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writingoneshots · 3 years

Note

Hello! I've read the last fic you've wrote and I really love it! You've done an amazing work! I was wondering if you write about poly relationship because I would like to request a fic (since Oda made it canon) about Kid and Killer liking the same girl. Maybe a girl that has joined their crew and has non conventional beauty but is strong and good hearted with them. I would like also to see crew's reaction and how they would behave around her (I think they are kind of dorks and this would piss captain and first mate, but at the end they would be happy to see the 3 of them together).

I hope it's not too much. If you don't write about poly, it could be alright some general hc's of them in a relationship with female s/o separately.

Thank you if you'll write it!!

Shared Love

Hello :) ! This was a little different request - because I never wrote a one shot/story with a poly-relationship. Hope this is okay.. if not, then please let me know. I would like to improve my writing and learn about different kinds of relationships.

Also, was this really canon? I understood that they both had interest in the same girl and they became friends because of the chili incident? (just asking, no hate! I really understood it that way :) would be cool either way.) Hope you guys enjoy this!

- Kid x reader x Killer - 2,101 words - bar fight, mention of rape, NSFW, threesome

The night was still young and the alcohol was served slowly in this bar. It was filled with new pirate crews and old adventurers. But they all had one thing in common: they were horny. You were never alone this evening because every 5 minutes, a new man would stand by your side to try and get your attention. You were dressed in a very tight leather outfit, a dangerously short skirt and a stomach-free top, which pushed your breasts up way too high. The skirt had a high cut on its side and revealed the knife on your thigh, which you always carried with you. The fishnet stockings and the high heels made you look even more badass. This was usually not your everyday look but you've lost a bet with Heat, which is why he forced you into this outfit and even did your hair and make-up, flawlessly. You reminded yourself to hire him for your wedding, if you would ever have one. Your usual shirt and trouser combo has been thrown away, which is why you ended up here in the bar to drink your pain away. Especially because this bra pushed up your whole chest and it felt like your breasts were about to touch your chin. The eighth guy dared to try to make you dance with him, while number 3 and 6 were still buying you drinks and trying their best to get you to talk with them. "Guys, please.. I am really not the right woman for you." "Are you seeing someone?" - "Who is it? I will kill him and make you the happiest woman on the seas!" "You should really consider leaving..", you warned them and felt that you were already a little more than just tipsy. "Don't try to play innocent. If you would have a boyfriend, you wouldn't be here by yourself.", number 6 dared to come closer and he put his fingers on the outside of your thigh. Number 3 even went a step ahead and placed his hand right at your butt, squeezing it slightly once. In the next second, he screamed. A painful sound appeared next to you and when you turned around to see what was going on, you saw number 3 kneeing down to the floor, holding his hand on his shoulder where his other arm was supposed to be. The knife suddenly went back to the other side of the room and Kid grabbed it when it stopped right in front of him. Kid had just amputated that man's arm. There was no regret in his eyes and you loved him for it. You never liked it when someone was suffering, except when they deserved it. And these men were just about to use their chance to probably rape you just because you were drunk. If it hadn't been you, it might have been someone else. They deserved it. Before you could get off the chair, Killer appeared right behind you and put his arm around your waist, lifting you up softly. You put your arm around his neck and your legs around his hips, holding yourself up carefully. "Are you alright?", he asked through his mask and checked you immediately. A quick nod followed at this question and before Killer turned to leave, he grabbed number six's hand and broke his fingers with only one squeeze. "Now we can leave." He turned away and you looked back to these men. One was already aswoon, receiving some help, while the other began screaming in pain. No one dared to say something or fight them. Especially not because the whole Kid's crew was already in the club, making sure that no one touched you or any other crew member. -- Killer placed you softly onto the bed and you laid down, stretching your body easily and relaxing on the soft mattress. You insisted on sleeping here since you found out how comfortable Kid's bed was and he didn't mind. It was big enough for three people, which is why the three of you usually slept in here. "Is she hurt?", Kid raised an eyebrow and eyed you carefully. Now that he had calmed down, he was ready to inspect your outfit. It was unusual to see you in these clothes but he had heard of the bet with Heat. But that is only because he forced Heat to make a bet with you. "No.. She's actually wearing it. I cannot believe you managed it..", Killer shook his head and took off his jacket before he sat down next to you onto the bed. "I told you that

she'd look fucking hot in those fishnets. I just didn't expect her to be this drunk.", Kid went into the bathroom to wash his knife after tonight's events. "You guys are mean.", you pouted and Killer chuckled a bit, stroking your hair back softly. You grabbed his loose shirt and pulled him closer until he was leaning slightly over you. "(Y/N), you're drunk.. I wouldn't -" "Shh..", you stopped him from saying another word and stroked his hair back carefully. Then you placed your hands on his mask and waited for him to stop you but he didn't. You were always careful with his mask but you knew that he trusted you and you loved him for it. You took it off carefully before placing it to the side and kissing the few places softly, where the mask had been pressing on his skin too hard. When you felt his muscles relaxing a bit, he leaned forward and kissed you. First softly but then very passionately. Claiming your mouth with his tongue and owning you completely for a second, Killer stroked his left hand down your free stomach and went behind your back. He pulled you softly to the side, to make you lean towards him. Kid decided to join you and laid down behind you. His hand wandered all over your body, while Killer didn't let go of you and continued kissing you more and more intensely. Both their bodies were pressed against yours and you could clearly feel both their erections already pressing against your body. Kid's hand wandered down to the front of your skirt and his fingers immediately found their way to your warmth. A shiver went down your body when he began stroking you and pressing his hips against your butt. Killer didn't let his best friend work on his own. He pulled down your top, exposing your breasts as he began to massage one right away. Your breathing became heavy as both of them were focusing on only you. The three of you barely had a chance to enjoy a night altogether, which is why this excited you even more now. You loved both of them and hated to choose one of them every night and finally you could stay here together. When Kid slid his fingers inside you, you gasped into Killer's kiss and he smirked against your lips. Both of them enjoyed teasing and pleasuring you and it always surprised you how good they were working as a team. Killer let go of your lips for a moment and leaned down to your breasts. His focus switched to the one, which he hasn't paid any attention to yet and began sucking it. First very slowly but when you started to moan softly, he became very needy. Without knowing why, Kid suddenly pushed you on top of Killer and you found yourself laying on top of him. "What was that for?", you looked back in surprise to Kid and gasped unexpectedly. Killer bit your neck teasingly and had managed to open his trousers, while you were not paying any attention. His erection was pressed against your warmth and Kid reached to your sides, ripping off the panties and pulling up your skirt for Killer. Kid crawled up behind you, took his flesh arm around you, and began stroking your clit again, while Killer was positioning himself below you. You held yourself up on Kid's metal arm and leaned with your back against his torso, trying not to cum already by these simple touches. When Killer began thrusting inside of you, Kid's metallic arm went immediately around your waist to hold you in that position and his flesh hand grabbed your throat, choking you carefully. Killers thumb immediately replaced Kid's fingers on your clit and he thrust into you faster. His eyes went up to yours, locking for a moment until you couldn't stand the pleasure any longer. You closed your eyes and breathed heavily, feeling your orgasm building up already. "Be a good girl. Cum for us.", Kid whispered into your ear and forced you to look at him. This time, he pressed his lips onto yours, not giving you a chance to back away. He ignored how you tried to catch a breath and enjoyed the moans you offered him in the kiss. Hearing how Killer was breathing heavier suddenly too, Kid stopped the kiss and pressed your head

against his chest again. "Scream his name, (Y/N)!", Kid commanded and bit your neck on one side harshly, marking you as his'. "K-Killer!", you screamed when you felt your orgasm releasing itself, almost at the same time as Killer's. He filled you up from deep within, pushing hard into you for the last few drops left. Kid let go of you after a few seconds and pushed you down onto Killer, who immediately pulled you close to him. The kiss was deep and full of lust. Grateful to share this moment together and experience this way of love. When you suddenly felt how Kid positioned himself behind you after Killer pulled out, you looked back to him and tried to stand up. But Killer held you down. "I should clean myself for-" "It's alright.", Kid smirked and didn't let a single drop hinder him from enjoying your current warmth. Without a warning, he entered you fully from behind and grabbed your hips harshly. The first thrusts were slow and patient. Killer began kissing you again and gave you a break to breathe right after. His lips found their way to the other side of the neck, which Kid didn't mark as his' yet. That's where he chose to leave a sign of him owning you as well. You grabbed the pillow below Killer with both hands, arching your back to give Kid more way to enter you and he used that chance instantly. The next thrusts were deep and hard, much harder than Killer's. He slammed right into you, grabbing your nape from behind to hold himself onto you. Feeling Killer's member stroking against your clit and one of his hands massaging your breast, while he sucked on your neck, sped up the process for another orgasm. "Say his name, love.", Killer smirked and took his arms around your waist, keeping you in that position so you wouldn't lean too much forward, helping Kid to slam easier into you. Breathing heavily, you thought that you couldn't manage it but you did, "Kid!!" You came before him, way too early. It felt like pure torture to ride out your orgasm for so long until Kid came as well but it felt amazing too. The last thrusts were the hardest he had ever done and the slaps he offered to ride it out, made it feel even better. -- The next morning was way too chaotic. You were barely able to move but managed to find your seat on Kid's lap at the table. A few unknown women had joined the crew for breakfast but this was nothing unusual. The crew made a pact, to always invite the whore for a meal right after sex, just for the entertainment to see, who could walk right after and who couldn't. Even now, they were eyeing you carefully but they didn't see anything because they finally understood that they were better off to keep quiet than to comment. When they all realized that you were dating Kid and Killer, they weren't sure if you were really smart or really stupid but they were happy as long as Kid wasn't killing anyone on the ship. I would say, that I am really lucky. Killer handed you a cup of coffee and let you stretch out your legs on his lap. Kid was barely awake and he didn't even want to wake up yet but Killer's rarely cooked any bacon and there was no way he would miss out on that. He even stole a few from your plate.

#one piece #onepiece #requests #open requests #request #reader #one piece x reader #onepiecexreader #eustass kid #killer #massacre soldier #heat #kidxreader #killerxreader #kidxreaderxkiller #one shot #story #oneshot

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flame-shadow · 3 years

Text

Leisken the Lonely

[headsup- this one has some minor child abuse and bad parents, although it's implied that they get what they deserve in the end]

---

Things are getting worse.

The butterfly doesn’t talk much, but they listen plenty. Apparently, they’re safe to share secrets around. Is it because nobody would listen to them? Because of their stutter? Or because they’re viewed as less than a bug, less than an actual member of society? They don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter which reason because it’s probably all of those reasons anyway.

They stifle a yawn, waft their wings, and hold them out again for the fancy bugs nearby to view. A late night party with rich food and fermented drinks and plenty of whispers and gossip.

Rumors of sickness. Famine. Disputes. Violent disagreements. Should we leave the City? It’s probably more dangerous beyond. Have you heard if they’re going to close the gates? That would protect us, right?

Leisken fans their wings again. They feel warm. Cautiously, they turn their head to observe more of the room. Is anyone else feeling this heat? It… doesn’t look like it. They must be imagining it. Maybe it’s not having drunk anything in a while. Maybe it’s the discomfort of what they’re hearing. Maybe it’s…

YOU COULD KILL THEM, YOU KNOW.

Leisken jolts off their stool, falling to an undignified heap. Immediately, they attempt to scramble to their feet, but already Mother is storming over, her skirts and scarves roiling. With a tight grip on their arm, she jerks them up and drags them to the side of the room, away from the nearest cluster of socializing guests.

“What did you do?” she hisses.

“I-I-I j-jj- I just-” Leisken stammers, trying to keep from pulling away.

“What is it this time?”

“Mm-mm.. It’s-s-”

“Weakness is what it is. You’re supposed to be working on that.”

“I c-cann- I’ll d-do bbetter- I’ll j-just-” They turn their head to look at their stool. They’ll sit there if it means-

“No. No no no, you’re done. You ruined it. If I let you go back out there..." She clicks in aggravation. "But I won’t. You don’t deserve that. To your room. Don’t bother any of the servants. Don’t leave until I come for you.”

Their wings droop.

“None of that. Retain your dignity.”

Leisken obediently fixes their wings to an approved angle. They notice Father standing nearby wearing his guests-think-I’m-just-a-little-bored-but-actually-I’m-furious-at-you face. It’s hard to keep their wings from drooping again.

Mother waves her hand. “Go on.”

Stiffly, they turn and walk at a measured pace for the nearest side door. “Sometimes, I don’t know why we keep bothering with you,” Mother says under her breath but still where Leisken can hear. They’re sure they were meant to hear it. They resolve to do better next time. They make this resolution all the time. They’re not sure they’ve actually gotten any better at anything.

They stumble, but they make it to the door and slip out, almost catching the edge of a wing in their haste to put the door between themself and the ballroom. And hopefully that voice.

Miserably, they pass by a servant conveying a tray of food to the guests without interaction.

YOU COULD KILL THEM, YOU KNOW.

They trip as they whirl around. Again on the floor. They look around a little frantically, but they quickly stay their terror as the servant, an expression of concern, stops to look at them. But they’re not supposed to interact! Leisken pushes themself to their feet and shuffles quickly away. To their room. It’s nothing special. But they can almost be alone here. Almost be safe. That’s what they pretend, anyway. It helps. A little bit. Maybe.

But they’re still warm. Uncomfortably so. It’s never warm in here.

YOU COULD KILL THEM, YOU KNOW.

Where is that voice coming from?! Nobody should be in here with them! Tremulously, they speak: “H-hello..?”

No answer.

“Pl-please… I n-n-need to- I ddon’t want to k-k-k-k…”

YOU DON’T HAVE TO WANT TO.

They breathe shakily.

ARE YOU HAPPY HERE?

Automatically, they nod, even though they’re not sure what happy feels like. They’re not supposed to reveal their discomfort, much less their misery.

Silence. Warm silence. Hot silence. Oppressive silence.

Leisken stands stiffly and waits.

A gust of cool air washes over them along with Father’s voice: “You missed the servant’s knock summoning you to breakfast. Surely, you aren’t still trying to-- Oh?”

Leisken blinks and stiffly turns to see Father standing in the doorway.

“Practicing your form? Maybe you’re finally learning. Well. Come along, it’s time for lunch.”

Weakly, Leisken follows.

----

Things carry on as they did before.

Except not really.

All those things that Leisken had heard rumors about? They are becoming more than rumors. People are getting hungry and hurt and scared. Leisken is too, but they do their best not to show it. And when they feel the heat, they expect the voice to follow. They do their best not to show a reaction to either of those.

They’re losing it. They know that. They’ve long suspected, but these are… These are hallucinations. Or something. Right? Not real. Nobody else feels the heat. Nobody else reacts to the voice. … unless everyone else is hiding their reactions too?

One day, they notice that one of their antennae aches. It’s not much, but they swear it feel hot even when the rest of their body isn’t experiencing that sensation.

“Leisken. Stay focused.”

“R-right.” they mumble, adjusting their posture.

“Honestly, it’s like you’re trying to irritate me. …I’m waiting.”

They do a quick check of themself, but everything feels positioned how she’d want it to be.

“Your antenna.”

“M-my..?” They thought they were holding them both in the same way, at the proper angle and curve. Hesitantly, they reach up to feel them. The one that always feels warm now is stiffer except for toward the end. The club part feels hotter than the rest. And heavier?

“Something the matter?”

“Mmgh.. I d-d-don’t--”

“Forget I asked,” Mother scoffs in an offended tone as she turns away.

Leisken suppresses a wince as they try to coax the stubborn antenna into an acceptable shape.

---

“Why didn’t you say anything to us about this?”

“I d-d-didn’t-t-thin-nk th--”

“You need to tell us about things like this. You understand that, right? We need you to look your best, and this? This isn’t it.” Mother holds the antenna none too gently, but Leisken can barely feel her fingers over the heat. The swollen clubbed ending throbs painfully. “This won’t do. You can’t attend the party like this. People will ask questions.”

“O-oh…” Not have to attend a party..? That’s.. That’s..! But, they shouldn’t get their hopes up. And besides, the antenna is still...

Mother snaps her fingers toward another bug. “Come here. Take them to get this fixed. If it needs to be amputated, get a prosthetic. Asymmetrical antennae are not what people want to see.”

The servant bows and takes a step nearer Leisken who doesn’t want anything amputated, but… What can they do?

---

“We’ve already had the servants stock it and move enough of our things over. We’ll go there soon enough. ...Leisken, stop playing with that. You’ll just mess it up, and with businesses closing their doors, who knows if we’d be able to get you a replacement.”

Leisken lowers their hand. They’re not used to having the prosthetic antenna. They think they look fine without it. And there are no bugs to show off to right now. Everyone here knows. And it’s not like they’re symmetrical anywhere else.

Besides, the antenna still aches, still feels warm. But that swollen bit on the end... it’s good that was removed. The orange that oozed out startled the surgeon, but the servant assured Leisken that everything would be fine. Their parents wouldn’t learn about this.

They’re soon told to pack up and be prepared to leave. But once they’re in their room, they just sit on the hard bed. What’s there to pack up? Nothing. Their room is decorated with items that other bugs have picked out for them. They don’t care to take anything with them.

They sigh and wonder when they’ll hear the voice again.

---

But it’s not until they’re in the vault, safe and secure as the City falls apart outside, that the voice deigns to talk to them again.

DO THEY REALLY THINK THEY’RE SAFE HERE?

Leisken’s breath catches.

DO THEY THINK I CAN’T REACH THEM HERE?

They close their eyes and hug their arms to their body.

“Leisken,” calls Father sharply from across the room. He’s making that face again. “It’s only been a couple weeks. You’d better keep it together.”

They nod and try to relax their body. They’re hot, but they know it’s not because of their clothes. Nor the stuffy vault they’re trapped in. Nor the constant judgmental presence of their guardians.

YOU COULD KILL THEM, YOU KNOW.

They don’t want to-

IMAGINE! NO NAGGING, NO PRESSURE TO BE PERFECT AND PRESENTABLE!

They don’t-

YOU’D FINALLY BE FREE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO DO!

They-

YOU WANT THIS.

They do.

THAT’S RIGHT. YOU COULD KILL THEM. EVERYTHING WOULD CHANGE FOR YOU.

It would.

It will.

It does.

---

It’s so dark.

IT’S SO LIGHT, YOU MEAN.

There’s no purpose for anything.

JUST LISTEN TO ME.

There’s no point in hiding the bodies. They’re all hidden down here together. Forever.

FOREVER.

Alone forever…

NOT QUITE. YOU’RE WITH ME FOREVER.

With you…

---

Time has no meaning in forever. It’s always warm and light. Nobody judges them because there’s nobody to judge. They don’t have to adjust their posture because they don’t have a body. Not really. It’s not theirs. It hasn’t been for a long time.

Leisken hasn’t been in a long time.

Leisken was their name, right? That’s… that was them?

Why does that matter now?

Why does it…

Where are their…

What’s over th…

Oh.

...

They…

They need to get out.

They fumble weakly at the locks and mechanisms. They cry and they shake and they try not to think. They’d gotten so good at not thinking.

Out! They’re out! They stumble out into the rain and collapse. What do they feel? They don’t know. But they feel. And that feels significant.

Slowly, they force themself to rise. To stand. To lean against a crumbling stone wall.

Why do they feel so cold? More cold than this rain could make them.

Why do they feel so alone? More alone than the empty streets around them.

Disorientated, confused, tired, terrified.

Leisken moves forward.

---

[bonus art because it's a mood]

#leisken #hollow knight #hollow knight oc #the radiance #mywriting #okay so this one implies things in multiple places but i believe it's still clear enough #art is old but fits well enough

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lethargicsunlight · 3 years

Text

'Demon' Chapter 3 : For The Mission Bakugou x Fem!Reader (book 1)

Hello~

First of all, Thank you for reading!

You can also read this chapter and the previous ones here on my AO3.

Or, you can find the previous chapter here.

I will come up with a better linking system soon, but I gotta get back to work real quick :(

WARNINGS: Injury, bodily fluids, angst, SFW

Please enjoy!

👹🖤⛓🔪💣

You knew running was a losing game, as speedy as you could be. He was saving his energy by using his mutation quirk for movement.

You pull loose a throwing knife from the holster on your side, keeping the blade bared outward to defend yourself as you take in your blurring surroundings. You make a turn, decidedly veering away from the direction of the bar you'd just left; the last thing you needed was for your pursuer to call in reinforcements that could teleport.

Despite sliding through sharp turns, you couldn't manage to get far enough ahead to fake him out. With the tough exoskeleton they possessed, he was easily driving his extra limbs into the walls and using them as leverage to fling himself forward--closing in on you much faster than you wanted.

"What is it little Demon?" He screeches, mandibles scratching and gnawing together as his mouth stretches open. "I thought you would be a much more riveting opponent than this!"

...Sometimes, you gotta give them what they want.

Mid-run, you locate a window going into an abandoned office building. Throwing your knife, it punctures the glass and leaves hair-line fractures across the surface--you can see the reflection of Sting's eyes within the shards as you thrust your weight into the opening.

In a circular motion, you manage to unsheathe one of the longer blades at your back and parry his limbs in the air before you're tumbling over the broken glass. It hurts, but you don't allow yourself to slow down. You roll back up, unsheathing the second blade with your free-hand as you crouch, ready to strike.

Now you at least had one advantage over him. More cover.

"Heh," he seems to hesitate, finally setting his body back upon solid ground as he evaluates you. His gaze is filled with confidence after watching you run away from him. Like prey. In his pause, you have a few seconds to analyze his structure. The exoskeleton would to be too hard to cut, so your focus had to be the areas you could see flesh exposed. You were aware the legs could retreat into his back, which guaranteed a lack of access there. All you could see was his face and his hands--though peaking out from beneath a tucked scarf, was the smooth skin of a throat.

You had made an oath long ago that you would never kill again. But in defense of your mission... you could manage an exception. It would all be over soon anyway.

Instead of coming at you straight on, he throws another knife at you to get everything back into motion. It has you leaping backwards unto a filing cabinet--and he's charging at you finally with the ferocity of essentially four swords. Due to his extra limbs' reach, you realize you won't get a hit on him this way.

It becomes a tangle of blades as you parry and block and twist around his advances, kicking up papers and folders to distract him as you move up and down over obstacles. The venom in your arm begins to dance through your veins, tingling beneath the skin--you are running out of time.

You can see his face twist into a smile; he's sure he's going to win.

Good.

As he makes the mistake you were waiting for, drawing one of his limbs back for a final attack; his mouth is open to announce his triumph. As the air begins to leave his lungs and form syllables in his mouth, time slows down for you. Your blade held up to parry drops from your hand, sending his stinger forward to scrap across your shoulder; close but not too close to your neck. You grab the knife on his belt that you had been eyeing since his first advance in the alleyway, and slice through the joint.

It brings him to a halt, howling as he moves backwards. Green ichor sprays across your face and drips from his new amputation, his other three limbs curling around his body while his hands grope his shoulders.

You pocket his knife and retrieve your blade from the floor.

"Noo! Nonono..!" He's wailing--it sounds grief-stricken now. While there were questionable 'doctors' among villain society; no one has the ability to bring back a limb. Especially one like that. You had mired him, for the rest of his life.

You prepare for a death blow--but the flash of skin beneath the fabric of his shirt causes your hesitation.

You don't have to kill him. It's relief that floods through your tense and calculating mind; briefly before being replaced with pain. As you had expected, a minute in and his neurotoxic venom has seeped into the muscles of your arm. It feels like a chemical burn--acid turning flesh to sizzling nothing. The arm goes limp, but you force your grip on the blade--you had to appear stable.

"I'm going--I'm going to kill you!" He screeches, and there's a squeal behind it like the voice of the insect part of him was a separate entity.

"...You can't kill me." You say slowly, approaching with your good arm raised. You swallow, then let your voice drop an octave as fear seeps into his eyes. There's a button you managed to press a moment ago, that makes the eyes glow from your mask. A cerulean color--a color that was a remnant of your past. "I'm not human."

From the look on his face--he believes you. Your charade is working. You grit your teeth, forcing your shaking and screaming arm to lift and move to the back of your head. It's a movement that suggests you'll remove your mask.

"N-No, no!" He shifts back again, and unaware of his surroundings he trips and lands among the broken glass. His remaining extra limbs curl in close to his face, leaving his abdomen bare. "You're lying! You can't steal people's souls, you're just--you're like us!"

"Then why are you hiding your face?"

"Wh--" With the distraction of speech, he doesn't block when you throw the hidden blade from your hood down into his abdomen. It's a solemn thwack, and then the harsher crack of his skull when you flip the blade in your good hand and swing it between his stinging limbs to ram into his bare temple.

He's out. He's internally bleeding, and he'll never be the same... but he'll live. Maybe when he wakes, he'll have a different outlook on life. Or, most likely, he'll want to hunt you down.

You suppose that should scare you. But given the note you had received from the hero agency you worked with, your time was going to end anyway. He wouldn't have a chance.

"Hrk--" You crumple to the ground, clutching the arm that felt like it should be bare bone rather than flesh. It's like the nerves are exposed; the grip from your clothed hand sending shockwaves down your spine.

You couldn't help but brood--seeing as how moving was so difficult--at how opposite this situation had been compared to what it seemed.

While you had delivered a blow based on skill--you won the fight by lying. Like an illusion, you'd expertly hidden behind the smoke and mirrors to make him believe you were bigger than you actually were. Like you had won easily, rather than by the skin of your teeth.

You wheeze, tears pricking at your eyes while you force yourself to rise. You needed to get back to base. Especially before he did, and preferably before anyone decides to investigate the noises of your chase earlier.

You stumble out of the building through the window you had broken, and slowly creep through the alleys of Yokohama once again.

---

Every television in the base was alight with the bright colors of the Sports Festival.

You were pretty sure that H.H. kept cameras within those screens, ever watching the faces of his lackeys and agents--judging their actions and expressions. Another advantage to always wearing a mask.

You stood, back pressed to a wall in the shadow of a corner as you side-eye the screen. Watching the students filter out unto the field causes a bitter-sweet fluttering in your stomach.

You remembered the first time you had watched the event. You were much younger, sitting with your knees pressing into the floor and palms crushing a few stray sheets of paper. Really, you had never been all that interested in television, mostly because the other kids at the foster-care center were rambunctious when they sat in front of it.

But this time, the only two souls whose eyes were glued to the flat surface were yours and your new foster brother's, who had been the one to convince you to watch it in the first place.

"You gotta watch it--I'm gunna be on it one day!" He says, arm extending to offer his hand. You stare at it, bug-eyed.

"Oh," you meagerly utter, taking his hand and letting him lead you. He laughs and pulls you along until your both sitting in the living-room floor.

"Don't worry," he leans in towards you, "I'll keep the volume low. Trust me though, kay? You gotta watch it, it's really fun!"

You don't believe him, but before long you're both cheering with the crowd and talking avidly about your favorite contestants. He--

You draw yourself out of the memory as large letters appear in your peripheral. The first game had been announced. A race.

There was a sinking feeling in your chest to know that he should have been there amongst them, maybe a year ago. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that he would have won. Maybe even every challenge.

Even at that young of an age, he had always been so full of righteous fire.

He could have been a hero of heroes...

If not for you.

----

You catch pieces of the Sports festival as you move through the base in search of an old 'escape plan' map. Head Honcho had certainly made modifications since the water-treatment plant had been adopted as his new lair, but you could draw them out if only you had a layout of the place.

Chemical spills did happen, so you could only hope that the escape plans had been forgotten when everything was moving in. In a storage closet somewhere, on the door of an outlet box, above the water control panel--somewhere.

Moving through an old lounge, large screens portrayed the ongoing of the race that had long-since started above the heads of a few agents. They were newer, but they noticed you when you walked in.

The looks in the eyes of those whose faces were exposed was that of mixed admiration and loathing. But, fortunately for you--Head Honcho had made it very clear that you were to be left alone. Treated as exalted, as though separate from everyone else on a holy level. Not that they worshipped you--but that he wanted you to be considered the entity you played as. A demon.

The rumor was as much to his advantage as it was yours.

Their eyes follow you in the dark as you move around them, but something suddenly has their eyes whipping back to the screen as the closer viewers make noises of surprise. You decide to look too, selfishly; and you're rewarded with something familiar.

A freckled green-haired boy. He's flying through the air after a massive explosion, rivaling the two that had been effortlessly charging towards the finish from the beginning. The three of them are suddenly close together, faces etched in the effort to win--and you find yourself openly admiring them.

Beneath your mask, you're smiling. Your heart is pounding and you want to cheer like old times, throwing popcorn in the air and rejoicing--no matter who won. You could practically feel your foster brother's spirit next to you, tugging on your heart. You should be there, enjoying this. You hear him say.

Your breath catches in your throat as there's another explosion--Midoriya had managed to throw the bit of metal he'd carried with him all this way and use another surge of momentum to carry him forward. Everything stills as you wait, holding that breath until finally--finally--it is him that enters the arena in first place.

Adrenaline explodes and rockets around your ribs and your heart--but you're still. You mouth the word 'yes', but didn't dare utter a syllable. Controlling yourself, you make for the exit of the room, intent now more than ever to carry out your mission. To help ensure the safety of those three boys that fought so hard to be recognized as heroes.

For those three boys that reminded you so much of him.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x f!reader #bakugou x female reader #bakugou x fem!reader #katsuki x you #bnha fanfic slowburn #deku

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roro-mo · 3 years

Text

Love can wait

Hi all,

i posted this fanfic on fan fiction.net in the New Year and thought I should share this on tumblr for those who are looking for more ZoNa, just like me. You can find this here.

This was one of my first fanfics but I haven’t updated the story in like forever so am looking to go back to writing fanfics. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy the chapter as much as I did.

You don’t need to read the other chapters as they are not really connected - sort of. We haven’t entered the main plot at all so not connected as of yet. But reading chapter 6 may help you understand some of the things in this chapter.

Summary: What if Zoro and Nami were childhood friends? How different would their lives be? Lot's of one shots set in an AU where Zoro and Nami are childhood friends. Mugiwara crew will also make an appearance. (It’s one of those close balcony friendship - cringe i know lmao, was young when I started LOL)

Rated: M (just to be safe)

Disclaimer: One piece is not mine.

Also, Italics are what the characters are thinking.

Zoro was completing his usual workout, but from home. He groaned, lifting the 15 kg weights for the 96th time. He needed to lift the weights 4 more times and he had to do it soon or Nami was going to barge in, ruining his schedule.

"97...98...99" he counted. He was lifting it for the last time when he smelt her signature fragrance.

"100" he grunted, dropping the weights and closing his eyes in peace. He felt her soft bosom on his back and her arms around him, as she completely pushed her body against him.

A single trail of sweat dropped from his temple to his cheek from the work out. He was too tired to push her away so he stood still, just breathing in and out to stabilise his heartbeat. However, this proved to be difficult as he could only smell her with every breath, and felt her soft small hands on his abs...wait... did he just feel her hands underneath his shirt?

"What the hell witch?" he spat, as his hands automatically stopped hers from outside of his shirt.

Nami was a flirt and loved teasing men, especially Zoro. She loved taking advantage of her beauty and loved getting her way. It was either her way or the highway. She was a greedy witch and she loved every part about it.

"Zoroooo" she said with a tone, a tone Zoro knew too well. It was a tone she used to get her way. A tone that often worked in nosebleed kun, which was not going to work on him.

"Seriously, what are you doing Nami?" he said, turning his head slightly to see what Nami was up to.

"I'm helping you remove your top." She said trying to move her hands, which was useless as Zoro clutched onto them.

"What do you want?"

"To eat." Nami said cheerfully. Today both their parents were out drinking while Nojiko was at university so it was only him and her. But their parents trusted them, hell they even encouraged to utilise their alone time and do something naughty. Nami's stepfather, Genzo, loved Zoro's wisdom and the way he respected elders. He would want nothing but for Zoro to take his no good spoilt daughter as his wife. While Zoro's father loved having Nami around and would be happy if someone, anyone could accept his muscle idiot of a son.

"And what does eating have anything to do with getting naked?" Zoro said with an eyebrow.

She withdrew her hand from underneath his t-shirt, away from his well built abs. Zoro was saddened at the departure of her warmth but was glad at the same time.

She pinched her nose, "well you kinda stink."

"Hurry and go take a shower. We are going to Baratie." she said, folding her arms, knowing Zoro was going to complain about meeting Sanji-kun.

"Baratie?" Zoro said, his voice slightly louder than he intended it to.

"Yes Baratie, Zoro, Baratie" Nami repeated it twice for her words to reach Zoro's head.

"We will be meeting up with Luffy there as well. Have a nice dinner and drink something nice. Well, Luffy won't. But we can." she said, making drinking gestures.

Zoro liked the idea of drinking with Nami. Maybe, they could resume their ongoing bet as well. Their bet of who can withstand drinks longer was still on hold as they either tie or come out drunk at the end of it. But seeing that shit head took the fun out of it.

He turned around, wiping his forehead clean with his left arm, showing off his biceps in the process. Nami's eyes fluttered to his biceps, enjoying the view he presented her.

"Will we see nosebleed kun as well?" he asked.

She made a face, "who is nosebleed kun? Don't make fun of Sanji kun." She said slapping his chest. Just to feel how hard it was and oh, it was hard.

"Just answer the damn question." he said, removing his top in front of her. His whole body seemed to be living as Nami could see each and every muscle in his body ripple against his skin whilst he removed his t-shirt. His nipples whispered hello to her and oh god, his abs. She trailed a single sweat that dropped from his neck, which made its way between his collar bone, past his chest, crossed his abs and disappeared in his belly button

"like what you see?" He said smirking at how fixated she was with his abs.

She quickly looked up to see him smirking at her, with that stupid grin. She was not gonna let him be the only winner.

"Nope, not at all." she said turning, throwing her hair to his face in the process, and moving towards the door. Zoro closed his eyes naturally and as he opened his eyes to shout some vain remarks to Nami, all he saw was her ass and hips moving side to side towards the door. She didn't need to say anything because she knew he was already looking.

"Be ready by 5 and come over as soon as you're ready." She said before leaving the room completely.

"Oh and invite law." she said with a wink.

///////////

Zoro was ready in 10 mins. He put on a simple white top, jeans and a simple black denim jacket. He looked over his balcony to the other side with a frown.

She is definitely still getting ready.

He went over anyways to pressure her into getting ready quicker, only to find her putting on a skirt that didn't fit. Zoro could see the plumps of skin near the waist of the skirt and her ass as she was struggling to put it on. She was wearing a pink lace thong that illuminated the pale skin underneath. His shameful eyes drank the scene in front of him; her buns juggled as she shook her ass to try to fit the skirt. Damn, that is one big ass, he thought. His hands twitched to slap her right cheek but he shook the thoughts away.

"I don't think that fits Nami." He spoke in a low husky voice.

His voice surprised her, causing her to trip over herself and lose her balance, falling face forward. As a result, her ass was high up in the air and Nami put herself on display for him. He choked on his own spit at the scene in front of her. And that thong was not helping, it practically covered nothing with her ass high up for him to see.

With a tint of blush, he turned around to give her privacy.

"What the hell Zoro!" she turned her head from the ground and was relieved when she found him facing the other way.

She got up and got rid of the skirt. The skirt was velvet and in the colour red. It was short enough to show her smooth legs and just long enough to cover the important parts. Although the skirt didn't fit her, she got it on a 80% sale and her first instinct was to buy it. It was a bargain and was the last piece after all! It's a shame it doesn't fit as it would definitely look good on her.

She was dressed casual for today and was wearing a white cami top with lace detailed front. She was going to wear that velvet skirt with it but decided to replace it with high waisted ripped jeans. She felt a bit exposed after Zoro found her in her thong trying to wear a skirt that didn't fit! So she decided to go with something that would cover her legs.

"Just so you know," she said putting one leg through her jeans, "I'm charging you for that." She said putting the other leg in.

"What the hell witch!" he complained.

"How dare you walk in here and try to see me naked. I didn't peg you to be a Sanji, Zoro." She said walking towards her makeup table to brush her hair. Sanji is a term they use as an inner joke to call men who basically, well, act like Sanji-kun.

After what seemed to be an appropriate time to Zoro, he turned around to state his dissatisfaction.

"Well, it's not my fault you're not ready yet. You're the one who told me to hurry and now you're the one who's not ready. How is it my fault that you're still getting dressed after an hour?"

"You tell me to come over and now, you tell me not to come over, make up your damn mind witch." He said with a frown.

"Zorrroooo, I'm a woman. I'm allowed to take time to look my best." She said in a haughty manner.

She stood up, happy with her hair and turned to him.

"This," she said waving at her body, "doesn't happen overnight. It takes me time to look this good."

He just scoffed. Although he wanted to disagree and say she wasn't all the hotshot she thought she was, he didn't want to make her change clothes, which is something she would do if he disagreed.

He went to sit on her bed and complained that she was slow again.

"Did you call Torao-kun?" She asked reapplying her lipstick one final time. She checked her makeup once more before spraying her setting spray.

"Yes woman, yes, I called your ride." He said with a displeased voice.

Zoro met Law as a child in a kendo club. He was 5 and Law was 10. Zoro was always working hard and stayed behind every time to train harder. He muttered about getting stronger and this piqued Trafalgar D. Water Law's interest in the little boy. Law always teased Zoro for being a little boy yet having big "goals", to which Zoro always challenged Law and they somehow ended in a draw everytime. After leaving the kendo club, Zoro was still close with Law and had been together in every stage of each other's life. Nami and Luffy met Law only after an incident that required Luffy to visit the hospital.

Luffy unfortunately amputated his pinky finger from one of his stupid antics. Nami freaked out so much that she almost fainted when she heard the pinky land on her bedroom floor with a tap. Zoro fortunately knew Law who was a medical student. Law was from a family of doctors and his dream was always to follow his father's footsteps. He would spend hours reading on human anatomy and diseases when he was a child. Law was very smart as a child and eventually skipped grades before he entered medical school.

Zoro remembered law immediately and asked him for first aid through the phone. As they both sounded so distressed over the phone, Law asked them to visit his hospital where he was working as a placement. Zoro and Nami rushed Luffy to the hospital while Luffy was wailing and sobbing about his missing finger. Law helped Luffy calm down and proceeded to ask routine questions about the incident before helping to reattach his finger with surgeons (one of them being his dad). Thankfully, it was a success due to the first aid Law provided. Law was so surprised at how Luffy severed his finger, somewhere along the line due to his interests in Luffy's case, he became Torao and Luffy's friend without his approval. All he said was "so how did you cut your finger?" And Luffy hasn't left him alone since then. Nami thinks it's because Luffy was hysteric over his cut pinky and thanked Torao for (in Luffy's term) "saving his life."

Oh but Zoro knew. He's been with Law for a very long time and they grew up together after all. Zoro knew that wasn't the reason why Law still hangs around Luffy and Nami, and sometimes without Zoro. He's seen the stolen glances and the way law looks at Nami. Law wouldn't be wasting his time to drive them to Barati if he didn't fancy her.

A car honk was heard from outside of Nami's window. Zoro didn't miss the small smile that crawled on Nami's face and wore an annoyed look on his own. Nami sprinted out to her balcony and waved at her older friend.

She turned around and said "let's go!"

Zoro followed her with heavy footsteps. But he still followed her, he was compliant every time and he didn't know why.

As they got nearer to the parked car, Law lowered his passenger window and Nami leaned in on the opened window, revealing her cleavage to the driver. Zoro grimaced, acutely aware of what she was doing. Nami smiled and whispered a sweet 'thank you'.

That's when it hit Zoro. This witch knew. She knew Law had a thing for her and was using him like a Sanji.

Law's eyes followed the top that slightly slid down as Nami leaned over and settled at the cleavage that revealed itself to him. Law smiled in response and gestured Nami to get in the car. To save Law's dignity, Zoro shoved Nami aside and got in the front seat.

"Hey, what the hell?" She asked, ticked off at Zoro's actions.

"Sit at the back." he said gesturing behind him to the back seat.

She pouted because now she would have to sit alone at the back but got in anyways as she was hungry.

Baratie was a beautiful and a fancy restaurant owned by Chef Zeff, who Sanji admires and sees as a father figure.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by a well-lit restaurant with full-length windows around the whole restaurant for natural light. At night, the bulbs that hung on the ceiling were lit in different colours - purple, red, yellow, all creating beautiful lighting during the night. The wall was painted an elegant white, which matched well with the light pink velvet carpet on the floor. In the centre of the restaurant, one could find stairs leading down to the kitchen and up for more seating.

The receptionist recognised the distinct hair colours of Sanji's friends and she didn't even have to ask them about their reservation. She welcomed them and took them straight to the table reserved for "Sanji's queen" as was directed by Sanji in the morning.

"Here are the menus."

She didn't recognise the guy with the tattoos but proceeded to ask the other two whether they would like to order the same as usual.

Nami closed her menu and sweetly smiled before nodding her head. Her usual at the Baratie was a medium steak with chips and red wine, while Zoro's was a signature bacon burger with melted cheese and chips. Law read through a couple of pages before ordering a classic carbonara with white wine. She nodded before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

Nami was sitting across Zoro and Law was sitting in between them. Zoro saw Nami looking around and guessed she was looking for Sanji.

"Where's Luffy? I thought we were supposed to meet him here." Zoro asked Nami. Nami finally looked at Zoro, he doesn't know why but it felt like she hasn't looked his way today at all. Frankly speaking, Nami was too embarrassed to look at Zoro after the whole thong incident.

With her cheek on her palm, she responded "You'll see him soon enough! He was supposed to come with us but he said he'll already be here by the time we arrive."

Zoro munched on some garlic bread and asked, "Where's nosebleed Kun?"

"Who's nosebleed kun?" Law asked as he didn't remember anyone who was called that.

"Yes, Zoro, who is nosebleed kun?" Nami asked sarcastically, tilting her head to the side.

As if Sanji heard her, he came running with the drinks while singing "Nammmiiiii-swannnnn!"

"My love, my body has been waiting this whole day for this moment." Sanji said, skilfully twirling towards her, without dropping any of the drinks on his way.

"Ah, Sanji kun!" she said clapping her hands together.

"Here you go mademoiselle, one red wine." He said, kneeling down for her.

"Hey, where's my drink?" Law questioned, but it was completely ignored by Sanji.

"Thank you." Nami said lifting her hand gracefully and touching Sanji's cheek.

"I missed you so much." She cooed.

"I can't wait to eat the food your very hands made." she said touching his hands now.

"Namiii-swannn, I know our love was meant to be. For you, I've cooked only the finest and delicious food."

"Ahhh, but I don't have enough money to pay for the finest meals in your restaurant." She said with an act.

"And it's all free for you Nami-swan." Sanji said holding Nami's hand on his and lifting it lightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled.

"Great thank you, expected nothing less from you, Sanji-kun." She said rubbing his chin before looking at the two pairs of eyes watching her in shock.

"You're going to hell." Zoro stated.

"And you, how can you be so dumb you idiot cook."

"It's not free for you shitheads. You guys have to pay." Sanji said to the boys coming out of his love trance.

"Nami-ya, if you can't pay for it then I will pay for you. You don't need to resort to such...err…" His words died on his lips when she sent an angry look directed at him.

"No, thank you law. You guys owe me money, not the other way around. I don't mind a free meal but I don't want to owe you." She said in a pompous manner.

If this was a cartoon, Zoro's eyes would've literally come out of their sockets.

"How in the world is it any different to what you're doing to nosebleed kun?" Zoro said facepalming.

He could hear the 'ohhh, he's nosebleed kun' on the background as law finally put two and two together.

After handing out the drinks including Law's and Zoro's, Sanji lit his cigarette and looked at the tattooed man before him.

"Who the hell are you and why are you calling Nami-swan without honorifics you shithead?" He said, trying to intimidate law.

"Now now, calm down Sanji-kun. He's a friend." Nami introduced Law to Sanji and vice versa.

"By the way, Sanji-kun, do you know where Luffy is?"

"Oh, you didn't know? He's working with us to pay for his tab because he's a big eater." Sanji said taking another puff.

"Are waiters allowed to smoke here? What a terrible service this restaurant has." Law said as a little bit of jealousy stung him when he saw how close Nami was with this "nosebleed kun".

"Huhhhh, what did you say you tattooed shit head. Don't think I'll be intimidated by the word death tattooed on your dainty little fingers." Sanji said rolling his sleeves.

"Oh boy" Nami shook her head.

"He's a chef, not a waiter and yes, why are you waiting our table you idiot. Go back to the kitchen. I don't want to see your face, shitty cook." Zoro said crossing his arms.

"You asshole, you wanna fight. I'll take both of you on." Sanji said making a commotion on his restaurant, causing many customers to look his way now.

Once the customers started whispering about Nami's table, Patty, the rowdy chef in charge of Sanji, came out stomping his feet.

"What are you doing here Sanji? You should be inside the kitchen. You're making a fuss and disturbing other customers." He practically screamed at Sanji, making things only worse.

"Now come apologise." Patty pulled Sanji and apologised to others by bowing to the customers and forced his neck to bow as well.

As Sanji and Patty were apologising to everyone, a corner table got Nami's attention when both the customers started acting a little strange. Zoro, on the other hand, was watching Nami instead during the commotion and had seen the table that caught Nami's attention. Nami's attention was then taken away from said table by Luffy.

"Oiiii Namiiiiii, everyone, you guys made it." Luffy said cheerfully while waving his arms.

Nami's eyes widen in shock, "Luffy be careful, you're carrying a lot of food, it might all come ….."

Before she could finish the sentence, she heard a loud noise which now caught everyone's attention in the restaurant.

Luffy lost his balance and dropped all the plates of food he was carrying.

"Luffy you bastard, that better not be Nami-swan's food." Sanji said walking towards him.

Patty just screamed, knowing it was the wrong decision to hire Luffy as a chore boy. They were losing more money than making money!

Law was quiet as he watched the scene unfold before him. Sanji was beating Luffy and Patty was beating Sanji while Luffy just cried and said "shumimashe". But if it is one thing Law knows about Luffy, it is that wherever Luffy goes, trouble always seem to follow him.

Nami sighed. Great, yet another perfect day, well night, wasted. She thought.

She moaned as she got up from her seat, she was tired of the same shit happening each time they went out together. Before she could walk away, Zoro's question stopped Nami on her tracks.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"For fresh air and away from these idiots." She said pointing at the two chefs and Luffy who was also beginning to fight back after shouting "I didn't want to work as well." on the top of his lungs.

Oh but Zoro knew. He knew where she was going, he had watched her the whole day after all.

He watched her as she walked past the trio, who were still arguing about the wasted food, and saw the path she was taking. She was planning to go towards the back door, which leads to Baratie's beautiful garden where one could enjoy food and nature together. But the table that caught her eye earlier was on her way as well.

That clever witch.

She walked towards the back door, her waist moving from left to right and then finally stopped when she was next to the table in question. He watched her as she turned her head towards the table, as if someone called her name and saw the smile that creeped on her face. As soon as she looked at the table, the two people visibly jumped and looked towards the window, avoiding Nami's gaze. To their dismay, Nami started walking towards their table.

Zoro chuckled and Law made a mental note never to go anywhere with these psychos. Two were still arguing in front of him, his food all spilled on the floor, and his friend was laughing at the sight like a psycho. Psychos, they're all psychos!

Zoro got up to follow Nami. He started to become extremely curious and wanted to know who Nami found sitting at the table.

"Well, well, well." Nami said hand on her hip.

"Isn't this a beautiful surprise." She said looking at the couple in front of her, their date apparently interrupted.

In front of her sat the student counselor, Nico Robin and Zoro's home room teacher, Cutty Flam, also known as Franky. Franky was hiding behind the menu while Robin nervously laughed.

Zoro's jaw dropped as soon as he caught up to Nami. "Franky, what the hell are you doing here and why are you with herrr!?"

Although Franky was a teacher and should have authority over his students, he often behaved like his students and was seen as a friend rather than a teacher by his pupil. He was always seen hanging around his students and giving life lessons to kids in school.

"So what is this, a first date or perhaps, a proposal?" Nami asked, walking towards the table, trying to work out whether this was a serious relationship.

Robin finally processed all the information and her brain switched on. She picked up her wine slowly and brought it to her lips. She was thinking of numerous ways to play this and was planning her next move. She finally smiled and held Franky's hand that was on the table.

"Yes, we are on a date," She smiled, "aren't you both as well?" She asked softly, her smile provoking Nami further.

Robin knew how gutless Nami was when it came to Zoro. Robin knew Nami could charm the whole world, yet she could not charm Zoro, with whom she's spent all her life with. Zoro was the only man that didn't fall under her spell and it ticked off Nami to her bones. Robin knew that and while Nami waits to make her move, Robin already made hers and was proudly showing off her results to Nami.

Nami frowned, recalling their first meeting. This was Robin's win.*

Nami also reached out to grab Zoro's hands before responding, "Whatever we do is none of your business." Nami did not want to disclose any information and give Robin the satisfaction of knowing whether they were going out or not.

"Let's go Zoro." Nami demanded and walked the other way, back to their table. Zoro didn't have much of a choice as she was still grasping his hand and pulled him towards her.

"Hey, where are you going? I thought you wanted fresh air!" Zoro asked while following Nami.

Nami turned around to face him. She was exhausted; she just got defeated in the battle of wits with Robin and she was hungry! She was hungry and all she wanted to do was eat and drink. She looked at Luffy who was now planning on quitting the job as a chore boy. She wanted to get away, away from all the drama and just eat, something, anything. Just as she was about to suggest going elsewhere for food, as if Zoro read her mind, Zoro asked Nami, "Wanna ditch them and go to a bar for food and drinks?"

Nami has never been happier.

"But what about Law?"

"Screw him, he'll find his way back."

Nami was happy, extremely happy with where she was with Zoro. They are good friends and understand each other well. Sure, they argue from time to time but he (yes, I said he) will always compromise for her and isn't that what a relationship is all about. She has it all and she didn't want to lose what she has with what she could have. She would rather have him near her as a friend than lose him forever. So asking him out can wait just a little longer.

"Okay."

This time, it was his turn to pull her towards the exit of the restaurant. It was going to be just him and her, just the way it should be. And the rest can starve to death, for all Zoro cares.

"Zoro, that's the wrong way!"

"Damn, it!"

/////

* Reference to chapter 6.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Hope you have a good day/afternoon/evening/night. :)

#ZoNa #Fanfic #Zona fanfic #ZONAMI #Zonami fanfic #zoroxnami #namixzoro #One piece

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trashratsaws · 4 years

Photo

Firstly, here’s our daily link, where you can read more about forced sterilization in ICE detention centers. Please give it a read if you can, it’s very important stuff.

Now on to the art:

I had some more notes about my hermit scars au, but they’re a bit of a lot, so I’ve just included the sketches above, and further notes are under the cut. Enjoy!

Iskall:

The void his tree is sat on is reflective to a certain degree, and has some similar properties to water, but behaves very much unlike water

If a Hermit were to fall into it, they would fall through it and drown(?) or die of void-related causes (like Mumbo in the End that one time)

Iskall, however, can walk on it

He is the only Hermit who can do this, and nobody is quite sure how/why this works

There is a vague theory that the void is the same kind of void from which Scar’s magic crystals grow in his village of misfit creatures, but who really knows exactly what that stuff is

Tango calls Iskall Jesus-man, and Grian playfully calls him a “witch,” but the only thing Iskall really cares about that his tree seems to have no averse reaction to it. If anything it grows better

Walking on the void poses no real physical risk to Iskall (no poison effect, wither effect, no void-related slow death, nothing of the sort) besides the eventual development of coal-black scars on the soles of his feet

This happens even when he wears boots or armour of any kind, so he’s learnt to live with it. It doesn’t even hurt!

Tango:

Tango’s a trooper for more than just his stubbornness

About 99% of his injuries are caused by Ravagers, which are incredibly large, clunky, and imprecise creatures. This means that most of the deaths and injuries caused by a blow from their horns will miss vital organs and result in very painful death

He’s apparently fine with this because not only does he incessantly insist on working with Ravagers, but created a game in which he allows five of them to run around freely

Tango would play Decked Out himself if he could

Because he’s got so many scars, a lot of them overlap and some parts of his body, his upper arms for instance, have very little semblance of what his skin used to look like before them

The only instance in which a Hermit will be able to be rid of a scar is if in death they lose an entire limb, at which point during the respawn process, it will be replaced good as new, and the only resulting scar from this experience would be at the point of amputation

This has only happened to Tango once, when a poorly placed block sent a Ravager’s horn flying straight into his arm socket

It was not pleasant

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft season 7 #hermitcraft iskall #iskall85 #iskall #HC S7 #hermitcraft tango #tango tek #cw scars #hermit scars au #cw descriptions of violence #no blood this time hey it's a miracle

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reliciron · 3 years

Text

Family

Anai Syrr, Sith Sorcerer, unfortunate victim of swtor's terrible Nautolan colors. He's supposed to be black with red spots and eyes, but it's hard to tell at the best of times in the game. Before the DNA splicing, his spots where light blue and his eyes were grey. As an Abyssal Nautolan, he needs a visor to protect his eyes from the light.

Basically Valkorian's words make him decide to re-open old wounds, and he gets way more than he bargained for.

“They told you they were dead, and you believed them?”

Valkorian is gone, but his words still prickle in the back of Anai’s mind.

The truth was that yes, he had believed them. He was a child, he’d had no reason not to, and after a time, it had been easier to think his family was dead rather than consider the other possibilities.

His father and sister had been at the station when it was attacked, so spirits only knew what happened to them, and his mother…

His mother had been taken from the ship along with him.

A shiver passes down his spine and his gut clenches at the memory. Outstretched arms, a shrill inhuman scream, a struggle as the guards fight to restrain the desperate woman.

That had been the last time he’d seen her: fighting literally tooth and claw to get to him as he was carried away.

When he’d gotten older, he’d understood what fate had awaited her. Worked to death in a labor camp if she was lucky, sold as a pleasure slave if she was not. It hadn’t been something he’d liked to dwell on, understandably.

So he’d taken what they’d said at face value, gathered all his hopes of being reunited, his memories of happier times, and stuffed them in a mental box for his own sanity’s sake.

But now…

Now he had the time, resources, and people to actually investigate. To prove if they really were dead.

The very thought had him cringing reflexively, torn between hope and despair.

If he got his hopes up only to discover that his captors had told the truth, it would crush him all over again.

But if even one of them was still alive…

He grits his teeth all the way from his chambers aboard the Fury to the command center where he finds the man he’s looking for.

“Theron? I need you to find someone for me.”

His voice is low when he finally asks. Perhaps if he speaks quietly enough then his ever present bad luck might not take notice.

Theron looks up at him quizzically, before picking up on his tension.

“Uh, sure. Who are we looking for?”

He hesitates, and the longer he tries to work the words out, the more concerned Theron looks.

“He… was a diplomat for Glee Anselm around the time the Treaty of Coruscant was signed. Gisan Syrral.”

Theron turns to the terminal behind him and the screen blinks to life at his approach, already showing line after line of garbled queries as his implants connect it to the appropriate databases.

He’d thought this would take some time, but as he watches Theron work, he realizes that this was happening now.

Spirits, was he really ready to hear this…?

“Are you alright, Commander?”

He jumps and nearly bites a hole in his lip when Senya appears at his side.

She looks concerned, and a quick check shows that his mental shielding has slipped a bit. Of course when he shores it up she only looks more worried.

“I’m fine,” he says. Even manages to keep his voice level too, but it’s clear that she doesn’t believe him. And now Arcann’s joining the party too.

This is too many people, he needs to figure out a way to get them to leave or ask Theron to get back to him later, or-

“Found him. Old timer’s still a diplomat too. Here.”

He hears the holotable hum to life, sees the glow on Senya and Arcann’s faces.

It’s a miracle he isn’t shaking when he finally turns to look.

The holo is of an old man. Medium-length lekku tied back in a simple yet elegant style, and the fine clothes of a statesman. Pale green with blue spots and large black eyes weighted down with wrinkles. One of the spots hangs low over his right eye.

He doesn’t realize he’s walking until his hip bumps into the holotable. It startles him a bit. Has him leaning on the edge to keep from collapsing.

His father was alive.

“What is the status of his family?” His voice sounds strangled to his own ears, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Theron’s watching him with mild alarm at this point, and in the back of his mind he can feel Senya and Arcann are in much the same state.

“Theron?”

“I… ah… yeah, it says he’s married to someone named Enra. Give me a second.”

Too late to stop it, his father’s image is replaced by an old woman.

The second the picture sinks in, his knees all but give out. Something cracks. Several somethings. There are sparks and shouts and alarm through the Force.

The old woman wears a visor like him. Near-black skin and light green stripes. Tall, with long lekku tied and coiled together into one trailing tail. Two of them hang free, the majority of their length missing. Amputated. Burn scars peak out from underneath her tresses, barely visible on the back of her neck.

Something else breaks.

All at once the image disappears and the holotable goes dark. It takes an embarrassingly long moment before he realizes that it’s because Theron turned it off.

When he finally looks up there’s smoke pouring from two of the smaller consoles and several datapads are shattered and spitting sparks. He can feel the static laying over his skin like a blanket of needles.

The other three wisely refrain from touching him.

“They have three kids, two living and one-”

Theron goes deathly pale.

“Deceased male, son of Gisan and Enra Syrral this…” he looks up at him like he’s seen a ghost.

Or is currently looking at one.

“This is you isn’t it? Anai Syrral.”

He flinches at the name. It’s ridiculous how much of a difference that last syllable makes.

“Yes.”

The whole command center reeks of surprise and worry and sadness, and if someone even considers touching him right now he’ll break their fingers.

“Commander… I...”

“You said there were three children. Not two?”

Theron mouth closes with a click and he spares him one last worried look before checking his datapad.

“… yeah, a son Velen and a daughter Keela.”

A… son?

And-

“Keela’s alright?”

Theron’s staring at the datapad like it’s going to bite him.

“What is it?”

His jaw is clenched when he looked back up.

“Guess the Force runs in the family. Your sister’s a jedi knight,” he says with strained humor, “She’s still alive. Looks like she’s in charge of a small enclave on Glee Anselm, something about recruiting from the seers.”

If he had any breath left to speak of, it would have been punched out of him.

A jedi knight?

The sensitivity wasn’t a surprise, what with Lord Kallig kicking around somewhere in their ancestry. Perhaps it isn’t even a surprise that she was powerful enough to become a fully fledged knight. But somehow he hadn’t anticipated that she would be a jedi.

“I don’t know this Velen. Show me.”

He feels movement to his left. Nearly flinches when Arcann’s voice rumbles softly next to him.

“Are you certain this is a good idea, Commander?”

The worry is rolling off him in waves but somehow it only makes Anai angry.

He’s FINE.

“Please, Theron.”

The holotable blinks back on and the image of a young man hovers above.

Long lekku, dark blue skin with light green spots and black eyes. He’s tall, like Anai, but still carries the lankiness of youth, not quite old enough to have filled out properly.

A… younger brother.

“And Keela.”

The image shrinks down a bit and moves to the side to allow a new one. The holo of a woman.

Medium length lekku, heavier build. Green skin with lighter stripes. A scar on her cheek from their first trip to the surface when she’d fallen and split it open on the rocks. There are more than just the one now. A few visible slices on her lekku and a deep one across her forehead. It makes her look like a battered akla shark.

He leans on the holotable again, uses it to keep himself from falling as the world threatens to spin.

His father and sister survived. His mother was free and back with them. Keela was a jedi knight. And somehow he had a new brother.

Spirits, he needs to sit down.

Senya only falters a little at the ‘cities built on their shells’ part, which was better than most. The brief look on her face makes him chuckle, even if it comes out weak and thready.e holos herself, giving his shoulder a squeeze on the way.

“Where are they now?” she asks.

“On Glee Anselm, best I can tell. On the... Delaan gampasa? Uh...”

“Giant turtles. Migratory. There are cities built on their shells,” he manages to explain around the knot in this throat, before pausing. “The Delaan travels north of the equator, I think it’s where we lived… before.”

Senya only faltersa little at the ‘cities built on their shells’ part, which was better than most. The brief look on her face makes him chuckle, even if it comes out weak and thready.

“So they haven’t moved, then?”

He shakes his head and fights the memories that threaten to surface.

“Space is limited on gampasa, especially older ones. If they still live on Delaan, then they’re in the same home.”

“I don’t want to pry but… is this really the first time you’ve looked them up?” Theron asks.

He’s tired, his head feels like it’s spinning, and there’s a migraine brewing behind his eyes, so he feels he should be forgiven for snapping.

“I was told they were dead and I had neither the opportunity nor the capability to check for myself. And by the time I DID I was a bit too busy to investigate claims from years ago!” he snarls. There’s sparks crawling down his lekku and he shuts his mouth with an audible click.

Don’t get angry with Theron, he’s done nothing wrong.

Deep breaths.

He doesn’t look at Theron when he lifts his head, just focuses on the controls of the holotable in front of him.

“I should go, this is… I need to think on this. Before I decide what should should be done about it.”

When he leaves he can feel their eyes upon his back and it only makes him grit his teeth harder.

This was either horrible or wonderful and he honestly can’t tell which. It’s like his mind has shut down completely and there are no thoughts beyond, ‘LEAVE’ in big Nar Shaddaa neon.

He withdraws back to his ship, to his room that smells like him and the dark that feels like heaven on his eyes when he removes his visor.

There’s a warbling chirp and a familiar weight drops on his shoulder as Kesra finds her perch and nibbles at the base of one of his lekku. Her presence helps set him at ease. If she’s calm, then there’s nothing to be afraid of.

He pets over her bald head and scratches at the wrinkles on her neck. She croons happily and leans into it, nearly overbalancing with a surprised squawk.

When he sits she flutters down onto the bed, tucks her wings, and lays against his hip, almost immediately falling asleep.

She must have been lonely after he left.

He knows the feeling.

#swtor #sith inquisitor #nautolan #theron shan #senya tirall #arcann #tw slavery #i have his whole backstory planned out of course including ages and dates because i'm a masochist #i have no idea when this happens but it's post-kotet and before he gets together with Arcann #i feel like the ending is a little weak but i'm happy enough with the rest of it #this is probably the first thing i've written in a while that i actually feel ok about #kesra is his pet stoneray #relicwrites

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years

Text

A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself.

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug.

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem.

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship.

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them.

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap.

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately, yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.”

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool.

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look.

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill.

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them.

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out.

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.

#hisoillu #hisoka #illumi #bungee gum #hunter x hunter #serious business #serious writing #crack fic?#remember to eat a balanced diet

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quokkacore · 4 years

Text

you stole my star [kim junmyeon]

summary: ‘defeat the bad guys, save the universe, get the guy.’ that’s how it’s supposed to work, and you intend to follow it in that exact order, because it seems pretty complicated to not do it that way. but your team leader, junmyeon, makes you want to throw the entire plan out the window.

pairing: blackpaladin!kim junmyeon x gender neutral redpaladin!reader

genre: voltron!au, sci-fi, angst with a happy ending, i guess?

warnings: language, mentions of torture, war, and violence, implied self hatred, implied ptsd, mentions of attempted self injury, slight body horror?, mentions of amputations and forced body modification (reader is forcibly experimented on and given a prosthetic arm)

song rec: daft crush - instant crush (feat. julian casablancas) ♡ coldplay (feat. rihanna) - princess of china

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this was originally posted to my old writing blog on november 30th, 2018. at the time i loved the voltron reboot and was still optimistic that the final season wouldn’t suck. for those of you who don’t know what voltron is: voltron is a giant mech robot formed by five smaller robots in the shape of lions. each lion is piloted by a paladin, and the lion chooses their paladin according to the traits the person possesses.

masterlist

The training room was where you spent most of your free time, nowadays. You missed the days where you were able to throw yourself into bed and not get up until your body odor demanded you take a shower.

The training sequence you were currently practicing with was programmed for hand to hand combat. The drone you were fighting against was pushing you to your limits, feeling your muscles strain with every punch and kick you threw. You were quick to calculate when to dodge the punches the drone threw, when to step back when the drone advanced.

The drone advanced, and you took your opportunity, throwing a punch, followed by a kick to the stomach. The machine fell to the ground, but before you could finish, someone interrupted you.

“End training sequence.”

The drone vanished as it registered the command, and you rested your hands on your knees, lowering your head as you recognized the voice. “I almost had it there, you know,” You muttered bitterly, between pants. You heard him shift behind you.

“I know you did. But I needed to talk to you.”

You remained in your position for a few seconds, catching your breath, before standing back up straight and turning to face your leader.

Junmyeon had been your best friend, back on Earth, back at the academy where you both trained to be deep space pilots. Everything changed when the blue lion was found on earth, and you all realized Baekhyun was its pilot. It led you to the castle, which was also the ship you currently resided in, and eventually, to the rest of the lions that formed the mightiest weapon in the universe: Voltron.

As Baekhyun was destined to be the blue lion’s paladin, Sehun was to be the green lion’s paladin, Yixing the yellow lion’s paladin, and you the red lion’s paladin. Junmyeon had been destined for the black lion, the biggest one, making him the leader of the paladins by default.

“What is it?” You asked irritably, walking past him, pulling on your jacket and grabbing the bottle of water you always carried with you during training, both of which were next to each other on the floor next to the wall.

You eyed him warily as you uncapped the bottle, taking a long sip. He was still wearing his armor, black and white, fitting against his built, lithe body. His hair, slightly mussed from having worn his helmet, was sticking up in a few different directions. He looked rugged, handsome as always. But you were still pissed at him, regardless of how handsome he looked.

“I wanted to apologize,” He murmured, not meeting your gaze as he crossed his arms. You lowered the water bottle feeling a few drops fall down your chin as you leaned against the wall. You frowned and mirrored his posture as you crossed your arms as well.

“Jun, I get it,” You replied gruffly, pulling out the hair tie that was holding your hair up, “You’re under a lot of fucking stress. You’re the leader of the resistance against the Red Forces, and everyone looks up to you for guidance. I get that. But what you said? Calling me useless in front of the others, in the middle of a dogfight like that? Fucked up. Fucked. Up. I’m your second in command, Jun. I think I deserve a little more respect than that.”

“Why do you think I’m coming to apologize for!?” He fired back, immediately defensive. He was angry, you could tell, even as he looked down, and you shifted your gaze elsewhere. “You think I’m proud of the fact that I said that? I don’t, Y/N, not at all.”

His voice cracked, and you looked back to him, in shock. “Jun—”

“You’re not useless,” He insisted, voice quiet,” I was freaking out about what was happening. It’s the first time you’re in major combat since— since—”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. You knew what he meant.

About a year ago, you’d been captured in a major battle between the Red Forces and the Voltron Coalition. The months before your rescue were harrowing, full of torture and using you as their little lab rat. It didn’t cost you your life, but it did cost you your left arm.

Your left arm, which had been replaced with new RF tech in an experiment they’d performed on you. It wasn’t your arm. It was a piece of disgusting metal that was attached to your body and you hated it, almost as much as you hated the Red Forces themselves.

Ever since your return the team had been tiptoeing around you, especially Junmyeon. You were grateful for it, the first month or two, giving you your space and letting you recover, but the more time went on, the more restless you became, missions that could have been done much faster with your help became more tedious and dangerous as you were told to stay in the castle.

You were left behind with the others, Chanyeol, Minseok, Jongdae, Jongin, and Kyungsoo, all aliens of the same race whose planet had been destroyed by the Red Forces, to wait, and to be treated like glass began to put you on edge, until very recently when decided that it was time for you to rejoin the fight.

“Jun, I…” You lowered your head, sighing. “I get that you’re scared, I’m scared too. But I have to do this, not just for my sake, but for the sake of us. The universe.”

His hardened gaze was aimed towards the floor, but you could still see the uneasiness in it.

“Do you remember the medical assessment Chanyeol performed on you once we rescued you?”

Chanyeol was the head medical chief aboard the ship. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to recall.

Truth be told, your memory of the rescue, before it began, during, and after it ended, was fuzzy. Subconsciously, you’d forced it to the back of your mind, not wanting to remember the traumatic events that occurred. If Chanyeol had performed a medical assessment on you, which sounded logical, you couldn’t recall.

You shook your head, telling him this. He shut his eyes, and shuddered.

“I don’t think you’d fully realized what they’d done to your arm until that moment when Chanyeol asked you to move your fingers, because he wanted to see how the arm worked.“

He was looking at you now, the look in his eyes grim, pained. You could feel his breath fanning your face. When had he gotten so much closer to you?

“Y-you started crying and screaming, freaking out. Before long, we had to restrain you, because you were trying to pull it out with your other hand. We didn’t want you to hurt yourself. I couldn’t let you hurt yourself, more than you already were.”

You didn’t say anything, because you could feel your throat tightening.

“Y/N, you’re the red paladin. The red paladins are always the toughest ones, the ones that keep it together when everything is going to shit. It’s why we work so well together, if I freak out about something I know you’ll be there to help me through it. To see you like that, I…”

He didn’t finish.

You looked up to finally face him, and the tears in his eyes were prominent, but he immediately began blinking them away.

“I panicked today, because I didn’t want them to take you away from me again. A-away from all of us.”

“Jun,” You mumbled, voice weak. He paused. You began subconsciously counting the seconds that passed.

Three… four… five…

Junmyeon surged forward, engulfing you in a hug. His armor was cold against your skin, and you could smell the faint metallic smell that came from it. He smelled like the body wash he’d picked up in an alien trading post a few months ago, the one that made him smell like incense.

You shut your eyes tightly, arms coming up to embrace him as well.

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” He whispered, “And I know what I said isn’t justified but I don’t want you to think that I think—”

“Junmyeon?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Shut up for a minute, please.”

He didn’t answer, for which you were grateful. You willed your body to relax, your stiff limbs sighing in relief as you slumped against the black paladin.

You weren’t quite sure how long you stayed like that. But when you did break away, you could see that you were both crying. You sniffled, scrunching up your nose, before opening your mouth to speak. He did the same.

“I love you.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation, heartbeat accelerating rapidly. “What?”

Junmyeon licked his dry lips, eyebrows raised. “I said,” He murmured softly, as his words were only for you, “I love you.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.

“J-Junmyeon, I…”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. Sehun had always teased you about how you two made “googly eyes” at each other when the other wasn’t looking, but you always thought it was just his overactive imagination. On Junmyeon’s part, at least.

One of his hands left your back to come up to your face. His gloved hand wiped away one of the tears that had fallen down your face, and you sighed as the rough material dragged against your skin.

“I know it’s a bad time,” He explained, shaking his head, “What with the universe depending on us to save it, and all. But never for a second have I ever thought that you aren’t the one for me.”

You inhaled softly, a sad smile ghosting across your face. “Jun, I… I don’t know if I can do this, right now.”

His face fell, and he began to pull away from you, but you grabbed his face to keep him in place. His nose brushed against yours, and you gulped in anticipation. His face was unreadable, eyes gazing into yours earnestly, sadly.

“C-can I kiss you? Just this once?” He murmured, resting his forehead against yours.

You nodded, drunk off of his proximity. “P-please, Junmyeon…”

His lips were soft, gentle, and warm against yours, and you felt he was trying not to overstep your boundaries, not too harsh or overbearing. His hands pulled you slightly closer as yours gripped his face tighter than before. He hummed into the kiss, and you hummed back, hands going to run through his dark, already mussed up hair.

You pulled away slowly, slightly out of breath. You exhaled shakily, well aware of what you’d just done. “Junmyeon, we can’t. N-not right now.”

He nodded, but didn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to, anyway. But the moment you left this training room, it wasn’t Y/N and Junmyeon, it was the red and black paladins, leaders of the Voltron Coalition. If you decided to go through with a relationship, you risked ruining your friendship, as well as the whole way the both of you ran the rebellion against the Red Forces. It was simply too much of a risk.

“But if you’re willing to wait for me, Jun…” You murmured, meeting his melancholy stare. He nodded, soft smile returning.

“I will, Y/N. Promise.”

#kpop x reader #exo x reader #junmyeon x reader #suho x reader #kpop angst #exo angst #suho angst #kpop scenarios #exo scenarios #suho scenarios #junmyeon scenarios #my writing

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kireiryuusei · 3 years

Text

Of course right as I finished Nyssa, this lady came a banging to be made. And now finally done. The template comes from @genshin-impact-ocs quick profile. Kudos again.

• Name, Age, Birthdate and Birthplace

Vasilissa, 20-22, December 7th, Snezhnaya

• Constellation

Grus Vespira (Evening star Crane)

• Elemental Magic

Pyro

• Weapon

Sword - most commonly straight one-handed swords

• Occupation (Merchant, Adventurer, Knight of Favonius, Librarian, Member of the Fatui, etc)

Vasilissa is a mercenary by trade. She is not affiliated with the Treasure Hoarders but does frequent similar haunts such as ruins. This is due to her being a reliable person for scholars to hire for the heavy lifting they cannot do. She gets bored looking at old ruins though and likes running into ruin guards, elementals and Treasure Hoarders.

• Description of physical appearance

Vasilissa stands tall for a young woman and her presence makes her seem larger. She has olive skin with a myriad of scars from her mercenary status. She has a metal prosthetic arm that is normally concealed by her sleeves gloves. The arm itself can be described as ‘sharp’ with its extensions. She has peach colored hair with very loose ringlets she wears down. Her eyes are a bright red.

• Backstory

Vasilissa was born to a Snezhnayan mother and Natlan father. They were a strange compliment to each other that Vasilissa adored. She grew up around the children of her parents’ coworkers and neighbors. One in particular was rather large family compared to hers and she often was with the child closest to her age, Ajax.

Their relation was that of competitiveness. From who could get to the house first to who could catch the most fish to, worryingly, who could take the cold the longest. Their favorite things to do were racing the top of a small ‘mountain’ near their homes and enacting sword fights with each other. They even had a tally for their win-loss record. They were a rambunctious pair into their adolescence.

This changed when Ajax when missing. When he returned, any could tell that something happened. Vasilissa was never able to learn what this was other than ‘it’s been more than this.’ She knew there was an dangerous edge to him when their sword fights became one-sided. However Vasilissa was stubborn. This was her rival! They were supposed to be on even ground! She couldn’t see three days of ‘camping’ making such a difference.

Continuing with her stubbornness, she went with Ajax on his increasing dangerous endeavors. This led to a Mitachurl catching her off-guard and it nearly cleaving her. It instead gouged her arm. The damage and the cold left no choice but for her left arm to be amputated.

In recovery, Ajax had come to essentially tell her he would not take her with him any further. He would not take someone that would become a liability, he told her. Those words dug deep to Vasilissa and she was left to her throughs. What would it be like to no longer stand on par with her friend? How could she move forward? Could she accept things as they were? These questions stormed her head.

One morning, her parents awoke to find a letter informing of her intention to seek her own treatment to not burden them and the promise she would return a stronger woman. Ajax awoke to an old play sword at the foot of his bed and a simple message:

Race you to the top.

Her search was to get strong first and worry about her arm second. It wasn’t easy to have anyone teach her however her tenacity and ferocity made up for any doubt. She was making progress when she came to Sumeru, where scholars found the challenge of a replacement interesting. Especially to channel a Vision through. This led to the arm Vasilissa has now and she spent months if not a couple years to train herself for delicate usage.

To pay for this, Vasilissa serves as ‘hired muscle’ or ‘a pair of legs’ for Sumeru Academia. It seemed like she was always running somewhere and she ignored any heckling of her rather laborious job. But because of her constant activity, she quickly repaid her debts and left. She went traveling and it gained her a reputation as the Blazing Claw or the Scarlet Wraith. The former for the channeling of her Vision in her arm. And the other being her ability to suddenly lose presence and strike like an assassin and disappear. While she was confident in her strength, she isn’t sure she’s caught up. Thus she hasn’t returned to Snezhnaya.

• Their most precious possessions

Vasilissa doesn’t have anything physical she considers precious. Although she acknowledges that her arm is quite useful and it might be a pain without it. Her real treasure is a secret that she has regarding that day that ‘opened her eyes.’

• Role in the Traveler’s adventure

She is a guide to the Traveler when they travel to Sumeru, being quite familiar with the area and happening to need to reach Sumeru Academia too.

• Side Quests associated with them

Vasilissa comes up in a side quest involving beating Treasure Hoarders to an expedition site. However the employer just wanted a quick clear of the ruins with no intention to pay either side. The disruption while inside causes the activation of Ruin Guards, which the Treasure Hoarders flee and the employer is injured. Vasilissa lets the Traveler keep the spoils since ‘this sorry sack sure doesn’t need it’ and supposedly drags them off for discipline at Sumeru Academia (but there is implication she didn’t do this).

• How they earned their Vision (if applicable)

It was Vasilissa’s decision to leave. And this decision wasn’t easy as she was weakened from her injury and she was not accustomed to her shift in balance. But she was driven. All she could think through hunger and fever was how she wanted to be the first to the top. To be one of the greats. To triumph over anyone or anything that’s in her way. And it was this drive that brought her her Vision, a blessing from the Pyro Archon.

• Favorite member of the party

Probably Beidou, they seem a lot alike.

• Least favorite member of the party

It looks like Childe, just based on how they seem to be close to a fight all the time. But, honestly, they’re both just Like That. In reality, it’s probably DIluc or Jean. Too uppity for her (although for Jean might be some ‘she’s cute and I don’t know what to do’)

• Their thoughts on Teyvat

Teyvat is quite beautiful. It is rife with its own conflicts and troubles. Yet it is from these troubles she can see the efforts to endure and see beyond what is there. She is ambivalent about the Archons that control the lands as she feels she has no real stake with them. She does want to challenge one for kicks eventually. But overall, she feels the winds of change and is willing to go along with it as change is always more exciting...not always for the best...but exciting nevertheless.

• Voice Actors

Not very good with this section...but I guess

English - Avalon Penrose

Japanese - Youka Wao

Chinese - ???

Korean - ???

#genshin impact #genshin impact oc

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bowlerhatwearer · 3 years

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Nikolai Akdow (IDW Sonic Verse)

Name: Nikolai Leonid Akdow

Nickname: Nick (rarely used)

Species: Human

Alignment: Neutral Good

Age: 16 years

Birthplace: Holoska (formerly part of the United Democratic Republic or U.D.R for short)

Current Residence: Seaside City

Gender: Male

Personality:

workaholic, hospitable, active, intellectual, recalling, serious, realistic, thoughtful, free-thinking, hard shell, soft core, withdrawn, smug (certain situations), provocative (certain situations), slightly pessimistic, eccentric, dissident, resentful.

Hobbies:

cooking, inventing, engineering, solving physical problems, visiting a museum or university, window shopping, reading the news, strolling through the city.

Likes:

Himself, Recognition, Science, cold days, sleep, tea, desserts, his friends

Dislikes:

Abuse of Science, Abuse and injustice of people, ignorance, pollution, destruction, Sonic*, Knuckles* (*not hostile but does not like them), hot temperatures.

Appearance:

Nikolai Akdow is 180 centimeters tall (179,60 but he rounds his height up) and weights around 53 kilos. The human’s hair is bistre, greyish brown colored, his eye color is blue similar to compressed ice on a glacier.

His nose is aquiline and striking, the physical appearance of his eyes is that they look rather tired and like his cheeks slightly sunken. The Humans skin tone appears to be a pale fawn color.

Nikolais right arm is a robotic prosthetic that mostly consists of metal. On the outside it is mainly stainless steel whilst the inner parts are made up by lighter metals. The prosthetic arm was designed to resemble his lost arm as close as possible but at the wishes of Nikolai himself kept with its metallic appearance and without any coloring or artificial skin made from PVC or silicon. The socket is made from carbon fiber. When at work or in public the human prefers to wear a black glove over his prosthetic limb, this is mainly to prevent frostbite near the socket but also to some part for aesthetic reasons.

On most of the days, whether in private or under people Nikolai prefers to wear his lab coat above his light grey turtleneck. His trousers are most of the time kept black and the same goes for his dyed leather shoes. The belt who is made of the same material as the shoes is dyed in oak brown with a gun holster and a silver-colored belt buckle.

The holster is used to keep one of Nikolais own inventions always by his side, his Freeze-Gun/Ray (a work in progress name that he is too busy/lazy to change for now). A retro futuristic looking as well as blue shining device, that appears in being able to freeze everything.

Abilities:

Basic:

Having invented, constructed, and tested the Freeze Gun/Ray himself, Nikolai uses his tool as main weapon which he can freeze enemies and objects alike with a blue sparkly ice ray. The degree of strength which the ice ray has can be configured with a setting dial that is attached to the gun. The block of ice one might get frozen into is, except for immobility, harmless to who falls victim of the ice ray, although slight muscle pain is a side effect of being frozen.

Additional:

Not only because of having grown up in the harsh and cold weather conditions of the U.D.R but also for being long exposed to cryogenic materials in the laboratory have given Nikolai a slight cold resistance for sub-zero temperatures yet, this also brought the disadvantage that Nikolai is not used to hot temperatures and being for too long in a place that is over 40 degrees Celsius without cooling (may it be drinking cold water, eating ice cream etc.) make him dizzy and nauseous.

History/Bio:

Not much is known about the background as well as past of Nikolai Akdow given his quiet and secretive nature when it comes to these details. Young Nikolai was born and raised in the last years of the United Democratic Republic (U.D.R) in an orphanage that was infamously known for its behavioral experiments among children and juveniles, due of mentioned activities the orphanages was unofficially known as “The Cage” and the head of said institution was Nikolais “mother”, his father’s whereabouts are unknown for the documents that resurfaced after the U.D.Rs dissolution only marked him as an traitor and revealed that he got “dealt with”.

After a raid conducted during the last months of the multinational states existence that lead to his “mothers”, other scientists and caretakers arrest, Nikolai grew up until he was fourteen at the farm of his grandparents from his father’s side where he learned about agriculture and a bit about mechanics.

With fourteen Nikolai applied for an apprenticeship for a scientific facility that included the research of cryogenic technology, materials as well as meteorology.

Even though the facility was on the other world that was (mostly) not inhabited by humans Nikolai, despite the young age decided to pursue this job and moved to the other planet. For two years Nikolai worked there as an apprentice in the laboratory with his co-worker Keratin the Cat a researcher fuel technology. Although their relationship was sometimes tense and there were “louder discussions” they remained research partners in the laboratory.

With the war happening and in conclusion Dr.Eggmans takeover of the world with the help of his newest ally Infinite, Nikolais profession and work ended abruptly when the jackal attacked the city and during the evacuation process of the building, destroyed the facility.

Trapped due of his right arm stuck under debris, Infinite tortured Nikolais mind when the young researcher talked back to the jackal. In a cast of fortune Infinite was distracted and Nikolai was able to free himself in the moment although it came with the price that he had to amputate his right arm quickly and without any medical aid or knowledge.

Running for his life, under heavy pain and constant blood loss Nikolai moved as far away as he could, away from the city until the injured scientist collapsed but not before letting out a desperate and frustrated shout of anger and resignation.

Fortunately for the young scientist it was not death, that greeted him when he woke up, although a close call he survived due of the intensive care and help he got from the single parent rabbit and native of the world, Vanilla together with her daughter Cream, her pet chaos Cheese and Chocola and the robot Gemerl.

Whilst Nikolai recovered as good as possible from his injuries the young man had to discover in his horror that because of Infinites torture with the phantom ruby, he was unable to speak, all that he tried to say came out unintelligible. For a long time, Nikolai was only able to express himself through gesticulation or writing, with the latter being very difficult and requiring practice, given the loss of his writing hand.

Trying not to appear like a burden Nikolai did what was possible in his condition, although not speaking it out loud he grew depressed and slightly bitter of the things, that in his view were insignificant works he could do in his weak state making him believe further to be more of a burden than to be helpful. Although when he did express himself as good as possible to Vanilla how he felt, she re-assured the young human that he was not a liability and did his parts to make the life in the crisis easier.

Later trough intensive going practice that involved repeating letters, words, and later whole sentences as well as naming objects and or describing them Nikolai began to slowly regain his ability to speak. It was trough the support of Vanilla, Cream and Gemerl that he was able to speak out his first simple words after many weeks with difficulty, but trough time and practice Nikolai was able to speak slowly whole sentences.

Whilst for some time the rabbit family’s home was a safe haven it unfortunately didn’t last. The family with Akdow in tow had to flee to the Resistances hideout before it would have been too late. Here Nikolai offered his assistance and scientific expertise as good as possible as well as met his colleague Kerating again.

Using his knowledge of cryogenic technology and materials he used it in various way to aid the Resistance with their missions and objectives. Which does not mean that there had been not one or two arguments due of conflicting views or interests. Most notable was Nikolais opposition against “Operation Big Wave”, believing that it was badly planned and that more time was needed to come up with an operation against Eggman and Infinite and that the results of the scheduled mission would be devastating.

After the war Nikolai obtained a prosthetic to replace his arm that he lost at the beginning of Dr.Eggmans takeover and began to go through physio- and speech therapy. He returned to Seaside City and helped with the re-construction of the scientific facility that now was to an major part underground as a measure of the building being safer against attacks from Dr.Eggman or other villains. The human also remained partly active in the Resistance, offering his help when needed.

By the time, the war was over Nikolais relationship with Keratin eased up and they became friends. The researcher was now often visiting his colleague and helped her in taking care of her brother who got seriously injured during the war and was one of the closest relatives that remained to Keratin after the end of the war.

It was because of this, his colleague asked Nikolai to accompany her and her brother to earth. A doctor recommended curative treatment for her brother’s wellbeing at a health resort on Earth and Keratin asked Nikolai to be with them given that the human grew fond of her brother as well and vice versa.

This decision was what ultimately spared the two cats and Nikolai to fall victim in the Metal Virus crisis that begun only a few days after they went to the health resort.

Despite not being affected by the crisis directly, it put a shadow over the human, having heard of what happened to both Vanilla and Cream, Nikolai fell into a spiral of self-loathing for not being present when the Metal virus outbreak started. He questioned that maybe he would have been able to stop it somehow or aid Tails in his research for a cure. However, it was not only himself, Eggman and Dr.Starline who he disliked for what has happened whilst he was gone.

A passive disliking for the hero of speed grew in Nikolai as well, not actively attacking Sonic he grew distant and cold from the blue hedgehog he met during his times at the Resistance HQ. Whilst many moved on easily (or at least it appeared so) from the crisis that happened a short while ago and where glad that Sonic returned. The pain and shock of what he only heard about lingers over Nikolai who seems to not be able to forget…or forgive for what has happened.

Currently he lives his life in Seaside City, still working as a researcher and aiding Keratin if she needs help both at work and in the household. He likes to visit Vanilla and Cream, to go window shopping with Amy or to visit Tails and to talk with him about the newest scientific discovery or helping each other with a technical problem.

~~~~~~

Special Thanks: I would like to speak out my gratitude to @freakova who beta read my character sheet for this Sonic OC and helped me with her input, improving the writing. Futhermore would I like to thank @benignmilitancy who I bombarded with many asks about this OC and many others and lend her ear when I talked like a waterfall about some ideas ^^

#Sonic #Sth #IDW SOnic #Sonic OC #Sonic Fandom #OC #OC from me #Writing #Nikolai Akdow #Written by Me #IDW Sonic Comic #IDW Sonic Comics #Can you find the secret hidden in the text?#It's two words

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kcwcommentary · 5 years

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Shiro’s Second Amputation

The character design for Shiro includes him with a prosthetic arm. Interviews with executive producers Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery have revealed that the reason they initially gave Shiro a prosthetic arm was because they thought it looked “cool.” They seem to have put no thought into what it would mean to a person to have an amputation.

Shiro is captured by the Galra at the beginning of the show and then a little later in the first episode returns to Earth a year later, now with his arm amputated and a prosthetic made of Galra technology. The closest we ever get to any exploration of what it meant to Shiro to lose an arm is a very brief line of dialog at the beginning of 2x03 “Shiro’s Escape,” in which Shiro, in flashback, yells, “You took my hand, what more do you want?” We have no other information about his amputation. Was his arm injured during gladiatorial combat, making it a medical necessity to amputate? Haggar says to Shiro in 1x13 “The Black Paladin, “You could have been our greatest weapon,” so was his arm cut off as part of an experiment she was subjecting him to?

Ultimately, whatever the reason was for the amputation and addition of the Galra prosthetic, the show never tells us. But this is the amputation that everyone already knows about.

Shiro was subjected to a second amputation.

This is something that has infuriated me for a long time, and I’ve never seen anyone else talk about this in any of the Voltron discourse I’ve read.

In season seven, Shiro gets a new prosthetic to replace the Galra one that Keith cut off. I have never liked his new arm. The forearm is lot wider than a natural arm. The disembodied, floating quality makes it vulnerable to disruption (we saw Sendak’s arm be disrupted by Pidge passing her bayard between the shoulder and the arm in 1x07 “Tears of the Balmera”). With the big gap between the shoulder and the arm, the arm lacks the ability to provide leverage, thus something like Shiro arm-wrestling in 8x08 “Clear Day” is impossible. I would think that it would take a lot more power to maintain the disembodied hovering quality of the new prosthetic than it would take to operate a more normal arm. The design and function of the new arm does not seem reasonable to me.

But what makes the new prosthetic worse is Shiro’s shoulder. To implant the shoulder piece of this prosthetic, they amputated Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro’s Galra prosthetic always looked like it connected to his arm halfway up his bicep. Because of the second, floating prosthetic, sometimes I thought maybe I had misinterpreted the visual design of the Galra prosthetic, that maybe the prosthetic was his whole arm. I couldn’t remember any time where we got to see him without sleeves to know for sure. I learned for sure that I was right that Shiro’s Galra prosthetic only went halfway up the bicep when I did my rewatch and commentary for 3x06 “Tailing a Comet.” In this episode, there is a scene in which we see Shiro (technically the clone) wearing a white tank top. His shoulder is flesh and the prosthetic is not his whole arm.

To have the shoulder implant that he gets in 7x10 “Heart of the Lion,” the rest of his arm and his shoulder would have to be amputated. I would think it would be unethical for a doctor to do this unless it was medically necessary. No medical need to amputate the rest of the arm and the shoulder is given in the show. Narratively, there is no reason that Shiro’s new arm needed to be this disembodied floating absurdity. But I guess once again, the EPs thought it would look “cool,” because they decided to go with this design.

One of two things happened in the process of this new character design work.

One, the EPs and design team realized that they would have to amputate the rest of Shiro’s arm and shoulder and thought having animation inconsistency that they hoped no one would notice was better than having people criticize them for having Shiro amputated a second time, so they had Shiro slightly redesigned from the moment Keith cuts off his arm to when he gets his new prosthetic.

The second possibility is that when they had their design team do the slight character redesign for the moment Keith cuts off the clone’s arm, neither the EPs nor the design team were aware of past work-product and did not remember that the show had shown us that the clone clearly had a flesh shoulder and part of the upper arm. Maybe designing the clone for the moment Keith cuts his arm off, the design team made an honest, though inexcusable, mistake.

Either way, the instant Keith cuts off the clone’s arm in 6x05 “The Black Paladins,” suddenly, the upper arm and the shoulder are metal.

This second amputation is a retcon, a visual redesign. Whether it was done specifically because the new prosthetic design had been approved and they didn’t want to be criticized for amputating Shiro’s shoulder, or whether it was done because they didn’t pay attention to what the show had already established, one way or the other Shiro went from having a flesh and bone shoulder and upper arm, to not.

The way the production of this show treated Shiro, they just could not stop inflicting additional pain and suffering on him. If all the other ways the EPs and writers abused Shiro’s character didn’t also reveal this, we could know solely from the EPs saying that they chose to amputate him and give him the prosthetic because it looked “cool.” Since they never understood the impact being amputated would have on a person, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they amputated Shiro a second time to have the second prosthetic. I will never not find it horrifying that they did this to him.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron criticism #vld criticism #voltron critical #vld critical #vld 3x06 #vld 6x05 #vld 7x10 #commentary #Shiro

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xenosgirlvents · 5 years

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La’al learned quickly of the world around her, her curiosity far outstripping the already astonishing levels of most children her age. Part of it was due to what remained of her childish innocence, that wide-eyed awe children of any species hold for everything new. But a far greater factor was born of a need to know why someone would so something so evil as what was done to her home and how to stop that from happening. She picked up on the cultures of the T’au and Aeldari around her with the same ease as could be expected from the Por’faan – even being one of the few T’au allowed to bear witness to the Exodites’ surviving ritual masters finally commit their dead into the H’kek’an World Spirit. This learning was aided, oddly enough, by the lack of traditional T’au educators left around H’kek’an. With all those who had been present on the world before its fall dead, and the Empire at large deciding that sending civilians across a warzone was likely a bad use of resources, she and the few other young T’au who had survived had to make do with the adults present. As even with their collective protectiveness over the young girl the few adult Shas’faan who had been left behind were patrolling with constant vigilance bordering on paranoia, La’al herself had little option but to live under the roof of the Fio’O who had made her limbs and eyes, something neither objected to.

As a young Fire-caste, La’al learned soon that she was, of course, expected to one day serve in a similar capacity. Unfortunately, her prosthetics were far from ready for that. With what miniscule amounts of time they had spare to try teaching her, the older Shas had found her mental acuity to be remarkable, not even just for her age, but her physical capacity was atrocious. For all the mechanical strength her limbs could provide, they were sluggish to respond and clumsy in their movements. La’al at her top speed could barely keep up with a rapid walk and her arms were utterly lacking in even the most basic dexterity. Likewise, though her new eyes were able to adapt to changing light levels more rapidly than those of other T’au, they struggled to track movement and were completely colorblind. She couldn’t even play with the few other children who had survived, T’au or Exodite alike. Living under the care of an Earth-caste as she was, La’al knew that, unlike those other children, her body would not get stronger as she aged and practiced.

“Ajii?” the young girl asked Yr’va’yan one day as he was calibrating her eyes, still not quite old enough to have yet internalized the taboo of calling a member of a different caste – especially the one who was giving her such care and attention – ‘Papa’, “Can you… Can you make me better?”

He looked back down at her from stretching his fingers to do his delicate work, La’al sitting in an oversized medical chair with one eye focusing and dilating chaotically, stopping herself from wincing each time it rotated, painful and unbidden, in its socket. The Fio’s almost ever-present smile turned down slightly at the edges, the lines on his aging face deepening. They both knew what she was asking of him. Cybernetic augmentation is a far from comfortable experience, even at its most base level. A simple prosthesis still needs to connect directly to the nervous system. As such, and due in part to the unique intricacies of a T’au’s nervous system, the patient cannot be put under full anesthesia, so as to ensure a proper connection. This was what had first been done with La’al, but it wouldn’t be enough. Most amputees had an asymmetry to them, with one limb being mechanical while the other was flesh and blood, the natural one giving guidance and balance to the other. La’al didn’t have that luxury, and Yr’va’yan knew that there was only one way to make up for it. Military grade prostheses, especially and specifically those with “symmetrical” amputations, so to speak, were connected in a specialized procedure. One in which the patient receives no anesthesia at all.

La’al had overheard a discussion between Yr’va’yan and the Shas’El in command of local defenses over when she would be ready for the full augmentations. Neither had been of the mind that she would be able to tolerate the pain until she was much older. Even so, when she asked her “Ajii” what the two of them had been talking about, he couldn’t refuse her inquisitive smile. She had listened carefully to his words then and understood them all. And now, months later, the child knew exactly what she asked of him.

“La’al…” Yr’va’yan replied, slowly, sadly, “You… You do not know the pain you are asking me to give you, or the pain I would have to take to heart myself…” said the Earth-caste, knowing full well that he lied, and hoping against hope that his Little Hero could not tell as he finished work to adjust her eye. He went to speak again, but his words caught in his throat as La’al reached up from her chair to take his calloused hand in her own metal one, wishing deeply that she could feel its warmth, the warmth of her mother and father’s hands still clinging fast to her mind. As it was, with such simple replacement parts, she could barely feel the faint pressure of him gripping hers in return.

“I know, Ajii… I don’t want to hurt you, but we hurt worse already… And… and I want to make others not hurt,” the Little Hero said, a look on her face as if she would be crying if she had the physical ability. “We hurt more together, Ajii. And nobody else hurts anymore.” A small, scared smile formed on her face, not unlike the one that Yr’va’yan would often wear. As his own formed once again, he picked his Little Hero up from her chair and held her in a soft hug, his head nodding slowly.

“We take all the pain for ourselves, eh, little one? Aye, I think that’s a worthwhile cause.”

(Next part’s up. I’m trying to upload once or twice a week, but I also like to have the next section largely blocked out before I post in case something comes up.

Because of the rather lacking detail GW has actually put into how the T'au work and with that one autopsy report kinda straying from canon already, I felt I could take a liberty or two with their inner workings. Also: https://www.docdroid.net/dwpTimc/expanded-tau-lexicon-2018-ver-21.pdf here is the Lexicon I’ve been using for the others who might be interested. As always, please feel free to share any questions or criticisms you might have, and I hope everyone has a good weekend)

Thanks for sharing again! As for comments: yeah GW and BL do not flesh out the T’au, or any faction barring the Imperium really, to any substantial degree so I think feel free to experiment and move in whatever direction you want.

Also thank you for the lexicon link! That’ll prove useful to me as well in future.

Then; I like the idea of the prosthetics. Considering they exist, and the T’au already have a proven aptitude for machine-brain interfaces, a greater emphasis on cybernetics and prosthetics to help injured T’au is something I’d expect to see more of, so it’s a cool idea to use here. I am interested to see, since I assume she’ll eventually also wind up in a Battlesuit, there’s some ground to write their, of course, about the suit itself connecting in places akin to her prosthetic, more clearly an extension of herself, akin to Commander Bravestorm’s situation.

#warhammer #Warhammer 40k #Warhammer 40000 #40k #t'au #tau #t'au empire #tau empire #submission

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

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Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name) 16

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

This time: The conversation.

Her eyes focus on the clock above the door first. 02:18, it says, projected in pale blue. She feels heavy, limp, and sore. Hollow, like there’s no point in moving. There’s no sound, the screen that’s mounted up in the corner turned off. It takes a moment to remember, her mind fuzzy and dark like the edges of her vision, not fully awake. She lets her eyes flutter closed.

Karena. Matron Karen was there. She said they were going… back. They were going back.

Still in a haze, her head lolls to the right when she tries to look in that direction, her half-lidded eyes meeting the gaze of the dark haired nurse from before, the one that almost always checked in on her at night. The woman smiles gently down at her, fixing one of the many tubes that are attached to her arm. She doesn’t say anything, which is a little strange. Her eyes seem to light up though. Happy.

That’s when she feels it.

There’s a warmth, a weight around her fingers. A hand cradling hers. A thumb running over her knuckles, steady and sure.

Amanda carefully tilts her head the other way. Slowly, she coaches herself, feeling very much like a rag doll. She knows it’s him immediately. His eyes are so gentle, like one of his blankets. Like she could curl up and go back to sleep and know he’d keep her safe.

“Hello,” He whispers, the left corner of his lips curling up in a half smile as her eyes clear.

“‘Lo,” She whispers back, her voice small. Her throat is scratchy. Not enough to make her want water though. She yawns, feeling floaty and heavy, all at once.

His hand traces over her knuckles some more, and her clenched fist relaxes. “It’s late,” He says, when she tries to keep her eyes open. He hasn’t looked away from her face, even though it’s dark. “You can go back to sleep.”

She sighs, letting her eyes fall closed. It feels like hours pass, but she just cannot fall back asleep. She peeks open an eye at him. Only one. His eyes are still trained on her face. “Yer lookin’ at me funny,” She drawls. “D’I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” He answers, sounding amused.

“Wanted to,” She tells him. He should be able to figure things out. “Was real bad there.”

“You won’t go back.”

“Good,” She says, both eyes focusing on him now. “No fosters, either.”

“No,” He agrees. “No fosters.”

She squirms, getting more comfortable. She’s propped up by all manner of pillows. “Miss Karena will take me back, right? When I'm better?"

"She will not. She has the other children to attend to."

"I won't cause any trouble," She grouses. "I tried, like y'all wanted. Should be enough proof."

One eyebrow rises in a question. "Proof of what?"

Amanda sighs, tapping his palm. "I don't need to be adopted. I don't want another ma or dad. I can stay in the orphanage and grow up jus' fine."

"They moved you because of your injury, I was told."

"Yeah, and I'll get better."

"It will be an adjustment, getting used to your new situation."

"But I'll get better, Zavala," She argues. “I seen people - old people,” She stresses, like it makes a difference, “With bionic legs ‘n arms. They got on well enough, should be the same for me.”

“You will,” He agrees. “But you need more attention than a matron can provide. Someone who is looking out for you first, without other children-”

“I won’t go back to another family.” Both eyes open, their blue-green gaze holding his without backing down.

“I know. You’d need to be placed with someone who understood you. Who you wanted to be with.”

“You said no fosters.”

“Something permanent,” He elaborates.

“No.” She sits up, ignoring the twinge of pain in her hip and the way her leg desperately thinks there’s still a knee and foot attached. It’s been doing that lately. “I don’t wanna go with anyone. No more people.”

Zavala watches her adjust herself, turning to face him, good leg dangling off the bed, her stump making it almost to the edge in its wrap, the pant leg of her pajamas ripped and rolled up to mind the swelling. There’s something terribly brave about her, her hands balled into fists at her sides, her eyes bright with determination, the will to fight.

She opens her mouth, and he expects it to come out in a yell. “Please don’t make me,” She says instead, levelly. It’s not a whisper, nor a flashbang of sound. Tears glimmer in her eyes.

“A man came to see you yesterday,” He begins instead, and she tilts her head at the sudden conversation change. “Someone I work with.”

“Yeah,” She agrees, confused.

“He came to tell me how you were doing, after. And to help me make sure you would not stay in the home you’d been sent to, the one attached to the other hospital.”

“But, why-”

“No one told me where you were being taken. Even Karena did not know until afterwards.” He leans forward as he speaks, invested. “We called the hospital. I tried to come see you. They would not allow it. I was beside myself.” His eyes shine in that honest way, the one that tells her he doesn’t know how to do anything but tell her the truth.

He takes both of her hands in his. “I missed you too,” She admits softly.

Shiori shimmers into place beside them, casting a delicate beam of light on the small tray-table that Amanda usually uses for meals. The child’s eyes are drawn to it, watching as a small pile of paperwork appears beside them both.

“What’s that?”

“A lot of it is legal jargon,” He tells her. “City laws and ordinances designed to protect the rights of a child. But,” He lifts the page Shiori placed on top, “I think this might be the page that would interest you most.”

She handles it delicately, little fingers curling around the edges of the paper. “This is-” She inhales sharply, her eyes scanning it quick, seeing the flourish of the ‘Z', a signature that’s almost artistic in heavy black ink. She rakes her gaze back up the paper.

Her name is on it, in perfect type. The seal on the bottom corner is signed and raised. She runs her finger over his signature, feels the indent from the pressure he’d put on the paper.

“I wanted to ask you first,” He admits, softly. Maybe for the first time, she hears something quiver in his voice, the truth tumbling from his lips nervously. It’s not unlike the shakiness of her hands, the way her eyes dart across the paper, not believing…

In conjunction with City Ordinance 052.8.26.3, the below signed designates themselves as the legal guardian of the above mentioned youth, who has been recognized as a ward of the City. Until such time as they reach the age of majority, the below signed does so swear to provide for the youth’s needs and to uphold all responsibilities befitting a parent of any child of the City. Sworn this day-

“You-”

“I was meeting with Karena when they moved you to the other hospital," He murmurs, perfectly enunciating each word despite the way his speech speeds up. "I was going to come back and tell you that night, to make sure you would not turn me away, that my intention-”

“Turn ya away?” She thrusts the paper back onto the table, crying but not bothering to wipe the tears from her face. “Don’t you know that’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted since I got here?”

“But you’ve said-”

“You ain’t tryin’ replace my Ma or Pa,” She tells him, serious, her eyes never leaving his. “You’re Zavala,” She continues, like that explains everything. “Just Zavala.” Her expression crumples, voice cracking like a wave cresting against tall cliffs, sharp and broken. “Ya just… care, an’ ya wanna see me be happy, an-”

The nurse enters the room with a sense of urgency, hearing the alarm go off from the nurses’ station down the hall. One of the child’s IV lines has been pulled from her arm, the fluid slowly dripping into the bed. She has a mild rebuke on her tongue, ready to ask what’s happened, but stops before she makes a sound.

“It’s alright to cry,” The Commander says, in what might be the most soothing register the nurse has ever heard. “I know it is a lot.”

The woman keeps her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself as she pulls back the ruined line, coiling it up before throwing it away and shutting off the alarms. She removes the saturated pad beneath the sheets from the IV solution and replaces it.

“You’re gonna take care of me?” The girl whimpers into his chest. “Y’promise? No take backs?”

“Absolutely none,” He agrees.

Instead of leaving, the nurse rounds the bed, reaching between them carefully. Amanda looks up at her, half of her tear-streaked face pushed into the familiar red sweater the Commander wears beneath his armor. She makes a sound of concern when the nurse carefully moves her arm, not wanting to be pulled away.

“Shh,” The nurse consoles, looking first to Zavala with an easy smile before turning her attention to Amanda with a warm blink. “I’m just disconnecting the rest of your lines, sweetheart.” She works quickly, detangling the mess of medication cables until the child is unbound, swiping at the remnants of the one she’d pulled out with a cotton pad. “There we go,” She coos. “Hug away.”

Zavala pulls the child into his arms with ease, not speaking to the nurse, but giving her a thankful glance. The nurse nods, stepping away. “I’ll come back in the morning. Let me know if you need anything.”

“‘M good,” The little one whispers, well after her nurse has gone. “I have everything.”

Zavala can’t help but hold her tighter.

#amanda holliday #commander zavala #shipwright september #found family #destiny fanfiction #i made myself cry writing this #consider yourself warned

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lyrium-lavellan · 5 years

Text

Vows

“Be careful with my daughter, Master Tethras. She has a tender heart. I would not see it broken.” Vel’s father speaks, more of a suggestion than a warning. He was a strikingly mild-mannered man, compared to his outgoing and confident wife.

“Oh, ‘Athi, he will! Stop fretting. She’ll have every comfort! He is the Viscount, after all.” Her mother defends Varric before he can answer for himself. She stood, almost protectively, between himself and Vel’s father, hands on her hips defiantly.

Speaking with them, he noticed his fiancee’s resemblance to her parents much easier. Her father’s quiet, calm disposition and fiery red hair. Her mother’s blue eyes and enthusiasm, occasionally her temper. But she was still remarkably, uniquely herself. Velahris Lavellan. Velahris Tethras, in a few moments.

“I know, vhenan. I know. I’m pleased she chose well. But enough of that. They should be ready now, yes?” His soon to be father-in-law leads the large party of guests to the Grand Cathedral. It was a bright spring day in Val Royeaux - dew slipped off the petals of flowers in the gardens, and a light fog hung in the air. It was cool, but not uncomfortable. Sunlight glittered off the miraculously flat sea. The perfect day for a wedding. For his wedding.

Varric twiddled his thumbs while he walked. He felt as if someone had dropped a lead ball into his stomach. He wasn’t used to being anxious. Not anymore, at least. The sash at his waist suddenly felt a little too tight. Maker, it still didn’t feel real. After all the years he spent alone, the decades he’d pined for Bianca... He was hardly the age to be marrying, let alone...

His thoughts drifted to Vel, and their child. His child. He’d never known fear like what he’d felt when she told him. Not for himself, but for her. He wasn’t entirely certain she’d even survive the Council. He sat beside her, replacing the bandages on her arm after it had been amputated. Hoping, praying that she would pull through. And she did. She always did.

“Nervous?” Ashara leans in, sensing his anxiety.

“Of course.” Varric confesses, seeing no reason to lie.

“Good man. You’ll do fine.” Myathilen, Vel’s father, claps him on the shoulder.

-----------

Vel looked otherworldly. Her wedding gown, a wisp of white sheer silk with gold embroidery lining her neck, just barely skimmed the floor. Her left arm, or what remained of it, was cleverly concealed beneath a heavy fur cloak, while her right arm was adorned with jeweled bracelets and one long sleeve split down the middle, each side drifting in the slight breeze afforded by the open chantry doors. Her hair was braided intricately and tucked beneath a fine lace veil. Her ethereal appearance drew gasps, but he could barely focus - until her eyes met his, and she smiled.

“You look... spectacular.” Varric says, breathless. As she drew closer, he could see the glittering green tones woven into the fabric. It reminded him of the Breach, merely a rippling scar in the heavens now. The soft swell of her stomach was well hidden beneath her skirts, and he silently thanked Josephine for being able to conceal her condition.

“You’re not so bad yourself. Who chose that outfit of yours?” Vel whispers, leaning in close to plant a kiss on Varric’s cheek.

“Ah. Sparkler helped me pick it. Or, forced me to let him toss clothes at me until I found something I didn’t hate. And you?” He observed his own outfit subconsciously - they were matching, as the former ambassador had insisted upon. He hoped she was happy with the outcome. His usual duster and tunic were replaced with magnificent(and ridiculously expensive) robes. A high, angular collar transitioned into a buttoned golden doublet. To match his wife-to-be, he had a cape fastened and draped over his shoulder. A red sash was wrapped around his waist. Dorian had insisted on loose-fitting trousers, which were then tucked into high boots. He didn’t fully understand the nuances of fashion, but he’d wear just about anything if it would make Vel happy.

“Vivienne’s tailor. Though, Josephine and Leliana made a few suggestions. I’ve got twelve knives in my skirt. Twelve! I’ll have to show you later.” Vel snickers a little before pulling back, placing her hand out.

“Now that’s the Vel I know.” Varric murmurs, pride in his voice, before taking her small hand in his.

He could just barely catch the hint of Vel’s perfume as she spoke her vows. It was light and floral, perfect for spring by all accounts. It reminded him of the gardens in Hightown, lilac and wisteria in bloom, petals drifting onto passersby. He wondered if Vel would like to have a garden in Kirkwall. He supposed she would.

He finally understood what Cole meant. Her voice does sound like lyrium’s song.

His own voice almost faltered as he said his vows. He’d prepared for days, reciting, re-writing them to be perfect. Flawless. But all that preparation went out the window when the time came. So instead, he spoke from the heart.

“I promise, to the Maker, and to whoever else is listening... I promise to keep you safe, care for you, and love you always. Your heart will always be safe with me. You’re the only person who’s ever left me speechless, Clover. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Varric uttered the last sentence quietly, pulling his wife in for a kiss to seal their fate. It reminded him of her height, but he didn’t mind. She was the only person he cared to look up to.

The applause was thunderous, every single person rising from their seat. Varric couldn’t help but smile as he watched a grin pull at his new wife’s cheeks.

“Drinks, husband?” Vel spoke only to him.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, wife.” Varric winked, and led her out of the Grand Cathedral.

#da fanfiction #dragon age #fanfic #post-trespasser #varric tethras #velahris lavellan #vel x varric #velarric #wedding #red writes #red speaks #ashara lavellan #myathilen lavellan

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snowbellewells · 5 years

Text

A Year in the Court of Misthaven: Part V “Becoming One”

At long last, the next addition to my “Year in the Court of Misthaven” Lieutenant Duckling series. I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but this one really took some doing. However, I hope you will enjoy this. It’s a step out of my comfort zone, in that I attempted to write a legitimate love scene. That said, this is probably the first piece I feel like should be rated M, so if that is a concern I wanted to let readers know up front. (I hope it isn’t too cringe-y, but I did try my best.) As always, this is for @kmomof4 who wanted to see more of this universe beyond the original one shot. If nothing else, I’m hoping you’ll like it, Krystal! :)

from the beginning of this series...

Part V: Becoming One

By: @snowbellewells

Now that their pledged troth was once again assured, Emma could happily show Killian the preparations which had been made in his absence for their wedding celebration, and begin to gain his approval, opinions, and preferences on those things and upon the details she had refrained from deciding without him. Whenever possible, Emma had sought to choose colors, food, and decor which she had believed Killian would prefer - or knew that he liked - still, now that he was at her side once more, she wanted her fiancé to have his part in the festivities and to know that how their nuptials were carried out was as much up to him as it was to her. Their wedding day was his as well after all, and she wanted her lieutenant to feel it so.

Life returned as much to normal as possible around them - at least as much as it would ever be for the Princess and sole heir of Misthaven and her intended consort. Their court physician had finally declared, not only Killian, but his brother as well, in the rehabilitative stages of their recoveries; no longer in danger of infection, further blood loss, or relapse, but instead working to regain their strength and adapt to life with the lasting ramifications of their injuries. To that end, Killian had worked with the physician, along with numerous assistants and craftsmen, to come up with some sort of prosthetic he could wear in place of his amputated hand. Though wooden models designed to look like a hand had been offered him, they had not the ability to move and grip which would be needed if he were to return to any sort of naval activities. In the end, he had settled on a sort of metal hook for everyday use which looked not much different from ones that could be found on the rigging of ships. Most of his everyday tasks could be handled better with such a utilitarian instrument, and though there was a fake hand chosen to wear at more formal occasions, learning to use the replacement which suited him best was all with which Killian, or any of those who cared about him, were concerned.

Though Killian had hand and arm exercises to perform, which could frustrate and pain him, he was as diligent in completing them as in any task he had ever undertaken. His ability to return to naval service was as yet uncertain, but if the outcome could be achieved through sheer determination and effort, he would be well on his way. Emma couldn’t help traitorously thinking to herself that his having to stay safe within their own kingdom was not such a horrible thing, but she also hated to think what it might do to her sailor’s pride, and - almost - his sense of self. She would never truly wish him to be kept away from the wind and waves he loved, only that he would always return to her hale and whole - or, better yet, that she could venture forth with him.

Liam had a longer road of recovery to tread, but the eventual outcome was also much clearer. Killian’s elder brother and Captain should, once his strength and function were restored, as they were assured would occur given proper time, be able to retake command of his vessel in her Majesty’s royal fleet. It had been a frighteningly close call; he had lost almost more blood than any single man could spare. To Killian, who was still forced to relive the immediate aftermath in gory, vivid detail in his worst nightmares, it had seemed his brother’s very insides were littering the ship’s deck in horrifying red resplendence. In the end, however, he had not lost any major organs, nor did there seem to be evidence of permanent ill effects once he could fully recoup the weakness and blood loss.

Two of the brothers Jones’ most regular visitors continually warmed Emma’s heart with their arrival. One, of course, was Belle. The petite brunette had always been helpful and kind to Emma, able to find exactly what the Princess sought in moments when she came to the castle library on a mission, and able to keep up a candid and spritely conversation with the young royal whenever Killian, Liam, Ruby or Graham had not been available to do so. Clearly she felt a more than casual concern for Captain Jones’ recovery however, which Emma had not seen coming. Sill, the other woman was often already seated by Liam’s side when Emma and Killian reached his room in the mornings, either already reading something to him, sharing breakfast, or simply sitting with him listening to the early morning bird songs outside.

Killian had already been released to return to the apartments he and Liam had made use of since they were children, rather than having to remain in the hospital wing. Though he liked to spend as much time as possible with his brother, doubtless knowing Liam must feel anxious and useless with his forced convalescence, and Emma felt no hardship in joining him in his visits as long as she was welcome. She had found herself growing even closer to Belle in the interim.

One morning, the had even found the pensive librarian fast asleep in the overstuffed chair at Liam’s bedside, head resting on folded arms while he was awake, hand raised as if almost ready to brush it over her rich, mahogany tresses when they had made their entrance just before his breakfast tray. Liam’s hand had pulled back so quickly Emma had needed to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing both at the motion and his flushed, sheepish expression as well. Belle, however, had not roused, and the elder Jones brother’s gentle, rapt glances over at her whenever he thought they wouldn’t notice were pathetically obvious and endearing.

Emma hadn’t stayed long that morning, meandering down to where her mother and Ruby sat in the sunroom making plans for ceremony and reception color schemes, flower arrangements, and seating. She knew that it would already feel crowded in the room if Killian tried to genuinely speak with his elder sibling as he needed to, and she also knew Belle well enough to not wish the other woman rapidly becoming more friend than pleasant acquaintance to be distressed by waking to find herself ‘asleep at her post’ or caught ‘neglecting her duty’ or whatever ridiculous notion the conscientious brunette would concoct. Giving Liam a truly happy smile and bending to kiss her fiancé’s cheek where he had settled at his brother’s opposite elbow, she had slipped from the room with a promise to return within the hour.

The second heartwarming recurrent guest, the one who made Emma’s chest swell almost beyond what she could stand without bursting, was her own father, King David. From the moment of their return, the man had been anxious to be apprised of both Jones brothers’ conditions and progress, anxiously questioning doctors, nurses, and even household staff when he could not visit the castle’s sick wing in person. Emma knew part of it was concern for her - her father not wanting his beloved daughter to suffer the loss of her partner and chosen mate, it went beyond that as well, to a depth that reminds her once again just what a good heart this man - once a shepherd whom True Love made a King - possesses and makes her adore her papa even more than she always has. He and her mother took these two orphan brothers in, raised them as their own, and their reaching adulthood has not made the crown regents any less attached to or concerned for their charges.

Though he does not tend to linger, probably sensing that both young men wish to be back at their duties onboard ship and do not wish for their monarch to see them as weak, the King is also more than obviously making his support and concern known. The two boys he raised alongside his precious daughter, whom he has watched grow into brave, honorable young men proudly serving his wife’s kingdom, hold a special place in David’s heart - as an adoptive father… and as a soon-to-be father-in-law. He will be certain that they both receive the very best care which can be provided, and clearly wishes to see Killian and Liam improving daily. She has always been her father’s darling, and daddy’s girl down to her bones, but if possible, his care for her fiancé and his brother made Emma adore her papa even more.

Slowly but surely first Killian, and then eventually Liam as well, began to venture from the recovery wing and back into as much of their daily lives as possible. Emma thrilled with any little jaunt Killian made alongside her, whether it be to the kitchens to test the batter for various cakes Granny Lucas was testing for their wedding reception, venturing to their secret garden arbor overlooking the sea, or even down at the docks where he laughingly started teaching her to fish. Though it might take him longer than before to accomplish some tasks with one hand, he was coping, and it did Emma’s heart good to see.

Unfortunately, she could also see quite well that the missing hand and the arm left behind still pained him, much as he might try to hide it or to appear as if everything was fine. At times sharp twinges seemed to strike him unawares, and he would wince or jerk in reaction before schooling his features to hide it. Emma in turn, could not help but to reach for him, wanting to soothe the ache, to offer comfort, to do anything to help. Despite the discomfort or distress he might be in however, Killian would not suffer her to touch the truncated limb, nor to see it without the brace that covered the amputation site. Though he had thankfully stopped trying to convince her to move on from him or that they should no longer marry, it would take a fool not to see that he still feared the full extent of his mutilation would disgust her or finally cause her to turn her back.

Nothing could be further from the truth; yet, Emma didn’t wish to push her lieutenant too hard or too far. He had been through a horrific trauma, one that - as much as she might wish to aid or lessen - he must deal with in his own way. When his pained reactions occurred she bit her lip firmly, forcibly holding back either comforting platitudes or questions about what troubled him. She genuinely attempted to allow him the moments which fooled no one to school his infinitely expressive features and pull the mask back into place as though nothing were wrong. The tautness of his voice betraying pain and tension despite his projected nonchalance nearly made her heart crack and brought tears to her eyes, but she always found the strength to hold them back, if only to stay near him and to perhaps distract her sailor from the torment he suffered in silence.

Early evening on the day before their wedding at last, they had been fishing at the docks and were walking back to the palace over the weathered wooden planks of the dock, a small bucket of their day’s catch over his whole arm, and her small, delicate hand tucked into his other elbow as he led her gallantly home for the night, when she noticed him shifting uncomfortably, his lips pressed together tightly against any sound. To some it might seem peculiar to go fishing on the eve of their nuptials, but both were anxious in their own ways, and being together, doing something simple and familiar was the best pastime for them it seemed. All was ready, prepared, not a single loose end left to be tied, and so they had slipped off to the waterfront.

“What is it?” Emma asked gently, worry creasing her brow in concern as she looked up into her beloved’s face; his dark brows pulled low over eyes scrunched near closed in intense pain, his shoulders hunching slightly in spite of his best efforts, and the truncated limb pulling in toward his torso unconsciously, even with her fingers still resting upon it.

Killian shook his head at her question, almost as though he had not the breath to speak as much as he wished to avoid giving straight answer. He moved them forward several more steps, before a low grunt of misery escaped under his breath, and he tripped slightly in his next step.

Her concern had not abated since her question went unanswered, and Emma was immediately anxious for him once more as he faltered. Not brooking any sort of opposition, she pulled him to the side of the path by his good hand, taking the basket from him first. Once off the walk and out of the way and attention of passerby, Emma pressed Killian onto a bench placed along the way, and knelt before him, peering up into his face with an intent scrutiny he couldn’t avoid. “It’s your arm, isn’t it?” she murmured sadly, already well aware she was right. “What can I do?”

She waited, hoping that he would not dismiss her concern, put up a front and pretend all was well when that clearly was not the truth. Her breath nearly caught in her throat, choking her on a gasp when he surprised her by meeting her gaze head on and answering with honest vulnerability.

His voice was a pant as he doubled over slightly in the seat, the blue of his eyes slightly diluted by tears she saw gathered but which he refused to let fall. “Aye, phantom pain…” he hissed, the words choppy as he forced them out. “The doc warned me about it...feels as though my hand...though it’s not even there...is burning.”

The explanation was simple and blunt, but Emma could easily sense the agony unspoken behind her sailor’s mere words. “It’s going to be alright, Killian,” she promised, forcing herself to project a calm she didn’t feel in hopes of helping him. “I can’t imagine what it feels like. I won’t pretend I can. But you are going to be alright.”

He nodded bleakly at her words, clearly using all his might to hold back a tormented sob.

Pressing on, Emma raised herself up just enough to rest her forehead against his, hoping to gently offer the contact and lead his breathing to slowly match her own at such close proximity. One hand slipped beneath the collar of his button-down shirt to rest over his heart, ignoring the way her own pulse stuttered and then tripled in speed at the feel of warm skin and coarsely curling hair across his chest, and instead further urging him to draw deep, steadying breaths. “Please, Killian, tell me what I can do to make it better.”

He knew exactly what would help, had done it in his solitary chambers on many an occasion though he had never been willing to allow any other to perform the task or even see his stump uncovered as such action necessitated. He did not intend to have his beautiful princess, his own pure paragon of perfection, be the first, though he had to grit his teeth to keep from telling her what would bring him ease. However, one glance at her determined and beseeching expression and how close she was, as if trying to read his face through sheer proximity, also alerted him to the fact that his princess would not be easily denied.

Brokenly, he finally answered in hoarse tones, “Sometimes...if I uncover it...and massage the stump...working those muscles can relieve some of the pain...but you don’t…” Already shaking his head, he began to pull away from her in hopes of dissuading her suddenly tenacious hands as she ran them up his arms to his shoulders, dexterous fingers slipping beneath the collar to seek out the straps and buckles holding the molded leather sheath over his blunted forearm.

Killian tried once more to protest, desperation rising within him as he felt exposed, out in the open, and more and more certain with each rapid heartbeat that once she truly saw the extent of the carnage, what - to him - seemed the mangled stump of flesh where once his other hand and wrist had been, that she would at last understand his fear and be disgusted enough to indeed pull away, leaving him wrecked and ruined. “Please, Emma…” he pled futilely, knowing it was no use, that there was no changing her mind once that particular furrow of determination settled upon her brow. “There’s no need, Lass. You shouldn’t have to see… Once I’m back in my room, I can…”

But his Princess was having none of it, shaking her head in denial of his excuses and pressing on, until he felt her unhook the buckle which held the entire contraption upon his shoulder. The release of pressure in itself was enough to ease some of the throbbing that radiated up and down his arm, even as it caused him to suck in a tight breath, feeling his doom about to unfold as hook and brace fell away into her careful hands before she gently set them aside next to him on the bench.

Her next move though, startled him enough to snap him from his dread and terror and transfix him, unmoving and completely attuned to her will. Even as her hands moved back to the end of his shortened forearm, wrapping with a soothing, gentle warmth over the scarred pink flesh, her eyes never fell to take it in; her gaze remained firmly and completely locked on his, promising that she was right there and that she would never leave. With a firm, but still tender, grip, Emma began to knead his stump expertly. Her face never changing to register disgust or regret, only that loving concern which had always been there any time he was hurting or troubled since he was seven years old and her father had brought he and Liam home. Her touch seemed so helpful and so assured in fact that he wondered if she had not researched different massage techniques or questioned the doctors and nurses at her family’s beck and call, in order to be ready if she might be able to help him. And he was then hit by the obvious realization that of course that was exactly what she had done. Why would he have expected anything else?

Ever so slowly, though he knew in truth it had been mere minutes, the pain ebbed at her calm, sure ministrations. Looking up at his lovely princess in wonder, Killian drew a ragged breath, hardly able to believe her goodness and devotion as the panic and fear receded. “You truly are a marvel, my Love,” he murmured, stunned voice soft and affectionate.

Emma shook her head slightly, a teary, lopsided smile lighting her face as she responded, “Did you really think I’d let you suffer if it were in my power to help you?” Her dainty hands still smoothed over his tormented flesh, easing him as she continued.

Several more minutes passed with them simply gazing into each other’s eyes, then gently the princess’ fingers trailed down to clasp her lieutenant’s other hand and to brace on her knees and stand. Pulling lightly, she urged him up after her. Wordlessly she turned back toward the palace once more, and Killian followed with their fingers intertwined, without hesitation.

Though wondering what his headstrong beloved had in mind, Killian didn’t question, merely walked behind her as they entered the courtyard and slipped through the entry hall. For a moment he thought Emma might be taking him to Doc, but as they began to climb the grand staircase, the idea was discarded. No one stopped them, even as they made their way along the second floor toward her apartments. Neither of them spoke, but then, Killian was not sure he would be able to anyway. He had just decided that she must be seeing him safely to his own room, wanting to be certain he was well and able to rest, when she pulled him to the right, drawing even closer to the royal family’s private wing, before leading clearly to her own apartments. The realization struck him, and his mouth went dry while his heart began to pound.

At last they stood outside her bedroom door, still silent in the gathering dusk, and Emma turned to look up at him, her beguilingly dark lashes fluttering over the transfixing green of her eyes and drawing him closer rather than taking his leave as he knew he should.

“Come in with me, Lieutenant?” she asked, biting her lower lip in playful query as she gazed into his startled face, unable to agree to something which might attach scandal to his intended bride just a day before the wedding, but equally unable to deny her. As if sensing his indecision, Emma ran her nimble fingers under the loose sleeve of his shirt, ghosting over still raised and somewhat tender scars and knowingly traced her pretty pink tongue over her upper lip in anticipation, pressing her advantage. “If you would, I could take good care of you…”

Though he knew that claim was large made of need and bravado, having only their own curious forays together to guide them, in that moment, Emma was a temptress Killian could hardly resist. He practically trembled as she continued to run her fingertips over the skin of his maimed forearm, jaw clenched so tightly to hold himself still that a muscle visibly worked in his cheek.

Emma raised her other hand to cup his cheek soothingly at the sight. Her heart stuttered to think that she might have caused him more pain and distress, or… was she wrong? Did he no longer want her?

He didn’t allow that thought to linger, instead startling her when he shook his head in frustration and backed away from her, dislodging her delicate touch and desperately searching her eyes with his own. “W-what are you doing t-to me, Emma? We can’t…” His chest heaved, and Killian downed a lungful of air before he could continue. “Stars above, do I want to… but you should take tonight… now that… now that you’ve really s-seen the damage… and be certain you don’t… want to back out while you still can?” His face fell to study the rich carpet at their feet with those words and the next were nearly inaudible when he added, “I would understand if you did.”

However, it is that declaration which galvanized Emma to action. Not allowing her face to fall with the return of his fear that her love could be so fickle, and without another moment’s hesitation, seeing clearly that it was not an issue of wish or desire, but that her brave, beautiful lieutenant was still trying to look out for her, at the expense of his own heart, she drew near to face him once again. He still feared her feeling trapped in their union, that she could not still want to bind herself to him, but in truth there was nothing she could want more. If she couldn’t convince him with sweet reassurance and heartfelt vows, then she would show him in a way that was impossible to doubt.

Killian was thrown slightly off balance by the way Emma suddenly latched onto his good arm and pulled him into her chambers, quickly closing the door behind them before they were seen, and then pressing him against it with her own body as she delved her hands into his dark, messy hair and kissed him for all she was worth. Still more than a bit disoriented, and not at all certain how to respond to her onslaught turning his body traitor to his mind, Killian was struggling to right himself, and mentally fighting not to surge forward and take over the kiss, spinning them to press her against the door and ravish her as she seemed to be demanding.

Neither of them had any wealth of experience beyond what they had explored with each other, and yet, as the emotion that had always been present between them swelled and began to guide them, hesitance and insecurity melted away. Now fully kissing his princess back, Killian just managed not to carry her across the room and press her to her mattress - but only just. Instead, his arms rose, meaning to cradle her precious face as he continued worshipfully drinking from her lips. His right hand did just that, calloused thumb stroking over her soft, porcelain cheek. Unfortunately, he caught sight of his blunted left arm and the mass of scars covering it as it rose to her face as well, and he jerked it back instinctively, hating the vision of it against such pale perfection.

Emma felt him flinch away, even as he tried to steady himself and continue kissing her. The catch in his throat and the tremble she felt where she clutched his shoulders gave him away, no matter how little he might want pity.

“Killian,” she murmured, her lips still brushing his, soft as rose petals and full of the solace only she can give. “What is it?”

He shook his head, having already tried to explain it to her, and knowing she would only argue with his fear now, even if it proved true once she genuinely looked at the ravages to his body bared before her eyes. Squeezing his own shut to avoid her searching green gaze, Killian instead rested his forehead against her own, drawing in her sweet scent and trying valiantly to memorize every detail in what he is sure might be the last time he was ever able to hold her so close.

As if needing nothing further to read his mind, understanding dawned on Emma as she took in her sailor before her. Taking a definite step back, she reached for his hook and its brace where it had fallen to the floor at their feet. Upon her picking it up and pushing it into his grasp, the air left his lungs in a rush; he was sure she had now awoken from her blindness and was about to send him away as he had feared. But then Emma, his stunning princess, caught him by surprise once more.

With only the barest of whispers to break the charged silence between them, she guided his arm across the space between them to place the sharpened metal point of the hook at the edge of her gown’s bodice, before biting her lip and looking up at him through her lashes with determined and sultry fervence. “Go ahead, rip it,” she commanded hoarsely, only the barest quaver to the words. “I want you to… and I need you to believe me.”

In truth, one hard downward swipe would slice through the material that covered her swiftly rising and falling chest, baring Emma completely to his eyes for the first time, but Killian had to stop himself, had to bring this back under control. It was folly, and could ruin her if anyone found out, even if they were to be married on the morrow. And not only that, he shook his head and blinked rapidly in an effort to clear the haze of lust her actions had brought before his eyes, beyond that, he had meant to release her, not make her more inclined to coddle him than ever.

When she saw that even with this further incentive Killian intended to balk, to cling to his blasted honor while it tore him apart, a spark of fiery ardor kindled in Emma’s green gaze, not giving up in her mission for even a second; instead, he had merely pushed her to retain the lead. “Killian,” she spoke again, her voice passionate and sincere as she took his chin between her fingers and forced his eyes to meet her own crackling with resolve. “I mean it. I want every part of you… Just you. No one else. That hasn’t changed… and it’s never going to.”

Wrapping both her small hands around his one holding the hook, she pushed downward in guidance until, with a sharp tear, the fabric gave and soon the rip sliced down the center until her dress fell open and Emma stepped from the folds of fabric to stand before her slack-jawed lieutenant. His eyes were round with wonder as he reached forward and then pulled back, as if aching to touch her with all the reverence and love she could read on his face, and yet, at the same time not quite sure he should truly be allowed to do so.

For the first time, the certainty on Emma’s face wavered, and a slight tremor ran through her limbs as her intended continued to stare in appreciation but made no movement forward. It was all she could do not to cross her arms protectively over herself, but her resolution held her fast as she urged once more. “Touch me, Killian. Please…”

This time the gentle plea in her sweet, beloved voice seemed to press Killian forward, finally breaking him free of the hesitance which had held him back and allowing him to close the distance between he and his princess until they were practically nose to nose. With the most tender gesture it seemed she had ever felt, Emma’s breath caught as he brought the gleaming curve of his metal appendage up to lightly brush a blond strand of her hair over her shoulder adeptly, and then ran the steely edge down her neck, out along her shoulder, and then over the outer curve of her breast and along her side to pause at her waist. It was now his chest rising and falling rapidly with the speed of his breath as his eyes followed the same paths along her body, seemingly heating her skin with his gaze as he did so.

“You’re so beautiful…” he rasped, his voice a raw husk of its usual timbre. For a moment, they merely gazed at one another, finally seeming in perfect accord, each loving the other so much no flaws or scars merited notice. Then, as if afraid to break the spell, but having to move, Emma raised one hand to brush her fingertips along that same long-healed scratch high on his cheek; a move of affection to ground herself in the familiar before venturing on.

“So are you,” she whispered sweetly, meaning every word and marvelling at how with those long, dark lashes mirroring the light blue, his strong jaw and the tilt upward of his soft, full lips, how he could ever doubt it. Letting her hand trail down the side of his face to his chest, the other one joined it, soon pushing his jacket from his shoulders to the floor and then going to work on the buttons of the loose-bloused shirt beneath.

Killian seemed to have finally given himself over to her will and the heat of the moment, merely shuddering at the sensation of her hands darting within the shirt once opened, skimming over his ribs and the quivering muscles of his stomach before shoving it from his arms and letting it fall to the floor atop the crumpled jacket.

Before he could protest or pull back within himself once more, Emma quickly grasped her sailor’s shortened arm, still reddened from the brace, but healed over and, to her, no deterrent in the slightest. Bending her head, she pressed her lips to the scarred flesh, lingering in what she could only hope might be a soothing kiss, holding his arm close, caressing the skin and cradling it to her chest.

A sort of half-whine escaped his throat, and then, as if the last of his restraint had at last been shattered, he surged forward, mouth claiming Emma’s and taking her over, just as she had hoped. Mindlessly, he was moving her backwards toward her fine canopy bed and leaning over her as her knees hit the mattress and they both sank down upon its soft surface.

Soon his firm, well-muscled legs were pressing against her own bare thighs, the pleasant weight of him hovering over her enticing, but also using just enough care not to crush her or squash the air from her lungs. His hand and left elbow were bracketing her shoulders, only awkward for a moment at the slightly unbalanced length of his arms before her clever lieutenant adapted and dove back in for another breath-taking kiss Emma could hardly match. Her heart beat wildly, near frantic in its exaltation as he continued to drink from her lips like a man who had been dying of thirst finally led to water.

Raising up only slightly, then sitting back on his haunches to study her, there was a darkening hunger in Killian’s eyes that she had never seen before. “So beautiful, my Love,” he whispered, bringing his hand to the side of her face, where she caught it in her own to hold close. Then he was bringing his bare forearm down her other side, taking a slow, leisurely path all the way from her neck to her hips, tingling flame and electricity skittering through her pores as he continued. It felt as though her brain was misfiring, unable to truly process all the sensations he was creating within her. He paused only slightly before his hand began to inch from her waist, where his scarred forearm remained steadingly reassuring her, over to her inner thigh and up toward her center, where she was practically trembling, vibrating for him, and for what came next.

Still, he waited, gaining her full and coherent attention before ascertaining once more, “Are you certain, Emma? Is this truly what you want?”

In spite of how badly she needed his long, graceful fingers to continue their quest, she was also practically clenching her thighs as much as possible against the desire running through her, merely to keep herself from flying into a million pieces. She nodded vehemently, trying to convey how much she wanted even though no words would come. “Yes… please…” she finally managed to grit out. “I c-can’t stand it if you s-stop now…”

Killian’s eyes seemed to light with an almost devious twinkle behind the way they had darkened to midnight hue. When his tongue darted out to swipe along his lower lip, his eyes leaving her face to watch where his fingers ghosted over tender skin, previously unseen by any other, her stomach lurched in a way that was intense, rattling, but not unpleasant. She felt moisture seep from between her legs, where his pointer and middle fingers were now deftly playing, tracing along her opening and dipping within in a touch that made her legs tremble, and her hips rise to him in supplication, whining fruitlessly for more as he looked both intent in his foray, focused on eliciting yet more sounds and feelings from her, and curious, as if she were a riddle laid out before him that he hoped to study from every angle and master completely.

Soon both those probing fingers were inside her, stroking so that Emma was now writhing beneath him, pressing her lips together to hold back more pitiful begging sounds than she had already let escape as she thrashed her head from side to side on the pillow.

Stilling his ministrations, Killian leaned down once more to press a kiss to her chin, her mouth, her forehead. “Please,” he whispered in her ear, before rising once again to watch his digits resume their rhythm along her inner walls as if entranced. “Don’t hold back any sound you want to make. I wish to know what pleases you.”

Emma’s hands had fisted in her sheets in desperation as he ceased his deft swipes and brushes, but when he upped the speed of his strokes, pulling his fingers nearly from her completely then back in, his stump all along stroking over her hipbone as if to soothe and keep her in place all at the same time, Emma’s hips began to move in response, trying to meet a thrust that wasn’t truly present yet, but that her body instinctively knew, as old as life itself. When Killian’s thumb at last joined in, pressing effectively against the small spot that made light and color burst behind her eyelids, Emma couldn’t stop the cry that tore from her throat as her entire body from fingertips to the ends of her hair to her very toenails seemed to seize in euphoria, crest and then burst. She went limp on the bed, shivering in the aftermath. It was like he’d had one of his beloved maps, she marveled, half consciously, only to guide him over her body instead of across waves. She didn’t know how Killian had done it so easily, but she was little more than a melted puddle in his hands.

“Alright there, Princess?” he asked, voice somewhat strained, but a tinge of pleased humor present as well.

This time, words did escape her. Emma merely cracked one eye open enough to regard him dreamily and hum as she attempted to brush one hand along his arm before it fell back to the bed.

“Hmm…” his deep voice hummed low enough to almost be to himself. “Good to know.”

Emma watched for a moment, appreciating the sparkling affection in his once more light, sea-blue eyes, the shock of dark hair that had fallen over his brow, the way his tempting, hair-covered chest heaved almost as much as her own, and the tight set of his sharply cut jaw. She loved him so much, and he had just made her feel so good - better than she had known she could feel - and she wanted to tell him so, wanted to make him feel the same, if only she could bring all her limbs back under her command and string a full sentence together.

Her eyes fell to his quivering stomach muscles, and then to where a thick bulge stood out within the breeches which still covered his lower half. Sense returned enough to her to realize that of course he had not yet reached the heights he had just made her ascend. They had yet to find completion together, and she reached forward with as much curiosity as he had earlier, and begin to work clumsily with the unfamiliar fastenings of his waistband.

Of course, her faithful, honorable betrothed had seen to her pleasure first, but she did not intend to leave Killian wanting - not after the satisfaction he had gifted her. And she wished to finally be joined with him fully and completely, in every way possible.

Killian’s larger, surer hands quickly covered hers and rapidly undid the buttons she had fumbled with, shimmying the pants over his hips and divesting himself of them entirely with a flick of his foot. Emma almost giggled aloud, regardless of what they had already done, at the image of his last article of clothing flying through the air to land haphazardly on her floor. However, the sight of her fiancé, her love, bared before her, nothing hiding any part of him, stilled the breath in her throat and the laughter on her tongue.

Just as he was in every other way, Killian uncovered was magnificent. True, she was also a bit intimidated, not sure now how the member she saw would fit where his fingers had so deliciously only a short time ago. Yet, though she swallowed hard, feeling her pulse pound a bit more erratically, she also trusted this man she knew as well as she knew herself. He would never hurt her, would sooner die himself than see her harmed. And she could see the straining state he was in and knew had to be painful. She no sooner wanted to him hurt than he did her. He had given her such gratification, could she not do the same for him? Despite her trepidation and uncertainty, she also wanted to know, craved that connection with him, that final bond they had yet to experience.

Her eyes drifted up from his rigid manhood, following the trail of thick dark hair up his lean torso to the darkly curling thatch covering his well-formed chest. She caressed his toned shoulders and arms with her gaze, having a hard time not rising to meet him, wrapping her arms and legs around him and never letting him go.

She found that her voice had deserted her altogether, but she beckoned him to her once more. This time as Killian swept in to kiss her ardently, tongue stealing forth to duel with her own, she noticed the quivering in his arms, the exertion showing on his face along with his love and devotion. He was holding himself back, but it was nearly all he could do. Making up her mind, Emma craned her neck slightly to catch his stare once more. When she was certain he read her resolve, her decision, and her heart’s desire clearly, she spoke at last. “Go on, Killian. I’m ready…. I - I want to be yours. You told me not to hold back, but you needn’t do so either. I belong to you…. now and forever.”

The sound that escaped him then was almost a growl, plunging back in with teeth and tongue to kiss her more fervently than ever. It seemed his hand and his stump were everywhere, no longer holding back in the slightest. Something about the stiff propriety to which he held himself loosening at last, took away the bit of breath she had regained.

In the next moment, Killian had rolled them so they faced each other on their sides. His eyes darkened to a deep cobalt again with desire as they searched for just a second before trailing nips and licks along her neck and across her collarbones, even as his shortened arm drew her leg up to rest it over his hip, opening her to him intimately. Pausing only briefly, Emma’s heart pounded at the way he whispered against her ear. “I’ll try to make this as good as I can for you, my Love. There may be pain for a bit, I’m told. Just hang onto me, aye?”

Emma nodded wordlessly, already clinging to him tightly as he shuffled just a moment to get them in place. She felt him at her entrance only briefly and then he thrust home, making everything else center at that point inside her until nothing seemed to exist beyond where they met. She felt stretched, filled, and there was a sharp pain against which she bit her lip and tried to hold back a few rogue tears.

Killian of course, ever watching her and seeing to her comfort, was already brushing his lips across her face, murmuring assurances, apologies, and kissing away those tears, even as he began to move in a steady, rolling pace that he couldn’t hold back any longer. Even as she winced slightly, anxious to adjust, Emma also felt something building beyond the initial discomfort. Warmth and sensation swelled and grew, pleasure vibrating within as Killian stroked places inside she hadn’t even known to exist.

Soon she was gripping him so tightly she knew her nails must be leaving indents on his flesh, moans and pleas for more mixed with his name falling from her mouth in shameless desperation. By the time the center of pleasure pulsed and burst rattling her to her core until she fell boneless from the heights, her eyes were squeezed closed and she was gasping for breath as Killian stilled his rocking motion, trembling in her loose-armed embrace as he found his own release.

As spent as he was, Killan still had the thought to gather her close as they both regained their breath, bundling her against his chest and nuzzling his nose against her earlobe. “Are you… alright, Emma?” he questioned earnestly.

She nodded, interlocking her fingers with his where his good arm rested beneath her. “I am. Very much so,” she assured him breathily. Snuggling closer still, their legs entwined, the sheet just barely pulled up to their waists, Emma stroked her fingers along his forearm, revelling in the intense connection she felt after what they’d just shared.

Probably she should urge him to catch his breath, then be up and back to his own rooms until the morning. Yet, she did no such thing. When Killian’s breathing evened out and his eyes slid closed, she studied his gentle, handsome face in sleep, his worries about their end finally defeated. Tracing a hand over his brow, she closed her own eyes too. When slumber came to her as well, Emma’s last thought was that she didn’t want to spend even one more night without him. Tomorrow they would be man and wife, but they had already become one.

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @laschatzi @effulgentcolors @let-it-raines @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bmbbcs4evr @blackwidownat2814 @gingerchangeling @branlovestowrite

#cs ff #cs EF au #lieutenant duckling fic #year in the court of misthaven #part five

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