#by then his only worry is burning through all his chaos energy

[ponderingmoonlight]

Wicked Games

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: From the second Ryomen Sukuna appears on the surface on earth again, you are bound to each other. Until the Shibuya accident. Until Sukuna gets confronted with the fear of losing you first-hand.

Warnings: angst to fluff y'all, enemies to lovers in a kind of rushed way, this made me think about doing a series with like 5 chapters and a slow burn enemies to lovers with Sukuna x curse!reader - how do you feel about that? <3

Inspired by this prompt:

You remember it as if it was yesterday. The night was cold and eerily quiet when you sprinted through the dark streets, your body buzzing with the vibrations of cursed energy.

The reports had come in just an hour ago: a powerful curse had manifested, and it wasn’t just any ordinary curse. The whispers and especially Gojo spoke of something ancient, something nearly forgotten. Something that had slumbered within the shadows of legends until now.

“Guess what, (y/n)? Megumi found something that might interest you”, Gojo jeered at you through the phone when you already felt it.

Ryomen Sukuna.

You had heard his name your entire life - a dark deity, a figure so terrible that entire villages had been wiped out by his bare hands centuries ago.

Since you were a child, you've been obsessed with him, the so-called "King of Curses." Not because you were drawn to the death and chaos he brought, but because of the mystery he posed. The idea that something so cruel, so powerful, could exist outside the boundaries of human comprehension. As a sorcerer, you committed yourself to understanding curses, to studying their origins, motivations, powers. And there was no greater paradox than Sukuna himself.

But now, he wasn't only a paradox anymore. Now he had returned. They had found one of his fingers. Apparently, someone had consumed it.

“I’m in the middle of souvenir shopping and guessed you wouldn’t mind stepping in and helping little Megumi out.”

"Normally I'd scold you but today...thank you, idiot."

Yuji Itadori, the boy who had swallowed Sukuna’s cursed finger, who brought Sukuna back into the world after centuries of slumber, stood right in your sight along with Megumi Fushiguro. But you couldn’t let yourself worry about the boys; your focus was on the curse now staring straight back at you.

Your fingers tightened on the hilt of your sword, the cursed energy crackling around you like lightning in the dark night. You had prepared your entire life for this moment. The countless hours of sickening training, the sleepless nights spent poring over ancient texts and scrolls, and the battles fought against nameless curses. All of it had led you here, to your first confrontation with the King of Curses.

As you reached the completely destroyed school building where the cursed energy was originating from, you could already feel it. The overwhelming, tyrannical weight of Sukuna’s presence. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, so thick it felt as though it was suffocating you.

You pressed on, despite the nausea building in your chest. There was no time to second-guess yourself. You moved swiftly through the corridors of the building, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The cursed energy grew heavier with every step, your breathing becoming uneven when the spiteful aura grew stronger. And then, at the far end of the hallway on top of a roof, you saw him.

At first glance, it was a boy, a teenager no older than Megumi. His body was rigid, standing in the middle of that roof, shoulders squared as though fighting an internal battle. But the look on his face, the wicked smile stretched across his lips, told you otherwise. The way his dark eyes gleamed with wicked amusement confirmed what you had feared.

This wasn’t Itadori anymore.

This was Sukuna.

“Interesting...” Sukuna’s voice rumbled from the boy’s throat as his gaze locked onto yours.

His smile widened, predatory and cruel.

“What do we have here? Another little sorcerer, so eager to die?”

You held your ground, your body tense but steady. This was no ordinary curse you were facing. Every instinct screamed at you to flee, but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t, allow fear to take control. Your entire life had been building up to this.

“You’re not getting out of here,” you said, your voice firm.

“Not while I’m here.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. His eyes narrowed, taking you in.

“Brave words, but foolish. Do you really think you can handle me, girl?”

You didn’t respond with words, Instead, you shoved Megumi behind you and let your cursed energy flare to life around you, the air crackling with power. You moved swiftly, launching yourself at him, your blade drawn and poised for the strike.

But Sukuna was fast — faster than you had anticipated. With barely a flicker of movement, he dodged your attack, his grin never faltering. He countered with a swift punch, sending you flying across the air and crashing into the opposite wall. Pain exploded in your chest, and you gasped for breath.

“Is that all?”, Sukuna taunted, his voice filled with mockery as he stalked toward you.

“I expected more from someone who’s been chasing me.”

You coughed, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth, but you forced yourself to your feet. Your body ached from the impact, but the adrenaline was stronger. You had trained for this. You wouldn’t go down so easily.

As Sukuna advanced, you focused your cursed energy into a powerful barrier, your eyes blazing with determination. You wouldn’t let him win. Not today.

“Let the boy go,” you demanded, your voice sharper now.

“I’m your opponent now.”

Sukuna’s eyes gleamed at the challenge.

“Bold. But you should know better than to give me orders.”

The battle was swift and brutal. Sukuna’s strikes were relentless, his movements impossibly fast and deadly. You could barely keep up, each of his blows a near-fatal attack. But through it all, you fought with everything you had, refusing to back down.

You’ve studied Sukuna your entire life. You knew his techniques, his fighting style, the cruel unpredictability of his power. But even with all that knowledge, facing him in person was something entirely different. His cursed energy was overwhelming, suffocating, a malevolent force that pressed against your very soul.

And yet, you stood your ground.

As the fight wore on, something shifted in the way Sukuna looked at you. What had started as amusement, as mockery, slowly turned into something else. Curiosity. Interest. Even a hint of admiration.

“You’re not like the others,” he jeered at one point, dodging one of your attacks effortlessly.

His eyes flickered with something dangerous, something… intrigued.

“You’re still standing. Most would have died by now.”

You spat blood onto the ground, your body screaming in agony but your will unbroken.

“I’m not most people.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound dark and throaty.

“No. You’re not.”

That was how it began. The first encounter — your first dance with death and the King of Curses. It didn’t end with your victory or his defeat. No, you knew better than to believe you could win against him in a single battle. But it wasn’t a defeat, either.

It was the beginning of something bigger.

After your first encounter with Sukuna, something within you shifted. Yuji Itadori regained control, but you knew it was only temporary. Sukuna wasn’t gone. He was still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for his next opportunity to take control. And when he did, you were there.

Every. Single. Time.

Every time Sukuna resurfaced, you fought him. It became a twisted routine, an endless game of cat and mouse where neither of you could claim absolute victory. You learned his techniques, his fighting style, and the nuances of his cursed energy. You pushed yourself harder, training longer, grew stronger. And with every battle, Sukuna’s interest in you grew as well.

He began to speak to you during the fights, taunting you, teasing you, but always with that glimmer of intrigue in his eyes. He never seemed eager to kill you, not really. In fact, there were moments, brief, fleeting moments, where he seemed to hold back, almost as if he was enjoying the challenge you presented.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you asked him one day, your voice strained after yet another brutal fight.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Sukuna’s grin was feral, his eyes glittering dangerously as he wiped the blood from his lips.

“Because you’re amusing,” he replied, his voice low and menacing.

“And because I’m not done with you yet.”

You hated the way his words sent a shiver down your spine, the way his gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. But more than anything, you hated how much you wanted to beat him, to prove yourself against the King of Curses.

As the months passed, you found yourself drawn deeper into Sukuna’s world. You fought him, studied him, and slowly but surely somehow began to understand him. He wasn’t just a mindless monster, not like the other curses you’ve faced. There was something more to Sukuna, something ancient and calculating, a mind sharper than any blade.

And Sukuna, in turn, began to learn more about you. He observed your fighting style, your strategies, your strengths and weaknesses. He pushed you, challenged you, forced you to grow stronger with every battle. There was a strange, unspoken connection between you: a mutual recognition of each other’s strength, a respect born from the countless times you’d clashed.

But there was something else, too. Something neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Something that simmered beneath the surface of every encounter.

You hated him. You despised everything he stood for, the chaos and destruction he brought into the world. But there was a part of you that couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him — the way his presence ignited something fierce and primal within you.

And Sukuna? Sukuna had grown attached to the thrill of facing you. You were unlike anyone he’d ever fought. Strong. Determined. Unyielding. It was no longer about crushing you under his heel. It was about keeping you close, about testing your limits and pushing you to your breaking point.

But neither of you were willing to admit what was truly happening between you.

You smile weakly to yourself, blood spilling from the corners of your mouth. Not even now.

The Shibuya Incident is chaos. The city is overrun with curses and the streets are filled with blood and screams. You dispatched alongside other sorcerers to contain the situation, but things quickly spiraled out of control. The curses were too many, too strong, and the collateral damage was catastrophic.

Your focus was on protecting your students, the young sorcerers under your care who had been thrust into this nightmare far too early in their training. You were always their protector, their guide, and you would do anything to keep them safe. But the battle was relentless, and the curses were closing in fast.

In the midst of the chaos, Sukuna reappeared, his presence like a dark shadow over the battlefield. He took control of Yuji once again, his cursed energy crackling through the air with terrifying force. You felt it the moment he arrived, your senses attuned to the overwhelming hatred that accompanied his presence.

You barely had time to react before you were caught in the crossfire. A powerful curse lashed out at you and you moved to shield your students from the blow. But the attack was too fast, too strong. It tore through your defenses, the cursed energy slicing through your body like a hot knife through butter.

Pain exploded in your chest when you collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Your vision blurred, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You had suffered injuries before, but this… this was different.

This was fatal.

The world around you fades almost instantly, the edges of your vision go dark. You can feel your life slipping away, your body growing cold.

Out of all people, why does it have to be him you long for the most? Why do your eyes start watering by the thought that you'll might never see him again, that you were never able to feel his lips pressed against yours? Are you really so naive, so dumb? Fuck, you really fell for the King of Curses, the root of all evil.

But then… you hear his voice.

“Get. Up.”

Sukuna’s voice cuts through the haze of pain and exhaustion like a lightning strike. You blink, trying to focus, trying to understand what is happening. Is he really there? Are you hallucinating?

“Get up,” he repeats, his voice sharp and commanding.

But then you feel it. His hand pressed against the gaping wound in your abdomen. No, he's really there. It's really him.

“You’ve suffered bigger wounds. And if you don’t get up, I’ll destroy everything that’s left of this world.”

You force yourself to breathe, your chest burning with the effort. But your body isn’t responding anymore. The pain is too much. You simply can’t move. The only reaction you're able to build up is a weak smile.

Is this really how it ends? With another empy threat?

Sukuna growls, crouching down beside you. He can't let you die here. Not like this, not after this short time. There's still so much more he needs to show you, so much more he needs to say.

Before he realizes what he's even doing, his hands are on you, cursed energy flowing into your body, patching up the worst of the damage. It isn’t healing, not really - more like forcing your body to hold together for just a little longer. Just enough to keep you.

“Please…”

Sukuna’s voice is strained, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Please get up. Don’t die on me.”

You blink, your heart stuttering in your chest as his words sink in. He’s asking you. Pleading with you...Not to die?

“Please don’t die on me.”

With his cursed energy coursing through you, you really feel your strength returning, your wounds slowly mending under his influence. The pain fades away, replaced by a strange warmth that spreads through your body. You gasp for breath, your chest rising and falling as life surges back into you.

Did…Ryomen Sukuna save your ass? Your heart pounds so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting all over again. This can’t be possible, right? You have to be dreaming. After all, Ryomen Sukuna is your greatest enemy, responsible for at least half of the mess here.

“I’m not… done yet,” you rasp, your voice weak but steady.

Sukuna’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous paired with a hint of relief.

“That’s more like it.”

He helps you to your feet, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever.

"What, were you worried about me, dumbass?"

Faster than you're able to react, he grabs your arm again and pulls you in. When his lips press themselves against yours, you forget how to exist for a second. Out of instinct, you open your mouth, allow him to enter, close your eyes when your whole body starts to burn up all over again.

Oh, you imagined this more than once. How do his firm arms feel against your touch? Are his lips softer than his cruel words? Is Sukuna a good kisser?

A desperate moan escapes your lips before you can stop yourself, your arms now roaming all over his muscular frame.

This...this is so wrong. You shouldn't do this, shouldn't even dream about something like this. But as sudden as he appeared, he's gone again, leaving you with nothing but your swollen lips as a proof for what just happened.

Are you actually going insane?

Bonus:

After Shibuya, things changed between you and Sukuna.

The battles continued, of course. The fights, the challenges, the taunts, the unnecessary deaths and killing  - none of that stopped and you still hate him with every fiber of your being for all those horrible things he did. But there is something else now, something that neither of you can ignore. The second Sukuna saw you lying there in a pool of your own blood on the edge of death, he started to realize it.

You aren’t a simple enemy for him anymore. You are his obsession.

Sukuna’s possessiveness over you grew, but so did the strange, unspoken understanding between you. You weren’t just another sorcerer to him anymore. You were his: his opponent, his challenge, his equal. And though neither of you would ever admit it out loud, there was a twisted sort of affection in that.

And you?

You’ve found something unexpected in the King of Curses. Not love, not really, but something close. Something raw and powerful, a connection without any logic and reason.

You didn’t know where it would lead. But you knew one thing for sure:

As long as Sukuna was in this world, you would be right there with him.

And that was enough.

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[superstarcherrycolagirl]

we’ll be alright

“fine line” by harry styles

benny cross x fem!reader / 1.2k words

idea: you get hurt, but benny is an absolute wreck

tw: assault, fighting, gore, angst, crying, happy ending

notes: ya’ll when i tell you my thumbs, hands, and arms are burning cause i’ve been COOKING!! i was craving some angst (i love to suffer) so way not make this beautiful man suffer!! that final seen on the door steps had me weeping so i needed to write something similar to that SO HERE IT IS :))) (p.s i kinda need some kathy ideas)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the baby blue ice pack created a weird sensation against your left eye and the side of your face. numb was what it was, but you couldn’t really think straight at that point.

sitting on the edge of the bed with kathy beside you, rubbing her hand up and down your back, it almost lulled you to sleep. but the medicine you took and the exhaustion you felt might have also played a part in your sleepiness.

that fight was never meant to happen. those young kids should’ve never been let into the bar. johnny kicked himself for not literally kicking them out the moment they walked in. the kid with the buzzed head should’ve never gotten so close to benny with you behind him, and benny should’ve known you were behind him and not with your girlfriends before he dodged his swing, so you’d never be served that harsh punch to your sweet face.

in the split moment the whole bar went quiet, your faint slow breaths filled the air. you were in shock, touching your face to see blood on your hand. that kid stacked his punching rings on that night. when you looked up from your hands to the kid in front of you, your eyes watered and threatened to spill, that’s when chaos broke loose. but thank god you can’t remember any of that right now. you cried so hard on kathy’s shoulder the entire ride home, thanks to danny for driving you back in his car, that you think you can’t cry anymore.

you jerked awake due to the loud knocking at your apartment door, kathy settling you down first before standing up “i’m gonna go grab that sweetheart and i’ll be right back. stay right here for me babe” she left your bedroom calmly, hearing her boot cladded footsteps taking a left turn and and marching down the hallway

you heard muffled voices through the walls, then moments later you heard a second pair of footsteps stomping down to your door. or was it 3 pairs?

“got some energy left in you babe? you got some company” you looked up at kathy, but you couldn't see the people with her. so you took the ice pack off your face, a vivid mix of purples, red, and blues plastering the left half of your face, and looked up. benny had finally come home and johnny was stopping by!

“who is it kat- oh my gosh! you guys are alive!” it’s like a flip switched in your brain as you got up from the bed and stumbled a bit to get to them. “lord i can’t imagine what it was like in there! are you guys alri-” that’s when benny grabbed onto you and pulled you into his chest. tight. “hi honey! i’m so happy you’re here! did everything clear up? are you okay?” you asked sweetly. you were quite lethargic in your state, so you couldn’t pick up on how thick the air was due to how worried everyone was about you. not until you listened to benny’s breath stutter and tiny whimpers leaving his mouth.

he’s crying.

you tried to pull away from him to look up at him, but he wouldn’t let you go. he wasn’t gonna let you go, not after tonight’s events. you didn’t know what to do, why was he crying? you could only hold him, rubbing your right hand in circles on his back. sooner or later, your left arm extended and reached out abruptly. kathy was confused at first, but was quickly diminished when realizing that this was your way of saying hello to johnny. johnny softly held your hand, afraid that you were aching all over, as he was caressing your hand with his thumb. “hello to you too sweetheart” he said in his deep voice.

you don’t know what was said as you were squashed into benny’s chest, but kathy and johnny left the room quietly, johnny muttering to benny that they were going for a “chat and smoke” and they’d be outside in the living room.

after the door closed, benny pulled back from you. you could finally see his face, but your heart sank down to your stomach so fast. benny’s face was rosy and puffy, while his eyes and cheeks were wet from crying. you brought your hand up to his right cheek, a small cut touching the bottom of your thumb. “..oh honey” you said sadly. you expected him to say that he was okay, or telling you he was going out with johnny, or god forbid say that he was gonna leave. what you didn’t expect was your words to unleash the floodgates of benny’s emotions.

benny started to cry hard, his breaths becoming frantic as tears continued to fall down his face. his hands were shaking, bruises and cuts all over his body, clothes torn, and blood all over. god you hope it wasn’t his own.

benny moved his hands to hold both sides of your neck, worried he would hurt you even more by touching your face. then he started to speak, but his voice watery and shaky, like a little boy “m’so..so s-orry baby, m’so sorry, m.. so sorry,” his stutters and hiccups were hysterical, you’re worried he’ll pass out from not breathing enough. “m’coward. a fucking coward. i should’ve known you were behind m-me… i failed to keep you sa-afe, you got hurt because of me.. and m’so sorry.. pl-ease don’t leave me.. please don’t-” those were the words that woke you up. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. leave him? and you refused to hear more of it.

you walked backwards to sit on the bed, benny hands slid to hold your lower back before sliding even lower to hold the thick of your thighs. to ground himself. you held his face to make him look at you. to see you.

“honey.. none of this was your fault” his sniffles and gasps were making it harder for you to speak. “i don’t blame you or anyone else for what happened, but especially not you. i’m alright” your right hand moved up to his frazzled hair, brushing the strands of hair away from his face. you prayed it would help him calm down. “and m’gonna be alright, look,” you grabbed his tattered hands from your hips and placed one on your heart, and the other on your swollen cheek. you can see his shoulders fall slowly as he focuses on your heartbeat. “my heart is still pulsing, my chest is still rising and falling, and my soul is still beaming” you scooched closer to him, your left leg placed on top of his right.

“look at me honey,” your syrupy voice rang in his ears as he looked into your eyes again. his eyelashes were dewy from how much he cried that you almost lost all the words in your mouth, but you told him one more thing. “i will never leave you. no matter how crazy our lives get, or how crazy things change, i will never run. i will never let you go. this isn’t where we end” benny inhales and exhales deeply before responding to your words of reassurance, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “i’ll never leave you b-aby..i’m never gonna go, never. i promise baby i-i promise” “c’mere” with that you brought your boy over to you, his head fitting into the crook of your neck.

you let him cry, but also let yourself get teary eyed. “you and me sweet boy. s’gonna be okay” you were stroking the hair on the back of his head as his arms held you closer than ever. you in your pink pajamas and him in his colors. that is what’s meant to be. and always will be.

“we’ll be alright”

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

2: UNWELCOME DISTANCE

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Dinner with Bucky didn't go as well as you planned and now you're suffering from the outcome of being ditched in an autumn thunderstorm.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: feelings of betrayal, shitty communications skills, illness (upper respiratory tract infection) description, Coney Island and cotton candy, jealousy, Bucky... Barnes is a warning

The following morning, you woke up feeling a little worse for wear. You buried your face in your pillow willing the tickle in your throat and at the back of your nose to disappear. A small groan left your lips as your attempt to sleep in was thwarted by the aching throughout your body. Sitting up did little to make you feel better, other than shifting the balance of mucus in your sinuses, making you sneeze and worsening the scratchiness of your throat. You looked up at the clock, you’d missed the breakfast time that you were expected to attend, but there weren’t any messages on your phone expressing concern from your friends.

A throb of self pity and doubt flashed through your mind. Did any of them even care? You had lost Bucky to another woman, but clearly none of your other friends had noticed your absence. You weren’t special, you’d only been invited to join the Avengers Initiative because of your powers. The thoughts were just forming, your mind ready to spiral into a storm of insecurity, when there was a knock at your door. Each movement felt like wading through molasses, and even sitting up seemed like an insurmountable task.

"Cricket?" Steve’s voice permeated into the room.

"Coming!" At least that was what you tried to say, your voice coming out as a small croak. You padded over to the door barefoot and opened the door to find Steve’s kind face looking down at you.

His concern was etched across his features as he took in your disheveled appearance. Dark circles clung to your eyes, and your skin had lost its usual healthy hue.

"Hey there, sunshine," he greeted, his voice gentle. "How’re you feeling?"

There was only one word that would succinctly sum up your emotional and physical state in that moment. "Shit," you mumbled, sniffing at the fluid that was threatening to leak from your nose.

He reached out, his hand cool against your feverish skin. His touch was comforting, grounding you in the midst of your misery. "You definitely have a fever," he confirmed.

As if to affirm his observation, your body pitched forwards in a violent sneeze, which you barely had the time to catch with the inside of your elbow. You ended the outburst with a pained groan, as the back of your throat burned.

Steve’s concern deepened. "You need rest," he said firmly, steering you back into bed. "I’ll make you some tea."

You followed his instructions without protest, not having the energy to argue. It would be best for you to stay in bed, you’d get better quicker with rest, and it was a great excuse to avoid seeing your best friend and his girlfriend. The practical side of you would use the excuse that you didn’t want to expose anyone to your germs. At least Steve would be protected by the serum, so you didn’t need to worry about him hanging around. So with a clear conscience, you snuggled back under your covers to wait for Steve’s return.

As he disappeared towards the kitchen, you sank back into your pillows. Maybe losing Bucky wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe having a friend like Steve was enough—a warm presence in the midst of your feverish chaos. And as the wind whistled outside, you realized that sometimes, friendship was the best medicine of all.

Little did you know that on his way to the kitchen, Steve ran into Bucky as he was leaving your room.

"Steve?" Bucky called after his friend.

"Hey, Buck."

"What’re you doing?" The real question he wanted to ask was ‘why are you leaving Cricket’s room?’.

"Just grabbing some things for Cricket. She isn’t feeling very well."

"What?" Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. "She was fine yesterday!"

"Well if you hadn’t left her alone to get drenched in that storm, she probably wouldn’t be so miserable." Steve hadn’t meant to be so harsh with his words, but you had interrupted his beauty sleep the previous night and he was feeling rather disgruntled.

"What’re you trying to say, Steve?

"You shouldn’t have left it so long to tell her." Steve was referring to Priya and how long he'd kept his relationship with her private.

"That’s my decision, Steve." Bucky countered, defensively.

"I know. But maybe you should think about why you were so ready to tell me, but not Cricket."

Bucky clicked his tongue against the roof of mouth, dismissing Steve's comments. "I'm gonna go and see her."

Steve thought about objecting, but decided against it, opting to fetch the things he had promised you.

Bucky’s footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway, each one a heavy reminder of his own recklessness. The storm had raged outside, rain pelting against the window panes like a thousand tiny fists. But he hadn’t been there to shield you from it. Instead, he’d left you alone, vulnerable, and now guilt gnawed at him like a persistent rat.

Your room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn shut against the gray morning. Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his knuckles grazing the wooden doorframe. He’d never been good with words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But he had to try.

"Cricket?" His voice was soft, almost tentative. He stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under his weight. There you were, cocooned in blankets, your face pale against the pillows. The storm had taken its toll on you, and he cursed himself for not being there.

You stirred, eyelashes fluttering open. "Bucky?" Your voice was a whisper, fragile like a spider’s silk. "What’re you doing here?"

He crossed the room in two strides, perching on the edge of your bed. "I… I heard you weren’t feeling well." His fingers brushed against your forehead, checking for fever. "Steve told me."

You managed a weak smile. "Steve’s a tattletale."

"He cares about you," Bucky said gruffly. "We both do."

"I feel bad for dragging him out of bed last night."

"Cricket, why didn't you tell me you didn't have any way to get back home. I would have brought a car instead of my bike."

You shrugged, “I didn’t think I had to.”

He had been so caught up in his plans to introduce you to Priya that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might need a ride home. He had assumed you would find your own way, and he was just starting to realize how selfish that had been. He should have been more attentive, more caring. He laid a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry, Cricket. I should have been more thoughtful. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Cricket, please, let me make it up to you. I was looking for you this morning. I made your favorite pancakes," Bucky continued. "Thought you could come and have breakfast with me and Priya, before I take her home."

"Sorry," you shrugged, hating this conversation more and more. Why was Steve taking so long to return?

"I was going to spend the day with her, but if you want, I can come back and we can watch some movies."

"Don't cancel your plans on my account." You rolled over, facing away from Bucky.

Your behavior stung, but he couldn't blame you for being angry. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "For leaving you out there."

"See you later," you mumbled and Bucky knew he had been dismissed. 

Bucky couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavily on his chest as he walked away. He had always been a good friend, someone who looked out for others and made sure they were taken care of. But in his excitement to introduce you to Priya, he had neglected to consider your needs.

As he walked away, Bucky couldn't stop replaying the conversation in his head. He had let you down, and he wanted to make things right.

Steve appeared a few moments after his departure, his arms laden with homely remedies and a bowl of soup which smelled incredible. Your stomach rumbled hungrily in response, making you blush.

"Here, take this first," Steve shoved a bottle of DayQuil under your nose.

Begrudgingly, you accepted the painkiller gratefully and then proceeded to slurp up the soup. "This is delicious," you hummed in approval.

"Hey, when you're feeling a bit better, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere… cheer you up a little." Steve stuttered towards the end as he saw surprise on your face. 

You swallowed your mouthful of soup before cracking a smile. “Steve, I'd like that.”

Steve smiled back at you. But suddenly, he reached out, grabbing the bowI in your hands, having noticed the slight hitch in your breath. A sneeze rocked your body forcefully and you groaned.

“Thanks,” you accepted the bowl back from Steve.

"No problem. Don't want to make a mess."

“No,” you sighed, finishing the soup in a sad silence.

“Want me to stay?”

“No, it's okay. I'm just going to go back to sleep.”

Steve took the empty dishes and kissed your forehead, glad that it didn't feel as warm as it had earlier. “Feel better, champ.”

You sure hoped you would.

*

A few days later, you were back in fighting form. But much to Bucky's chagrin, he could never seem to catch your attention for more than a passing nod or wave. He wanted to make things right with you. He missed you, he wasn’t used to being so close to you but not being able to talk to you properly. He had the sneaking suspicion that your distance might not just be ill-timed schedules. Were you avoiding him? He wondered if you were still angry at him for not giving you a ride back home after your dinner with Priya. A feeling of melancholy settled over him as he speculated on all the things he could have done that made you take a step away from him. Every reason under the sun spiraled through Bucky’s mind except the real reason for your withdrawal.

Bucky had hoped that meeting someone else, someone who was interested in him would help him push away the feelings he had for you. Closure. That’s what they called it in the movies these days. But this didn’t seem like it was going quite the way he had anticipated. In fact, rather than feeling happier, he felt more tortured than he had before. Maybe going out with Priya would take his mind off things, so he decided to give her a call and schedule a date, she had a way of soothing his turbulent thoughts. Not as well as you did, no one understood him quite like you did.

*

Steve was true to his word, and had whipped up a surprise plan for the two of you to spend the day together. He had chosen a Wednesday, explaining that it was a good time as the place would be less busy. He made sure you had dressed warmly, in spite of the sunny weather. 

"Don’t want you getting ill again," he smiled as you got into the car with him.

"Is that why we’re not taking the bike?"

Steve shook his head, knowing how much you loved riding motorcycles.

"So where are you taking me?" you asked. You’d been trying to get Steve to tell you for the last few days, but the tight lipped Captain had resisted all your wily techniques at information extraction.

"Coney Island."

"Ohh!" you exclaimed. "I haven’t been there for years!" You laughed before a thought popped into your head, a memory. "Are you sure you want to go there, Steve?"

"Why wouldn’t I want to go to Coney Island?"

"Well, I heard about… the… Cyclone Incident."

Steve blushed. "Bucky telling everyone that story, huh?"

"Afraid so." Your smile was soured slightly by the shadow casted by Bucky’s name and you turned to stare out of the window, letting Steve drive in silence.

Steve shook his head. He wanted nothing more than for both his best friends to be happy, and for the two of you to be happy together was the ultimate goal. He hoped that one day both of you would come to your senses, but until then, he would do his best to support you both.

The weather turned out to be fine and you had shed your top layer before even leaving the car.

"Oh come on! Stop being such a dad! We can always come back to the car if it gets chilly!" you responded to Steve’s disapproval.

"Come on then!"

It was a beautiful day filled with laughter and joy between you and Steve. He was glued to your side, treating you to all the rides, indulging you when you wanted to ride the Cyclone repeatedly. Every time you got to the end of the ride, you’d turn to him and make sure he wouldn’t spill his guts. Steve rolled his eyes dramatically as you laughed hysterically.

"What next?" Steve asked. "And don’t tell me we’re doing that again."

"Come on, the girl letting people in definitely has a crush on you! Why do you think we got on for free the last two times?"

Steve grabbed your wrist, "Come on!" He led you away from the rides, over to a cotton candy kiosk, dropping a few notes into the vendor's hand and selecting two cones. You took the liberty of grabbing the blue one from his hand and tucking into it before he had the chance to object.

"Bet I can eat this faster than you can!" Steve suggested slyly.

"Oh, bring it, Rogers!" You tore the stick out of the candy cloud and scrunched it up into a tiny ball, sticking it in your mouth and letting the sugar dissolve on its own.

Steve, who had taken several large bites, looked up in confusion and awe. He eyed your empty hands, then put his finger on your bottom lip, pushing it down and peering into your mouth. 

You indulged his disbelief, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. "See, all gone! I win!" you smile with glee.

"Wow!"

"You forget, I was the youngest of five! I had to learn to eat fast or I’d lose out." 

Steve chortled quietly at your story. "Fine, what do you want as your prize?" He waved around at all the game stalls, letting you pick your prize.

You gazed around, contemplating your options when you spotted a giant stuffed wolf. "That one!"

Steve was true to his word and threw every bean bag with perfect aim and you pointed at a white plushie which looked a little different to the others. 

"Why don’t you take this one?" the vendor tried to shove a dark gray wolf into your arms, but you declined.

"No thank you, I’d like that one please." You selected one which had been stuffed on a high shelf, away from the others of its kind.

"Honey, this one’s going in the garbage, look at him, white body with one gray leg. It’s a defective product, they made a mistake in the factory. Happens from time to time."

But you were adamant, you wanted the white wolf with the transplanted leg.

"Whatever you want, miss." The vendor handed you the soft toy, which you hugged to your chest. There was something about him that you wanted to keep safe.

Unbeknownst to you, you had been spotted by someone unexpected. Bucky had had a similar thought to Steve, he had brought Priya to the ‘island’ on a quiet weekday for some harmless fun.

"Jamie, look!" Priya tugged at his sleeve. "Isn't that Cricket and Steve?"

Bucky's head whipped around so fast, he almost had empathy for whiplash sufferers. He frowned, eye searching the crowd in the direction of Priya’s outstretched hand. He couldn't believe that you would come here with Steve. He had often suggested a trip to Coney Island to you, but you'd never managed to make the time for it. So seeing you here with Steve made his insides burn with jealousy. Another part of him, his guilt-ridden conscience told him that he didn't deserve you. Naturally, you'd choose the classical hero, Steve. He was the golden boy, even when they'd been kids, Steve was the trouble maker, but somehow Bucky was the one his parents mistrusted. 

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"Let's go over and say hi!"

"I'm sure they don't want us to interrupt them." Bucky vetoed the suggestion with a sulky expression.

"Fair, I mean I wouldn't want anyone interrupting our date either." Priya smiled, taking Bucky's hand, leading him away. Bucky stole one last glance at his two best friends, a deep ache settling inside him as Priya dragged him away from you. 

*

Over the next week, you and Bucky drifted through the compound, both longing for the other but not quite able to find it within yourselves to seek the other out. For you, it was a simple matter of avoidance. You'd made the mistake of touching the flame and now you suffered the burn. But for Bucky it was different. He couldn't understand your absence and he knew nothing of your pain.

He could feel the frustration building up inside him, until one day he caught you returning to your room. And every one of his thoughts and accusations came pouring out.

"What is it? Why’re you upset with me?" Bucky demanded.

"I’m not upset… it’s not- I’m hurt. You hurt me. It’s not that you did something wrong. In fact you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just that I thought you’d share something big, like dating, with me. But you kept it secret. For four months! I thought we told each other everything. I … I just expected-" you shrugged. "And that’s the problem here. My expectations were wrong, and I’m ashamed. But you didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for. But somehow I feel like I’m going to lose you."

"You’ll never lose me, Cricket."

"But Buck, I already have. Like she said… she’s your best friend now." Bucky opened his mouth to interrupt, but you put your hand out to stop him talking. "I just need some time to deal with that. Is that okay?"

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," he mumbled. The sincerity evident in his tone and face.

"I know, Buck," you sighed. "I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. Please, I want you to be happy. I’m happy for you."

"Please, let me make this up to you." Bucky grabbed your wrist, desperately.

"You can do that by making sure you take care of yourself. I’m always going to be with you, on missions and stuff, partner," you patted his upper arm. "I just think that our friendship’s going to change a little… and I just need some time to get used to that."

"Is this because of Steve?"

"Steve?" you repeated after him, feeling confused by the change in topic. "What does Steve have to do with this?"

"Are you together?"

"What? No! Bucky, why would you think that?"

"I just…" He shrugged, not quite able to bring up seeing you at Coney Island, or the moment of closeness you had had with Steve the night he had introduced you to Priya.

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Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @literaryavenger @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @thealloveru2 @belleofthebooks

[tmntfixationxreader]

"Hiya!!! Do you think you can do some sort of angst/comfort fic with the rise boys of comforting a they/them reader who’s struggling with getting an injury cleaned/a bone set?"

Absolutely! Sorry this one took me so long to do. Hope you enjoy!

♡Bone setting♡

This contains Rottmnt Movie Spoilers.

~Platonic Rottmnt x Gender neutral Reader~

Summary: After the Krang invasion, everyone needs medical attention, including you.

Warnings: Pain, slight blood, angst + comfort, slight language? Reader description advised.

Word count: 1,855

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“L-Leo!!” Mikey called out, holding Leo in a death grip, the two collapsed on the ground in a sweaty mess.

Leo winced, grunting once, patting Mikey on the head gently with his good arm.

“Good-to-see-you-too-Mikey,” Leo muttered, but it came out as a muffled sler. Leo coughed, sending bolts of pain through his body as red dribbled down his lips.

Donnie’s eyes widened and Raph was starting to panic.

Mikey had golden burns glistening on his arms, rectangular patterns etched into his skin from the overpower in his mystic energy. Donnie had the same etched purple burns on his right arm, and Raph had them on his left in red.

Despite the burns on his arms Mikey continued to squeeze Leo as hard as he could, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Donnie had tears rolling down his cheeks too, his expression emotionless as his eyes betrayed him.

Raph scooped Leo and Mikey into a hug, yelling as he held back sobs. “Leo- don’t you EVER do that again!”

Donnie sank to his knees, hugging Leo and Mikey as Raph squeezed them all.

April ran up to them with a horrified look on her face, Spinter wobbling behind her looking tired and panicked, Casey on their heels, his face tear streaked.

“Master Leonardo!!” Casey shouted.

“Leo!!” April called out, immediately joining the brothers in a death-grip of a hug.

Casey hesitated, eyes wide. “Is he…?”

“I’m not- mph- dead yet Casey…” Leo muttered, and a huge wave of relief washed over all of them.

Donnie sat bolt right up from the hug, looking around at April and Splinter.

“Y/n…?” He asked, wide eyed, standing up quickly before wincing and gripping his arm, only making it sting even more.

April looked around. “Y/n!!” She called, walking and looking out at the chaos.

You were with April and Splinter when they were fighting off one of the Krangs… They had made sure you were following when they started off towards the brothers, but….

Everyone looked panicked.

Mikey looked up from Leo’s shoulder, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Y/n- w-what’s wrong with them-” Leo muttered, coughing harshly again, his brain going fuzzy.

“Leo- don’t talk, don’t move,” Donnie hissed at him, seeming even more panicked and overwhelmed then he already was. He shook his hands a little and exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself.

“April- where did you last see them?” Donnie asked, shaking from the extremely stressful and scary situations they had just been through.

Raph, even though it was taking everything for him to keep himself together after what just happened, noticed Donnie.

“D, calm down… I’m sure they are just-” Raph started.

“Guys!!” You yelled over to them, one hand across your ribcage, your other arm loosely hanging at your side. “Just had to- mph- stop for a second…”

You slowly made your way to them, April running up meeting you halfway.

“I thought I lost you!” She hugged you, and you winced loudly.

She pulled back immediately. “Y/n, you…?” She muttered.

You looked out at the brothers, wide eyed at how messed up they all looked. “Leo- d-did he make it back?”

April nodded. “We need to get him to the lair… But he’ll live… How bad are you-?”

“We need to get them home… I’m not hurt badly, just a little… bruised,” You muttered, arm still clinging to your ribcage. You lied. You had lied to April, just to keep her and the others from worrying. They were clearly more hurt than you. They needed medical attention first.

It was hard to tell what exactly was hurting within you. Your ribcage stung, a painful sharp sensation that hit you in the gut with every breath. Your other arm… You didn’t even want to guess its condition. You could move it a little… But not much else without the shaper pains setting in further. Your good arm was preoccupied clutching your ribs, so you couldn’t exactly help to fix them up, either.

April nodded quickly and the two of you rushed over the brothers. You were much slower than April in your condition, but to keep them from worrying you kept a pace.

You and the turtles were hurt badly.

As you held open the back hatch of the back-up turtle van, Raph carried Leo, who was biting his tongue to prevent from making noise, setting him in the backseat.

This was going to be a long night…

Leo was propped up on a medical bed, somewhere between high on medications and painfully awake, but patched up. His voice was raw and scratchy from dust and yelling, and he was tired out of his mind.

Donnie had his arm and soft shell patched up, a crap-ton of disinfectants poured onto his shell to prevent possible infections.

Raph’s arm was wrapped, an eyepatch over one eye that the Krang had taken over. All the Krang-parts that had been infected and taken over were wrapped up, Krang now gone but wounds still there.

Mikey’s arms were wrapped up, all the way past his elbows and almost to his shoulders.

You had brushed off Casey and April’s medical attention until everyone else had been fixed up, and by then you were dead tired. Your arm was swollen and hurt to even think about, your ribcage sucking the air out of your lungs with each shaking breath. You leaned against the doorway, watching April and Casey finish with Leo’s cracked shell.

Casey whipped his brow. “Ok… Leo’s finished for now…” He muttered with a sigh, seeming exhausted. He hadn’t slept since he had come through to this timeline, not to mention the days of survival beforehand.

April immediately turned her attention to you. “Ok, your turn…”

You wanted to argue, but with how hard your ears were throbbing from pain, you couldn’t. Everyone else had already received medical attention, so it was your turn anyways.

April had you sit down on the bed, Casey using some of Donnie’s tech to scan you.

Donnie (and Leo but they forbid him) wanted to help with medical stuff, but everyone had put him on bedrest. Luckily Casey knew how to use Donnie’s tech because of the training he had gotten in his past timeline.

Casey hesitated as the laser-scanner scanned your rib cage and arm.

April’s eyes widened. “Y/n- how the heck are you still walking around?”

Casey gave her a quick look or warning to keep you from possibly panicking. “I-it’s not too bad… just a little… Worse for ware.”

You groaned. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Casey rubbed the bridge of his nose before sighing again, the immense bags under his eyes seeming to show themselves more.

“We have to set your arm… And wrap up your ribcage…” He said, looking over the scan. “Commander- er… April, we need some wraps… And possibly another set of hands..”

April nodded, going over to a cabinet to get out the medical supplies. Donnie and Raph nodded as well, ready to help.

“Wait, setting it…? Like with Leo’s leg?” You swallowed. You had watched the process of bone-setting they had done on Leo’s leg. It took Raph, Donnie, and April to hold Leo down while Casey set the fracture. It was loud and hard to watch, and they had insisted you wouldn’t help with your arm being in its condition. By the end of it Donnie was really overwhelmed and Raph helped ground him again, but it took a bit.

Casey nodded. “Yes… The others will help to stabilize you while I set your arm.”

You nodded a little.

Casey walked over to your injured side, pulling down an old pair of Donnie’s goggles so he had an X-ray of your arm.

Raph, April and Donnie stood around you. Mikey stood nearest to the head of the bed, unable to help hold you while his arms were wrapped but still being with you.

“You got this Y/n…” Mikey said, and the others nodded in agreement while Casey looked over the fracture one more time.

“Ok.. On the count of three,” Casey said.

“Deep breath,” Donnie helped to instruct.

You did as he said, taking a deep breath in as Casey counted to one.

“Two…” He said, and everyone helped to hold you.

Right as you took a deep breath in, Casey finished his count.

You barely heard the word three as he started setting the fracture, everything else being muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The others held you as your body naturally reacted and fight or flight kicked in. They were strong enough to easily be able to hold on to you to keep you still.

The whole process only lasted a few painfully long seconds, and by the end of it your voice was raw and blood pounded in your ears.

“There…That’s it- it’s done…” Casey said, his voice weaverying from stress and exhaustion.

Everyone let go of you as soon as Casey said the word, still staying by your bedside.

“It’s over now…” Raph said, patting your good arm.

Mikey wiped away a tear attempting to trail down your face. “No more… Now it can heal…” He whispered, his voice tight with nervousness from throughout the day.

Donnie stepped back and let himself take a few deep breaths before patting your good shoulder. He nodded to you, not saying anything because he was overwhelmed by everything that had happened from the day.

Leo had his head turned so he could look at you. He gave you a smile that made it clear he was fighting off sleep medications.

After a bit of calming back down Casey did a few more scans on your ribs and deemed they were badly bruised but would heal on their own. He put your arm carefully in a cast, and gave you painkillers for the night.

April sat down on the bed next to Donnie, patting his shoulder as she fought off exhaustion.

“Does that mean everything is addressed?” She asked, and Casey gave her a nod.

“Everything that can be… Now we are just waiting for things to heal,” Casey said, leaning against the wall between the medical beds you and Leo were on.

He checked Leo’s IV, making sure it was still flowing properly. Leo was already passed out, snoring a little now that the painkillers had kicked in and it was safe for him to sleep.

Raph was on the fourth medical bed, Mikey asleep on his lap, snoring against Raph’s good arm.

Raph sighed. “So now what?”

“We sleep it off…” Donnie signed instead of speaking. “Until tomorrow at least…”

April nodded, stretching out on the foot of the medical bed. “Sounds like a plan…” She muttered.

You nodded too, eyes growing heavy already. You stayed in the same position they had told you to stay in to prevent straining your ribs or pulling on your arm.

Soon everyone was dozing off, Splinter keeping watch to make sure someone didn’t roll over onto their casts or need medical treatment in the middle of the night.

Everyone was healing, finally getting the rest everyone deserved.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Bye bye butterflies!!

[cherryrainn]

Hi so I would like very much to request a platonic fic for Alastor with an early teen reader, but hear me out on this pls The reader is a demon that has (much like Alastor) similar trates to an animal even though they don't look that much anthromorphic, and the reader's form is a 'sea wasp jellyfish' because even though the reader just recently died she is hella powerfull and has the power to take down almost any infernal being if she wanted. +bonus points ; if the reader is an arson and chaotic teenager!

omgg. a hazbin hotel ask after like... idk how long. I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— a dance of chaos and charm

alastor x early teen! reader (platonic)

in the twisted depths of hell, a bustling realm of sin and debauchery, an unlikely encounter was about to take place. alastor, the dapper and enigmatic sinner demon, found himself intrigued by your arrival. with a form resembling that of a sea wasp jellyfish, you emanated a raw power that sent shivers through the hearts of even the most hardened infernal beings.

one fateful evening, as the crimson skies bathed hell in their eerie glow, alastor spotted you causing chaos in the streets of pentagram city. your mischievous smile and fiery eyes gleamed with a fervor for destruction.

alastor, his beige-colored skin contrasting against his vibrant red attire, caught sight of your devilish display. his transatlantic accent carried a hint of curiosity as he approached you, his gaze intense. "well, well, what have we here? a tempestuous spirit with the power to unsettle even the most hardened souls. what mischief do you seek, young demon?"

you twirled playfully, tendrils swirling with delight. "oh, i'm just here to cause a little chaos, make things interesting. this place's a playground, isn't it? care to join me, mr. radio man?"

alastor's smile was laced with caution, his eyes narrowed. "be warned, child, my patience for youthful antics is limited. but perhaps a little company amidst the place wouldn't hurt."

with a gesture, alastor conjured a vibrant spectacle of swirling flames, casting an ethereal glow over the streets. he extended a gloved hand, an invitation to join him in the dance of chaos. "let us weave a tapestry of mischief together, but mind you, i won't take responsibility for any accidents that may befall you."

your translucent form shimmered with excitement as you accepted his invitation, tendrils interweaving with his outstretched hand. "no worries, alastor! let's set this city ablaze and watch it burn. just don't try to boss me around, okay?"

and so, an unlikely bond formed amidst the crackling flames. as you reveled in the intoxicating dance of destruction, alastor couldn't help but be captivated by your wild spirit and raw power. the discordant symphony of laughter and chaos echoed through the hellish streets, creating an aesthetic spectacle like no other.

between bouts of mayhem, alastor observed your unrestrained energy, a mixture of admiration and caution in his gaze. "tell me, young demon, what drives your insatiable thirst for chaos? is it the thrill, the liberation, or something deeper?"

you bobbed and weaved, tendrils pulsating with a playful rhythm. "oh, alastor, it's all about freedom! breaking the rules, defying expectations, and watching everything crumble under the weight of our mischief. it's fun, like riding the wildest rollercoaster in hell!"

alastor chuckled, his radio-like voice permeating the air. "a devilish ride, indeed. but remember, child, power lies not only in destruction but in the art of control. chaos is a double-edged sword. use it wisely."

while the streets of pentagram city teemed with demonic life, you lived a solitary existence, preferring the freedom of the streets rather than the confines of a conventional dwelling. you had chosen to live alone, reveling in the chaos that surrounded you, free to roam wherever your wild whims led you.

alastor, with his impeccable attire and penchant for structure, couldn't fathom your desire for such independence. yet, he respected your choice and would drop in unannounced, like a fleeting shadow in the night, to share moments of mischief and conversation.

one moonlit evening, as the city streets lay empty, you perched atop a crumbling building, your gelatinous form pulsating with an otherworldly glow. the flames danced in your tendrils, reflecting the mischievous spark in your eyes. it was during these quiet moments that you contemplated your unconventional existence.

alastor materialized beside you, his presence subtle yet commanding. "why, my young friend, do you choose to roam these streets alone? surely there are safer and more comfortable places for a demon such as yourself."

you turned to face him, tendrils swaying lazily in the night breeze. "safety and comfort aren't part of my vocabulary, alastor. i thrive in the chaos, the unpredictability of the streets. it's where i find my freedom and inspiration."

alastor's smile was tinged with concern, his voice gentle. "but the dangers, my dear. there are other demons lurking in the shadows, waiting to exploit your vulnerabilities."

you chuckled, the sound a whimsical melody amidst the darkness. "oh, i can handle myself, alastor. don't you worry about me. besides, it's not like i'm defenseless. remember, i have the power to take down almost any infernal being if I wanted to."

alastor's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of awe and caution in his eyes. "a formidable power, indeed. but remember, strength alone won't shield you from the perils that lie in wait. the world can be a treacherous place, especially for those who wander alone."

your gelatinous form bobbed with an air of nonchalance. "i appreciate your concern, mr. radio man, but i'm not one to shy away from a little danger. besides, having you drop by every now and then adds a touch of excitement to my chaotic existence."

alastor's smile grew, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "ah, the thrill of the unexpected. i must admit, your presence adds a certain spark to the dreary routine of my own existence. who am i to deny you the exhilaration of the streets?"

your gelatinous body shimmered with vibrant colors, undulating with a grace that defied the hellish world. the contrast between your whimsical form and alastor's dapper elegance made your companionship all the more striking.

alastor, ever the observant demon, marveled at your extraordinary presence. "truly, my dear, you possess an allure that bewitches the eyes. your form... untamed chaos, leaves me enthralled."

you giggled, tendrils swirling with mischievous delight. "it's true, isn't it? we might look weird, but it makes us look cool! who needs acceptance when you can be a mesmerizing thing?"

alastor chuckled, his radio-like voice resonating with warmth. "indeed, my young friend."

in a place where conformity reigned, your presence served as a reminder that beauty, friendship, and chaos could coexist in perfect harmony. as your bond deepened, the streets of pentagram city became not only your playground but also a stage upon which your vibrant personalities and extraordinary forms could shine.

[yelenasdiary]

hi could you maybe write something about Lizzie being pregnant? and maybe be giving birth to reader and her’s baby girl, maybe at home, (in a tub?) hehe, i dont know if its cringe😅 but kind of chaos, but also fluff😅

New Life

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary: Life is about to change in front of your eyes & you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tiny Angst | Fluff | Childbirth | 1K |

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope this was what you were looking for x, enjoy! - I kind of forgot to add the chaos omg!!

It had been a long 9 months for both you and your wife, Lizzie. 9 months full of excitement, worry, more excitement and the normal stresses that come along with having a baby. During Lizzie's entire pregnancy she wasn't seen by the public world, a few times in the early stages of her pregnancy grabbing some groceries but when Scarlett gave her some advice on how to avoid the paparazzi, the world saw less of the actress. It wasn't a bad thing; it was something you and Lizzie both knew that it would be best that she had as much privacy as she could get during her pregnancy. 

With Lizzie's water breaking just moments before you two were going to have a shower, it was a rush to get the tub ready and luckily for you, the midwife only lived a few blocks away and was over before you knew it. You helped with work through each contraction that came in waves while the midwife checked to see how dilated Lizzie was. 

It hit you suddenly that your world was about to change in a matter of hours, of course this was what you expected but for some reason it really hit you that you were about to become a parent. 

*****

"Something smells amazing!" you smiled as you walked into the kitchen to see Lizzie stirring something in a large pot, Lizzie looked over her shoulder and smiled, "I'm just making some pasta sauce" she replied with a chuckle as you wrapped your arms around her from behind and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

"Still, it smells great" you spoke softly. It was then that it caught your eye that Lizzie didn't have her normal glass of wine half full sitting on the countertop beside the stove. "Let me get you a glass, what are you feeling tonight? Red? White?" you asked before pulling away to get a wine class from the cupboard. 

"About that" Lizzie turned on her heals to face you, "I can't have any for a while" she added. Your eyes shot wide open; a smile tugged at your lips as you came to the realisation of what Lizzie was saying. She nodded as she watched your brain click to the news. 

"We're having a baby?!" you walked over to her and placed your hands softly on her lips, "yes" she replied softly before you crashed your lips onto hers. 

*****

With Lizzie's hand in yours, you used your thumb to gently stroke the top of her hand to help calm her after a contraction. Her head rested against you while you sat behind her. "We forgot to pick up a few things from the baby store" your wife spoke as she looked up at you. 

"It'll be okay, I'll call them later and let them know what's happened" you couldn't help but chuckle, "I think they'd be very understanding and if not then I have no idea why they are a business" you added making Lizzie giggle.

Although Lizzie's pregnancy had its pros, it also had its cons. There were moments of worry and concern as you held her hair back while her morning sickness took its toll, draining her of the little energy she had. If it wasn't morning sickness, it was heart burn and struggling to make herself comfortable as her bump grew bigger. Family gatherings really took a toll on Lizzie, even for an actress who is used to answering the same questions over and over again, having everybody she knew and loved ask her 100 times over things about her pregnancy was different and you were quick to give her a break and answer some of those questions for yourself. 

But with all the cons, the pros always came shining through. Lizzie would boost to you that being pregnant meant she was entitled to the last snack on the plate, the last cookie? Hers. The last banana? Hers. The last slice of cake? Hers. One of her favorite things to do was baby shop, online or instore, she loved it. Although, you liked it better when it was online because she could spend as many hours as she pleased, and your legs wouldn't get sore. 

 ****

"Honey!! Look how adorable this little suit is!" Lizzie took the tiny boys suit off the rack and showed you, "it's so tiny!" she added while eyeing off the piece of clothing. Of course, she brought it just in case. You both decided to let the sex of your unborn baby be a surprise and so Lizzie was sure to buy gender neutral, girls and boys items so it wasn't a surprise that she brought the tiny suit. 

"It's adorable" you smiled softly, "it's crazy to think that somebody can be this small!" You added in amazement. 

"I wish our baby could stay tiny forever" Lizzie commented while walking away, her eyes already caught on something else.

****

As her contractions started to become more intense, you reminded Lizzie she was doing amazing and that was the truth. For her entire pregnancy you have watched her body and mind change and just when you thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, she did. She was truly the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid eyes on. 

"It's time" the midwife looked up at Lizzie who was more than ready to hold her baby. She took one last look at you, "are you ready?" she asked which didn't surprise you, she'd always been the one to make sure you were on top of things and doing things when you were ready, you nodded, "I've never felt more ready" you placed a soft kiss on her lips knowing that the next kiss you'd share with her, your lives would be different.

After what felt like forever, the loud cries of your baby finally entered the room. Lizzie was exhausted but still managed to have the worlds proudest smile on her lips. "Congratulations, it's a girl" the midwife smiled at the two of you before whisking your daughter to be wiped and wrapped before carefully placing her in Lizzie's arms. 

You felt a tear roll down your cheek when you laid eyes on your daughter, everything would be different now and there isn't a single bone in your body that would change that for the world. "She's perfect" you whispered before placing a kiss on Lizzie's cheek, "you're perfect" you added.

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @natasha-belova | @kiwiana145 | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @wackymcstupid | @mmmmokdok | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @wandsmxmff | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @blue-serendipityy | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox |  | 

[whalesandclouds]

What does my heart want to shout out? | PAC reading

Hi! Finally back with another pick a card reading. As always please pick an image that calls out to you. If unsure, close your eyes and take a moment to breathe in and out, then try again. Don't worry if nothing stands out, this could just mean it is not meant for you. Only take what resonates. Any feedback is always appreciated!

1-2

3-4

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PILE 1

My Heart wants to shout out to take back my power and thrive. To release the resistance I hold about a subject, so my dreams and desires can be realised. To create from love instead of fear. I deserve to have what I want without compromising my truth. I cannot change what has happened, but I can change what I do from this moment on. I am loved. My Heart wants to shout out that I am ready for a new adventure. A new journey that not everyone may understand. But it is completely okay. I want to travel to a new place I have never been before. I want to try new practises to evolve spiritually.  My Heart wants to shout out to be proud of myself. I believe in myself. I don’t compare myself to others. I recognise and appreciate my own talents and assets. My Heart wants to shout out to embrace my inner warrior. I extend an olive branch before I defend my territories. I cleanse with ease lower energies and thought forms that have become a disruption to my every day routines.

Affirmation: I am a unique and beautiful soul, my light is radiant

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PILE 2

My Heart wants to shout out to find harmonic state of well-being. I acknowledge and address the need to free myself from external disturbance, toxic environments, excessive noise and emotional chaos. I can achieve a peaceful state of mind with meditation, balanced choices and pure silence. I burn any ill feeling with exercise, journalling or meditative practice. My Heart wants to shout out to keep following my dreams. I feel encouragement and support as I continue taking actual steps towards my goals. I am open to help and kindness from others. I am thankful. My Heart wants to shout out to be bold. To come into my power now as the time of action is now. I am powerful. I am determined. I take assertive stance as needed.

Affirmation: I am taking charge of my destiny!

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PILE 3

My Heart wants to shout out to let light in. It is time for me to step into my shining light. I release all that is stopping happiness from flowing into my world. I recognise that struggle is not required on my path. Today is the day I release any disturbances in my energy.  My Heart wants to shout out to fully step into the path of self-realisation. I am in a time of great personal change and growth. I work through feelings of sadness and melancholy with ease. I am not afraid to start over again or find new ways to support the life that I want. My Heart wants to shout out to show the world the real me. I will no longer hide or hold myself back from being myself. Even if change is frightening, I allow my life to unfold and progress by staying true to myself.

Affirmation: I hold the answers within me. My energy is limitless

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PILE 4

My Heart wants to shout out to tune in to my soul’s voice. As my mind and heart expand I find it easier to interpret my soul’s messages. Practise helps to listen to my intuition and tune into my psychic senses. I embrace and acknowledge that messages can also come through my dreams. My Heart wants to shout out to connect to my soul family. Spending time with my chosen family will bring wisdom and happiness in my life. Reconnections at this moment initiate new friendships and bring closure to memories of the past. My soul family empower me to be my best self. My Heart wants to shout out to trust the Universe. I release what I have been gripping onto with ease. I state my intention to the universe and then detach. I live and let live a little. My Heart wants to shout out to put my knowledge into practice. I follow my heart instead of my head. But I also recognise having more structure and routine in my life will help bring me success.

Affirmation: I trust my soul’s whispers. I trust my intuition and psychic senses

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[silli---lilli]

The Cloud You're Under

Simon had sat on the thought for days. Weeks, maybe. It was time to send Johnny home.

Simon loved him, wanted him close, felt incredibly lucky for meeting him, but that luck was running out. And he’d sworn from the moment they met to protect him. Do what’s best for him. That’s why it had to end, quietly, here in their own environment and not in the chaos that was coming.

Simon had been alone his whole life, every time the darkness came and swept him up, he’d handled it. In fact, he’d learned to simply roll over and float along the crashing waves until it ended. He’d learned to keep himself alive and close his eyes through the rest. Protecting Johnny was keeping him out of that.

“I think this is over.”

Johnny had been on his phone, a usual quiet evening, and looked up in surprise when Simon spoke. His voice sounded rough from underuse, he hadn’t been speaking much. Johnny knew why, and he was perfectly happy to sit in silence with him, sleep in silence beside him, it didn’t matter. Their connection wasn’t in words.

But there was a disconnected finality in his voice that made Johnny sit up, frowning. “What?”

Simon cleared his throat, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He knew this part would hurt, he expected confusion and yelling and painful words. He expected Johnny to finally let loose all of the things he hated about their little arrangement.

“I mean,” he cleared his aching throat, “this has been fun, but it’s over.” He attempted to appear cool and uncaring. Unfortunately, his eyes were visible and full of unspent emotion. “It’s time for you to go home, Johnny.”

Johnny’s initial reaction was defense and he bit it back. It wasn’t as confusing as he might expect, Simon had his highs and lows, a cadence he’d gotten used to. Part of the man he loved.

It hurt all the same.

“I am home…did I do something wrong?” He asked, hoping maybe Simon could talk himself out of it. His big blue eyes looked Simon over for any tell-tale sign of insincerity.

Simon watched him, so resolute in his decision. So sure that the light Johnny had brought into his life wouldn’t be put out by him, not if he had his way.

He stared into his light eyes, imagining again how they would look when he’d let all the stars in them blink out. He was the eternal eclipse, he couldn’t keep Johnny alive. Physically, yes, he could, but not in his spirit, his soul. He was a hurricane, it didn’t matter how bright the fire burned, he’d snuff it out.

“No, Johnny, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He finally answered, unable to lie, even then. “I just think it’s for the best.”

Johnny lowered his hands, laying his phone on the coffee table. “Best for who?”

Simon knitted his brows slightly, in genuine confusion. The answer was obvious. “Best for you, John.”

Johnny moved. He was always moving, full of energy and owning the space he was in. He stood up, his eyes till on Simon. Simon expected him the anger to come then, the yelling. He couldn’t say he knew much about breakups, but he imagined how it would end.

But Johnny didn’t yell, and he didn’t lose his temper. He looked sad, and worried, and Simon hated that more. For a split second, he wanted to change his mind, go back on his decision. But he couldn’t, he didn’t want to create a space where that was the only look on Johnny’s face.

“I don’t…” Johnny shook his head, swallowing. “I don’t want that. Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“My mind is made up, Johnny.” Simon looked down at his hands in his lap, hiding his face.

Johnny knew. He knew where this was coming from and it gripped his heart with sharp, cold nails. Simon was afraid of what he was going to do to Johnny. Afraid of being seen and known like this, at his low point. Afraid he was too much, and not enough, and dark enough to break them both.

Simon had joined the 141 with great relief, he didn’t have to worry about his world anymore. His life. It became his life and he accepted it would also be his death. But Johnny.

Johnny was there. Johnny ruined everything.

The Sergeant moved again. This time back to the sofa. His heart ached, and half of it was outside of him, sitting and looking at his hands. That’s how Johnny knew this was something else. They hadn’t really established themselves as a couple, they just hadn’t been assed to part since they got back. It was comfortable, he liked it. He loved it.

“Is this about the cloud you’re under right now?” He asked softly. He never thought of yelling, he never thought Simon might expect it. He wasn’t angry.

“What are you talking about?” Simon didn’t look up.

“Si, I can tell you’re…down. You’ve been down.”

Simon looked up then, and closer, Johnny could see real fear in him. “It’s not a cloud, Johnny. And I can’t sit around and let it hurt you.”

Johnny moved even closer to him. “Do I look hurt?”

Simon studied him a moment. He did, but he hadn’t before this whole thing started. Simon had thought it was because he was unaware. “I’ll bring you down with me, Johnny. I can’t do that. I can’t stand to watch it.” Johnny opened his mouth, but hesitated. Simon hadn’t spoken this much in days. Weeks, maybe. “You don’t like this lifestyle, it isn’t you.”

Johnny softened slightly, the stars still in his eyes. “Well, I like you quite a lot. And this is me, Simon. Do you think I’m acting for you?”

“No, I just think you don’t realize that I’m trapping you. You used to go out so much more, you were never this quiet. I’m supposed to protect you.”

From himself. Simon thought he was protecting Johnny from himself. “I went out so much because being in a dark room alone was more than I could stand, Simon. I had nothing to be home for.” He looked at Simon’s hands still in his lap. “Can I touch you?”

The softest question, a level of respect and intimacy Simon had never experienced. Or understood. “Yes.”

Johnny reached for one of his large, scarred hands and pulled it onto his own lap. “You aren’t trapping me, you’ve given me a safe place to rest.” He slid his hand into Simon’s and held it. “I have plenty of my own darkness, Si. Plenty of things I regret, things I hide from. Do you think I’m too weak to handle yours?”

“Weak? No.” Simon had little argument for that. The point at where their skin touched made him realize his self-isolation was just that. Selfish.

“If you want space, I will give it to you, but pushing me away won’t save me, Simon. And it won’t protect me.”

“I have nothing to offer you, I should never have let it get this far.” Simon grasped at his own truth, one that was getting thinner and weaker.

“I could tell you all the things you offer, Simon. I could tell you that I have never been with someone so good, so accepting of me. Maybe I haven’t said it enough.” He shook his head. “Out here, you’re not my CO, you know that, right? You are not in charge of me. I am here of my own accord. Do you think I do many things I don’t want to do?”

Simon watched the corner of his perfect mouth turn up in a smile. He knew Johnny was right, as usual, and once again he was wrong. And he realized the ache in his chest was hope, an unfamiliar feeling. He didn’t want Johnny to leave. He wanted to believe he was worth staying for. And Johnny was right, he wasn’t his subordinate, he didn’t have to obey. He was there by choice.

“I can’t stand to watch you change. I’ll bring you down.” He felt he was begging then, asking Johnny to save himself if he couldn’t.

“Simon, I’ve been watching you sink deeper for days. Weeks, maybe. I knew where it was going, and why. And here I am. I just want to be with you, being top of your game was never a condition. You’re human. If I go down, it’s in spite of you and not because of you, alright?” He slid his hand up Simon’s forearm, pulling him closer. “Do you want me to leave? Give you some space?”

Simon contemplated, it wasn’t what he expected and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though Johnny had never complained, and Simon was wrong to believe it was because he was oblivious. Of course he wasn’t, he was sharp and observant and incredibly intelligent.

The realization made him feel shaky and embarrassed and needy. “No, I don’t want you to. I never did, but I swore to protect you. I…I have to protect you.”

Still fighting, as always. Johnny knew the man would never back down easily. Not even for him. “Then protect me from losing you. Protect me from having to watch you suffer from afar, protect me from wishing I could be with you, share your burden.” He dropped his voice nearly to a whisper. “Let me.”

Simon felt himself melting, pooling at his own feet. It felt out of control, but the hand on his arm grounded him. He didn’t answer, but he stopped fighting, a monumental first step, and Johnny moved close enough to sit against him, holding him up.

[thesamoanqueen]

Blackwater VIII

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: SMUT to the mooooon

A/N: pure smut, because it was damn time and there were energies to vent.

He had stopped thinking and so had she.

All her life Y/N had clung to something she no longer had, a memory that faded day after day, chasing a past that was just that, to get back the last place where she had felt safe, happy, complete. Every day she woke up as if emerging from an abyss of black waters, surrounded by nothing and trying to stay there with the belief that it was the right thing. No one could hurt her if she stayed away, no one could steal anything from her if he didn't know where to look, no one could drag her away if she kept running. And her life had proved to her, time and time again, that for someone like her, that had nothing and no one, just the wrong smell and a target on her back, maybe that was the wisest choice to be able to go on. But to get what back? She had cut people out of her life, depriving herself of any bond or opportunity, she had survived without really living, raising the walls higher and higher until she no longer saw where was going: nowhere. Just that empty abyss.

Memories could help her, push her day after day, but they would give her nothing in return and the house she chased would still remain empty. She had told herself to be enough and Y/N was sure, even at that moment, that she had the strength to achieve everything, resist anything, overcome any obstacle. But what had happened inside the gym with Roman, had shown her the other side of the coin.

She could do it on her own. He could do it on his own. They could do it, even carry on and succeed when others would have given up. They were enough for themselves. But together was easier. As nature had showed for centuries before people stopped switching, a wolf could survive alone regardless of its scent, but with a pack, a mate, was stronger.

And Y/N only realized that when the mere touch of her hands shut Roman down. It was enough cover his ears, even if the chaos wasn't outside, but inside his head, as her father did with her when she was a child and got angry. She, who for weeks had had the sensation of being trapped, was Roman's only escape, the only one capable of distracting him from what pressed him and him, the only one who could fill the void in which she had barricaded herself, the only one she could have returned to.

For the first time, without holding back or worrying, Y/N ran her hand down his neck, fingers working their way through the strands at the back of his head, scratching lightly and causing him a growl that echoed in the whole house.

- Watch where you're putting your feet – she warned him, eyes never leaving her for a second, as he crossed the dark hallway with her still in his arms.

He seemed unable to stop, to shift his attention elsewhere. As if the rest of the world didn't exist beyond the smallest gesture of hers, as if a part of him was hungry for her and Y/N now that she'd silenced her doubts, was truly fascinated to have all that power over him.

- I know where ima put everything

His voice made her stomach tingle, his words sent a shiver down her spine and Y/N stopped rubbing the back of his neck for a second to bend her head, looking at him.

-Sounds a lil bit threatening – his big hands on her thighs were still and she could feel flesh burning with every second he held them over her.

- You can handle it. You're made for me.

That declaration that for weeks had made her stomach turn, caused anger, anxiety, frustration, now had a comforting aftertaste and more Y/N forgot about the rest, more she watched him stare at her like that, more her hands clasped, trying to hold him for the first time. She liked that feeling. She liked feeling him close, muscles under her fingers ready to snap, his attention almost visceral for everything about her. It was worth giving in, to get this in return.

-Is a big turn on for you, I get it – she sighed, finding herself smiling a little, when Roman released a hand to open the door.

The movement made her lean into him against the shoulder and Roman took the opportunity to rub his face on her arm, planting a kiss on her skin that made it itch. The air was cool from the hours of rain and the wide-open windows, but Y/N only noticed this when he set her down on their bed, pulling away from her for the first time since she had bumped into him at the gym.

Mate! Mate!

Her she-wolf's cry suddenly filled her mind, as if the loss of touch, the sudden lack of warmth, had awakened her, wounded, and her hands instinctively tightened between the soft blankets, eyes wandering over his figure in the dim light of the room. She saw him position himself in front of her, more imposing than he had ever seemed to her and inevitably drawing her attention to the tattoo that filled half of his chest, before sit next to her. His fingers slowly caressed her leg, moving up from her ankle to her calf, repeating the same movement, before looking up at her again.

- I'll take care of you - he promised seriously, his warmth enveloping her every time he climbed a little more with his palm.

Something inside her melted as she returned his gaze and Y/N realized had been holding her breath for who knows how long as she leaned toward him. Slowly she nuzzled his shoulder, inhaling his scent so inexplicably familiar and brave, she left a kiss there and then rested her chin on him.

She wasn't that kind of omega. She didn't need reassurances or words of comfort, but no one had taken care of her since she was a child, no one ever like that and Roman was promising to do all, when until a few minutes ago he had been the one who needed it most. Y/N didn't know if he was talking to her or to himself, but at that point it didn't matter. They were on that boat together and they were going to do it together.

-You better do cause you're suppose to be made for me too – she whispered just as seriously to distract him, frowning when her own words rang in her ears – sounds weird-

- Sounds perfect. Don't argue - he shushed her, pulling Y/N against him to crash his mouth on hers and covering the smile that his reaction had caused her.

His warmth enveloped her with no escape and for the first time, Y/N completely surrendered to that feeling, running her hands down his neck as he pulled her up. The taste of his mouth was soft, an invitation to let him in without restriction or doubt, it was comforting and addictive. They had already kissed, she had already felt him against her, but that night seemed different, perhaps because there was no longer a part of her that really wanted to reject him, perhaps because they had finally both understood who they were.

His lips were tasty, the beard pinched her face and Y/N kept looking for him, following his movements, the intrusions of his tongue which was now caressing hers almost imitating his hands gestures. She felt them slide down her bare legs, feel her thighs as far as they could, go back up under the hoodie he'd given her, caress her stomach beyond the shirt and stop on her hips. Big and firm like every part of him, rocking her slowly on his lap, indulging her in that exploration she had launched herself into trying to gain confidence with the new situation.

And maybe it would have been better to go slow, because of how things had gone between them, but the truth was that it felt so natural to have him close, to feel his solid body under her fingers that she wasn't really able to hold back. Y/N had the impression of drawing from the beginning a map that she had drawn who knows how many times. Her body had speeded up like with none before, bending and warming with each stroke, demanding more and growing more and more brave as he felt Roman respond to her attentions in the same way. He exuded strength, heat, power, and she could clearly feel his efforts to hold back: his fingers digging into her hips and then rubbing into the skin, pressing her against his big thighs, pulling her closer, his mouth wanting to devour her, his boner growing harder.

Y/N knew it, she felt it in the pit of her stomach, in the shivers that were shaking her, her bones vibrating as they had on the night she had first felt him, the tension building and making her mind liquid. She just had to pull the trigger, Roman was waiting on the doorstep for her consent and Y/N, dug her fingers a little deeper into his locks, giving a first turn with her hips, letting the big bad wolf enter…

***

That sound. That strangled, needy, uncontrolled moan had been the most obscene sound he had ever heard and the only one he wanted to repeat in his head for the rest of his days. He wanted it, he had to have more. He wanted to hear her scream, beg, ask, demand, his name, anything, as long as it was up to him. That moan inside his mouth was enough, the warm rocking of her center on him, her nails scratching at the back of his neck, her body soft and flat on his chest and the little world left around them, for Roman was disappeared. All ended with Y/N. Omega.

Overbearing, hungry, Roman moved his hands under her round ass, tipping her effortlessly onto the bed, wedging her under him with the mad intention of never releasing her again. He would never stop, he wouldn't slow down, he couldn't even if he wanted to, but wanting to seemed like an even crazier thought than ruining her. Only for him, for no one else, just for him.

He pulled her closer, forcing her pelvis to press against his erection, spreading her legs further than she had already done to accept him and her body shifting in eagerness. He pressed her there, clothes still on, feeling his lugs burn and her hands squeezing as another broken moan, more needy, made her shiver.

More.

Rough he rubbed against her, his abs contracting, body heating up with the heat coming from her core. Every part of Y/N vibrated at that contact, Roman felt everything in her melting and hands clinging to his shoulders, sliding further down on his arms, desperately looking for any support. But merciless, Roman sank further, lifting her by her hips, growling deeply, releasing her lips to kiss and bite her soft neck.

Her scent was everywhere, like a drug, familiar. He scratched her with his beard, trying to impress his scent on her, in an instinctive gesture that he had never been able to hold back. He licked along her thin neck, feeling Y/N racing heartbeat, her irregular breathing as he finally gave her the attention she deserved, sucking and biting at her skin. He reached down as far as her clothes would allow, freeing one hand to slip under the fabric. The contact of his fingers on her stomach made her squirm and Roman took advantage of the space she was giving him, to sink his face into her shoulder, finding her weak point with closed eyes.

-R-Ro– he heard her call and he understood without needing anything else.

Her voice was strained, uncertain, but it hadn't been that that had brought him back to his senses, but rather the brief panic that had made her tremble at the idea of being bitten there. Her gland throbbed, inviting, hot, calling to him. It was the missing piece, an evidence of their bond, the mark, just for him but despite this, Roman only gave it a kiss.

-We have time for this…- they didn't really have any, he didn't have any, but he didn't want to think about that now and he couldn't bear to displease her at that moment.

Not when Y/N had decided to look at him that way, not now that he saw her smile with pure happiness and just for him. Her lips searched him, planting a trail of kisses across his face, before pressing again, soft and warm, on his, gaze unable to leave him, fingers caressing him, tracing every line in his muscles, every trace of the dark tattoo.

- Really? - Y/N whispered nuzzling his nose, biting lightly on his bottom lip and Roman growled hoarsely, grabbing her thighs.

- Really - he announced, feeling his ego grown as Y/N let out a little happy scream at the overbearing touch of his hands, finally freeing her from all those clothes.

Everything about her seemed purposely made to get his attention: that childish laugh she always tried to hold back, nails scratching slowly at him, the soft hips, the full breasts with the perfect size for his raw palms. Licking his lips, he ran his hands over her, lingering on her flat belly, maneuvering her with possession and stealing another hot moan as higher up on her, his thumb played with one of her nipples. She responded to everything, throbbing for every gesture and more he saw her there, at his mercy, more the need to have her increased.

Her legs tightened around Roman's hips as his full mouth closed on her dark button, sucking on her sensitive skin greedily to elicit increasingly desperate moans. Pinching and twisting, he stroked his pelvis again, stimulating her as hard as he could, seeking her edge, learning from the spasms of her body just the right pressure, the perfect angle to make her beg. And more her breathing became uncertain, confused, more Roman insisted, almost desperately to release her then with a wet sound when he felt her nails digging into his back.

She was already a glorious, hot, mess, but he was going to knock her unconscious, strip her of everything she had, take everything that belonged to him and that was finally under his reach. The bond they shared allowed him to sense some of what she was feeling and the obvious mess in his shorts proved it, but he wanted more and unrelenting, he kissed along her stomach, licking around her navel, biting her jutting pelvis to stop a breath away from her center. In the silence room, broken only by Y/N's heated breathing, Roman got on his knees, tracing her beautiful entrance still covered by his soaked underwear, with his fingers.

- R-Ro ahn…

- Ssh... Im here – without giving her time to answer, he repeated the movement again, this time applying more pressure, feeling his fingertips get wet and Y/N tremble – Mmh… so gorgeous…

With one hand on one of her thighs, he let the other wander over her inside, unable to take eyes off his work even though the light was dim and mostly filtered through the windows. He followed the fine line of her lingerie, the soft curve of her lips, the patch that widened with his fluids every time he pressed to enter. He would have spent hours there, playing, but Y/N's legs had started shaking and he clearly felt her desperation and shared the need. He took off her panties without asking, just as he had undressed her, throwing that tiny piece who knows where behind his back to slowly sink, with a single finger, between her plump and humid walls.

-Rom-ahn… dont, dont stop – cried Y/N and his head snapped up, his gaze fixed on her concentrated face and tense body, while his index finger slid easily further and further. Slow, taking advantage of her.

She was asking him to don’t stop?

- Ya gonna beg me to do it babygirl – he grinned cocky, curving his finger inside to widen her and if it was that or his own words Roman didn't even ask, but Y/N visibly throbbed around him in a delicious vice.

She was damned tight down there, but her folds were soft, wet and more Roman sinked there, more Y/N melted by his intrusions, dripping everywhere without restraint. Only her strangled moans and the slimy sound of her body existed in his ears now, a few movements, the right pressure and Roman inserted another finger, this time playing with her opening, growling as he felt her give more and more, ready to welcome him. He twisted his wrist, increasing the pace on that point beyond her curve, which caused her back to hunch and lock the air into her lungs, rubbing his thumb on her button. Her inside throbbed trying to hold onto Roman’s fingers, closing as he went deeper, faster and faster, legs shaking.

- Y/N – he called, stubbornly rubbing on that spot.

- I-m oh m-my-

The bond was amplifying everything between them and Roman had clearly felt the sudden attempt to slow down, probably a habit, but with him she had no choice and he didn't even want the idea to cross her mind – babygirl…

He leaned down on her to give her a kiss, shushing her moans as he continued unstoppable to fuck her with his hand. Her fingers stopped moving on the sheets to end up on his arms, over her flower, to cling almost desperately, giving him the impression that she had curled up and Roman took the opportunity to forcefully rub her button.

- Give it to me… - once, twice – its mine… you're mine, give it to me - … and Y/N collapsed.

Her body, the bond between mates, the entire room trembled with her as she arched her back, squeezing her folds in a jerk around his fingers. Her nails dug into his forearms, probably leaving a pretty clear mark for the next day and Roman felt her gripping him breathlessly, face screwed up, lip between her teeth in an only partially successful attempt to shush the scream he had caused her. Continuing to move his fingers to guide her through her climax, he sat back up between her legs, almost tenderly placing a kiss on her thigh.

She was so adorable and Roman would have gladly given in to the urge to lie down next to her and hold her like he never had with anyone else, omega or not, but he couldn't and wouldn't stop there. Not yet. Not now.

***

She was a mess. Terribly and hopelessly a mess. It had been a bit like dreaming of falling or maybe not, it was nothing she had ever experienced, nothing she could ever be ready for. Her mind had gone blank, her body frail and boneless, her muscles weak and her heart threatening to explode between choked breaths. Hit by the intensity of their bond, she had crossed the line faster than she believed, as if now that she had finally laid down her weapons, agreeing to be close to him, her brakes were destroyed. She wasn't able to hold back and Roman even encouraged her, Y/N still felt his fingers caressing her, rubbing over her moist center lips, her sensitive side and up her thigh and then come off completely when she stopped pulsing. She reopened her eyes in a daze, looking at the dark ceiling of the room, the walls streaked by the light coming from the windows, her hands too far from him.

Y/N searched in the dark, her chest heaving and her body sweating, wanting to feel him closer, again, until her eyes locked with Roman's brown ones again. She saw him lick one of the fingers he'd been fucking her with, his dangerous tongue rolling inside his mouth as if he was savoring her and a jolt made her shiver again until she throbbed around nothing as her eyes sank further down, following the movement of the same hand, the rumble of his low growl.

- Look what you do to me… all those pretty moans, so warm and tasting like heaven

Who knows how or when, he had taken off his shorts and Y/N found herself gasping just at the sight of his completely hard cock, as he preparing it with the juices collected between her folds and his own precum. She had suspected and imagined what it was like down there, because bond, hookup or not, no one could deny how attractive Roman was, but it was far beyond expectations and now that she was in front of his naked body, her nature was kicking full speed to get it. The movement of his hand was hypnotic, the way he rolled his broad shoulders, flexing his arms and pecs, his loose hair partially falling over his face as he devoured her with his brown gaze. He had an aura around him terrifying and despite everything Y/N wanted nothing more than to have it on her.

- … and you're… planning to, t-to stay there? - she asked again with broken breath and Roman grinned, his eyes curling up, his gaze lighting up.

- Com'here smart mouth - he pointed, pulling her by the ankles even before Y/N could move a single muscle - spread those gorgeous legs wider - he blew, placing a sloppy kiss on her lips and without even thinking Y/N obeyed, already feeling the warmth his body gave off against her moist entrance.

Roman took a few seconds to stroke himself, one hand wandering possessively up her thigh, as he lined up with her entrance, giving his already hard member a couple of strokes. As he rested it against her opening, Y/N felt a shiver go through her and her hips instinctively moved, barely managing to rise a few inches before Roman grabbed her and held her in place. He put it down again, this time sliding his tip between her folds up to her already sensitive button, eliciting a moan from her which he ended up imitating too by getting dirty with her juices.

Seeing him moving so slowly, in the dim light of the room that prevented her from completely following the lines of the contracting muscles, as he worked his way up to her lips and then rested it on her belly, heavy and dark, was killing her before time. But when he finally persuaded himself to stop, to open her inch by inch, pushing himself between her wet sensitive folds and going up on her relentlessly, Y/N felt she had lost all contact with everything that wasn't him.

- Mm f-fuck

- Nnh… ah!

Y/N felt him everywhere, between her legs, in her stomach, in her chest, inside her head. As if her sensations had mixed and amplified with him, as if everything was burning and in that heat she was only able to find Roman. There was comfort, despair, relief, pleasure, tension, everything, poured over her, inside her and Y/N reached out to his hands, clinging to him, feeling him cover her to rest his forehead against hers. Eyes closed, Y/N’s fingers slid down her arms, across his chest in turmoil from heavy breathing, stroking his tense shoulders, creeping through his dark hair. Roman rocked his head against hers, nose nuzzling beside hers, breath hitting her face.

-You look so good beneath me babygirl – his voice was low, rough and the shiver that caused her, made her throb deeper, making him growl menacingly – I wanna wreck you

- … what-ever but p-please moove – she begged him, feeling the air fail in her lungs, when Roman pulled up on her again, grabbing her thighs and giving a first stroke.

His head slammed into some unknown spot inside her, one she was sure she'd never been aware of in her entire life, arching her back into the sweaty sheets and giving him a better chance to grab her. A wave of lust hit her, violent coming directly from him and with liquid eyes, already feeling yet another orgasm growing in her belly, Y/N watched him sink again, once, ten, until throwing his head back, licking lips and lower it again. The frantic rush into which he launched himself without warning, pounding her as if his only intention was to choke her and fuck her mind, found her defenseless and unwilling to resist him.

No one had ever made her want to let go like that, no one had ever brought her to that point. Her head was spinning, chest full of who knows what and Y/N had the impression of breaking at any moment, her body more and more free of resistance to every thrust, to every intrusion. She felt everything about him concentrating in the pit of her belly, exploding as he pulled away and then coming back for hit her again.

-R-Ro - he spread her so well, slipping between her folds, rubbing against her sensitive walls - Ro! Ahh! - her gasps had become almost whimpered moans and more her voice broke, becoming desperate, more he increased the pace.

As stuck in a press, she could do nothing but take him, every inch, she wanted nothing more than to feel him destroy her, fill the room with his terrible growls and the wet sound of their bodies colliding. His testicles smacked her like slaps, pinching her ass, into which he had dug his big hand while the other one pinned to her side. Her breasts continued to move up and down without her being able to hold back, to have a stable position, under the thrust of that big man to which she clung. Her stomach was on fire, her heart was threatening to explode, and when Roman pounded on her weak spot, rather than rub against it, Y/N couldn't hold back the scream was blocked in her throat.

- G-good girl… t-take me so well! Li-ke this mmh – forcefully, he rolled her onto her side, working his way into her from a new angle, keeping her thigh pressed into his shoulder.

- Pleasee… plea-se

Y/N no longer even knew what she was begging for. Harder, faster, on that spot or another. He was everywhere, in every way and Y/N was now struggling between the instinct to hide her face in the sheets or jump on top of him to bury it inside her. For a while she had begun to meet his thrusts, but now she was so out of her mind that she could no longer control the spasms of her center around him. She felt it pulsing, contracting, throbbing, stretching until she was crushed on the bed, coming out almost completely and then go inside again. His sweat trickled down her legs, mixing with her moods that had now reduced her to a mess, his soft beard scratching her skin every time he reached down to lay a kiss on her. Hand keep gently stroking her stomach, pressing on the bulge and when it ended up between her legs, rubbing her button. And for Y/N it was really too much.

-R-Roo- her voice disappeared as she screamed, leaving her gasping in the dark room, with him that didn't seem to slow down.

- That's my m-mate

The orgasm suddenly overwhelmed her, stronger than the previous one, shaking her until her legs trembled. Her already sensitive core throbbed rapidly, tightening in a vise around his cock and Y/N felt their own juices mixed together as Roman turned her over once more, loading both of her legs onto his shoulders, to press her down with all his weight.

- M-mine

She searched him with her gaze, tears welling up in her eyes, still shaking, thanks to his now sloppy thrusts that kept her from stepping off her peak or even having a break.

- Mine

With her mind blank and his heavy breath slamming into her face, she let him finish his ride inside her, admiring the concentrated expression with which he was fucking her and pulsing around her hardness, until yet another spasm was too much and Roman reached the top, claiming her. Y/N watched him tired, closing his eyes, mouth opening and then moaning, as he emptied into her core.

She had never allowed anyone to do it, she had never even allowed anyone to get close to it and instead he continued undaunted to move his hips, fucking her throughout her orgasm, thrust after thrust, unable to stop even now that he had come. It really seemed like he didn't want to stop, that it wasn't enough and Y/N saw him, lower his gaze, release his grip on her trembling legs to look at her.

- Not yet - he said heavily and Y/N felt the need to clung on him, growing in her chest despite her tiredness.

He would be the end of her and she had always known it.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816

[generic-sonic-fan]

hehehe have a snippet of the beginning of the Blaze x Omega fic for you all

---

Blaze visited Sonic’s world even when she wasn’t needed, meaning that it was more often than she would care to admit. 

It became a secret indulgence- the words slipped out of her mouth so easily these days. I’m sorry, but the Guardian of the Chaos Emeralds requires me, she’d tell her advisors when nothing immediately pressing was occurring in the Sol Kingdom.

But now, as her flames danced around her, the fury of her soul expressing itself in its purest form, she couldn’t find it within herself to feel guilty. 

The timing of this visit was rather poor- there was no actual impending crisis, so Sonic wasn’t around. Instead, his brother Tails had awkwardly pointed her towards some of Sonic’s other allies who were set to attack one of Eggman’s strategic positions today. 

Shadow the Hedgehog teleported alongside of her and, with a crisp bolt of chaos energy, blasted the remaining robot in the room that she had not yet scalded. He let out a strange ‘hmph’, something vaguely triumphant-sounding, as the metal scrap fell to the floor. Then he teleported off again, likely somewhere deeper within the facility, racing ahead of her as if they were playing in some imaginary competition that he was obsessed with winning. 

Blaze looked back to the entry doorway to see Rouge the Bat fly in and, instead of continuing down the path Blaze had just cleared with her flames, made for the circulation vent in the ceiling above.

“Where are you going?” Blaze shouted.

Rouge only hesitated for a second. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess.” 

Blaze crossed her arms and exhaled, smoke billowing out of her nostrils. Some ‘team’ this was. By the time she looked back, Rouge was already gone. Blaze was alone, surrounded by scrap. 

She tried to remember the actual objective of the mission from the oh-so-short mission briefing. No doubt Shadow knew it, but of course he wasn’t here right now and didn’t seem keen on being followed. Blaze looked around the room to find three doors. She picked one and ran to it. 

The door controls were locked, and a quick few taps on the armored plating allowed her to guess the temperature required for her to make her own entrance. She called on the flames within her, fueling them with her own breath and her rage, before shoving her hands against the metal. 

In an instant, the metal boiled, then vaporized. She pulled her palms apart, sending the scalding metal shards to the sides. Then, with a clench of her fist, she cooled the white-hot metal back down to gray so that she could pass through the new entrance to the halls beyond. 

“YOU BURN THINGS VERY WELL!”

Blaze whipped around and extended her fist, ready to blow a ball of flame towards the source of the robotic voice, before recognition stayed her hand. For his credit, E-123 Omega did not seem surprised by the near barrage.

“AND WITH ACCURACY, IN ADDITION!” 

[banzaitaka]

Helloo there couldnt help but notice u write for samon and qi from nanbaka could i get Male reader whos like mikey from tokyo revengers as a partner (short lazy but strong af) thank you for ur time

---

Look who got around to posting again

Nanbaka Masterlist

I hope this is what you wanted & you enjoy reading! Tips are very appreciated!

Samon Gokuu x male! reader

Qi x male! reader

Gremlin

Gremlin. That‘s what Samon calls that little bundle of chaos, or in other words; his boyfriend. First, it seemed like a rather harsh petname to give your lover, but all of building 5 learned to respect, accept or agree with that decision soon enough.

(Y/N)‘s mood was so unpredictable, but so incredibly predictable at the same time. Or rather, Samon forgets how easy he could tell what he was up to all the time.

„I wonder where (Y/N) is. Lunch break is already over.“ Oh right. He falls asleep in the spot after every meal without a care in the world.

„(Y/N), what are you-“ Ugh. Of course he dashes out to accompany the inmates to the gaming room.

„I‘m sorry, I can‘t fight you today. (Y/N) should be fre-“ „Ooooooh Li wants to fight!?“ „Where the hell did you come from?“

Nothing worth worrying or pondering about, actually. Though, it can suck quite a bit of energy from the supervisor, only just a bit. What really makes him a little gremlin is something else. In a moment of weakness - or rather, as (Y/N) was snacking on a peach bun - Liang and Upa were fighting two vs. one against Samon. A special occasion, I might add. Neither of the inmates seemed to be in the mood for cooperation that day. So one thing lead to another and…As Liang aimed a kick to Samon‘s stomach from one side, and Upa was charging his own attack from the other, Samon waited for the perfect moment to jump backwards, leading the two of them to collide.

The kick ended up flinging Upa away, and outside the training grounds. Crashing right into (Y/N), sending them both to the rocky ground. The peach bun now in the shape of a pancake, spread all over (Y/N)‘s guard uniform.

As soon as Upa realized what had happend, he stood up and apologized for crashing into him, before turning around to his cellmate, „Hey Liang, watch your foot, damnit!“ The poor boy didn‘t even notice the guard standing menacingly behind him, not until he felt his hand grab the back of his neck. „I‘ll make you pay.“

„(Y/N). It was an accident.“, Samon walked up to them, beads of sweat rolling down his temple, „I‘ll get you a new bun, and a clean uniform.“

„This is not about that!“, (Y/N) spat back, face unreadable, eyes burning holes into the back of Upa‘s head. „Then what is…“, too late.

Laughter. (Y/N)‘s laughter drumming through the area, letting go of the poor inmate, „Just kidding. Hehehehehe.“

„DAMNIT, YOU LITTLE GREMLIN!“

Samon didn‘t know if he was more mad about falling for it yet again, or the fact (Y/N) dared to do it yet again.

Child-like

Narrowing his eyes, (Y/N) stared at the plate of food infront of him. It was like he was trying to eradicate it with his fuming glare. His fellow inmates held a considerably large distance between them and him, fearing the aura that was slowly starting to seep through and out of his body. „What‘s wrong, (Y/N)?“, Liang sat down across from the male, next to Upa who was already sighing, „Is that even a question at this point?“, the Qigong master deadpanned.

„They forgot the flag.“, (Y/N)‘s tone was far too serious for the scenario that was going down, at least for those around him. To him, the missing flag on his burger could as well be a declaration of war. How dare they?

„I wonder if they enjoy this.“, Qi muttered to himself, joining the group at the table with his own tray in hand. It happened to be loud enough for his boyfriend to hear, however, judging by that loud scoff that was followed by a pout. Chuckling to himself, Qi placed down his tray and moved to solve this growing dilemma before it could actually become a problem. He stuck a little flag ontop of (Y/N)‘s burger, „You know, I still don‘t get why you get so worked up over this.“

As if worked with magic, the thick blanket of anger disappeared and made space for sparkles of childish joy to float in the air around the young man. You could hear the entirety of the cafeteria sigh in unision, not including Qi. He settled for a head-shake, lips adorned with a fond smile. „Heh, you‘re welcome.“, he chuckled out at how (Y/N) gulped down his flag-adorned burger, despite not being thanked for his service at all. It‘s fine though. Seeing that bright smile and hearing that cute little giggle was enough.

Besides, he was looking forward to the nap together after lunch.

[boxofthings]

Originally was gonna write 09 soaproach angst but decided to fulfill this request that was sent months ago (anon I'm so sorry but if you're still around I hope you enjoy!)

This was heavily inspired by THIS art post by @miilkybnn (it hurts me deeply)

09 ghostsoaproach for all you masochists :)

Read on AO3

-- -- --

He can feel the painful snap of his fingernails underneath gloves that claw desperately into rust. The roof tile comes away from the sudden pressure of his weight.

There's heavy smoke in his lungs, and if the universe had given him an extra ounce of precious time, maybe he'd let the smell funnel down into his stomach, imagining for just a moment that it tasted like Villa Clara's.

His heart races as the hand that shoots out for him falls short by mere inches, and his body drops to the ground in a blackened hush.

It doesn't help that their worried voices screech into his shock-delirious brain as he comes to. If he were a less determined man, he'd stay right where he was, admit defeat and fall right back into that blissful, unconscious nothing.

"Roach!"

But he's not. Because despite his wounds, his defeats, his lack of a weapon, and the sheer absurdity of his chances of survival—he wants to live.

And if not that, then at least he wishes hopelessly to have a sendoff with blue and brown eyes to watch over him like guardian angels.

He pulls himself to his feet, limbs screaming at him for mercy, and he runs like it'll be the last time he ever will, and it just might well be.

Bullets and their casings fly through the air like deadly confetti, and Roach can only push forward as the captain's poignant concern rings deep in his ears.

He's probably been shot—multiple times likely, but there's a red over his mind that pumps wild adrenaline through his body. He wonders if, from the safety of the carrier, he must look like a madman.

"Thirty seconds! We're runnin' on fumes here!"

If he makes it out of this, if he lives to tell the tale, this'll be one hell of a conversation starter—one for the history books, that's for sure.

His chest is beginning to burn, and he can feel the familiar, dreadful indication that his legs are starting to drag like stones.

Not yet. 

The only thing that keeps his blood boiling with stubborn life is what awaits for him on that carrier, no doubt with bated breaths and mirrored anxieties.

Fifteen seconds.

Blades slice the air of the sky in pulsating waves; each gust feels like it hits Roach harder as he hangs onto his last drop of fuel like a fraying rope.

So close.

Sliding down the debris of the favelas, each bump another bruise to his body, he can only think of how hard he'll collapse after and if he makes that final leap.

"Jump for it!"

With his tank nearly empty, he musters the remaining energy he has and jumps with his whole heart in his throat. The murky waters below will not be as merciful as the ground of militia-ridden streets.

His fingers make jarred contact with the ladder of the carrier, and he clings to it with heaving breaths that rattle his entire body. In his ear, he hears the sharp intake of a gasp as Nikolai flies them further away from the chaos of gunfire.

He's alive. And he's damn well feeling it if his aching bones and bleeding flesh have anything to say for it.

As soon as he's dragged into the opening of the Pave Low, a deadly grip yanks him into a shuttering embrace.

The lieutenant says nothing at first, only holding him with a restlessness typically reserved for dying men.

"Fuckin' hell."

Fucking hell's right. He falls into Ghost's solid weight with laboured limbs and a pounding heart. If, from now on, the captain decides to bench him for his deficiency in acrobatics, he's not so sure he'll protest.

Behind him, he can feel how Soap's eyes pierce scrutinizing daggers into his back, and he fears the tongue-lashing he'll receive as soon as he turns around.

But when he finally releases from Ghost's arms and meets icy blues, there's a pause in the air from the silence that meets him.

Mouth set in a grim line, fists clenched at his sides, the captain is the epitome of tension. As he watches Roach longer with that look of grievance, his head hangs, shaking it frustratingly and turning away to speak to Nikolai.

Roach can't help how his heart drops down to his stomach, shame pooling hotly down his throat.

The post-adrenaline rush makes his head float, and he's not too certain he didn't earn a concussion from that fall. A shaky exhale takes with it the muscles that keep him standing, and all of a sudden, he feels the brittleness of his bones.

"Bug," Ghost says, hand intertwining with his, pulling him down gently to sit next to him. 

Roach acquiesces easily, slumping down like a sack of flour.

His lieutenant holds his hand tighter, and Roach leans his head on the older's shoulder. 

Despite this victory, he can't help but feel the looming fear of what will come next. His injuries hurt terribly, but he's content to sit like this for just a little bit, pretending for just a moment that everything will be okay.

– – –

The safe house they hunker down in becomes blanketed in a constricted silence as they wait for US forces to transfer them to their next location.

The captain ushers him to the kitchen, first aid kit supplies already splayed out on the table.

Roach feels the beginnings of a timer go off in the space between them.

His commanding officers bracket him, dabbing saline into his wounds and applying gauze over the reds that spread across his skin.

It's only when Soap begins to wrap bandages around his middle does the air around them suddenly freeze into a tangible outrage.

"You bloody fool," he hisses, fingers ripped away from the bandages and digging urgently into the flesh of his arms.

Beside him, Ghost goes still.

"Just how many jumps are you going to miss until it kills you?"

There it is, the bated agony that masks itself as scorn—the dam Roach had been anticipating to burst any minute since he'd made contact with that ladder.

There's anger in the air that feels sharp and critical, but Roach can't fight against it because the underlayer of that deadly heat swirls a deep, visceral anguish. Fear that threatens to rip them apart right through the heart.

"I-" his wretched throat scratches out. There are words he wants to say out loud, words that his captain and lieutenant deserve to hear, but that burn on his tongue trickles deep into his larynx, and it renders him quiet, like a pathetic coward in the face of blame.

"I'm sorry," his hands finish for him, fingers never heavier. And he watches as the captain's face falls so awfully, how the lieutenant turns away like he can't bear to watch him any longer.

Is this what they are doomed to be? Three lovers trapped in a perpetual cycle of fear and loathing, trapped in an echo chamber of a cacophonous "who will be next?"

There are no words to ease their ailing minds because, at the end of the day, who knows if and when they'll become lies?

A sigh. The hands gripped so tightly around his arms drop defeatedly. 

Soap wordlessly exits the room, leaving Roach with a heavy tongue of unspoken atonements. The unfinished wrap of bandages feels like it scalds his skin.

Ghost looks back at him, eyes crushing but quietly soft, something only reserved for Roach and the captain.

He takes up the space Soap had emptied and continues where the other had left off, holding the bandages with sure hands.

"He's just worried," Ghost says as soon as the wrap is secured, helping him slowly put on his shirt.

Roach can't muster the will to look Ghost in the eye, which is a first for them.

The other takes both his hands into his, urging Roach's gaze to land on him.

"Just–be more careful, yeah?"

The fingers that smooth over his battered hands shake like there's an all-consuming dread that threatens to spill right out of every pore.

In a second, they retreat, replaced instead by the warmth of a full body wrapped around him in a desperate embrace.

"You have no idea how it felt, watching it all from the Pave Low."

It's so rare to hear his lieutenant speak so weakly. Such a voice did not suit Ghost, or perhaps it did, as how else were battered and spent soldiers meant to sound? But Roach did not like knowing he was the cause for it.

"You're one hell of a fighter, bug."

So are you, he wants to say, but he knows Ghost won't care for it.

It's not just the sheer, dumb luck that keeps him alive. It's the two men he found at the wrong and right time, in the midst of a war that offers them no comforting promises for the future, but also bringing a lightness at a time where his life had never felt so dark.

He doesn't want to lose this.

He sees a small grin begin to imprint on the lieutenant's balaclava.

At the arch of Roach's brow, he chuckles minutely.

"It's just funny, 'innit? How the roles 'ave swapped." Ghost's eyes crinkle in soft reminiscence. "Years ago, it would've been me stormin' out that door."

Roach mirrors his smile. He remembers the start of it all, how the captain had so readily accepted Roach's affections, open and carefree, before the stakes of war had tipped so precariously to where it was now.

"Probably be needin' me to swoop in and save yer arse wherever we go," the captain had said after Roach had bashfully pressed cold lips to warm ones in an impulsive confession of love.

It was so easy to talk to Soap, as he was everything Roach had strived to be and more. A stable force in his life that made him feel nearly invincible.

And Ghost...well, he was much the opposite, almost averse to that same tenderheartedness that had won over the captain.

He remembers how he got shot, pushing the lieutenant out of harm's way, how the lieutenant had screamed at him once they arrived back on base, how Soap had held him back, and how distraught Roach had felt once he'd stormed out the room, a sizzling anger that took Roach weeks to understand was, in reality, fear.

It's so strange to look back on now, to envision a Ghost who was so pent up with wrath it followed him wherever he went.

It makes him realize how much has changed—is still changing.

Ghost takes off his sunglasses, and like this, Roach can stare into pretty browns that gaze at him lovingly.

"Back then, I just never knew how to express my damn emotions."

Roach brings the lieutenant's face closer to him, kissing slowly regardless of the fabric that separates them.

"You do now, though," Roach signs when they break apart.

Ghost eyes crinkle when he smiles. "Only for you two."

– – –

Ghost had shooed him away when he tried to help clean up the mess of bloodied cotton balls and scattered gauze pads.

He'd taken this as his sign to seek out the captain. Pushing the door to the only bedroom slowly, like a child in worry of waking their parents.

Soap sits on the edge of the bed, hands clamped together with his head hung low—lost in turbulent thought. It shoots right up at the creak of the door hinge.

For a moment, neither man knows what to say, Roach shuffling closer till the older has to look up at him.

When he opens his mouth, the captain's arms shoot up to drag the sergeant down onto his lap in the tightest hug he's ever received from the other.

"God, you're so stupid," he whispers, head burying deep into Roach's chest as if he wanted to be merged with it. "Why'd I get assigned such a dafty for a sergeant?"

A melancholic lilt seeps to his lips as he rests his cheek on Soap's head.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, as sincere as his love is true.

Soap's head lifts, hands flying to Roach's face, and he can see the desperate ache in those eyes. 

"Don't be sorry, you oaf. You nearly died." The crack in the captain’s voice strikes a chord so deep in Roach’s chest that it almost makes him cry.

There's a weight that sits like a thousand marble statues on the captain's shoulders, and with each passing day, Roach sees as that load drags heavier behind him.

"Funny how history repeats itself. First mission with my captain, nearly falling to my death. First mission as captain with my sergeant doing the exact same."

He'd said it right after their first stint in Kazakhstan.

It was meant as a jest to lighten the post-haze of a near-death experience, but Roach had seen the slight cynicism in the captain's eyes that he had yet to pick apart.

Weeks later, he'd sit outside the base during the quiet of the night, with MacTavish's cigar flicking soft light into the darkness, and understand, for the first time, that the captain was just a man, just like him. A soldier with burdens like everyone else.

"With every man that I lose on a mission is another ghost that haunts me when I go to sleep."

"It's not your fault," the sergeant had said then, and meant it earnestly, because how could Captain John MacTavish—the man who'd jump after you if you fell into a pool of molten lava if it meant even the slightest chance of saving you—ever be to blame for the death of a soldier?

But it was more than just that. It was the spectre of a past mentor, one that left daunting footsteps to fill that Soap had fought with every breath to satiate with justice.

It had made the beast of a man before him appear so painfully human, and Roach had only yearned for him more because of it.

Now, as they hold each other, Roach can see how that weight must feel like the most crippling force. And he knows how deeply every failure hits the other like real bullets.

When he'd nearly drifted off in the Pave Low, he'd caught the tail-end of a hushed exchange between Ghost and Soap. Voices tense, waiting to snap any minute.

"I couldn't catch him," the captain had muttered, broken off and deprecating.

Soap picks at the hem of Roach's shirt, inhaling sharply when he sees the bandage peek out.

"One day," he starts, and it's melancholic yet intimate like Soap had thought of it a million times. "There'll be a mission where I won't be there to catch you."

Roach frowns, seeing that familiar burden of responsibility that the captain readily throws onto his shoulders.

"It's not your job to."

Fists clench around his shirt.

"Yes, it is," he says fiercely. "If not as your captain, then-"

His mouth hangs open, words caught in the emptiness of the air around them, and Roach can't bear to look at that awful anguish in Soap's eyes.

Then as someone who loves you.

It makes his chest hurt how easy it all was before—or maybe not easy, but how much less consequential their actions meant back then—when their love had only been labelled as one-off jokes, when the task force wasn't stretched so thin and smaller than when it had started. When Roach could say he cared for someone and not have to worry whether they'd disappear to ash the next day.

"I'm sorry," Roach offers instead, "for making you worry." It feels like it's all he can say.

The smile he receives is bittersweet, but it's such a rarity nowadays to see anything happier. Even so, he wishes he could fix it—to smooth out those worry lines that make the other look so haggard.

The captain tilts his head, surging tentatively to capture Roach's lips in his own, and the kiss makes him think of everything that defines their relationship.

When rough lips touch his own, it's so familiar, like the nostalgia of a home that exists only in his mind. The tang of cigars and the bitterness of Earl Grey tea. How does he even begin to describe how intrinsically this love has changed him?

Such small things that he previously couldn't have cared less about now mean everything to him. And it makes him notice all the things that only he is meant to notice.

Like how Ghost prepares coffee in the mornings, despite preferring tea, all because the captain and himself once mentioned they only slightly prefer it to the latter.

Like how Soap begrudgingly supplies the base with that shitty off-brand version of Earl Grey that Ghost, for some reason, likes so much.

Like how when the lieutenant or sergeant go to bed aching, there's an unsuspecting bottle of painkillers and water glasses on their nightstands that they don't remember leaving there.

Like how little aspects of himself change to become a little bit more like the ones he loves.

Despite preferring coffee, he thinks he'd choose tea over it now.

And every time the captain offers out a cig, Roach easily declines because there's a much better way for him to enjoy the taste.

Every kiss they share is one that could be their last. So Roach savours every minute of it, commits to memory the feel of Soap's hands on his waist, the way the other breathes heavily as their lips intertwine in a longing embrace, the heat that emanates between them because the other is a living space heater, the way how every time, without fail, the touch of Soap's lips makes his heart soar like a teenage girl's on prom night.

I love you, he mouths against the other, and even though his soundless words disappear into the air, at least he knows the universe will bear witness to this truth.

"My sergeant," the captain purrs adoringly, and it makes the blood rush faster in his veins. "Just don't know when to die, do you?"

Their foreheads touch, an unspoken moment of peace between them that they pretend will keep them safe.

They know that today, they are alive, but tomorrow may not bring such luck.

The arms around his middle move to his thighs as Soap stands up abruptly, hoisting Roach up with him and moving towards the side of the bed.

Roach grins, wrapping strong arms around the captain's neck, even as he's laid down on soft sheets.

Soap pulls him till they're flush together, with Roach's back to his chest, and the older snakes an arm around his front, resting a hand atop Roach's heart.

"Just to make sure you're still alive by mornin'," Soap had joked the first time he did it. But it was after Roach had taken a nasty stab to the lung, and the captain's fixation with feeling for his heartbeat had not been lost on the sergeant at all. 

"In pain?" he asks softly into the crook of the Roach's neck.

The younger shakes his head, exhaling soft exasperation.

"Sorry. Just can't help but worry."

Roach knows how that feels.

He lets his eyes droop to a close, letting his hand climb atop Soap's, intertwining them so that they lock together solidly on his steady pulse.

He breathes in the captain's grounding, pine scent and hopes with every fibre of his being that they'll be okay in the morning—that after this shitstorm passes, they'll make it out the other end only slightly dishevelled. 

He always did have plans to introduce Soap and Ghost to his family one day.

 – – – 

Later, with his mind drowsy and battling the final drops of wakefulness, he'll feel the bed dip beside him along with Ghost's hushed "All good?" and the captain's answering kiss that calms the lieutenant's concern.

He'll lay in bed, held by two people he loves with all his heart, who love him just the same, and he'll thank the world for granting him this rare moment of tranquillity.

Tomorrow, they'll be extracted for their next operation. They'll break into the gulag and find whoever this prisoner is that Makarov hates so much, and who knows what will happen?

But until then, Roach will sleep, knowing that the two things important to him are safe next to him.

– – –

Brown eyes hidden behind a screen of shade, and Roach wishes he could rip them off.

His body aches, as does his heart.

Price's shouts carry over his earpiece, and he can't help but feel bitter.

He wishes to hear his captain's voice one last time, wishes for once in his life, Simon didn't wear those blasted sunglasses. He wishes, so pathetically, that it didn't end like this, with one piece of himself dead beside him and the other miles away.

His mind grasps at threads, trying to find comfort in the gaps where pain has not yet sullied.

Despite how lonely he feels, staring at the face of an already dead lover, he'll thank any God above that he'll join him soon, that at least two of them are adjoined, even in death.

In a way, all three of them are together, connected by a commlink that spans the entire distance of their longing, like a tether.

It's such a sad, desperate pull at a sliver of comfort, but it quiets Roach's aching chest just a little.

There's the tang of Earl Grey tea leaves on his tongue, and as he closes his eyes for the last time, he can imagine that the smoke that suffocates his lungs tastes like Villa Clara's.

[wheeljack-boom]

Entropy

The entirety of this can be found here.

I've posted numerous bits and pieces before for fun, but this is the initial piece of writing I did several years ago. Only recently have I gone back to it and decided to keep writing, despite it initially being intended as a one-shot. Originally when I wrote this years ago I was inspired by the way the 5th Doctor meets Amy Pond. Don't know why, but here we are. It was a bug I couldn't get out of my head.

No warnings. Cybertronian/Human relationships. Platonic only, but lots and lots of fluff. Human is an AFAB original character. Non-canon AU.

Like clockwork, the earth’s moon rose high into the atmosphere, a burning white disk of reflected solar energy that bathed the terran landscape in cool white light. The tidally locked piece of rock, perpetually circling the organic planet in the solar system designated 876B, was itself a consistent reminder of the passage of time. It was predictable, and observable with all the reliability of a Cybertronian energon flux. The earth’s entropy relied solely on its inhabitants and its ever-changing climate, but never its predictable partner in the black. Order, and its close approximate chaos, were two parts of the same spectrum, just as the order of the cosmos inhabited the same plane of reality as the chaos of the living, changing planet.

Chaos was the friend of the large, robotic mass now currently trying to navigate through the relative quiet and darkness of what was usually a place thrumming with life. Chaos was what he thrived on; it breathed creativity and ingenuity and change, and that was something that heralded some of the greatest scientific discoveries of order and truth. The order of the cosmos, sometimes got very dull.

Now, however, the particular bit of chaos that Wheeljack found himself in was nothing if not unsettling.

Wheeljack’s joints groaned with a subtle whir as he moved, the transformium paneling on his legs shifting and one shoulder wheel spinning slowly as he crept forward through the darkness. The Autobot scientist was suddenly very self-conscious that he was out in the open, vulnerable and undisguised in his much more conspicuous bipedal form. A collection of small buildings surrounded him, but none of them even came close to his own height, so he had to duck slightly as he crept his way through to his target: the human power station.

The surrounding landscape was only inhabited by a scattering of human agricultural settlements, so the night hours afforded Wheeljack some privacy without having to worry about being seen. It still made him uncomfortable however, as every movement he made seemed uncharacteristically loud even to his own audio receptors. Every scan he omitted could potentially be picked up by human equipment, including their own military base some miles away, but the Autobot took care to be brief. His audible presence, and to some extent his invisible presence could be easily explained away, but his visual presence was not something that the dominant organic life forms knew existed. Quite simply, if a human saw him, the probability that they would react poorly was quite high.

With this in mind, the large Autobot moved carefully in the black, mindful of the way the moon highlighted his white armor panels. His glowing blue optics were soft and searching in the dark, but were obvious markers of his presence as he awkwardly tried to retain a quiet, steady pace to his destination. He dimmed their brightness, but didn’t expect it would make much difference. He wasn’t exactly outfitted for camouflage; he wasn’t a soldier per say, but necessity never particularly cared for those details. The open night sky above him was filled with more stars than what he remembered seeing on Cybertron, but he couldn’t take the desired time to admire their scientific wonderment. Wheeljack was practically a glow stick against the inky black, illuminated with the night’s natural ambiance.

A nearby sound startled the large form, and he froze, ducking his head as the soft thrum of machinery reacted to his sudden movements. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if he got caught sneaking around. Current positioning was too tight to transform, unless he wanted some sort of catastrophic misalignment on his way down; wouldn’t that be fun. His only option was to duck harder, maybe make himself less obvious and a visual illusion in the darkness—human eyes weren’t always reliable unaided at night—but at roughly two dozen feet in height and made out of living metal, that wouldn’t really do much. He waited a few minutes longer, systems and venting cycles stilled until he was satisfied with the lack of movement in his immediate vicinity. His destination was so close, and a sudden urgency overcame him as he vented the air he’d been holding inside his chassis.

The central power grid for the immediate human population center sat before him, relatively small, but about the right size one might expect for a settlement of this size. It would do for what he needed: that being the desperately sought out energy reserves him and his fellow Autobots required to keep their shielding running. So far from home, on an alien planet, stranded and functioning at not even half capacity with a skeleton crew, they could not synthesize energon themselves. Wheeljack had developed a process—unbeknownst to a certain Prime that would highly disapprove—that could convert the electrical currents from human power grids into a slightly lower grade energon. It would do to keep them functioning and protected, but it would require more in terms of sheer volume to do the job that a fraction of naturally occurring energon could. This was a stop-gap that wouldn’t last for long, and eventually he’d have to come clean to Prime and the rest of the Ark crew that he was using human resources.

Wheeljack was one of the most brilliant Autobot scientists to ever live, possibly the only one left, and this organic planet had him scrambling for scraps and drastically understocked of supplies needed to carry out any idea he might have. He was trapped and didn’t know what else to do, but the other Autobots were looking to him for an answer. He could deal with the truth later, and Primus willing, would have enough time to come up with a means of synthesizing what they needed without stealing it from the native life forms. Until then, it was his secret, and the most they had to know was that he figured out a purely practical way to produce a lower-quality brew that could at least tie them over.

The main power conduit was just on the other side of a chain link fence. Wheeljack stopped just short of it and crouched. He didn’t even have to climb over the tiny barricade. He could just reach in and take what he needed.

This gave the Autobot pause. It felt wrong, but Wheeljack was disconcerted with how this was becoming easier to justify in the name of survival. Theft, and deception was not something the Autobots did. It was one of the many things they had fought against when trying to save their planet; when they had failed. What he was about to do was something that was typically more associated with the Decepticons, the other side of the war that had proved to be too relentless. Even the more morally reprehensible acts the Autobots had engaged in—out of necessity and against their very nature—could not even compare to the atrocities committed by the opposing faction. Driving them off their planet was not enough. Now, the lingering impact of being alone and crippled was a continuing punishment, but even then, to the Decepticons it was not enough. They followed their evacuation, lurking somewhere out in the shadows of the cosmos, waiting for one Autobot misstep that would give away their location.

Survival however, was a drive that was strong not just amongst organics, and the Autobots would not survive without energon. That much was simple. They would either go offline from malnourishment, suffer catastrophic injuries that were beyond repair without the life-giving blood of their species, or be blown apart by the Decepticons once their shielding failed and they were finally found. Energon was used for just about every component of Cybertronian life; it was little wonder that its availability and the fight to appropriate the dwindling resource would bring about their ultimate downfall. The Autobot scientist had no other choice.

Wheeljack carefully reached an arm towards the main conduit but paused. Doubt and fear nagged at him. As soon as he started syphoning power there would be no going back. Their presence would be detected, and even if the humans didn’t immediately determine what was happening, it would still open up many questions.

Their existence was probably going to be detected soon enough anyway, Wheeljack reasoned. Either the Decepticons would find this backwater planet and make themselves known, or force the Autobots to make themselves known preemptively. It was a matter of when.

Reaching back over the fence, Wheeljack sub-spaced the minute form of an energon cube. As he edged it closer to the power source, its programming cycled through the myriad of commands Wheeljack had dictated to it. It expanded as a series of bicortex nanotubes took root into the human machinery. The cube started to glow, pulsing as it grew with the energon that began to trickle into it, filtering through the anchored piping that had now weaved its way into the cracks and entry ports of the central power conduit.

There was a brief hiss, which turned into a low hum that seemed to emanate around Wheeljack, growing in intensity as the energon cube increased in mass and brightness. It was working, and as the few lights around him started to power down without the sufficient energy flow to feed them, Wheeljack felt a sense of guilt.

“Well, not like I can put it all back now...” He muttered to himself, looking at his prize. Like the ancient human story of Prometheus stealing fibre… I’m gonna be in a lot of trouble—

A sudden ping on his internal com system alerted him to an additional presence attempting to make contact. It was like a prickling into his awareness, a sudden sense of no longer being alone in his own head and it made him jump with a start. Nobody was supposed to know what he was up to, much less where he was, and if they were contacting him on his com link rather than searching him out that meant they knew he wasn’t in the Ark.

“Wheeljack.” The voice pressed. It was abrupt, and sounded very, very annoyed.

“Ratchet!” It was the Ark’s chief medical officer, which also meant Wheeljack was about to get an audio full of whatever had Ratchet’s temper up this time. It was usually him anyway, so he was used to it. Whenever Wheeljack wasn’t in Ratchet’s med-bay partially blown apart, melted, electrocuted or otherwise incapacitated in some way of his own doing, Ratchet usually found other things to get angry about.

“What are you doing?” Ratchet sighed with the typical tone of resignation, as if he was expecting Wheeljack to attempt to lie his way through this. Sadly, that had been exactly what he was about to do.

“I was uh—”

“Save it. I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid. I’m on Teletraan-1 right now watching you syphon off that power.” Ratchet of course meant he was detecting the energy fluctuations resulting from Wheeljack’s theft on the Ark’s central monitoring system. Wheeljack hadn’t even thought of that...

“We need this more than they do. They can just build a fire or something.”  Wheeljack knew the absurdity of his statement was reason enough for Ratchet’s impending incredulity but he was out of excuses. He hadn’t even thought of one to begin with.

“Primus help me, you can’t be serious.” There was an exasperated ripple that pulsed through their psychic com link. “That isn’t the point, Wheeljack. For one thing, stealing from the humans was expressly forbidden by Prime.”

“Don’t tell Optimus.” Wheeljack faltered. Not out of fear, as Optimus Prime was not the type to heavily punish his subordinates. It was shame, because then he would know that Wheeljack had let him down… No one wanted to let Optimus Prime down.

“Just get back here before someone else sees you.” Ratchet said tersely, as Wheeljack quickly retracted the now-full energon cube. It detached from the human power structure with a crackle of energy, a few errant drops of white-hot energon showering the ground as he subspaced the cube for travel.

“Alright, I’m comin’, nobody’s around for miles—” Wheeljack turned quickly, internals thrumming as he prepared to make a hasty retreat, but he froze mid-crouch. He was not alone.

Ratchet’s voice continued in his audio receptors. “Right, they may not be there now, but you know they have their own scanners and sensors, weak and understandably inferior as they may be, but they’re certainly enough to figure out that someone is stealing something—and Wheeljack are you even listening to me?”

He was listening, but Wheeljack had a far more immediate concern, offsetting Ratchet’s yammering to ambient noise. His entire body tingled with the intense need to flee, but he remained rooted to the spot.

“Wheeljack, are you still there? What are you doing? You need to get out of there.” There was a pause. “Primus, Wheeljack. Please, tell me nobody has seen you.”

“Somebody sees me.” Wheeljack responded slowly, his optics locked on the new development in front of him.

It was a small, tiny human being. It stood there, quiet and still, its optics locked on Wheeljack’s. There was an immediate hiss from within his processor as their joined com link was overcome with an exponential amount of creative expletives.

“How do you know?!”

“It’s lookin’ right at me…”

“Is it a threat?”

“I...don’t think so. No.”

“Then deal with it, and extract yourself immediately.” Ratchet severed the link, not so much out of anger, but sheer panic and necessity; self-preservation dictated that it was better to not take the chance in assuming humans couldn’t sense their link and track it to the source, but Wheeljack highly doubted that was true, at least with what he currently faced.

Ratchet’s more immediate demand of dealing with the threat was upsetting, the implied action behind it vague enough that it made Wheeljack feel queasy. The humans weren’t a threat, at least he didn’t think so, and the one that was looking at him now didn’t seem to be dangerous at all. Ratchet had megacycles more field experience than Wheeljack, however. The decisions the medic would have had to make on the battlefield were beyond Wheeljack’s desire to contemplate.

This wasn’t a battlefield however, and this did not appear to be a soldier.

It made a noise, much like a soft venting of air, but it was small-sounding and very much unthreatening if the way the small human’s optics were casually locked onto him was any indication. This didn’t stop Wheeljack from recoiling back in alarm, the noise startling him out of his frozen state and right back through the small fence and into the very power conduit he had just been stealing from.

As if things couldn’t get any worse for him, the entire structure came crashing down under his sheer weight. Whatever light or electrical device was still working with what power he’d left behind was now out, and would be for miles. The noise was staggeringly loud from cables, wires and metal panels piling on top of him as he scrambled to get upright. Eons spent on the battlefields of Cybertron had conditioned Wheeljack against his very nature to always be prepared to fight for his survival, so he’d gotten rather good at picking himself back up. Nearly offlining himself in his own lab on a daily basis certainly kept him well-practiced.

This wasn’t a Cybertron battlefield, and this wasn’t his lab, so as soon as Wheeljack was upright he quickly processed every nano-inch of his surroundings. His urgency was only matched by his concern for the human. Firstly, he feared that it had gotten hurt in such a display of uncoordinated prowess, and secondly being on his back and vulnerable meant that he was open season for anyone, human or otherwise, to drop a bomb on him.

The human thankfully had been smart enough to have scuttled out of danger, and was now peering at him from behind a nearby pillar with what Wheeljack thought he recognized as the human expression of amusement. A quick check from his memory banks told him that this human was female, rather small and underdeveloped for the species, and quite possibly not very—

—It was a child.

Wheeljack’s processor stuttered to a halt, the sudden revelation that he was standing in front of a human child fascinating, yet also very terrifying. By his estimation the female couldn’t be more than four feet tall, looking pale and somewhat disheveled in the moonlight. Human children were smaller, weaker, and mentally underdeveloped relative to their fully grown counterparts, which wasn’t saying much to begin with. That said, the sheer novelty of observing such a small human up-close was nothing compared to the trouble he was going to be in if he didn’t somehow coax the human into not seeing what she was currently seeing… and forget all about him.

The Autobot was so internally focused on figuring out how to get out of the situation that he didn’t immediately process the soft noise the human was making. It was laughter. The human was laughing at him.

This went completely counter to his expectations.

The noise was small, and quiet, but it was so non-threatening that Wheeljack instinctively lowered his guard. The small human was covering her mouth with a hand, her small dark optics just barely glimmering in the moon’s light but they revealed enough of her state-of-mind to tell Wheeljack that for whatever reason, this human child was not afraid of him.

It was then that Wheeljack realized maybe his full height was a little too much, and it also made him vulnerable to other prying eyes. He carefully picked his way out of the rubble he had created, mindful of the way he moved and how heavily he stepped. The little human didn’t seem to react, other than to remove her hand from her face, presumably the humor in the moment now gone. Wheeljack spared a glance at the flattened mess he’d made, ruminating that if he’d been able to get away with his little stunt undetected before, he certainly wasn’t going to be able to now.

“Are you a fairy?”

The soft noise made Wheeljack jerk back around, the immediate source unmistakable as the human child still standing in front of him. Her expression was one of naive wonder, and it made Wheeljack uncomfortable. Human expressions were not so different from Cybertronian, and that wasn’t an expression he often saw coming from his own crew mates when they were looking at him. It was usually terror. That was usually followed by something blowing up.

Wheeljack switched his speech codex to English, rapidly filing through data banks searching for an appropriate dialect; the North American continent, United States of America, New York City—large population center and common stereotype in human popular culture. Their current coordinates were on the opposite end of the continent, but it would do because he probably needed to say something. Communicating with her in Cybertronian would not have been productive as she wouldn’t understand it.

“A fairy?” He checked the local knowledge bank—the Internet—for the definition of the word. Once he was able to ascertain the visual representation of a typical mythological creature that went by that designation, he found himself perplexed.

“Duh. You have wings.” The child’s reply pulled Wheeljack out of his internal research and brought his focus back onto her. She was pointing at something behind him, and the frankness of her voice gave the Autobot the impression that she thought this was something that should have been obvious. It dawned on him that this human child was actually giving him attitude.

Wheeljack made a show of looking where she was pointing, at first not getting her meaning until it occurred to him what she was so focused on. She was talking about his rotary fins, purely sensory-net but freely rotating from his body. They most certainly were not wings…

“Oh these?” Wheeljack replied, the soft blue illumination from the venting panels on the sides of his face blinking with each syllable of English he spoke. “They’re not wings, but highly-sensitive neuro-net transmitters that—” Wheeljack was about two-thirds of the way through his highly detailed explanation before he realized that the human was definitely not listening, and more likely that she didn’t even know what he was talking about. She now seemed more distracted by his blinking then anything else.

“Alright, they’re wings. You got me. I’m not a fairy though.”

He took care to keep his voice low and unthreatening, not wanting to scare the small human away. It was probably better to humor the child rather than outright run away and leave her with questions… that she would later go to the much more mentally capable adults to answer…

“Oh.” The little human pursed her lips, then proceeded to point at one of the venting panels on the side of his head. “Why are your ears so big? And why do they do that when you talk?” She looked genuinely interested in him, and that made him even more uncomfortable. That was on top of the mild annoyance he was beginning to feel at having to explain his anatomy to her.

A microsecond scan revealed she was referring to audio receptors. She had actually mistaken a very important component used to consistently filter heat from his advanced processor for audio receptors. He hadn’t modified audio receptors to indicate his speech after the accident that left his face catastrophically damaged. That was simply ABSURD. “These ain’t ears.” Wheeljack jabbed a thumb in the general direction of one of his panels, optics narrowed slightly until he saw the somewhat incredulous look on the human’s small face. He softened somewhat, reminding himself that he was not trying to match wits with a juvenile human. She was clearly harmless and probably lonely; what else would a single human out all by herself be feeling? Primus, he was lonely, and he was surrounded by Autobots most of the time. Perhaps now was an opportunity to gather field intel on the indigenous life forms. It was kind of nice talking to someone that wasn’t afraid of him for a change.

What harm would there be in talking to her, for just a little while?

Wheeljack lowered his height, crouching down as low as his armor plates would allow in front of the female child. “You want to know a secret?” She didn’t even flinch, but even so Wheeljack kept his distance for safety’s sake. Who knew what sort of biological pathogens she carried. Biomechanical beings weren’t completely immune from purely biological ailments, although he doubted anything she carried would pose a threat to him. The girl nodded, eagerly.

“They’re actually motion trackers,” Wheeljack lied. “And they’re so big so I can track humans like you for miles.” Alright, I’ll play along.

“Well, I found you, so they must be broken. You should get them fixed.”

“Maybe I wanted you to find me.” That obviously wasn’t true—quite the opposite in fact—but he’d kind of walked right into that one. After all, this human child had managed to catch him completely unawares, and the mess around him was the proof of that.

“Lying is bad.” Clearly, she was sharper than he was giving her credit for too. Maybe human children weren’t as stupid as he initially thought.

Wheeljack allowed himself a sly smile with what was left of his mouth behind his battle mask. It was something she couldn’t see, unless she understood the shifting of his optical lids. “You’re clever. I like you. But what are you doing out here all by yourself little...female?” He hazarded gently, unsure of what exactly he should call her. He only realized he’d made an error in judgment when her face scrunched up into something close to indignation.

“I’m a girl,” she corrected pointedly, but then for the first time her small dark optics shifted around carefully and she began to appear uncomfortable. She began to sway, as if unsure of what to do with her own body, and actually looked sad. “I ran away…”

Wheeljack struggled internally with how to process this information. Part of him didn’t want to become any more involved in her life when he shouldn’t even be talking to her. But the other part, the deeply fascinated scientist that had to know, had to know. “Okay… why did you run away?” That’s… generally a bad thing, right? The irony in the fact that it was exactly something he had done when he needed to get away from the Ark and just think was not exactly lost on him...

She didn’t say anything at first, staring awkwardly at the ground. Wheeljack tilted his head, the illumination produced from his panels when he posed the inquiry highlighting the red, blotched hue on her skin and the moisture beneath her optics. He wasn’t sure what that meant, the biological and psychological links escaping him. He thought better than to ask her, and she probably wouldn’t know how to respond anyhow. It was reasonable enough to assume that she had been distressed before blundering into him—or probably still was but he was enough of a distraction for her to temporarily forget about it.

“It’s okay, you can trust me.” For a moment the girl was entranced in the light that rapidly flashed in-time with his words when he finally spoke. She raised one hand, holding it out in front of her and watched as the blue light illuminated her skin.

“My mommy is sick, and daddy got angry with me because I broke the radio. But he’s just upset because mommy is upset…” The little girl was looking around again, clearly unsure of herself in this situation. “It was already broken, I was just trying to fix it…” She mumbled, the sound so quiet. Wheeljack had absolutely no idea what to say, and thought about offering a personal anecdote until something she said caught his interest.

“Tryin’ to fix a radio, huh? That’s quite a big job for something your size.” Wheeljack was actually mildly impressed. Imagine a human small as this one was, actually trying to fix primitive, illogical human machinery without proper training…

“No,” she finally replied, almost indifferently. ”I fixed daddy’s Internet when he didn’t know what to do, and that was way harder.” She spoke as if this was just daily routine for her, and fascinating as this was, Wheeljack had to keep the conversation moving. He was on a time-table, and needed to wrap this up.

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have run away little girl… he might need you to help him with that radio thing. Besides, it’s dangerous out here.” Wheeljack did his best to sound soft, but authoritative, internally wincing at how awkward it sounded coming out of his mouth. “How did you even get in here anyway?”

“I heard something and wanted to see what it was, so I came in through that hole in the fence… same way you did,” she said, motioning towards the way she’d presumably come.

“Ah, I’m a little big for a hole in the fence little one. This is no place for a human like you to be all alone.”

“You’re all by yourself,” the little girl retorted, looking snarky again. “Did you run away as well?” She looked shocked. “Did you kill somebody?”

“What…? No!”

“Are you doing crime?”

“Do I look like a Decepticon to you?” Wheeljack put his head in his hands, growing exasperated, and starting to feel mildly guilty because technically...

“What’s a...De-cep-ti-con?” It didn’t take a moment to spot the look of confusion on her face and he realized what he’d blurted out. She cocked her head as she spelled the word out slowly, ensuring she got the pronunciation right. “Are they bad? They sound bad.”

“Look, human girl, I—yes. They are bad. If you see one, and I hope to Primus you never do, I—”

“Primus? What’s that?”

Wheeljack found himself staring blankly at her, struggling to think of a way to describe to her what Cybertronians considered a God of sorts; not quite a god or a creator, but something more transcendent, yet tangible at the same time—why was he even contemplating telling her about such things that she surely wouldn’t understand? He’d committed a crime, gotten found out by Ratchet, and was now accidentally revealing top secret and deeply personal information to a tiny human girl. This was not a good night for Wheeljack.

“My name is Allison, by the way.” The human girl was looking up at him expectantly, and Wheeljack suddenly realized he had just dug himself into a very deep hole. Primus… don’t tell me your name… don’t make this harder than it already is…

“Look, little g—Allison.” Wheeljack vented air, underestimating the strength of it as it kicked up the loose strands of organic fiber on her head in a gust of heated wind. She seemed thoroughly overjoyed by this oddity. “I’m out here all by myself cause my friends can’t know I’m here. It’s a surprise… so this is our little secret, got it? You never saw me here.” Wheeljack saw an opportunity and ran with it, and the little girl named Allison nodded enthusiastically. Although, she still had a look of expectation in her eyes, and Wheeljack realized he better get it over with.

“Okay, fine. I’ve already revealed all my other secrets. My name is Wheeljack,” he said, pointing at the broadside of his chest where his Autobot insignia was. “I’m an Autobot.”

“Oh! I know what a wheeljack is. It’s that thing that fixes wheels on cars. What’s an Auto-bot? Is that like a Decepticon?” Allison looked perplexed, but genuinely interested, and he realized she would have no idea what an Autobot was. That was obvious when she seemed to stumble over the word, sounding it out in two chunks, much like she had done with Decepticon.

“No!” Wheeljack answered that one a lot faster and more indignant than he probably should have. “Autobot means I’m a good guy. Decepticons are nothing like we are.” Well that sounded ludicrous, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Allison seemed to think about it for a moment. “Okay. I trust you because you sound funny.” Wheeljack didn’t know what to make of what she’d said and whether or not it was a compliment, but he couldn’t respond before Allison followed up with another question. “What do you do, Wheeljack?”

“What do I...do?”

“Yeah. Like...what’s your job?”

“I’m a scientist. An engineer, specifically, and it’s not just a job, it’s more important than that. I help my friends stay safe by inventing useful equipment.” Wheeljack knew he was being a little loose with the word “safe.” Not all of them fit that description. “Though, I have been known to occasionally dabble in biomechanics. I recently finished writing a technical spec on the Tersial III replication and induction plate—”

“That’s neat,” Allison interjected, changing the subject. “Can I ask you something else?”

Wheeljack shrugged, sad to hear the young human wasn’t as excited about his proposed model for improving the wingspan of Tersial III quadrupeds. “Okay, sure. What is it?”

“Why do you talk funny?” This was the second time Allison had raised the issue of his voice. The question was nothing if not direct, and it then occurred to Wheeljack that he had likely made an error in judgment when picking the dialect that he did. He should have paid more attention to how she spoke.

“What’s wrong with it?” He cocked his head, now curious as to what about his choice was apparently so offensive. Instead, Allison laughed, betraying the idea that it was not so much offensive, but different.

“You sound like you’re from one of the shows my daddy likes to watch, dummy.”

Wheeljack didn’t know what a dummy was, but he assumed it wasn’t a good thing. “Doesn’t everybody talk like that around here?”

“No!” She was laughing at him again, and Wheeljack was getting frustrated. This shouldn’t have been that complicated—how many stupid dialects were there on this rock?!

“Look, I underestimated the linguistic diversity amongst your species. I didn’t realize accent was divided up by zone on this planet. It makes no sense—” He saw her expression start to go wide and realized he was losing her again. “Anyway, that was more than a question, that was two. Now it’s my turn to ask you one.”

“Okay fine.” The girl huffed, looking mildly startled and confused by his abrupt rant. Instead of the question he’d been intending to ask—that being what is the purpose of all that organic fiber on her head—Wheeljack opted for something a little more friendly. He was talking to a child, a fact of which he kept forgetting.

“Can you guess where I’m from?”

Allison looked blank for a moment, presumably trying to come up with an answer to his question. He had to stop himself from being abrupt with her. Perhaps if her experience with him was a pleasant one she was more inclined to trust him and do what he asked—that being: don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.

After a moment she shook her head, unable to even hazard a guess as to where he was from. So he pointed skyward, thinking she would get the point. But she didn’t.

“You’re from up?” In a shocking turn of events, she’d directed her optics in the vague direction of where he was pointing, looking at nothing and everything as if there was something very specific she was going to see. He probably should have felt guilty teasing a human child like this, but Wheeljack admitted to himself that this was actually a rather fun little exercise.

“Further.”

“The moon?”

“Even further!”

She thought for a while. “The sun? Pluto? A satellite?”

“No; that’s not a planet; and now you’re just guessing. The correct answer is I am from Cybertron.”

“Cybertron.” She repeated the word slowly like she did all the other ones. If anything she seemed very careful about learning new words. Primitive, but respectful. “I don’t think we have any place called Cybertron in our solar system. That must mean it’s pretty far.”

“Your deductive reasoning is correct. It is very far. Farther than you can travel in your lifetime, little one. Think of your solar system. Now think of another solar system, one that just looks like a tiny star in your sky, but it’s actually two stars! Closer than you might think, eh? Cybertron is a lonely planet that sits in the middle of Alpha Centauri, undetectable by your human technology.” He didn’t even realize that he started gesturing passionately until it was too late. “That’s where I’m from.”

Something dawned on her then, and her eyes widened. Something close to absolute joy spread across her face as something clearly now had her excited, making Wheeljack wonder if he should have just kept that detail to himself; he’d been trying to make conversation.

“You’re an alien!” Allison declared happily, clapping her small hands together in a show of positive acceptance as she put the pieces together. She was definitely smarter than he was giving her credit for, and was now practically lit up with such a revelation.

Something broke loose from within the Autobot and for a moment his perception dulled. There was an internal distraction at the edge of his awareness and he couldn’t place what it was. He lost focus and several barriers in his coding fell down all at once, unlocking a cache of programming that had been put away a very long time ago. There was a stirring of something in his spark that he hadn’t felt in eons: something warm and nurturing; he was actually starting to enjoy talking to the little human named Allison. He was afraid he was starting to care.

Whatever was happening, it was because of this girl, actually enamored and happy to be in his presence. She wanted to be around him. Autobots tended to avoid him when they could, not out of hate, but a general unease in his presence. Decepticons wanted to capture him and use him. Primus, he was lonely.

But he had to go. He couldn’t linger. If anything, his presence in her life was a danger not only to her, but to himself and the other Autobots that despite everything he still cared for. Needing to care for a human life was a liability he couldn’t risk, and there was no way he was going to let a human, much less a human child, get caught in Decepticon crosshairs. It wasn’t even his place. She needed to be back with her own parental units.

“Heh, okay, but remember, this is our secret okay?” Wheeljack leaned forward, trying to emphasis the point as gently as he could while cutting into her excitement. She nodded her understanding, but he had to make sure. “You promise?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Allison said, and she did something that Wheeljack was not expecting. She reached up and touched his face. It was such a soft, barely perceptible touch, right on the planes of his battle mask but it was enough to nearly make him rear back. It was a reaction that for sure didn’t match the level of threat she presented so it made no sense, but neither did what he actually did. He froze. He stopped moving as if the small hand on his face was going to cut him should he so much as shift in place. It was the first time he really looked the young human in her optics, and she didn’t so much as flinch as she returned his direct stare. His optics were neither unsettling or threatening to her. It was just a purely natural connection, unyielding without learned bias or mistrust.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been in arms reach, small as she was, which meant he’d really let his guard down. That frightened the large Autobot more than anything. His first time interacting with a human and he’d completely opened himself up to any number of attacks.

An attack—

Suddenly Wheeljack reared up, head snapping in the direction beyond Allison to something in the distance. He heard something approach—a vehicle, not one of his own, and he suddenly knew he had to go. Their time together was over. He looked down at Allison with a sad sense of finality that she wouldn’t be able to understand. She looked distraught, hand still hovering precariously above her head where his face had just been moments before. It was obvious she didn’t hear what he had.

“I’m sorry Allison. I have to go.”

“Why?” She sounded sad.

“Someone’s coming. Nobody else can see me, so I have to go.” He started to retreat, forcing himself to crouch back from her faster than she could catch up to him. Something tugged at his spark as the little human called after him, something Wheeljack wasn’t willing to spare another nanosecond thinking about in that moment. He had to transform, and for that he needed room.

What if it’s someone that means to do Allison harm… do humans hurt the offspring of other humans? Sadly Wheeljack knew the answer to that question. They had access to global news, and had been monitoring it for some time. I can’t be seen… but I can’t just leave her here. Maybe I can just hang back until this person passes… Pit, why did he care?

Wheeljack was thinking through how we was going to appear nonchalant as a white drag car just hanging around this ruined power station with a human child standing there, when the approaching human vehicle slowed. He heard an adult male’s voice calling Allison’s name, and thankfully Wheeljack reasoned this laid all his concerns to rest. He could leave content in knowing that her father had come to retrieve her. She finally heard it too, and she looked back in a manner which implied recognition. This gave Wheeljack the needed opportunity to leap back from her and transform into his vehicular form, the sound of which drew the girl’s attention back to him for enough time to see what he had become. It wouldn’t matter, because he’d be gone by the time her father arrived.

He couldn’t linger, a pang of guilt settling on his spark long enough to make him hesitate as he retreated but he knew he had to move on. It would be better for Allison to move on as well, so the sooner he disappeared, the better.

How wrong he was.

[detectivesparrow]

Title: Bounded by Resolve

Paring: Sanzo Party x reader (Saiyuki)

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: gn!reader, platonic?, reader gets hurt, comfort, Sanzo crew gets worried

Sweat beads on your brow as you watch, your heart hammering in your chest with a rhythm that matches the drumbeat of fear pulsing through your veins. The scent of sweat and fear hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest floor to create an atmosphere thick with tension.

The demon's approach is relentless, its movements sinuous and predatory as it slithers closer to the Sanzo party. The dense forest around you seems to pulse with a sinister energy, the eerie backdrop only adding to the sense of impending confrontation.

Suddenly, a low growl breaks the tranquility, shattering the eerie stillness of the forest. It's the harbinger of the approaching danger, a warning sign that sets your nerves alight with a fierce urgency.

With a swift and fluid motion, you step forward, your movements propelled by a sense of fierce determination that burns within you like wildfire.

Your comrades, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of danger, instinctively draw their weapons, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and resolve. The glint of steel in their hands reflects the fierce determination burning within their souls.

Sanzo, with his signature aloof demeanor, grips his gun with a steely resolve, his gaze piercing through the shadows with a clarity that belies the chaos of the moment. His lips curl into a grim line, a silent vow etched upon his features as he prepares to face whatever darkness lurks ahead.

Hakkai's calm facade masks the storm of emotions roiling beneath the surface, his hands steady as he readies his chi with practiced precision. His eyes betray a hint of concern, but beneath the worry lies a steadfast determination to stand firm against the encroaching threat.

Gojyo's easygoing demeanor gives way to a fierce intensity as he brandishes his favorite weapon, the gleaming blade of his shakujo flashing in the dappled sunlight. His stance is one of unwavering readiness, every muscle coiled like a spring as he prepares to unleash his fury upon any who dare to threaten his comrades.

Goku, ever the embodiment of boundless energy and enthusiasm, grips his extendable staff with a fierce determination, his eyes blazing with an inner fire that refuses to be extinguished. His muscles tense with anticipation, his entire being a testament to the unwavering loyalty he holds for his companions.

Demons emerge from the shadows like a nightmare-given form, its grotesque features twisted into a snarl of malevolence. Their eyes narrow as they size you up, their predatory gaze flickering with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

With every strike exchanged, the forest seems to hold its breath, the sounds of battle echoing amidst the ancient trees like a primal chorus. The clash of metal against flesh reverberates through the air, a symphony of violence and chaos that echoes through the ancient trees. Each strike is a dance of life and death, a testament to your skill and determination in the face of overwhelming odds.

With a guttural snarl, it lunges forward, its claws slashing through the air with deadly accuracy. Pain explodes across your side as you take the hit, a sharp gasp escaping your lips despite your best efforts to suppress it.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses to a razor-sharp edge. Every movement of your adversaries is cataloged with meticulous precision, their intentions laid bare before you like an open book.

As you stumble backward, the forest spins around you, disorienting and chaotic. The world tilts dangerously, threatening to swallow you whole as you struggle to regain your footing on unsteady ground. Every movement is an uphill battle against the relentless onslaught of pain that courses through your body, a symphony of agony that threatens to drown out all other sensations.

But you refuse to succumb to the overwhelming tide of pain. With a fierce determination burning bright within you, you push through the agony. The very fiber of your being screams in protest, but you steel yourself against the onslaught, drawing upon reservoirs of strength you never knew you possessed.

The world starts to blur around you, the sounds of battle fading into the background as you focus all of your energy on the task at hand. Each breath comes ragged and labored, every movement an act of defiance against the pain that threatens to consume you.

With each blow you deliver, you chip away at the demon's defenses, inching closer and closer to victory with every strike.

And as the battle rages on around you, you find yourself drawing strength from the unbreakable bond that binds you to your comrades. Their faces flash before your eyes, a reminder of the stakes at hand and the importance of your mission.

The battle rages on around you, a chaotic symphony of clashing weapons and anguished cries. Your vision swims as you struggle to keep pace with the frenetic pace of the fight, each movement sending waves of agony radiating through your wounded side. But still, you press on, driven by a single-minded resolve to protect those you hold dear.

A wave of exhaustion washes over you, threatening to drag you into unconsciousness. You cling to consciousness by sheer force of will.

As the last of the demons falls, a deafening silence descends upon the forest, broken only by the ragged gasps of your companions and the steady rhythm of your own labored breathing.

Your limbs feel as heavy as lead, each movement a Herculean effort that sends shooting pains lancing through your battered body.

Your muscles ache with a deep-seated weariness, every fiber screaming in protest with each faltering step you take. It's as if your bones are made of molten iron, dragging you down with each labored breath, each heartbeat a thunderous drumbeat in your ears.

Your vision swims in and out of focus, the world around you reduced to a hazy blur of muted colors and indistinct shapes. Each footfall sends shockwaves of agony radiating through your weary frame, threatening to send you sprawling to the forest floor in a heap of exhaustion and pain.

But still, you cling to consciousness. Every ounce of your being is focused on the single-minded task of following the Sanzo party back onto the road.

"Aw man, that was it?" Goku chimes out. "Man, I'm starving!"

"Shut up, you stupid monkey!" Gojyo shouts.

"Hey, that was a big fight!"

"Now, now, the next town is about a drive's breakfast" Hakai chides.

"All right! Let's go!" Goku says as he jumps in the backseat.

You move carefully with them, to avoid the injury being seen. Sanzo takes a small glance back at your unusual slowness, but chalks it up as exhaustion.

With every passing moment, your condition worsens, the relentless march of time eroding the fragile facade of strength you've meticulously maintained. The blood-soaked fabric of your shirt clings to your skin like a macabre second skin, a grim reminder of the toll exacted by the fierce battle you've waged.

Each movement sends jolts of agony coursing through your weary frame. Your vision narrows to a pinprick, the darkness at the edges creeping ever closer with each labored heartbeat.

The world blurs into a hazy blur of pain and exhaustion as you struggle to remain upright. Each breath comes out softly, ragged and labored, with the darkness at the edges of your vision creeping ever closer.

It's Gojyo who notices first, his sharp eyes catching the telltale signs of your distress. With a curse, he breaks away from the group, rushing to your side with a sense of urgency that belies his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hakkai, we've got a problem," he calls out urgently, his voice cutting through the atmosphere like a knife.

Hakkai's brow furrows in concern as he glances over his shoulder, his hands steady on the wheel as he maneuvers the vehicle through the dense forest. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice a calm anchor amidst the rising tide of panic.

Gojyo's expression is grim as he gestures towards you, his movements urgent and decisive. "It's y/n. They're hurt bad," he says, his words clipped and to the point as he assesses the extent of your injuries.

Panic sets in among your comrades as they realize the severity of your condition, their frantic attempts to rouse you echoing in the recesses of your fading consciousness. Through the haze, you hear their voices, a jumble of worry and fear that cuts through the fog of pain enveloping your mind.

"Hey, come on! Wake up!" Goku pleads, his voice cracking with emotion as he searches desperately for any sign of consciousness.

Sanzo's jaw tightens with concern as he watches the scene unfold, his normally stoic facade betraying a hint of unease. "We need to get them help. Now," he declares, his tone holding no argument, directing Hakkai to pick up the pace.

Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you struggle to make sense of the chaos around you. The voices of your comrades blend together in a cacophony of worry and fear, their urgent pleas a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to consume you whole.

As you faded out, succumbing to the pain, the group discuss their next action.

"Damn it. Why didn't they say anything?" Sanzo grumbles, huffing out a smoke.

"Hakai, hurry!" Goku shouts. "It looks really bad!"

"I'm trying, Goku. I can only go so fast!" Hakai replies, going as fast as he can, as he glances at you through the rearview mirror.

Gojyo remains silent, his hands putting pressure on your wounds. His expression laced with concern.

"This damn idiot" he curses. "When you wake up, I'll kill you."

Time loses all meaning as you drift in and out of consciousness, the world reduced to a series of fragmented impressions and fleeting moments of clarity.

As consciousness gradually returns, you find yourself enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and safety, the soft embrace of a bed cradling your weary body.

The gentle rustle of fabric and the faint scent of herbs mingle in the air, offering a soothing balm to your senses as you struggle to piece together the fragments of memory that cling to the recesses of your mind.

It's only when you finally awaken to the warmth of a bed and the gentle touch of bandages around your waist that you realize you've been saved from the brink of death.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you find yourself greeted by the familiar faces of your companions, their expressions a swirling mix of relief and concern.

As you shuffle yourself upright, the group quickly comes over.

Sanzo's gruff voice pierces through the haze, his words laced with a grudging sense of worry that he can't quite conceal.

"You're lucky you didn't bleed out before we found you," he mutters, his gaze flickering between irritation and genuine concern. "Next time, try not to be so reckless."

Hakkai's gentle touch brushes against your forehead, his hands deftly adjusting the bandages that encircle your waist. "You gave us quite a scare," he says softly.

Gojyo's worried expression speaks volumes, his usually jovial demeanor tempered by the gravity of the situation. "Damn it, don't you ever scare us like that again," he grumbles, his words tinged with a vulnerability rarely shown.

Goku's infectious grin is a welcome sight. "I knew you'd pull through!" he exclaims, his voice brimming with unbridled enthusiasm.

As the atmosphere lightens with shared relief, Goku's bright grin widens even further, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, now that you're awake, can we eat?" he interjects, his stomach audibly growling in agreement.

A chorus of chuckles ripples through the room at Goku's typically straightforward request. Sanzo rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, but there's a hint of fondness in his gaze as he nods in agreement. "Fine, fine," he concedes, his gruff tone softening just a fraction. "But make it quick."

Hakkai smiles warmly, already rising to his feet to prepare a meal for the weary travelers. "Of course, Goku. I'll grab something simple yet satisfying," he assures, his soothing voice a calming presence amidst the lingering tension.

Gojyo's grin mirrors Goku's as he claps you on the shoulder, his touch gentle despite the underlying strength in his grip. "Sounds good to me. Can't have you starving after all that heroics," he quips, his tone light yet sincere.

As the aroma of food begins to fill the room, a sense of warmth and camaraderie settles over the Sanzo party like a comforting blanket. And as you gather around the makeshift table, sharing stories and laughter amidst mouthfuls of food, you're reminded once again of the unbreakable bond that binds you together, even in the face of life's greatest challenges.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Semblances are tied to personality. For Dawne, it's easy to see he has a deep need to be appreciated. But what about Eren, Zhe, and Cadmine? For someone who wants to be so accommodating, Eren's semblance can sure make it difficult to be too close to her. Zhe's semblance just seems like he wants to hurt people. And Cadmine's semblance just screams chaos, indecision, and dangerously high energy.

Eren Jotunn, daughter of Ymir Jotunn and an unnamed woman, and sister to a girl she never met.

The reason the woman is unnamed, and her sister unmet is because her mother stole her sister and ran. Ran far and away. Ymir only managed to 'save' Eren by sheer luck.

Her Father left alone with his only daughter, raised her to be every that woman wasn't.

To be a Proper Lady.

Thoughtful. Kind. Generous. Quiet.

A Hard worker. Someone who accomplish tasks and listen follow through on instructions. One Who never talked back, or questioned those above.

A girl who kept her head down, eyes forward, chin up, and mouth shut to anyone except those beneath her.

Eren would say that her father has his own forms of affection.

She's learned to squeeze every last drop of warmth from it.

Eren would say her father is strict.

At best, she learned to cool his irritation down.

At least, She learned to use all the searing rage of her failures to make herself strong enough to accomplish the next task.

Eren would say she's fine with the cold.

Her bedroom often was uncomfortably so.

Eren would say can handle everything thrown at her.

She can.

For now.

But every fire burns out. How much more of herself can she burn to keep moving forward?

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine! I just need but a moment to rest!" Eren Jotunn, attempting to dissuade the medic's worries.

~~~~~

Caiji Zhe grew up in one of the less safe villages in Mistral, and was an outcast as a kid.

He was gullible, weird, had a hard time understanding metaphor and turns of phrase.

Most people wouldn't mind him. He was a sweet kid, kind and willing to help (try to help at least.) Zhe was content to just go about, picking berries and fruits for people, helping them do odd jobs

But other People would pick on him. Make him feel weak, small.

At some point he got tired of it.

Zhe is a good person through and through.

Hell fears the good man gone to war.

Everyone told Zhe he was weak? Soft? Okay. That's Fine. Whatever.

You make fun of him for it?

How about you learn what weakness is.

One time went too far, one day there was finally the straw that broke the camel's back and Zhe ...

Unloaded.

It was a simple day, he was helping a stall stack newspapers when they came over.

They tore the papers out of his hands, threw them around, pushed him over, and he'd had enough.

He stood up, raised a fist, and punched one of the bullies square in the face, their nose broken instantly, like it was made of stained glass.

The others didn't fair much better despite the size and weight differences.

At the end of it, three people had several fractures, broken bones, internal bleeding, and two had concussions.

He didn't go overboard, he stopped when they stopped, but Zhe was no longer seen as a sweet little kid.

People avoided him more than ever. No more bullying, but also a lot less people willing to simply exists around him. it Was a small village, and word traveled fast.

He was still Caiji Zhe, weird and sweet. People just saw him differently now.

Dangerous. Someone not to be messed with.

Sometimes, it's not enough to get someone to help you. Sometimes you can't just make yourself invisible.

Sometimes you just gotta punch a shark in the snout to make it back off.

"I dunno. The best way to end a fight is as fast and painless - for 'you' anyway - as possible." Caiji Zhe when asked about his choice in weaponry.

~~~~~

Cadmine had always defied the expectations put on her.

Never purposely, mind you, but because she did what she wanted, and did it with all her heart.

When she was born, she was born sick. The Doctors said she wasn't likely to make it past three months.

Her first birthday was a celebration unlike any her parents threw before.

In school she struggled to pay attention and answer questions in class, disrupting the teachers fairly often. Most of them expected her to fail and flunk out.

She aced every test, every project, every assignment. It was hard, she had to really focus up to do it, but she managed it.

The one time she didn't succeed in all accounts was with a particularly crotchety teacher, who she had a serious issue with, and she checked every assignment against her classmates, and she'd get every answer right, and whatever wasn't an outright lie of failure, it was a minor technicality, more of an opinion on how she did it than the actual answer itself.

She fought that teacher tooth and nail, the whole class did, and at some point the teacher was discovered to be "cheating" in his own way, and was outright targeting Cadmine to fail her, alongside another student named Pyrrha Nikos.

That guy got fired, and the two became friends.

When she announced she was going to be a Huntress people didn't know what to expect.

She was still flippant, aloof, silly, but she'd made it this far with flying colors! There were those that hated her for being so free, and people still thought she was odd, but Pyrrha was right by her side!

And they fought well, and grew to be some of the best fighters of their year.

At least until Semblances started springing up.

Cadmine's came in the latest.

Some people expected her semblance to be something about damage reductions, others thought she'd get a mobility semblance, more still believed she'd get an overpowering semblance, something that would act like Burn or Moonslice.

And, in a way, all of them were right.

Cadmine's Semblance can do all of those things. She can reduce damage, deal more damage, move faster and teleport.

But in that way, defied all of what they thought she'd get, because she got it all.

Handling it requires her to buckle down, and focus up.

She can, but it takes a LOT out of her.

She's fine with how weird it gets, she's adaptable!

Yeah it can make it hard to fight alongside others, but if they can't handle her, then they don't deserve to be her teammates, or her friends!

She misses Pyrrha. a LOT.

"She's the only Bad Bitch who can Handle me~" - Cadmine Ittoras, when being interviewed about her relationship with Pyrrha Nikos.

[ohallthecrushes]

You're a storm in a teacup and I'm starting to like the chaos.

I feel like I'm the only one who actually write for Elias. xd Wish there were fanfics about him being a main character and not just a side villain to the story.

Without further ado!

Summary: Evelyn is a young-troubled woman who’s just escaped a highly guarded psych ward (twice, but this time causing havoc on her way out)

Now she’s running through the city, hiding from police. A not-so-accidental encounter with a man named Elias Voit will change her life forever. And she’ll change his. His seemingly selfless help is laced with danger, hidden agenda, manipulation, endless tension, and…love? Slow burning inteligent-idiots-in-love trope. But mind you, just because it’s a love story, doesn’t mean it ends well.

General warnings throughout the story: Manipulation, illegal activities, murder(s), Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, explicit content, language… The whole pack. It’s Criminal minds after all.

In this episode: All work and no play make Elias a dull boy. But boredom and attraction is a dangerous mix.

For the past two days, Evelyn had been growing accustomed to the routine in the cabin. Elias needed her insights occasionally, and she had provided them the best she could. However when she wasn’t consulting with him, she spent most of her time alone in her room, lost in thought. She wasn't soaked in miserable thoughts though. With each passing hour, she began to reassess her situation. Here, she had her belongings, security, food, and a comfortable bed. And compared to the institution and the frantic days on the run, this wasn't so bad.

No, she wasn't truly free, but the deal she had made was temporary, so all she needed to do was to wait till Elias wouldn't need her help anymore, hopefully soon. And even if he decided to change the conditions of the deal, she believed that she could eventually turn the tables in her favor. She had faced worse situations and survived; this was just another challenge.

The only other thing she had to deal with was growing boredom. With nothing else to do, she rummaged through her unpacked belongings like in a treasure chest, until her fingers brushed against something she hadn't noticed before – her old iPad. Music! Her lifeline, her solace, her personal therapist! And a great killer of time.

Bless Elias, for whatever reason, he had taken it from her apartment.

Smiling, she plugged in her headphones and turned on the device picking up a song. Soon music filled hear ears and her wary head with a positive energy she needed so much. She closed her eyes, letting the music transport her to a place where worries and fears faded away. Her body feeling the rhythm, started swaying slowly until her feet led her to the middle of the room.

Meanwhile with less rhythmical tempo, Elias paced the living room, feeling boredom settled over him.

Two days. Two damn days cooped up in that room. He'd expect her defiance to be a constant off-note in the air, a challenge for him, a source of excitement. Instead, silence. She only emerged for meals, quick showers, and when he called her to use her skills. It was almost… disappointing. What was the point of having her here if she acted like she wasn't?

Normally, he'd go out, find some entertainment, another victim to play with. But with Evelyn here, he didn't want to leave her entirely alone. Not yet. Not until he found a way to ensure she wouldn't run.

Stupid. She was nothing like he'd imagine. Where was the spark, the fight in her eyes? Was she planning something? Plotting an escape in her room? Or worse, plotting against him?

He wondered if perhaps he'd made her too comfortable. Maybe she adapted a little bit too quickly. He needed to lure her out, engage her, see what was inside that pretty head of hers. With a sigh, he headed towards her room to see what was she doing.

When he slowly opened the door, he was met with an unexpected sight. Evelyn was slowly dancing to music, her eyes closed, headphones on her head, body swaying to the rhythm... She looked so different, so relaxed and at ease.

He definitely had made her feel too comfortable.

He watched her, a slow grin spread across his face when he thought of something. He approached her quietly, taking advantage of her closed eyes. She didn't see him, didn't hear him. When he was close enough, he poked her shoulder. She jumped slightly, her eyes snapping open in surprise. She glared at him, clearly unamused, as she took her headphones off.

He smirked, trying to act innocent. "Didn't mean to startle you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not fooled. "Sure you didn't." she replied.

He looked at her for a moment before he reached for her iPad. "What song are listening to?" he asked with curiosity.

She snatched it away before he could see.

Ah, there it was. The fight he'd craved.

"Easy tiger, just wanted to know what's made you so relax." he teased.

"None of your business," she retorted.

He pushed further. "Pop ballad?" he guessed, dragging out the words in a sing-song voice. "Heavy metal anthem for the misunderstood soul?" he paused before furrowing his brows in a mocking disbelief. "Gospel choir?"

She chuckled despite herself at his ridiculous predicament. She knew he was only teasing her, not really trying to guess. With a hesitation she stepped closer to him and slipped the headphones over his head.

"Here, that's the song." she murmured.

The music filled his ears - a slow alt-rock song. He didn't know the title, but he liked the alluring melody.

my hearts been empty, my thoughts depressed what I'm needing baby is your your sweet caress your soft caress

As he looked at her still standing very close due to the short cable of her headphones, their eyes met, their bodies invaded their personal space, creating something unexpectable; a moment of intimacy that caught them both off guard.

you, the only light in this room yours, the only blood I can taste

The words and the music set the atmosphere very quickly. For a moment, he didn't pull away, didn't break the eye contact, watching her reaction. His eyes lowered to her lips and her cheeks flushed a light pink as she guessed his thoughts. She quickly took a step back.

Self-concious, she thought to herself What the hell was that? Their situation was already messed up enough. This, this unwelcome attraction, was the last complication she needed.

She decided to break the tension and snatched the headphones back, her eyes avoiding his intense stare. "Well? uhm... Did you like it? The song I mean."

He blinked, the intensity in his gaze dimming slightly.

"The song... was nice, very mood setting." he admitted, his voice low.

The truth was, the unexpected intimacy had surprised him as well. He'd been trying to draw her out, to make her engage with him, and for a moment, something entirely else had happened. And the strange thing was... he wanted to explore that further, even though he knew better than anyone the dangers of letting emotions get in a way, especially with someone as unpredictable as Evelyn.

But boredom and attraction was a dangerous mix.

"In other circumstances I'd ask you for a dance..." he teased her to see her cheeks getting even more red. "But we have more important things to do."

So getting back to more... professional arrangement, he asked her to come with him to the living room to help him with another task. And she thanked in her thoughts that he mentioned work. This was something she could handle better than emotions and a sudden moment of unwanted attraction.

The little tasks he'd given her were getting easier to do, though she still was figuring out how to use his network to her advantage. She knew all to well that she had to prove herself to be useful otherwise their agreement, their deal would be broken. As much as she was tempted to mess things up, to give him false opinions so to put his network in danger, she couldn't. He was not easily fooled and she didn't have all the details to know how exactly his network worked. It was a great obstacle, but maybe she could still devise something?

"Is there anything more challenging than that?" She asked as she feigned interest. "Maybe a field trip? Or something more complicated I can work on alone?"

He looked at her reading her facial expression. He wasn't surprised by her boredom, but he also knew that she wasn't invested enough to actually look for something more ambitious.

"Bored, are we?" he saw right through her ploy, but pretended like he didn't. "There's definitely more challenging work." he admitted, leaning back on the sofa. "But trust is earned, not demanded. Field trips, as you so delicately phrased it, are a privilege, not a right."

The implication was clear, she hadn't earned that level of freedom yet. She bit her inner cheek in dissatisfaction.

"But..." he continued. "earn my trust first, impress me. Show me you can handle the basics flawlessly, that your mind is as sharp as I believe it to be. Then, and only then, can we discuss expanding your… horizons."

It was a carrot dangling just out of reach. A challenge of a different sort. Just not the one she wanted. "Alright." she conceded. "Challenge accepted."

When the task was done, he put away the laptop and stretched his shoulders. He glanced towards her, expecting her usual retreat to her room. But instead, she lingered, her eyes looking at tv. She hesitated for a moment. “You mentioned there’s a PlayStation here.” she says. "Mind if I play something?"

"Sure, why not?" he replied surprised and shrugged. "Be my guest."

He walked over to tv and reached for the controller, turning the console on. From his perspective, most of the games looked like childish things. But he was curious to see what she'd choose.

She scanned the list, until her finger pointed at a title adorned with a grotesque, pixelated monster. "This one." She said grinning.

His eyebrows shot up. "Horror survival, huh?"

He clicked play and handed her the controller. He settled back on the sofa watching her navigating through the game. He could see an obvious message in her selection. She was trying to show him her ability to handle fear and pressure. It was amusing though. Horror games had nothing to do with the real horror he had witnessed, but it was still impressive how easily she maneuvered through the quests and her reaction on what was happening on the screen. The amusement in her eyes as the game threw jump scares at her was unexpected. Where others might scream, she giggled with a thrill. The occasional curse word slipped through her lips when a particularly difficult enemy appeared, but it was clear she wasn't scared, she was… entertained.

As the game progressed, he found himself watching not just the screen, but her reactions. He couldn't deny there was something captivating about seeing her navigate the dark, digital world full of monsters and gore.

The final boss was defeated after a long battle and she leaned back with a triumphant grin on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elias watching her attentively. Mission was accomplished. She'd proven her point, but she wasn't done yet. Reloading the game to the last save point, right before the epic battle, she thrust the controller into his hand. "Your turn." she declared.

He stared at the controller with a question in his eyes. Did she seriously expect him to play a childish horror game? He was a man who directed real-world horrors, not silly digital nightmares.

"Scared you can't handle it?" she teased, her grin widening.

The word "scared" wasn't something he would feel. More like nah, but he couldn't say no to a little competitiveness.

"Please..." With a sigh that was half-amused, half-exasperated, he grasped the controller and leaned forward towards the screen.

She watched him with keen interest. He lacked the... finesse, but he compensated with sheer brute force, charging at the monster mercilessly. He had a different kind of strategy, but it was working nonetheless. His brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers flying across the controller buttons. Watching him playing also gave her a chance to admire his features. His jawline, his nose, his arms, his eyes...Damn, there was something in him that made her thoughts cruise towards dangerous concepts and she couldn't figure why.

Distracted she almost missed the ending of the battle when with a one final click, the creature crumpled, dissolving into a pool of blood.

She clapped her hands slowly. "Not so bad."

"Not so bad?!" he asked feigning being offended. "I've basically smashed him without giving him a chance to react."

She chuckled. "Alright, you’ve got skills, you killed the monster...almost as fast as I did."

He looked at her, slightly smiling. Her playful teasing and a video game might not be the kind of entertainment he had hoped for, but it was something that killed his boredom at least.

"Another round?" he asked giving the control pad back into her hand.

The next morning, Evelyn found herself alone in the kitchen. As she munched on a piece of toast, a movement on the floor caught her eye. When she looked down she saw a small black spider, no bigger than a pea.

"Well, hello there." she murmured, crouching down. She cupped her hand, gently coaxing the spider onto her palm. "Lost your way, little guy? Stuck inside this big cabin, just like me?"

Passing by, Elias heard her voice and curiously stepped into the kitchen to see who she was talking to. He leaned against the doorway. Evelyn, oblivious to his presence, continued her one-sided chat.

"Looks like we both need a little fresh air, wouldn't you agree?" she said, her voice gentle.

There was a moment of silence, then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. Talking to a spider? Somewhat charming in its own way.

She jumped, startled, the spider nearly tumbling from her hand. She turned to Elias.

"He seems a little lost..." she said glancing at the spider. "Do you mind if I let him out?"

"Front door's locked, of course." he said, his voice dry. "But if you're truly intent on releasing your eight-legged friend…" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key.

Her eyes lit up. "Thank you." she exclaimed. "I wouldn't want to keep him prisoner, you know."

Her obvious suggestion made him roll his eyes. Kept thinking she was a prisoner of his? Even after the last night of gaming? He sighed, leaving it without a comment.

He walked to the front door. He unlocked it with a soft click and opened it wide, letting in the fresh morning air. He watched as she stepped outside, carefully lowering her hand to the ground. The spider scurried off into the grass.

As she straightened up her eyes lingered on the sun-dappled expanse of trees beyond the porch. She hadn't been outside since she had gotten here. It made her feel sad.

She turned around to Elias, and almost hesitantly, the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Can we go for a walk?" She knew he wouldn't let her venture out alone, but maybe he'd go with her?

He raised an eyebrow, studying her for a long moment. He wasn't naive. He tried to deduct if there was a hidden motive behind her request for fresh air. The chance that she'd try to run away again was high, but... There was also an opportunity for her to earn his trust. And he was curious to see what she'd choose.

"Alright, but behave yourself." he finally answered. "And don't even think about trying anything… foolish."

Her heart started to beat a little faster. "I promise." she said. "Just a walk. That's all."

With a slow nod, he conceded. "Alright. Let's go."

The crisp air, the scent of pine, the sunlight on her face – it was a sensory fulfillment for Evelyn. Nature, with its chaos and beauty, had always held a special place in her heart. She loved hiking, jogging in parks, walking in woods... It made her feel at peace, relaxed. But this time, this walk with Elias was laced with uncertainty and she couldn't stop feeling a nervous anticipation. She couldn't enjoy the walk that way. Not with his watchful presence like a shadow at her back. His distrust felt almost physical.

She turned her head and glanced at him, wondering. If he truly believed she was an immediate escape risk, wouldn't he have kept her locked inside? Maybe this walk was to test her trustworthiness? Or maybe, a thrill-seeker himself, he secretly counted on a little rebellion?

She stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly in surprise. Turning, she tilted her head towards him.

"A little space, Elias?" she suggested. "I did promise not to disappear into the woods, after all." She paused before she took a risk, teasing "Although, a friendly jog might be tempting. Running and jogging are two entirely different things, right?"

He narrowed his eyes trying to see if she was joking or not. Jogging could easily be a prelude to a full-on escape attempt. Surely she didn't expect him to fall for that, did she?

"Yeah, sure... try and jog to freedom, we'll see how far can you get." he mocked.

"Probably farther then the last time." she murmured more to herself than to him. It wasn't an extend attempt to tease him further, but the words escaped her mouth before she stopped herself.

"I was joking." she quickly added unsure of his reaction.

He smirked. "Fine. A little space. But remember." he continued "don't push your luck too far. The woods may be vast, but my patience isn't."

She glanced back at him, as he stepped back, giving her more space, but his gaze was locked on her every move. No threat though. No anger. Was that… a challenge in his eyes?

Taking a deep breath, she started walking away, slowly at first, pushing the boundaries of the space he'd granted. She kept him within sight however, trying to see if he reacted in any way.

He felt amused watching her hesitant retreat. The confusion in her eyes, the temptation to run and the fear that stopped her from acting on her instincts, were enterteining.

Part of him, the pragmatic part, wanted her to behave. He required her cooperation. And a runaway Evelyn was a useless Evelyn.

But another part of him wouldn't mind the chase, the thrill of the hunt. If she was to disobey, to run, he could catch her once again. And he wouldn't deny enjoying it as a distraction from the usual monotony.

Yet he saw a shift in her. A defeated sigh escaped her lips. She wasn't going to run. Self-preservation won of course. Slowly, she began to walk back towards him.

"Done testing the boundaries?" he asked. There was no accusation in his tone, just a hint of curiosity.

She looked at him. "Not exactly." she replied. "But I won't run. I'm not stupid enough to shatter whatever tiny trust you have in me, that results in giving me this... freedom."

The word trust stayed with him. He studied her for a long moment, searching for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was a woman who, despite her defiance, was making a good reasonable choice.

"But you want to run or at least try just for the thrill of it." he simply stated. "if you weren't scared for your life, you'd hare off into the woods before I could blink twice."

She shrugged. "Maybe..." she felt irritated how easily he could read her. "But it doesn't matter, cause you wouldn't let me even think about it, am I right?"

"Maybe...." he pondered. "Or maybe I would."

His words surprised her. She stopped and turned to him. "You would...let me think about it?"

He glanced at her. "Depends, are you feeling restless?"

"Should I be?" she asked suspicious as she crossed her arms.

He shrugged. "Last evening we competed over a video game. You challenged me and it was... fun." he paused thinking about his next words. "Maybe in return I can offer you a similar activity to satisfy your primal urge to run without it being a constant itch for both of us."

She slightly tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. Chaos could be an asset, if it was controlled chaos.

He couldn't deny a perverse pleasure in this constant push and pull with her, so maybe there could be a way to satisfy both their desires.

He outlined the rules of this little game he'd just created. She would have a head start, a chance to run back to the cabin. If she reached the safety of the porch before he caught her, he would grant her… a temporary reprieve. More freedom of her choosing.

But there was a catch. The run had to be to the cabin, and nowhere else. Stray from the designated path, and the game was over. He would catch her, eventually, but the consequences of breaking the rules wouldn't be pleasant.

"Think of it as running on a leash." he finished.

She furrowed her brows. She understood the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush... Yes, it would help her release the restless energy and even perhaps create a temporary satisfying illusion of running away from him. And if she won, she'd have a chance for more freedom. But she saw that this game was more of a twisted form of amusement designed solely for his entertainment, then anything of a real value for her.

"A leash?" she spat. "I'm not a dog, Elias."

He sighed. Why did she always have to niggle over everything he said? Couldn't she just accept the damn game, play by his rules for once?

"Look." he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of frustration, "call it what you want. But the offer stands. Reach the cabin first, and you get a little… freedom. More walks, less tasks, whatever. Disobey the rules, and well…" he trailed off, letting the unspoken threat get to her.

"And if you catch me before I make it?" she asked.

"There'll be no rewards for you. And as for me, well..." he moved his head slightly to sides in a playful manner. "Let's say I'll get to decide what to do with your free time for one day."

She glanced away, thinking. The bait was tempting, even if it was just that, a bait.

He waited for her answer. She'd showed him how competitive she could be, so there was a good chance that she wouldn't decline his offer.

"So..." he finally said. "are you in?"