?”

“I’m sixteen, and more than two years past my first cycle, so hardly.”  It was impossible to keep the bitterness from her tone.

“But if you didn’t want to, would they truly force you?”  The sympathy in his voice made her skin crawl.  She didn’t want the pity of this strange, awkward boy; didn’t know what to do with it.  

“What are you, a child?” she snapped.  “I’m a laundress, and that’s as good as a whore.  Sure they’d toss a piece of silver on my table and call us square.”  He growled then, a startlingly fierce sound from his skinny frame, all the more eerie for the echoes through the mostly empty building.  “Shush, shush, you’ll give us away,” she hissed, unnerved.  It struck her that she was very alone with a strange boy twice her size, and she felt her mouth grow dry.

“You’ve nothing to fear from me,” he said, holding his hands up as he had the other night, and she wondered how he knew what she was feeling.  He stood up then, stooping to keep from hitting his head on the strut above them.  “Are you safe to get home?”

She nodded mutely, and he dusted the loose grain from his clothes and slipped silently down the curved stairs.  At the bottom he stopped and gave her a little wave.  “I’m Aedion,” he said, answering her first question at last.

“Delaney.”

And with that, he cracked open the door and disappeared.

#aedion #aedion ashryver #prequel #tog #throne of glass #long time coming

[newtandaris]

Stone Cold Heart - Minho x (y/n)

Hey can you do a longer imagine where Y/N has been a runner for a while and she has been stuck in the maze for a night and survived but her friend that was with her died. So now she is brutally sarcastic and stone cold. When Mihno comes up they don't get along but the he finds her breaking down and comforts her, please!! BTW I love your writing. Requested by @fandomingforever.

Word Count: 2253

Warnings: PTSD mention

Flashback

You were running like your life depended on it. In fact, it did depend on it. You were being chased by a griever and trying very hard not to slip and fall on the very large puddles of water spread around the maze. You thought back to how this had happened. You had thought you’d found a way out but it had just led to a dead end. Your partner had taken a different route and you told each other to meet at a specific spot. You were heading towards there but you didn’t spot him. Once you got there you spotted a limp body. You covered your mouth in horror. You looked towards the sky and noticed it darkening. The body moved and groaned. You gasped in surprise. The griever was coming right around the corner. Your first instinct was to run but then you remembered that your partner had displayed signs of life. You couldn’t just leave him. You dragged him to a nearby vine covered wall and shoved him underneath. Then you climbed in after him. He sat up and rubbed his head. You checked his body cautiously to make sure there were no griever stings. Luckily you found none. You held your breath as the griever moved past you swiftly. You turned to your partner. “What happened?”

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The way out.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Where is it?” You asked shaking him slightly. He mumbled incoherently. You shook him harder. “Where is it?!” You demanded.

He opened his mouth to respond but was pulled back suddenly by a strong force. Suddenly he was face to face with a griever. “Run (y/n)!” He yelled.

You wanted to scream and yell, “I’m not leaving you!” Unfortunately, you knew how headstrong he was and how right he was. It was foolish to stay and get killed. The gladers had no use for two dead runners. Plus, you needed to get back to the maze doors before they closed. With a reluctant sigh, you turned and ran for your life. Drowning out the screams of your partner you ran and ran and ran, your vision slightly blurred due to the tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Finally, you made it to the maze doors to find them already closing. Your best friend Newt stood at the other end struggling against the grip of the other gladers to get to you.

”(y/n)!” he screamed. “Run!”

This seemed to snap you out of your trance while the maze doors were closing and inching closer together every second. You frantically ran towards the entrance only to have the doors close only seconds before you reached it. That was it. You broke down crying and screaming and banging your fists against the maze doors until they were bloody and bruised. You heard Newt putting up a fight at the other side, his screams echoing throughout the dark maze.

Present Time

Newt put his hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You turned to face him and nodded. He seemed to sense that your emotions were far from fine. He could only imagine the horrors you must have been through. Hell, he’d been a runner himself and he still couldn’t shake his nightmares away at night. He engulfed you in a warm hug, gently rubbing your back to calm you.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now. I know you’ve been thinking about that night but it’s all behind you now.”

“He knew where the exit was Newt. I could have sacrificed myself so he could live. So he could tell you how to get out of here. You could have all been safe. You never would have injured your leg. It’s all my fault.”

“Shhh. No. Don’t say that. He didn’t die because of you. I chose to do what I did. Nothing was your fault.” Newt said, trying to calm you down.

“Newt!” Alby called from across the glade. Newt’s head shot up quickly when he remembered that the box was coming up today.

“Come on.” Newt said, pulling you with him towards the center of the glade. You followed him and stood at the edge of the box waiting for it to come up. Suddenly the familiar rattle of the rusty old metal came into sight. The box opened to reveal a tall Asian boy with black hair. You stared at him and he stared right back. Your first thought was, “Boy does this kid have guts or what?” Most of the people couldn’t hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds because of your detached persona and constant sarcastic comments. You were well aware of the reputation you had built of yourself. It was all part of the act you put on to tell yourself you were alright. If everyone thought you were normal no one would care to find out who was crying in the middle of the night. Not even Newt knew about your nighttime breakdowns. The kid kept on looking at you. You scowled at his face and turned away. You walked away from the box entirely. You watched from a safe distance as the others pulled the kid from his dazed state in the box and set him on his feet. He looked around. Surprisingly his face didn’t show any fear. He looked calm and knowing. You hated that stupid look on his face. In fact, you hated him. You didn’t know why but something about him seemed familiar and you didn’t like it one bit. He looked around and soon his eyes landed on your figure, sitting in the distance. Your eyes looked into his and he sent you a smirk. You hated that you flushed red at this. You looked away quickly. Soon Newt took the kid by the arm and led him away for the tour. You turned back around to get your tools so that you could continue your work in the gardens. Still, you couldn’t shake off the thoughts of the mysterious boy that were swarming and invading your mind.

Time Skip

The bon-fire had long gone out and the dying ashes were floating around in the dark sky as you took a seat on an abandoned log. The kid you learned was named Minho had done well in fighting Gally and had earned an impressed look from you but nothing else. You were sure if he asked about you that Newt would have already filled him in on all the details. They seemed to be getting close. You watched the glowing orange embers floating around your head and suddenly you were hit with a huge wave of nausea. Your head spun and the world around you blurred. You got flashes of a griever and your former partner. You saw yourself leaving him behind. You took a deep breath in. This happened frequently enough for you to know how to calm yourself down without needing the help or assistance of a medic. You always had the same vision. The same night. The same scene. It haunted you every day. This time it seemed a thousand times worse. Your breathing didn’t steady and instead became more and more erratic until you couldn’t breathe anymore. You felt like you were spinning and you couldn’t stop. You felt your body jerking erratically and thrashing. Everything became distorted and soon enough you felt yourself falling, falling, falling endlessly and you couldn’t steady yourself. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you up. You gasped and regained your breath. You panted heavily and put a hand over your heart to calm the racing organ.

“You alright?” a voice came from behind you. You turned around to see a blurry tuft of black hair. Your eyes came back into focus and you realized it was Minho.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said. You turned around and curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. Your legs were tucked into your body and your arms protectively wrapped themselves around your shivering figure. Minho didn’t say a word and instead of going away did the exact opposite and sat down right next to you. You sighed in exasperation at his boyish acts and scooted away from him. He scooted closer. You scooted away again. He came even closer. You emitted a low growl from your throat and kicked his shins. This time, he didn’t retaliate. You kicked him again and again.

“Would you please stop kicking me?” He said. There wasn’t a hint of angry in his voice and it confused you.

“Would you please stop… I don’t being so you?”

“Did you just ask me to stop being me?”

“Yes…”

He laughed. You glared at him.

“Would you please stop being so loud?”

“Why?”

“Because you might wake someone up.”

“And… why is that a bad thing?”

“Because then we’ll be punished for being out of bed so late and you’ll have an excuse because you’re a greenie, but I won’t. They’ll ask me why I was out so late and no one knows about my little attacks.”

His eyes widened. “No one knows about it? Why not. You were in a dangerous position there. Your body was pretty much failing, that was the worse panic attack I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I know someone is going to be a medic.”

“Medic? Nah. Newt said I’d probably be a runner.”

You snorted. “A runner? Huh. Didn’t peg you for that type. You know I was once a runner.”

“You were? Huh. Didn’t peg you for that type.” He retorted, mimicking you.

You gave him a serious look.

“I was the best runner in the glade.”

“Was?” He questioned.

“That panic attack I had was from when I spent a night in the maze.”

“You’re lying. Newt said that no one spends a night in the maze.” You shook your head.

“Newt always tells the greenies that no one spends a night in the maze because once they see me they’ll be all, ‘What happened to them?’ and once he tells them I once spent and survived a night in the maze they won’t want to be a runner.”

“Whoa. You’re the product of what happens to someone if they spend a night in the maze?”

“Probably. You might have a different experience. I saw my partner get eaten by a griever and I did nothing. It scarred me for life.” You sat sadly staring at the orange embers dying in the bon-fire. He stared at you. Then he shifted standing up and pulling you up with him.

“What?”

“What do you say you relive your old glory days and race me?”

You laughed. “You wouldn’t survive, what with your broken shins and all.”

“What broken- ow. Cheater!” he said as you kicked his shins one more time. You took off to the other side of the glade as fast as your legs could carry you. The wind blew into your face and you were hit by another flashback. A good one. You remembered running around the glade with Newt chasing after you. You didn’t know who he was at the time but you remembered being entranced by his accent before realizing where you were and taking off into a sprint. This was a memory from a happier time. When you first came up in the box Newt had immediately taken you under his wing. Suddenly you fell and rolled to a stop right at the edge of the maze. Minho came up to you seconds later, panting with heavy breaths.

“Whoa… you’re fast.” He said with amazement.

You patted the grass next to you and motioned for him to sit. He eyed you suspiciously.

“You’re not going to kick me again are you?”

You let out a breathless laugh and shook your head. He took the seat. It didn’t take him long to start asking questions again.

“So after that night in the maze… did you ever try to run again?”

“Once. About three weeks later I ran with the other runners. I asked Newt if I should run again and he told me I didn’t have to but it was my choice. Later when I was getting ready, Newt wanted to come with me because he was still a runner back then. But I told him I was fine and ready. I wasn’t. I fainted near a wall near the tricky part of the maze. Luckily Newt was running at the time and he dragged me back.”

“You said Newt was a runner what happened?”

“He tried to kill himself by jumping off the maze walls but only broke his leg. That was the same day he was wandering around the maze and found me lying unconscious. When we got back both Newt and Alby talked to me. They thought I laid there specifically so that I would die. They thought I was trying to kill myself. But then I told on Newt and he got mad at me. We were on thin ice for a week before we made up and now I work in the gardens with him.”

Minho was silent for a while before he moved his hand to link it with yours. You looked at him but he still showed no emotion. You sighed and leaned your head against his shoulder. As you both lay there looking up at the stars you realized this was the most content you found yourself in a while. You decided you liked it.

#minho x reader #minho imagine #minho imagines #tmr imagine #tmr imagines

[welllpthisishappening]

Out of the Frying Pan (25/?)

“You want me to climb out a window or something?” Killian asked, blue eyes flashing up at her. “Because I don’t know if I’m that coordinated.”

“You don’t have to climb out of anything. Although you should probably consider putting pants on before we go outside.” “I can do that,” he said softly, the emotion obvious in his voice as it settled into the pit of her stomach.

He pulled his arm away, only after brushing his lips across hers and Henry pounded the door again. “Mom! I’m starving. Can we make pancakes? Or you could make french toast if you really want. Can we just eat? Soon?”

AN: Guys. Guuuuys. Emotions. EMOTIONS. Lots of them. And a hint of angst. And then more emotions. Thank you so much for your continued response to this story. It constantly blows my mind. As does that aesthetic because @distant-rose is the best. 

Living it up on Ao3 and tag’ed up from the start on Tumblr. 

“You have a scar here,” Emma said, finger tracing across the apple of his cheek, the light line barely visible unless she squinted at it.

Killian’s eyes darted towards hers, but he didn’t move his head, face trained towards the TV in her living room, hand resting on her shin. Her legs were perpendicular to his, resting on top of his thighs, and her entire body was pulled tight against his side.

They were supposed to go out.

She was wearing a dress. She’d done her hair.

That seemed like a lost cause now – several hours after he’d walked into the apartment and kissed her so thoroughly that Emma had lost track of time and possibly space and, certainly, any concern about the state of her hair on New Year’s Eve.

She should tell him.

It.

She should tell him it.

Because she was fairly convinced she was in love with him. Or loved him. Or whatever version of the verb fit best at the time. It was a bit all-encompassing.  

No matter how the grammar played out, Emma loved him more than she thought she could – more than she had loved just about anything besides Henry in her entire life. She couldn’t quite figure out when it started – somewhere around being strapped to each other in the network kitchen, she thought – but she’d come to, finally, realize it completely when he showed up in front of David and Mary Margaret’s apartment door the week before, a pie in hand and that nervous, hopeful smile on his face.

The one that managed to work into every single one of her nerve endings.

And take up residence in the back of her mind like it belonged there.

She should tell him.

She hadn’t.

Because it was too soon or too improbable or a slew of other reasons that she listed to herself every night before she fell asleep. And there were a lot of them. There were plenty of reasons to believe it couldn’t be real.

But, for the first time, Emma wasn’t interested in any of them.

She wanted –  needed – it to be real.

Killian finally turned his head, shifting next to her and, somehow, managing to pull Emma closer to him. “There are several different theories out on how that happened,” he said softly, smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Weren’t you there? Shouldn’t you know?” He laughed softly, lips brushing over the top of her head. “True, but the first theory is a bit murky. Liam claimed it happened when I about three, intent on trying to shave or something and I cut myself. But, the one I actually remember came a bit later.” “And?” “And I was fourteen and we’d just moved into the new apartment uptown and we went to Central Park and I tripped on one of those giant rocks and cut my face half open. Nearly scared Liam to death. I had to get stitches and it cost a fortune. I think Liam liked to pretend that didn’t really happen.” “Why?” Emma asked, tugging her long-forgotten hair over her shoulder and sitting up a bit straighter.

“We’d barely even been on our own a year and I was already in the hospital. He blamed himself. He always did that. Thought he had to make sure I was protected at every moment of every single day. That’s why he came up with the alternate scar theory. Or at least I think so. To take some of the pressure off.”

“It must have been hard,” Emma said, fingers threading through the back of Killian’s hair without so much as a second thought. Her dress was a wrinkled mess, one side pushed up as his hand trailed up and down her thigh. She’d never even put her heels on. “For both of you.” “Harder for him, I’m sure. You know he never complained once. Not to me at least. He just figured it out. Every single time. He’d mutter something about rising to the occasion and meeting challenges head on and then he’d just do it.” Killian took a deep breath, chest moving against Emma’s side with the effort of it, and he closed his eyes softly.

She should have told him then.

Should have promised he wasn’t alone and that he could have a family again and she understood what it was like to think you’d lost everything.

She didn’t.

Those walls were still, sometimes, even too tall for Emma to scale.

“I never understood how he didn’t hate me,” Killian muttered and Emma pulled her head away quickly, eyes wide. “At least not a little.” “Of course he didn’t,” Emma said, trying to infuse every single letter with all the faith she had in Killian Jones.

“You don’t know that, Swan.” “I do.” He raised one eyebrow quizzically, tilting his head and twisting his lips in a way that only made Emma want to push her mouth against them – hard. “And,” she added, trying to keep the shake out of her voice when she spoke. “You’ve done exactly what he would have done. You’ve met every challenge, risen to every occasion. You’ve got two restaurants! You’re probably going to win Cupcake Wars too.” His eyes darkened for a moment – and Emma got the distinct impression that she was missing something – but it was gone before she could question it completely. “What?” she asked. “All of that was true.” “That seemed dangerously close to a compliment,” he laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I think you almost believe in me, Swan.” Emma rolled her eyes – mostly to fight off the wave of emotion she was practically drowning in. “Yeah, something like that.” “Of course.” “Ruby’s going to kill us,” she said, fingers dropping to his neck and Emma absolutely appreciated the hiss of breath he took when that happened. “We were supposed to be uptown hours ago.” Killian laughed softly, leaning down to nip his teeth against the side of her jaw and that was hardly playing fair. No wonder they hadn’t left the apartment. It might have also had something to do with the fact that they hadn’t been completely alone since that night after the network holiday party and while Emma loved her kid more than anything else in the entire world, she also didn’t mind having an apartment to herself.

And her boyfriend.

“I think she’ll survive,” Killian mumbled, the words pressed into her skin. “Anyway, I doubt she’d be very happy if we did this at Dorothy’s gallery.” “Maybe we should have called.” “Do you want to move?” “No.” “Then Ruby can wait on that phone call. I’m sure she’s got plenty of other things going on.” “That’s probably true.” “It’s absolutely true.” She didn’t need much more convincing after that – although whether or not that had to do with the words or the way Killian’s lips felt against her neck, Emma wasn’t entirely certain.

It was probably the later.

Definitely.

“Weren’t Regina and Robin going to be there too?” Emma asked, words falling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to move an inch, didn’t want him to think that she wanted to move an inch – and yet she couldn’t stop the question, couldn’t quite stop the nagging worry almost teasing the back of her mind that this was too good to be true.

Killian hummed in agreement, the sound vibrating over Emma’s skin where his mouth was still pressed up tightly against her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine and he absolutely noticed that,  laughing softly when he felt her shaking against him.

“Cold, Swan?” he asked, voice low and meaningful and maybe that would be what stayed in the back of her mind from now on.

It had for the last week, since he’d shown up for Christmas and brought pie and a present for her kid. He’d gotten Henry a video game – something he was thrilled about that Emma was certain meant something to someone who also played video games. David had been impressed when he saw it.

Emma didn’t answer before his hand made its way farther up her thigh, pressing past several layers of tulle and fabric and she had to bite back a groan at the feel of his slightly calloused fingers on her skin. He smirked at her and the look on his face should have been annoying – all cocky and confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing – but it was difficult to be frustrated when most of Emma’s concentration was focused on keeping oxygen in her lungs.

She sighed – a girlish, breathless sound that she was almost positive she’d never made before in her life – when his fingers pushed past one final layer of fabric and he was exactly where she wanted him, grinning and exuding confidence and twisting just above her on the couch in her living room.

And it took all of her willpower and then some to tell him they had to move.

“Killian,” she mumbled, struggling to say his name. He muttered against her again, fingers twisting up slightly and Emma’s sharp intake of air actually hurt. “Killian, we’ve got to move. We can’t...not here...Henry…”

She trailed off again – eyes squeezing shut when his thumb brushed across her and she was resting all her weight on her forearms now, leaning back at an angle that, in any other circumstance, would have been uncomfortable.

It was the opposite now.

And she needed him to move.

Killian stopped, pulling back slightly to stare at her and maybe they didn’t have to move – not when he was looking at her like that and everything felt so good and Emma was standing on some sort of metaphorical cliff, waiting for that one final push.

He kissed her again, teeth teasing her bottom lip and Emma’s hands dug into his hair like they were an anchor she was trying to cling to. Her hips moved of their own volition, pushing up in some desperate need for friction or something and Killian groaned into her mouth and, fuck,  they needed to move.

He pulled away from her, moving off the couch in what looked like slow motion, knees bending when he stood up and tried to take a deep breath. And it seemed to put them on slightly more even ground that he couldn’t seem to do it either.

Emma stared up at him – eyes wide and mouth still slightly open – with her dress pushed up past the top of her thighs. Killian grinned at her, eyes roaming up her body and around her waist and back up to her lips with the kind of intensity Emma was fairly certain only existed in stories and movies and, certainly, not in real life.

Not in her life.

He held his left hand out to her, smile faltering for just a moment when she stared, but she felt him breathe easier when her fingers wrapped around the plastic, pulling herself off the couch and back in front of him.

She didn’t let go of his hand as she tugged him down the hallway, leading him to her room. Or at least she tried to lead him to her room. Killian stopped suddenly just outside the doorway, pushing Emma up against the hallway wall and resumed his previous goal of trying to kiss every inch of her neck.

Her leg wrapped around the back of his calf, tugging him closer to him and they were a jumble of hips and movement and hands trying to pull clothes off each other. She heard her zipper tug before she felt it, too preoccupied with yanking his shirt out of the tuck and pulling his belt out of the loops of his pants.

They’d pick it up later.

Emma’s dress pooled around her waist as Killian tugged the sleeves down her arms, sliding her against the wall and through the doorway of her room. She was nervous she was going to rip the buttons off his shirt, but managed to calm her very anxious fingers when she got the first few open without a causing some sort of sewing emergency.

She all but collapsed on the edge of the mattress, tugging on the cuffs of Killian’s shirt and he flashed a smile as he shrugged the fabric off, groaning slightly when her fingers danced along the top of his pants. “You are going to be the death of me, Swan,” he mumbled, practically sighing out the words as his teeth pressed into his bottom lip.

And that might be the death of her.

“Somehow I think you’ll survive,” Emma said, darting her eyes back up to him. Killian pulled one eyebrow up – an exercise in control she wasn’t entirely interested in at the moment – and bent forward, pressing her back against the bed with his shoulder until he was hovering over her again. She might not survive.

She felt like a live wire or a TV that couldn’t quite find the right channel, balancing right on the edge of something and she needed him to move again. Or move with her again.

And she needed to get this dress off.

“Maybe,” he said and his voice shot through her entire system, pushing her farther up the mattress and yanking on the dress twisted around her hips. “Although, I suppose, there are worse ways to go.” “What a charmer.” “Always.”

She saw the dress fly over his shoulder and she was almost worried about the state of his lower lip when he bit down again, head falling forward when Emma’s fingers popped open the button of his pants and slid underneath the fabric.

“Always?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows and widening her eyes meaningfully.

“I promise, Swan,” he said, hand moving back in between her thighs. And then he did start to move and Emma bit her tongue so hard it hurt.

And then nothing hurt and all she felt was him and how much she wanted him and how much he wanted her.

He moved next to her, tugging her flush against his side and kissing behind her her ear, thumb trailing across her jaw. “I”m glad we didn’t leave,” she whispered, muttering the words mostly into his hair.

“That so?” “You doubting me, Lieutenant?” “Never.” It seemed like a bigger promise than what he’d just promised and Emma’s heart thudded so loudly she was positive Killian could hear it in the otherwise empty bedroom. She trailed her fingers up his arm, hand lingering at the top of his brace and she could feel his eyes following each movement. “What are you doing, Swan?” he asked softly.

“You didn’t take it off.” “When?” “You know, before,” Emma said, hoping he wasn’t going to make her actually say it. “The, uh, the last time.” He cocked one eyebrow at her – and that wasn’t fair, this was supposed to be meaningful – laughing softly when Emma rolled her eyes at him. “Well, we were in a bit of a rush as I recall last time.” “True.” “I know there’s a ‘but’ to that sentence, go ahead and spit it out.” “But if we weren’t rushed and things were normal, would you have?” Killian pressed his lips together tightly and for one vaguely terrifying moment she thought he was mad – he was thinking. “Probably,” he said slowly, lips hardly moving like he was considering every letter in that one word. “It’s not always the most comfortable thing. I don’t sometimes though. It’s also a lot of effort.” “Yeah?” He nodded, leaning up on his elbow and glancing at her and if Emma didn’t know him better she’d assume he was actually being as sarcastic as he looked.

She knew him better.

“We’re supposed to be the most advanced medical society in the world and they can’t figure out a way to make not it feel like a vice at the end of my arm with no fewer than half a dozen different clips to hold it all together.” “I’m sorry,” Emma said, trying to infuse several tons of emotion and sentiment into two words and one sentence.

“Don’t be, love. It’s all almost second nature now.” “I just want you to be comfortable.” “I am,” he said, widening his eyes and glancing down at her less-than-fully clothed body.

“You’re still wearing pants.” “Does that somehow impede my comfort?” “You tell me.” His eyebrows did something ridiculous and his eyes flashed at her and he found a way to get her even closer to him, every inch of skin she had pressed up against his. And by the time his pants were actually gone, she wasn’t certain she could have come up with a single word let alone continue to have a meaningful conversation.

It felt like hours later – the quiet covering them both as much as the blankets they were wrapped in – and Emma was bordering dangerously close to the edge of sleep, doing her best to keep her eyes open because they absolutely couldn’t fall asleep here.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Killian asked, chin tucked over the back of her shoulder and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

She couldn’t have turned around if she wanted, eyes snapping open to stare at the wall on the other side of the room. “Mind what?”

“If I took it off.” She figured out a way to turn at that, twisting her body around until she was face-to-face with him, eyes dark and staring at the tiny space of fabric in between them. “Of course not,” Emma said, meaning it completely.

And it looked like he was breathing for the first time.

Killian shut his eyes lightly, nodding as he pulled his hand in between them. “It’s not exactly pretty.” “No one’s hands are pretty.” “Swan.” “Killian.” “I’m serious.” “So am I,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his brace and tugging his hand towards her. “Here, let me help.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second – all blue and nerves and hopeful – but he pressed his lips together tightly, the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking and didn’t say anything as she tugged and unclicked and tried not to let her frustration show on her face when medical science proved to be just a bit too advanced for her. She snapped the last clasp off and felt it loosen and Killian pulled his hand away, but Emma wrapped her fingers around his wrist, keeping him where he was. “Don’t move,” she said softly and he didn’t.

He didn’t even blink.

She pulled the hand away and Killian all but yanked it out of her grip, moving it to the nightstand next to him and Emma was positive he had drawn blood with how tightly he was chewing on his lip.

“Told you,” he said softly and her heart practically shattered at the sound of his voice.

Emma shook her head, fingers still wrapped around his wrist and he looked at her questioningly. She trailed her fingers over the end of his arm, feeling him stiffen underneath her, pulling him up to brush her lips over the scar that ran across his wrist. He muttered her name softly, pulling her flush against his chest and kissing her – hard.

And she was, suddenly, very grateful she’d made him take his pants off before.

They fell asleep together.

There was something pounding inside her head.

No.

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t in her head. It was outside her head. And outside the room she was in.

She was still in her room – an arm wrapped tightly around her waist and a soft, steady breath against the back of her neck.

And it all came rushing back.

New Year’s Day.

It was New Year’s Day. And they hadn’t gone out the night before, hadn’t even made it out of the apartment before they’d started making out like teenagers. She’d have to call Ruby and explain later. Or at least come up with some sort of story that Ruby couldn’t make fun of her for over the course of the next twelve months.

They’d never left – and they’d never left the bed either. They’d fallen asleep.

Together.

He didn’t leave.

The pounding was back – threatening to break down her bedroom door at this point – and, suddenly, something else hit her. They’d never picked up Killian’s belt.

“Mom,” Henry yelled from the other side of the door. “Are you in there?” Killian moved behind her – woken up by the sounds of her twelve-year-old in the hallway – and Emma was nearly drowning in everything she hadn’t been worried about the night before. “Swan?” he asked softly. “What’s going on?” “Mom! There’s a belt on the floor out here. Is this yours? It doesn’t look like yours. Are you awake?” She knew her breathing was bordering on erratic and she felt Killian’s hand tighten around her hip slightly. “Breathe, love,” he said, whispering the words in her ear so Henry couldn’t possibly hear him a few feet away. “It’s fine.” It’s fine.

It was fine.

It was going to be fine.

Because if he could do this – could fall asleep with his hand off and his arm wrapped around her and every emotion laid bare in the middle of her queen-size bed – then so could she. Emma twisted back around, careful not to roll on top of his wrist and smiled at him.

“You want me to climb out a window or something?” Killian asked, blue eyes flashing up at her. “Because I don’t know if I’m that coordinated.”

“You don’t have to climb out of anything. Although you should probably consider putting pants on before we go outside.” “I can do that,” he said softly, the emotion obvious in his voice as it settled into the pit of her stomach.

He pulled his arm away, only after brushing his lips across hers and Henry pounded the door again. “Mom! I’m starving. Can we make pancakes? Or you could make french toast if you really want. Can we just eat? Soon?” “You have a very impatient kid, Swan,” Killian laughed, tugging his pants back over his hips. His eyes got wide as he pulled the button closed, glancing over at Emma as she pulled out a t-shirt out of her closet.

“What?” she asked, amazed at how quickly her whole body could seize up with nerves.

“I only have my clothes from last night. And a belt that is, apparently, still in the hallway.” “Oh,” Emma said, a totally unhelpful response. “Oh! Wait, here.” She reached back up in the top corner of her closet, grabbing a t-shirt she couldn’t believe she still had and tossing over her shoulder to Killian.

He picked it out of the air with ease – a move made all the more impressive by the fact that his prosthetic was still sitting on her nightstand – and shook it, staring at it. “What is this, exactly?” What it was exactly – was a Kingsborough College t-shirt she’d bought David as a Christmas present her first year in school. And one he’d left at her apartment six months ago after he and Henry had staged some of cooking fiasco in her kitchen that required him to hand wash the stupid thing in her sink.

“It’s a t-shirt,” Emma said simply, pulling the leggings she’d grabbed over her ankles.

“You just happen to have a guy’s t-shirt in your closet?” “Is that jealousy I hear?” Killian raised his eyebrows, taking two steps towards her and crossing the room in what felt like an instant, hands resting on her hips as he kissed her forehead. “Of course not, Swan, just pure curiosity.” “Yuh huh,” Emma mumbled, unconvinced, but not quite able to concentrate when he was standing shirtless in front of her. “I bought it for David and he left it here a couple of months ago and, you know, just put it on.” “Getting distracted?”

“I don’t have to answer that question.” “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, pulling her hair up into a ponytail that might help disguise what exactly had happened to it the night before. “Just put it on before you come out, ok?” The laughter fell off his face like it’d been dropped off the side of a cliff and he nodded seriously at Emma, pulling the shirt over his head and turning back towards the nightstand. “Give me a couple of minutes to put that on,” Killian said, nodding towards the prosthetic. “And then I’ll make food.” “You don’t have to make food.” “I think I did hear something about starvation in the hallway, love. Can’t have that.” “Of course not.” “Go, Swan,” he said, grinning at her from the edge of the bed and she heard the tell-tale clicks of his prosthetic moving back into place. “I’ll be out in a second.” Emma nodded slowly – nerves hitting in full force again.

It’d be fine.

It was fine.

It was good.

It was fine and good and Henry would be fine and good with all of it.

She repeated the mantra in her head for what felt like several hours as she walked down the hallway, Henry talking a mile a minute in the kitchen when her feet hit linoleum. “Hey,” he cried, turning as soon as he heard her approach, the refrigerator door still swung open. “Happy New Year! How was Ruby’s?” “Hey, kid,” she said, kissing the top of his head and earning a now-expected groan at the action. “Happy New Year to you too. Uh, we didn’t end up going to Ruby’s actually.” The refrigerator door slammed shut and Emma was, suddenly, meant with a very curious looking twelve-year-old. “What? Why not? Did something happen? Is something wrong?” “Slow down Henry,” Emma said and his eyes widened when she used his actual name. “Nothing’s wrong. But something did happen and, well, it’s a good thing. At least I think it’s a good thing.” “Mom,” he said, cutting her off quickly, reaching out to rest his hand on his forearm. And he suddenly looked so grown up – and so much like Neal – that Emma nearly broke down completely in the middle of her kitchen. “It’s fine.” “What?” “The belt in the hallway? Killian’s voice very clearly coming out of your room? I’m twelve. And I have eyes and ears. And I’m not stupid.” “I don’t think you’re stupid.” “Then you should tell Killian he can come out. He doesn’t have to hide.” “He’s not hiding,” Emma said quickly, arguing before she could stop herself. “He’s just, uh, getting ready.” Henry stared at her speculatively, waiting for an answer she wasn’t entirely ready to give. It didn’t seem right – to talk about his hand, or lack thereof, while he was just down the hall. Not when it had meant so much – to both of them – for him to take it off the night before.

“Getting ready for what?” Emma tried not to sigh too loudly, aware of the footsteps coming back down the hallway and the way Henry stood up a bit straighter in the middle of the kitchen, tugging on the ends of his fingers. “I was reliably informed that there were potentially starving human beings in this apartment,” Killian said, raising one eyebrow at Henry and resting his hand on Emma’s shoulder.

And it was so goddamn domestic.

And, possibly, perfect.

“There are Pop-Tarts in the cabinet,” Emma said and Henry’s eyes lit up as if a foil packet of Pop-Tarts was the peak of the culinary arts.

Killian groaned and Henry muttered what and Emma was practically bursting at the seams with something that might have been classified as happiness. “Alright, we’re putting an end to this now,” Killian said, laughter cutting away at the attempted edge in his voice. “No Pop-Tarts. Not now. Not ever.” “No Pop-Tarts ever?” Henry asked, entire body sagging at the declaration. “Seems a little extreme,” Emma mumbled, earning a surprised look from Killian. “I’m just saying, if we’re running late and he’s got to get to school or something...Pop-Tarts can be a reasonable breakfast option.”

“Fine,” Killian sighed. “But only that very specific situation. And, unless I’m mistaken, we aren’t currently in that situation. You’re not actually on your way to school are you, Henry?” “I don’t think so.” “Then we’re not eating Pop-Tarts.” Henry rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree. “We’re going to make something good. Go sit down Swan.” “What?” she asked, voice snapping on the word.

“Go sit down. We’ve got it, right Henry?” Her kid nodded enthusiastically, more excited to cook whatever with Killian than he’d ever been at the prospect of helping her. “Are you kicking me out of my own kitchen?”

“Of course not. We’re going to make you breakfast.” Emma gaped at both of them – each with matching smiles on their faces and Henry’s hands stuffed into his pocket like he was Killian – before shaking her head. “Henry can show you where some of the stuff is. The coffee’s in the cabinet above the pot.” “Was that a hint, Swan?” “Maybe.” “Wasn’t very subtle.” “It wasn’t meant to be.” Killian laughed, ducking his head to kiss her cheek lightly – and somehow that didn’t draw a groan out of Henry. “Sit down, love. We’ve got it.” He nudged her back towards the living room and it was difficult to be frustrated at the prospect of her kitchen being seized away from her at some still-unknown hour of the morning when she was so busy being charmed by her boyfriend and her son.

That was a much nicer sentence than she would have originally thought.

In the end, getting kicked out of her kitchen wasn’t half bad – Emma watched the Rose Bowl Parade without anyone questioning why she was watching the Rose Bowl Parade, a cup of hot chocolate-coffee hybrid in her hand and her legs pulled up tightly underneath her. And thirty minutes later when a plate was handed to her, she couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face.

Pancakes.

They’d made pancakes.

“With chocolate chips,” Killian added, one side of his mouth pulled up into a dangerously attractive grin as he sat down next to her on the couch.

“And?” Henry prompted.

“And peanut butter chips,” Emma said, mumbling over the words as she tried not to choke on the piece of pancake in her mouth. “Was that your idea, kid?”

Henry nodded emphatically and, somehow, her smile got bigger. “He was insistent,” Killian added. “And I don’t know what you’ve been talking about this whole time, Swan. You’ve got plenty of food in that kitchen. I think you might just like showing up at my restaurant.”

She glanced at him – a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face and she shouldn’t want to kiss him as much as she did when Henry was sitting in the only other chair in the living room. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

She did just want to show up at his restaurant – regularly.

And his food was also delicious.

But he didn’t need his ego stroked anymore.

“Thanks for the peanut butter,” Emma said, ignoring Killian’s comments entirely. He noticed, of course, smirk getting more pronounced by the moment, but didn’t say anything, just pressed his fork into the pancakes and kept eating.

“It’s your favorite,” Henry said, like it was obvious.

It was.  

She just hadn’t realized Henry knew that.

Or that he’d make sure Killian knew that.

Their identical smiles were practically blinding her at this point.

“Peanut butter, Swan? Really?” Killian asked, resting his plate on his knee and staring at her with something like amusement in his eyes.

“I like it,” she shrugged. “When I was a kid, the one time I went trick or treating with David and his friends, I made him give me all the Reese’s he got. Even the king size one he got from the Blanchard’s house.” “M&M’s gave out king size candy bars?” Henry asked, eyes going wide at the idea of such a thing.

“Her dad did.” “No wonder they wanted to name tiny-Nolan after him.” “He’s got his priorities straight,” Killian muttered and Emma couldn’t help the laugh that practically bubbled out of her. Henry looked at her like she was crazy.

She might have been.

Or maybe she was just happy.

Completely and ridiculously happy.

She didn’t add that peanut butter was cheap – cheap enough that she could actually pay for it those few days in between running away from the family number four and finding David in the alley – and filling, so she didn’t really have to eat much more than a sandwich to keep herself from getting hungry.

That seemed like it would have killed the mood.

And no one wanted the mood to be killed with the Rose Bowl Parade on.

Or when your boyfriend and son made you breakfast.

After your boyfriend had spent the night.

On New Year’s.

“Mom,” Henry said and his tone made it obvious it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to catch her attention. Emma’s head snapped towards him, eyebrows shooting up and Killian laughed softly next to her. “Do we have to watch this?”

“It’s almost over,” Emma answered, only lying a little. It was the same argument every year, a dedication to the parade that had been so ingrained in her she couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t found a way to watch it. Like that was the start of the new year and not the clock hitting midnight.

The second family she’d lived with – the Swans – had watched it the only New Year’s Day she spent in their house.

And it stuck.

Henry sighed dramatically and Killian, somehow, seemed to pick up on the tension, glancing at the kid with something that must have been a lookbecause he didn’t say anything else about floats or over-the-top floral arrangements.

They watched the final thirty minutes of the parade together, eating pancakes with peanut butter chips in them and drinking coffee and/or hot chocolate.

It felt like a family.

Killian’s phone rang loudly – and, impressively, from Emma’s room – drawing a knowing look out of Henry and Emma did her best to silence him with an authoritative stare. Killian grinned at her, hand squeezing her knee when he stood up and jogged down the hallway, voice drifting through the apartment when he answered.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a little while,” Killian said. “I don’t know. When I get there. Tell Eric to start cooking. He’s got a degree from CIA, Ari. I think he can handle getting things started. Half an hour. Tops. Your shoes are back underneath the hostess stand. I put them back there myself. Relax.” He walked back down the hallway, stuffing his phone in his back pocket as he came into the living room. “You gotta go?” Emma asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Killian shook his head quickly. “Nah, just Ari’s freaking out because we do this kind of big prix fix brunch and dinner thing on New Year’s and people are showing up before their reservation and nothing throws her off more than people showing up before their reservation.” “She seemed concerned about her shoes.” He raised one eyebrow at her and he should enter that into some kind of talent competition because he was almost too good at it – or maybe it just worked really well with her. “She’s got her shoes back. It’s fine.” “So you’ve mentioned.” “You alright, Swan?” “Fine,” she said tightly, glancing towards Henry. “Why don’t you go get showered, kid? Maybe we can convince David and M’s to go get New Year’s ice cream later, ok?” Henry nodded, leaping off the couch and brushing past Killian with a quick smile.

“What’s the matter?” Killian asked as soon as he heard the bathroom door close.

“You didn’t say anything about prix fix.” Killian pursed his lips and shrugged and that only made her more frustrated. She wasn’t really sure why she was frustrated. Or, more to the point, she didn’t appreciate why she was frustrated – thoughts of the entire day spent with him and her kid and peanut butter, chocolate chip pancakes bursting in front of her.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal.” And it wasn’t really.

It wasn’t

Everything was fine. It was still fine – even with a prix fix menu and early reservations and Ariel worried about her shoes. She was being irrational and she knew it, but for a few minutes that afternoon it had felt like everything she’d ever wanted and that scared her just a bit. And she needed something to blame for that.

Prix fix fit that bill perfectly.

“It’s not really,” Emma sighed and Killian narrowed his eyes at her in confusion. “It’s not. And it’s not about prix fix. I just...I don’t know. You made breakfast and you put hot chocolate in my coffee without asking and I figured you’d just be here all day. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. I’m sorry.” The couch creaked when he sank down next to her, smile on his face when his eyes flashed to her. “It’s not stupid,” he said softly, hand ghosting over her neck and across her shoulders.

“No?” “The opposite, in fact.” “Oh.” “For what it’s worth, I’d like to be here all day too.” “That’s worth a lot.” “Good,” he said and he sounded like he meant it. “You could come too, you know. Whenever you want. You don’t have to go uptown to get ice cream.” “I don’t want to throw off Ariel’s entire reservation schedule.” “Sit at the bar. Will misses Henry. Or we’ll kick somebody out of their table. Gina and Robin and Rol will be there later. You can even bring Mary Margaret and David with you if you want.” “You don’t have to kick anybody out of their table,” Emma said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I really don’t think Ariel would appreciate that.” “I’m willing to run that risk with you, love.” And everything was really as fine as she’d been telling herself it was all morning.

It was good – bordering on great.

“You also don’t have to offer let me bring M’s and David to everything you know,” Emma mumbled into the borrowed shirt he had on.

“It’s important to you.” She swallowed back the rush of emotion racing through her body and squeezed her eyes shut, thankful Henry was at the other end of the apartment for this conversation. “It is,” Emma said softly.

“Then tell them to come too. We’ll kick out half the restaurant if we have to.” Emma dragged in a deep breath and felt him tense up slightly underneath her. “Is that ok? I mean, if you’ve got other plans, it’s fine, honestly. I just thought you’d like…” She kissed him silent, surging up to catch his lips with hers and she swore she could feel his smile when her mouth met his. “I’m glad you stayed.” “Me too.” And the look on his face made it all but impossible to doubt him.

Emma nodded, only a few inches away from him, legs threatening to move back over his again – which was how he’d ended up staying overnight in the first place. “What time should we be there?”

His relieved exhale did something to her pulse and her own ability to exhale. “Whenever you want, love. We start serving the dinner menu at like six.” “We can be there a little after. So you’re already in service and, presumably, on schedule by that point.”

“That’s fine,” he said and there was that word again.

“You better go before Eric has some sort of prix fix meltdown in your kitchen.” “It’s ridiculous,” Killian sighed, rolling his eyes for added sentiment. “There’s three brunch options and one appetizer. He’ll survive.” “Go save The Jolly Roger.”

“I’m not saving anything.” “I expect an incredible dessert with my prix fix menu later.” “Naturally. Well you pay for what you get.” “Of course.” He waggled his eyebrows quickly at her, making Emma sigh dramatically – mostly to push away how much it all was working . “Go,” she said, pushing against his shoulder. “We’ll see you later, ok?”

“Ok,” Killian said, standing up and leaning over her still-sitting body in the corner of the couch. He bent down quickly, kissing her forehead lightly. “Happy New Year, Swan.”

And it felt like the start of something much more than just a new calendar.

#cs fic #cs au #cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #ootfp #EMOTIONS #LOTS OF EMOTIONS #MORE EMOTIONS

[demialwrites]

Pleasure in Unexpected Places

Link to AO3 Page

Notes: My first non-Reader Insert fanfic! Story is told from both their perspectives in an alternating fashion. Starts with cyborg Genji, then young Genji, etc.

"Kuso."

Where was he? His quarry was drunk that night, but he wasn't that drunk. He should have been easier to find. The chrome pieces on Genji's upper back glinted as he moved swiftly through a patch of moonlight.

He just needed to occupy his target until the night was over, and hopefully, everything will change for the better for him.

>>>

Genji almost tripped over one of the stones in the back pathway. He was sneaking back inside the house for what felt like the billionth time. He had gotten lucky earlier that evening. In fact, he was about to score a second round when the young woman's roommate had caught them.

He hummed in annoyance. His body was still buzzing with unspent sexual energy. He brushed his messied green hair back from his forehead, deciding just to go back to his room and rub one out. He continued to pick his way down the stone path, half-listening for anyone nearby that might catch him.

>>>

Genji finally spotted himself, disheveled and almost stumbling, and using a path he knew well to sneak back into his house. His younger self had his gazed fixed on the ground, making sure to plant each foot on each stone. Genji lowered his body and started forward. Oh, this was going to be easy.

He snuck up behind the drunk, younger man, wrapping his hand over his mouth and using his other arm to bind the younger's mans arms to his body. Genji lifted, carrying the struggling bundle in the direction a gazebo he knew was off the path.

His younger self struggled, but Genji was essentially the stronger and more skilled version of himself in this time. His quarry kicked backwards into his armoured shins. Genji merely grunted and stumbled a step, not feeling any pain.

Genji continued to carry his younger self towards the gazebo, and he stopped struggling. That did not surprise Genji. He had always been a clever man. The young man in his arms was probably trying to figure out why he was being kidnapped and how he could escape. His family had many enemies, so he was probably mentally running down the list. Genji was not concerned with him figuring out that he was being kidnapped by himself.

>>>

The truth was, Genji was trying to mentally talk his now-prominent erection into going down. It was probably a result of the mix of the excitement of the situation and his leftover sexual frustration. It was probably of no concern to the mystery person holding him, despite how obvious the tent in the front of his pants was.

>>>

The two of them reached the gazebo steps, and Genji easily carried his younger self up the steps. Genji placed the oddly-cooperative bundle on the wooden floor, and spun him around so that they were face-to-face. He wanted to explain that he meant no harm and stall for time until he thought they were safe.

Genji was taken aback with what he saw. The disheveled, sweaty hair on the other man made it clear what he had been up to earlier that night. Said hair fell back over his heavily-lidded, drunk gaze. His younger self gathered his legs underneath him into a kneeling position, highlighting the outline of straining cock. He leaned forward, and his eyes roamed slowly over his older self's cyborg body. Up his thighs, over his chest, and alighting on each broad shoulder. Genji suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. And confused. He was warned extensively about meddling too much with the past, but no one mentioned a situation like this. His younger self shouldn't be looking at him this way. He would fix that.

>>>

Hi omnic kidnapper roughly flipped him over, so that his stomach was pressed against the cool wood paneling of the gazebo floor. He cried out when the head of his cock painfully hit the floor.

Metal fingers grasped his wrists, and the omnic firmly pulled Genji's arms behind his arching back. He gathered both of Genji's wrists into one hand. Cool air hit his neck as his bright orange scarf was pulled his neck. Not a second later, his vision went dark. Something soft and warm was wrapped over his eyes. To top it off, the omnic pressed his knee down across his thighs, holding his legs in place. He didn't need to check to know that he wasn't going anywhere. The rough treatment had his dick pressing harder against the floor. Knowing himself, the front of his underwear had a small wet stain.

>>>

"Shouldn't we at least go on a date first before we fuck?"

What a smartmouth. Genji pushed more of his weight down on his knee and pulled harder on the younger man's arms as a warning to shut his mouth or suffer the consequences. There were no actual consequences, but he didn't know that.

"Mmm, I guess we can skip right to it, then."

Genji made a disgusted face beneath his helmet but held steady. Was he always this ready to go? No wonder Hanzo had been so angry at him.

"Changed your mind? Maybe we should go inside to a more private place. Like my room."

>>>

The omnic seemed to be weighing his options. If Genji could get him to agree to go inside, he could either get some or give the omnic the slip through one of the many hallways of his home. Either way, no one would be stupid enough to harm a son of the former patriarch of the Shimada clan.

>>>

Genji was frustrated. He knew he had to find some way to occupy his younger self, because, if he remembered correctly (and he did; how could one forget a night where they came so close to death?), Hanzo would come looking for his younger brother very soon. Maybe he could give in to the desires of the younger man below him. Just for now. If all goes to plan, Genji may even cease to exist as he is right now. It didn't matter what happened tonight. And it had been so long since he had someone young and attractive at his mercy...

Genji let go of his younger self's arms and stood. He kept a firm hand on the scarf, though.

"Made up your mind, have you?"

>>>

The scarf covering Genji's eyes didn't alarm him. In fact, it made the situation all the more exciting. And the extra layer of danger from potentially being caught had him leading the two of them towards the wooden bench he knew was in front of them. He let the omnic spin him around again and sit him down on the bench. He felt the other male pull open his legs and settle between them. Genji gave him his signature lopsided smirk when the omnic's hand slid his hand up the inside of his thigh, pausing to cup his clothed dick.

"Want that, do you?"

>>>

Maybe Genji shouldn't have been so surprised and disappointed that his younger self was letting himself be taken advantage of like this. He didn't know who Genji was. And he had no intention of revealing himself. That meant maintaining his silence. Time to get, and keep, the other man's attention. He pulled the scarf down and set it beside them.

>>>

"I have never met a cock-loving omnic before."

The male below him looked cute, with his cat-ear antennae and the way he was nuzzling his face plate into front of his pants. Genji was almost disappointed when the omnic leaned back to unzip the younger man's pants. A cool metal finger pulled his underwear down and tucked it under the straining shaft.

His lips parted briefly when he saw the omnic wrap his fingers around him.

>>>

Genji noted how quickly he was able to get his counterpart's eyes to glaze over with lust. It was too easy. Genji remembered exactly how he used to like it. He knew how tight to grip and where. He literally and figuratively had his younger self in the palm of his hand. An unashamed groan from above him confirmed it.

"I did not expect you to be this good."

He also knew that just a handjob wasn't going to cut it. If he really wanted to keep the young man's attention, he would have to use his mouth.

>>>

"Genji!"

Shit, it was Hanzo, Genji realized, looking in the direction of his voice. How did he know that Genji was out here? He sounded strange. Where was he? Maybe if he and the omnic got up now, they could elude his brother and make it back to his bedroom.

He looked down at the omnic, but-

He no longer had the metal face anymore. It was gone. In its place was a decidedly human face, but it was marred with uneven colour. Scars cut into his cheekbones and across his nose. He couldn't help but notice that the man would have been gorgeous had something not happened to his face.

"I am so sorry. I did not realize you were not an-oh, fuck, okay..."

The cyborg flicked the tip of tongue at the head of cock, interrupting, and locking brown eyes with him. He grinned hungrily, distorting the scars on his cheeks, and communicating his intentions to continue their tryst right here, right now.

The cyborg started with the head. The foreskin was already pulled back, revealing the wet, shiny flesh underneath. He watched as the older man gently lapped at the tip and made a show of swallowing the precum that had collected there.

"Kuso."

The older man's eyes widened briefly at that, but he continued with enthusiasm. He pressed the flat of his tongue against the head and licked a stripe down towards the base. Once there, he pressed his nose into the black pubic hair. He relaxed his tongue and used it to massage the testicles there, sucking at them gently.

Genji sighed mildly in disappointment when the other man stopped what he was doing to pop his cock properly in his mouth. He regretted that sigh when the cyborg dug his fingers into Genji's thighs and sucked on his dick like the cure for his scars was contained in his cum.

>>>

"Genji!"

Hanzo called again, sounding closer. The older Genji remembered the sound of his brother's voice that night. He remembered that Hanzo had seemed oddly calm that night for the passionate person that he was. Up until Hanzo's blade had started to cut through his skin, he didn't notice the murderous look that had been in his eyes during their prior conversation. He just needed to distract his other self until Hanzo gave up looking and went back inside to calm down.

His younger self was looking in the direction of Hanzo's voice. Genji reached up and snapped his fingers in front of the other man's face.

>>>

Genji returned his gaze to the man below. The way the cyborg's eyes burned desperately into his, and the way he flicked his tongue at the head of his cock had Genji gripping the bench for dear life. He quickly brought his hand up to cover his mouth to cover his loud moan. The older man was working him exactly as he liked, and e didn't want Hanzo to hear the noise he was inevitably going to make when he came. Genji bit into his palm, watching the other man's lips pull on his length. There was something strangely familiar about his eyes...

>>>

Had he always been this noisy? Hanzo will find them both in no time if Genji didn't do something to shut his younger self up. Genji's eyes fell to the scarf sitting on the floor. He grabbed it, pulled the younger man's hand away, and then stuffed the scarf into his mouth.

The scarf did its job. It muffled his moans so that no one would hear unless they came close. The problem was, now the younger man was shaking his head furiously and tugging on the ribbon attached to the back of his helmet.

>>>

Too much. It was too much! Being gagged pushed Genji dangerously close to the edge. Another flick of the tongue, and Genji's eyes rolled back into his head, crying out behind the fabric of the scarf. He emptied his load into the other man's mouth. It wasn't a full one, since he had orgasmed earlier that night, but it still a good amount.

"Genji! I know you are here!"

Hanzo sounded even closer. Genji was about to look towards the source of his brother's voice, when the older man pulled back and opened his mouth wide. Cum covered his tongue and threatened to spill down over his bottom lip.

Fuck, he thought. How did this cyborg know that was a weakness of his?

"GENJI!"

Even closer. Genji pulled the scarf from his mouth and tossed it on the bench beside him.

>>>

Hanzo was so close, but surely he would give up soon? Success seemed a only few minutes away. The situation had never felt so desperate until now. Genji tilted his head, listening closely, trying to figure out how close exactly Hanzo was. Genji closed his mouth, about to swallow. Funny how tonight had turned out, he thought with the tiniest smile.

"No, you don't..."

A pair of human hands grabbed his metal arms and pulled Genji up. He inhaled through his mouth in surprise, and his younger self pushed his tongue inside. He closed his lips around the cyborg's and sucked greedily on his tongue. Genji relaxed into the kiss and the younger man desperately cleaned his mouth of cum. When they pulled away, a single drop remained on his scarred chin. The younger man grinned at the cyborg and flicked his tongue out, taking the last little bit.

>>>

Hanzo had stopped calling for him. Finally. What a drag he was. He nearly ruined a fantastic night. He reached up and ran his hands down his face. He was spent, but he could probably go a third round. Judging by the way the older man had behaved, he wanted it, too. He opened his eyes to invite the cyborg inside, but he was gone.

#genji x genji #smut #young!genji #cyborg!genji #genji shimada #selfcest #my shit

[sixeightsuited]

Of Martial Arts and a path not taken

Martial arts saved my life.  Yeah, that’s right.  You may think I’m starting this blog with a bit of a cliché But thing is, it’s true.

I know, a lot of people have said this and most that I’ve heard say it I believe them.  If you’ve never trained or had the good fortune to be trained by someone extraordinary, you might laugh.  But I can say from personal experience that if it were not for Martial Arts, I would probably be dead or in prison.

I had an extremely difficult childhood.  I am Anishinabe, (or Ojibway, Chippewa as some like to call us. I don’t care for Native American or Indian) and was taken from my home and family and adopted out during the 60s Scoop to a white family in a small, backwards town.  I grew up the only non-white kid in my school and I paid for it every single day.  I was terrorized at school from as early as I can remember.  I vividly remember having a circle of kids standing around me yelling and making whooping noises like some bad 50’s Hollywood Indians and calling me fatty, wagon burner, etc.

I was bullied viciously right through school until I got into High School  I carry a number of scars from being assaulted as early as the 1st grade. Scars on my leg from being pushed onto a broken bottle, scars on my chin from being pushed off my bike, and scars on the left side of my head from what today would be considered a stoning. Yes, I said a stoning.  I was cornered, had rocks thrown at me until knocked to the ground, then a boy stood over me and dropped a big rock on my head. Years later it was discovered that I have a brain aneurysm where the scar tissue is on my brain, and I have to take medication to keep it under control. So….that’s the genesis of all this with tons of horrible details left out for the sake of saving time and depressing the hell outta ya.

Compounding the abuse at school was a variety of abuses I suffered at home at the hands of my alcoholic adopted mother.  One of my strongest memories from my childhood is when I was about 5 years old being dragged into my bedroom by her while she put some of my stuff in a small suitcase and then pushed me out the door into the snow.  I had no shoes on, no coat, and no idea why I was just thrown out of my home by the person who was supposed to love and take care of me.  There weren’t many days where I didn’t go to bed or wake up afraid.

So, add all that up and you can understand how by the time I got to a point where I was bigger than most kids, I began to act out. I was a deeply troubled kid.  I was withdrawn, introverted, and also painfully shy around people.  Still, I had anger that was just waiting to get out.  Eventually it did. I would pick fights with anyone and everyone. I never had a girlfriend, never went to dances or parties or did anything you normally associate with your school years. But, it was in High School that I found martial arts and it was there that everything changed.

Now this may sound completely stupid, but when “The Karate Kid” came out and was playing at the town theatre, a local Karate instructor named John Atkinson whose school “Black Belt Institute” (which he and his brother Alex, also a black belt ran) would come out before the movie started each night with some of his students and do a demonstration.  He had worked in some capacity on the movie and was at the time a 3rd Degree Black Belt in Kempo and was internationally ranked in both Kumite (fighting) and Kata (forms)

I was just in awe watching him with a Bo staff and he was offering a free class to new students so that week I went and signed up.

I had no clue what I was getting myself into but I showed up for that first class ready to kick some ass and boy was I in for a shock. The first half hour of that one hour class was spent doing straight up cardio, and then a shitload of stretching followed by learning “horse stance” and throwing some punches from it.

I had never done anything like it save for a few Judo classes where I took an immediate dislike to me being used to demonstrate throws and chokes.  Seems since I was a big kid, the instructor thought I would be handy for that kinda thing and I can tell you that an hour of being thrown by everybody in your class (without even being shown how to fall/land properly) gets old quick plus, contrary to what the Flintstone’s taught me; there was no “Chopping” in Judo.  So…I gave up on it.  

Anyways, that first Karate class was the hardest physical thing I had ever done in my life. I remember thinking “Why would he put anyone through this if he wants them to come back?”  I would’ve probably not come back had it not been for the fact that towards the end of class John sat us down and spoke about things like honour, respect, and self-discipline.  He talked about how Karate was never to be used against people and how if he heard of any student using it to fight outside the Dojo they would be expelled from his school permanently.  

It wasn’t to be used to go around beating kids up at school.  It wasn’t about getting revenge on bullies or impressing people.  It was about striving to become a better person, being respectful towards people and developing your character.  If you worked hard at your training, you would develop the skills and self-confidence so that you wouldn’t EVER want or need to fight unless your life depended on it.  It must’ve stuck because I kept going back and I NEVER got into another fight and haven’t to this day.

I didn’t have much money but John never cared too much about that.  He seemed to see something in me and he encouraged me to keep coming regardless. He was the first really positive male role model to come into my life and I felt respect and a bond with him that I never had with anyone before.  He pushed me hard and I honestly loved it.  Somehow all that exercise, all that sweating and working out to the point of puking were making me feel better about myself.  I wasn’t satisfied with just coming to the white belt classes so I started to come when there was any free time available. I would hang around for the intermediate classes to watch and listen.  I was probably the first “gym rat” of our school and when he started teaching daytime classes, I skipped classes occasionally and went to them too.

Of course, since I was so keen on being there I got fun jobs like holding pads for him while he demonstrated techniques.  If you’ve never held pads for an elite level striker it’s hard to explain what it feels like when they throw a kick at full force into a pad your holding.   As thick as those pads are, you still feel it through your whole body and the sound and feel of shins and fists and feet hitting pads is just awesome.  Maybe I’m a bit of a masochist but I loved holding pads for him.  It was not something people were lining up to volunteer to do either, so it worked out for me.

Sparring nights were always my favourite and like many students I looked forward to it the most.  I guess I had some natural ability when it came to fighting that John noticed because I was soon being allowed to stay for the intermediate classes and he asked me if I would like to try some tournament fighting.  I was totally down with that but I had no way of getting to most tourneys so a lot of the time I would go with John and his girlfriend Brenda, a brown belt and his business manager.  

He had this tiny little blue Honda and I would get stuffed in the backseat with all our gear.  It was during those rides that I learned that John was also a human being. When you’re new you tend to put your Sensei on a pedestal but spend three hours in a hatchback with him and hear him talk, swear, joke, and fart like anyone else and you start to get a more realistic picture of who they are.  I have to say I would much rather hold pads for him than EVER have to smell one of his farts again.  I don’t know why I’m including that other than it makes me laugh, but I’m sure fighters who’ve made those long drives crammed in cars with their teammates know what I’m talking about.

Before my first tournament I was nervous as hell. I remember clashing shins with this guy repeatedly and since we both weren’t wearing shin guards, man did it fucking HURT!!! I lost of course and was pretty pissed off about it too but I didn’t give up.  My next tourney I got DQ’d for throwing a very sloppy but full power spinning back kick into this guy’s cup.  Now, that sort of technique (spinning kicks, not just nut shots) is not encouraged in point fighting when you’re a white or yellow belt and I was warned if I didn’t get my shit together I wouldn’t be allowed to fight in any more tournaments.

Fortunately, John helped me learn to calm down before fights and I started getting some results.  When I won my first tournament as a yellow belt, I think I fought 5 times before the final and the trophy I won was taller than I was!  I’m not sure why in Martial Arts the trophies are always so bloody big but they are and I remember we had to take it apart to get it into the car!  

 John liked us to keep our trophies at the Dojo for a while before we took them home I think to remind ourselves that we won them as a team.  Sure we were out there doing the fighting but it would be next to impossible to win if it weren’t for everyone at the club who sparred with you, trained with you, stretched with you.  So I loved sharing that with them.  It was extremely fulfilling seeing your trophy there when you were back working your ass off in class.

The more I trained the closer I got with John and other people in our club and I felt for the first time like I was part of something; that I belonged.  We supported each other and encouraged each other and I got to meet some awesome people through Karate.  I met Bill Wallace, Gary Goodridge, and became friends with Harold Howard, Cezar Borkowski, and a lot of my fellow competitors.   Running into Harold at tournaments was always fun.  I remember standing outside with him while he smoked and him just talking and laughing about stuff.  Any time he saw me he would always come by with a hearty handshake and talk to me.  One of my favourite pictures I had was of me and him with his front teeth out and somewhere along the way I lost it and it’s always bugged me that I did.

As time went on and our Dojo grew, John got into a partnership with some people from the school and it started turning into something else.  It was no longer the little Dojo where you felt like you were part of this great team.  It turned into a gym and health club and John, now a partner, eventually sold his interest off and moved on.

I remember not long after he left getting a call from the new “owners” saying I owed all kinds of money because John hadn’t made me pay every month.  They even threatened me with collections agencies and when I ran into John one day I told him about it and I guess he talked to them because they left me alone after that.

John eventually moved to Phoenix and has a school there where he is an 8th Degree Black Belt and still teaches today.  http://www.atkinsonsmartialarts.com/index.php/about/about-kyoshi  John’s in the bottom picture in the red gi.

I sent him an email a while ago just to thank him for everything he did for me.  In typical fashion, he took no credit for anything and said I made all the choices and decisions that made me who I am but I know better.  Had I not met him, had I never trained under him….I can’t even imagine where I would be today.  I still try to maintain those values I learned as a martial artist

As someone who survived relentless bullying, I know what it’s like to feel completely alone.  I know what it’s like to live in fear.  I also know what it’s like to find strength and courage and to start believing in myself. That’s where Martial Arts and Kyoshi John Atkinson came and helped me avoid a life that probably would’ve ended much too soon.  Regardless of what he says, I owe him everything.  He taught me discipline, self-esteem, honour, respect, courage and self-control and it is with absolute conviction that I can say that it saved my life.

If you managed to read this whole thing, Thanks!

Anwaan Jiimiz