#that’s what i think about when i read your graham siblings fic and think about that concept

[non4ry]

i have my graham siblings au which is it’s own whole thing but i was wondering what you as an ashley expert thought abt the idea of ashley having sibling(s)?

I HAVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO ANSWER THIS ALL DAY I WAS LITERALLY SITTING AT WORK THINKING ABOUT IT

I know a lot of people think Ashley has a lot of little sister energy in regards to Leon but I’m not really a huge fan of that narrative (I often find it to be kind of infantilizing towards Ashley with the way people go about it)

I think in terms of her being raised she was an only child, Ashley just seems like a really lonely neglected child type to me (especially given her behavior and her instant attachments to Leon), also just canonically she has no other siblings that are actively part of her life. It checks out to me especially given how her father treats her (and the urgency of rescuing her.. I will never be over how he sent One Guy to save her, as talented as Leon is I cannot believe it wasn’t a matter of more extreme urgency to him) and the minimal scenes and clues we get about their relationship and her life outside of the events of re4 (the infinite darkness scene where president graham glances at the picture of her comes to my mind, even though I think they only added that to “redeem” or rationalize his decisions) In terms of presentation and the public eye (all that would matter to him) Ashley is his only child.

However I am a big fan of your Graham Siblings fic and I am very very interested in the idea and I think her having some secret half sibling through political affairs is a concept I wish the RE writers had the time and depth to explore with her.. I am once again wishing to know what Ashley is doing years later, how she recovered, how she coped, If she ever mulled over the fact the way her father went about her rescue was horrible and risky and traumatizing.. I just want her to find family who loves her and values her

[lets-try-some-writing]

So I read your fic of the transformers being like the cybermen and how they reproduce and could not get it out of my head. So I had this thought,

There are instances of cybermen and the like not realizing what they are or waking up to try and warn who’s next. Imagine it was one of the rescue bots like blades who desperately pulls Cody and the other humans aside and begs them to stop accepting his and the others gifts.

He tells them that he remembers fighting this but when he looks back he can’t remember why and often finds himself thinking it was silly to fight. He doesn’t know about the others. He was the last one their sire was able to make. He knows Optimus made Bumblebee and that Bumblebee had excitedly told him Optimus planned to give him siblings.

He feels like a fraud because this doesn’t feel like rescuing these humans.

Ohhohoho this is the good stuff right here. Don't mind me at all :)

Previous part here.

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The Rescue Bots had been given clear orders to not bring any into the fold when they were woken from stasis. Optimus had not cut any corners in explaining the delicate situation on Earth and with the war. The Rescue Bots were disappointed considering they could instinctually sense their low numbers and had all long since matured enough to bring more into the fold, but they obeyed. They did nothing to possibly even hint at bringing more into the fold as they interacted with their human companions and worked to protect the organics under their care. However, that certainly did not stop them from keeping their optics on those with potential. Of course that meant that their interest inevitably drifted toward their human companions, at least those young enough to potentially survive the process.

Blades was no different than his fellows. His interest drifted between Dani and Cody, the two most viable for folding and those which he cared for most amongst the organics. But unlike Heatwave who was focused on Cody as well, Boulder who took a liking to Graham, or Chase who held an appreciation for Kade despite the fact that they were not teamed up... Blades was uncertain. His fellows watched the viable humans eagerly, their optics bright with greater and greater instinctual desire with every feat their chosen performed. But Blades? While he most certainly felt the same pull toward Dani, there was something deep in his spark that remembered. He knew what folding looked like, he knew what it did to an organic to make them one of Primus's creations. However there was just something so very... wrong with the idea of turning the humans.

It wasn't really the idea of folding them that upset him. No, he had no issues with that. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but rather apathetic toward the concept as a whole. What bothered him was the fact that the humans were unaware of folding and what it entailed. It was custom to not tell the potentials of the folding process, largely to ease their minds and keep them from thinking hard. Stress was the most common killer of sparklings being taken into the fold. It couldn't be risked.... and yet despite that, Blades felt and all encompassing disgust toward the idea of the humans not knowing. His memory was not the greatest, but he recalled fighting against the folding process. He remembered screaming and trying to bite and flee when it came to his Sire. Why he did so was beyond his understanding. He was made stronger, he had his weak mortal flesh stripped away and was gifted a frame far superior to the organic material from which he originated. It was ridiculous for him to have fought. Yet, he remembered doing so and a small part of him felt that it was almost his moral obligation to give a warning.

He had no reason to worry about the humans and warning them for many long months. His life was too hectic to give it a lot of thought outside of his few moments of downtime, but that changed when Optimus Prime arrived at their base without warning.

Heatwave: Sir? What are you doing here?

Optimus: There has been a serious change of plans.

Chase: What does that mean?

Optimus: My team and I have been bringing three humans into the fold. However the Decepticons have infiltrated our efforts and have already placed joint claims on our wards.

Boulder: I am not liking where this is going.

Blades: Wait, you were folding humans? But you told us not to!

Optimus: Yes, now listen. Megatron now has leverage over me and my team, but in turn, so do we.

Heatwave: What do we need to do?

Optimus: You catch on quick.

Optimus: We will keep the Decepticons distracted for as long as possible. Your mission is to begin creating a folding order here on Earth. Bring as many into our ranks as you can feasibly manage. More Autobots will be stationed here to assist.

Boulder: This is a very... aggressive tactic.

Optimus: We are at war Boulder. Not only that, but the sparkling rearing laws have already been broken. Megatron has placed a claim on my sparkling without the proper rites being performed. It is only right that we too do what we must.

Chase: We can fold as many humans as we can, but how will we keep them safe from being similarly claimed?

Optimus: This island is all but totally cloaked. Those brought into the fold will remain here, and this is where we shall establish our stronghold. Autobot city, the place where our ranks shall be renewed and where we might have... leverage.

Heatwave: Sir you can't really be considering-!?

Optimus: The sparklings will be our ticket to ensuring we maintain the upper hand. Megatron is cruel, but his lieutenants wish for sparklings more than anything else. It will not be difficult to begin drawing more and more Decepticons to our side with the promise of sparklings, especially considering we have the resources to take hundreds of potential candidates at once.

The Rescue Bots were of course incredibly dubious about the plan. They all wanted sparklings, even Blades. But they were not exceptionally thrilled about the idea of said sparklings also playing the role of political tool. Well, that was until Optimus pulled a small being from within his carrying chamber. The Bots instantly fell silent, each watching as Optimus unwrapped his charge to reveal a human child, one about halfway through the folding process. For Blades it merely set a strange uncertainty ablaze in his spark, but for the others, it was not hard to see how it made all their reservations go flying out the window.

Their orders had been given. They were to begin the folding process with as many young as possible, and soon enough the plan was put into motion. Optimus pulled some strings and soon enough there were government agents bringing over young children, orphans who had been brought over under the guise of receiving special teaching from Autobot agents. It was not wrong by any means, but Blades only grew more and more unsettled as Autobots began arriving en mass. Blurr, Quickshadow, High Tide, and even Bumblebee were quickly deployed and were swift in beginning the correct rituals. All the while Blades could only watch on in discomfort as the island was changed, walls being put around the border, new Cybertronian structures taking root, and so much more.

The humans did panic as more and more Autobots arrived and began to build, but whatever Optimus said soothed them and it seemed the running lie was that the island was being fortified against possible Decepticon attacks. The poor humans believed it, hook, line, and sinker. There was nothing Blades could do as Kade, Dani, Cody, and Graham began accepting gifts and affection while Burns similarly took offerings with a smile. Blades had no problem with the folding on its own... but this felt wrong. They didn't know. They had no clue what they were getting into, and with orphans being brought to the island as more Autobots arrived, Blades felt the urge to at least do his due diligence.

Blades: Do you like this life you have?

Cody: Yeah?

Blades: Then stop accepting our gifts. The more you take, the more our rite progresses.

Dani: What does that mean?

Blades: I can't tell you much. It's not my job.

Kade: Spit it out Blades!

Blades: ...

Graham: What's going on?

Blades: We want you all to join us. Accepting what we offer only tells us that you wish to join the fold.

Blades did not tell them much, but it was enough to set the humans on edge. For weeks they were hesitant, but one by one, they seemed to think Blades was referring to joining the team fully or something of the like. He could only frown as the humans unknowingly started to accept energon from the Rescue Bots and other gathered Autobots. He felt a degree of guilt for not telling them outright, but this was going to happen whether he liked it or not. It was best that they were unburdened during the process.

And so he watched and took Dani under his wing, giving her his energon in small doses without her knowing as the quietly dubbed 'Autobot City' began to rise around them. The humans didn't know yet, they did not know that the Autobots were digging in roots. They were unaware of the fact that Bumblebee had given Optimus and his team full control over communications coming to and from the island. Already there were plans for unfortunate deaths to occur for the human children being brought to them, and Optimus had made all sorts of deals Blades was not privy to in order to ensure Burns stayed quiet once the changes began.

Things were progressing, and while his spark flared in growing joy at seeing so many being brought into the fold, an echo of guilt followed him. These little ones may not survive, and they were going to be taken from their families. It was the way of Cybertronians, but a small part of Blades, a piece of him that failed to fully change... it wept as Bumblebee gleefully brought three small sparklings with him to the island.

"These are my newest siblings! The little one is Atlas, the femme is Terra, and the biggest is Cronos!"

"They were given... Earth names?"

"They were the first. Optimus and the others wanted to honor that!"

"Oh, I see."

Three young sparklings. Their frames still appeared very human, but their sparks were there. They were the first. Three children, three small humans taken from all they knew to become part of a dying race. Blades could not help but be grieved, especially when Burns was silenced with hush money and his children taken from him.

[0celesteisthebest0]

Bonfire

Word Count: 4,075

Pairings: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Frankie “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x female reader. (No relationship with Benny and Will because that’s just weird and they’re siblings y’all ONLY SIBLINGS)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of Redfly( one mention but like a warning nonetheless), fluff? Just a whole lot of domestic feelings.

Authors Notes: !!!!!!! It’s been a minute since I’ve done one of these lol soo HI HI missed y’all! Yes this is the poly fic I’ve been working on and yes it’s a hurt/comfort! I honestly never expected to write a poly fic for these boys but it’s all thanks to my dear friend Elle that I’ve gotten attached to them! @ohheyitsokay​ has the most brilliant work relating to the poly boys and I do hope everyone goes read them rn 😌. Also ELLE our conversations related to the boys inspired me in certain section I thank you for those conversations we have together I always enjoy them!!!  AAAA okay I really like this fic and I hope y’all enjoy this!!!

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Crackling wood warmed the cool night and the sweet taste of s'mores lingered on your tongue. Nostalgia tends to prick you when you recall the smell of ash against your noise, sticking to your skin as the remnants of past bonfires blow away from your memory. 

But with them those memories get replaced with new ones, one’s where Santi and Will talk to each other about their layered history. Where Frankie listens quietly, drinking his beer while Benny half listens and pulls out the treats for the fire.  

Benny started warming up marshmallows, the fire enveloped the treat, burning it so the outer shell was charred. You didn't know why he liked them like that but you always indulged Benny and what he wanted.

Frankie placed another log for the fire to burn, the ash poked your nose but at least it warmed you. Well it could’ve warmed you better, the coldness still tinged your fingertips so on instinct you hovered your hands over the flames. Coldness like this wasn’t the norm in the past weeks but it seemed that the temperature was changing once again. Even the soft cotton long shirt you wore did nothing for the shivers and as the wood cracked you decided to deal with the cold. 

“I think I need a thicker sweater.” you grumbled to yourself, moving off of the plastic chair that took forever to get comfortable in. Frankie hummed and shook his head.

“Baby come here,” he set his beer down and you got closer to the three of them huddled up. “Sit on my lap, I’ll warm you up.”

The chair he was sitting on was another one of those cheap plastic ones that could snap at any second. You made a face at him and he gave you a bright grin, displaying his dimple, and that bright twinkle in his eye being highlighted by the fire. 

“I got strong thighs,” that’s what made you laugh. 

“Don’t I know it Frankie but let me get that sweater,” you grinned and his skin found yours slowly, getting you to focus on him for a second.

“Let me get it for you,” he lifted himself from the chair, “Take my spot, these two are yapping my ear off.”

“You like our stories ‘fish!” Santi replied to Frankie’s joke, Frankie just slipped away with a big grin on his face. “He likes our stories,” Santi reiterated to you and his hand went to squeeze your knee.

“I like your stories too,” you hum and his eyes brighten slightly. He nudged Will communicating with him with raised eyebrows and Will just shook his head. 

“You really gonna tell her that one…” Will muttered while drinking his beer and staring at the fire somewhat melancholic.

“If it's the lemon story, you should definitely tell it,” Benny replied while putting a burnt marshmallow between the piece of chocolate and the graham cracker. 

“Benny…”

“We aren’t arguing about my marshmallows again. Tell your story Santi,” Benny shut down the conversation with a crunch from the graham cracker. Santi huffed but started the story with a small grin and describing a younger Frankie that you hadn’t had the luxury to meet. 

It was full of a lot of unnecessary descriptions that only Santi would really see and he added in little ramblings between his thoughts. Stories branching from one place to another but you loved it either way. The best part of it in your opinion was the faces of Benny and Will as the rambling between the main story happened. 

Benny would get him to ramble more and Will just sat there with a fond smile on his face as the story got lost into different thoughts. As Santi got into the topic once again Frankie emerged from the door with your hoodie in hand, his wide smile as he approached turned into a sigh.

“I didn’t bite into the skin of the lemon Santiago, stop telling everyone I did that,” he was supposed to sound annoyed but you didn’t find it convincing. He handed you your hoodie and kissed the top of your head. 

“Wasn’t gonna say that,” Santi replied with a pout and Frankie brought the other chair closer to the four of you. Frankie continued to grin from Santi’s continuance of insinuating that the lemon was what got Frankie and Santi to become friends. 

You looked as the pair bickered like a married couple and ultimately started to laugh from how ridiculous they were being, Santi offered him something to drink and Frankie nodded. 

Conversation continued from there, lots of asking of how everyone’s weeks have been, little things that the group have been meaning to tell each other. It was nice to hear about the little things that Frankie found joy in at work. 

From there thoughts and other stories melded together, the passage of time not at all linear as everyone enjoyed their time together. 

Benny captivated the group’s attention with a story about the local critters, talking about a particularly hungry raccoon rummaging through the garbage late at night. The only person who didn’t seem as invested in the story was Will. He seemed to be transfixed in the flames of the bonfire, engulfing the wood and burning it into ash and dust. 

His jaw was tense, squared in thought. He didn’t seem to notice the giggles from the others but he did notice your worried stare. Will gave you a tight smile in return and you frowned at his need to cover up what was bothering him.

“I'm gonna turn in,” Frankie interrupted your thoughts with a soft kiss on the cheek, his warm hand rubbing your shoulder, comforting the cold that slowly took over your form once again. “Don’t listen to everything Santi says, alright baby,” he winked at you and you played along.

“Malo…” Santi muttered under his breath as Frankie ruffled Benny’s hair before going inside. Benny stared at the door humming at the thought of going inside but turned to you with a small grin. You knew he wanted to say something before joining Frankie in bed for the night. 

“You heard the lemon story before, haven't you,” Benny whispered the question into your ear with giddy laced in his tone. He noticed.

He always noticed things like this and you were secretly glad that he figured out the small secret that you kept to yourself. Santiago Garcia liked to tell stories, to the point that he would repeat his favorites. You wouldn’t interrupt him when he did, you simply nodded and grinned when he smiled so brightly from your attention. 

“Maybe,” you responded to Benny who grinned, “I like how he tells them.”

“I do too,” he kissed your jaw and your heart skipped a beat and he lifted himself from the chair and yawned loudly. “I’m gonna go cuddle with Frankie, getting a bit cold for my liking.” 

“I’ll join you two in a minute, my knees are acting up,” Santi hummed as he rubbed the muscles of his knees. The heat from the fire no longer being a comforting warm but a dull sensation, most likely causing Santi’s knees to experience pain. Benny wordlessly walked over and offered him a hand, knowing that he’d be better inside than outside. 

“You two coming in, the fire is just about out,” Benny pulled Santiago up and both of them turned towards you and Will. 

“I’m alright, I’ll see you inside,” Will said somewhat clipped and Benny stared at him momentarily knowing that something was up. “Night Ben, night Pope,” he added, still staring at the flames that were slowly dying down. 

“I’m gonna stay for a bit,” you hoped that your stare conveyed that you were gonna talk to him. The other two left wordlessly, Santi kissing your forehead before he vanished inside. 

There were two empty chairs between the two of you and you started moving toward him slowly, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts that were intertwined with the fires. 

“Is this seat taken,” you pointed to the one that Santi was using and he just shook his head, not giving you a verbal confirmation. You plopped down to the seat, staring at his tense jaw and insistent need to look at the ashes that the fire left. Only sparks of ember remained, the flame that warmed you was extinguished. “Are you alright Will?” 

He stayed quiet from the question but he did unclench his jaw which you saw as a victory in some form.

“Did the others notice?” You frowned when he asked the question but he continued. “Did they notice that something was wrong.” 

His voice faltered slightly and he immediately tried to reign the emotion in. Will had his tell when something was wrong.

All of them did but Will’s would start quiet, a stagnant noise in a dark forest waiting for something to crack. It would only burst when he pent it up for too long.

You’ve only seen it once, it was when you first started this relationship with him, with the others. It was difficult to interlink their lives in such a romantic sense, so a lot of issues of communication happened. You are happy to say that the five of you are better at it now but things like this still happen. Closing off emotions was a rare phenomenon but it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Or that it didn’t matter.

The comfort of Will mattered to you and right now he was so tense you were afraid that he was going to pop.

“Is it a bad thing if they did notice?” You didn’t say the question out of sour intentions. You wanted him to get out of whatever thought process his brain was feeding him through questions.

His eyes meet yours, bright blue eyes that are no longer filled with ash. It took him a minute to respond.

“No it isn’t.”

Out of habit you placed your hand on his chair, not on him in case he was sensitive to someone touching him.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” It left your lips soft and uncertain but you hoped it comforted him. 

Cold winds whipped around you two and his sigh was carried by it.

“I don’t like bonfires,” he muttered while looking at the burned wood. “Hate the smell, hate how it sticks to you…” he didn’t continue but you assumed that there were more reasons he didn’t feel comfortable doing this. 

There was another silence between the two of you, your eyes were still focused on Will’s stoic face that was covered with a fluorescent light. The outdoor light shined on you two as this moment of stagnant silence continued. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to say, it was more that you wanted him to know he could keep going if he wanted to. Maybe you were making him more nervous with this bout of silence. 

“If they make you uncomfortable then we won’t do them anymore,” you stated with no further arguments on the statement and he breathed in hard. 

“Sweetheart, I don't want you to walk on eggshells around me- I’ll get over this,” you frowned from that statement.

“Comfort is a two way street Will. If you are uncomfortable with something we stop doing it,” you continued even though his jaw tensed up again. “Being uncomfortable is something that happens but this is something else, isn’t it?” 

It was a topic all of them had issues with… you saw the aftermath riddled across their faces when the topic of the situation they got into reared its head. Certain things would bother them and the way to avoid those reactions was to remove it in its entirety, remove the trigger before it could do it’s damage. 

“I thought I could power through it…the others were enjoying it so why couldn’t I?” He sighs again, rubs his hand against his beard. 

“It affects everyone in different ways,” you muttered, his hand reaching out for yours. Even with the cold, Will radiates warmth. “They’re gonna understand.”

There’s a moment where he’s trying to list out if that statement was correct. The analytical part fighting with the more critical part of him. He blinks away any more thoughts and just squeezes your hand, muttering something about your cold fingers. Will pulled you closer to him, his forehead touching yours and even though his hands were warm his cheeks tinged of the chilly weather.

“Let's get you warmed up,” it was his version of thank you. He lifted himself from the chair and pulled you up with him, seamlessly he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. He held your hand as you walked into the house, the warm lights of the kitchen highlighted Santiago’s curls. 

“You two alright?” He was fixing up a drink for himself, hopefully something that wasn’t caffeinated, he’s had too much of that today. 

“ ‘M doing better…I’ll tell you later Santi I’m tired” Will patted Santi's back, letting go of your hand but his warmth didn’t leave your fingertips. “I’m gonna change-Frankie in the room.”

Santi pointed towards the living room where the T.V light showed a sleepy Catfish and Benny sprawled on the couch. You couldn’t help but grin from the sight. “I bet he’s gonna knock on the couch again and complain about his back.”

You lightly smacked Santiago’s shoulder from his comment and he gave you a kiss in apology and popped two ibuprofen for his knees. 

“You gonna turn in for the night, Iron?” Frankie called, eyes still dropping due to the fact that half of his body was covered by Benny’s. 

Will hesitated slightly as he walked off to the room, but he responded with a quiet voice. 

“Nah…I’m just gonna take a shower to get rid of the smell,” you stared at his tense back, “I’ll join you and Ben on the couch in a minute.” 

Your worries dissipated with that statement and with that you decided to find a place on the couch. Frankie welcomed you with open arms and you quickly removed the hoodie in favor of the warmth that he radiated. His hands reached for you and quickly brought you to his chest. You didn’t pay attention to what documentary was on instead your sole focus was on the soft features of Frankie. Santi found a place beside Benny as you snuggled close to Frankie.

The energy you had for the day slowly depleted with his soft touch, the humming of conversations hit your ears but it felt more like a lullaby than actual words. So many things happen in such a small time that it tends to sweep you up and worry, with them it’s always easier. 

Of course you worry about them when the time comes but they reassure you when it does happen and you always knew that open conversations will happen. 

The sensation you felt with them was warmer than any bonfire could be, warmness that could usher you to sleep in a matter of minutes. Rubbing your face against Frankie’s chest was all that you needed from life. 

You could feel the vibrations of his voice while he quietly murmured something to Benny. It was a white noise that you could rely on. The couch sank near your left side causing you to startle slightly but you sank back in the embrace of Frankie. Will’s hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it slightly as an apology.

“What are we watching,” Will muttered to what you thought was Frankie but it could be you. 

“A movie,” you muttered, eyes still closed.

A snort escaped Will's throat, “ ‘ppreciate you sweetheart.”

——<><>—<><>——

Will took the day off today. He saw it as the sensible decision considering his feelings from yesterday loomed over him.

Even with that shower that smell lingered and it kept sending him back to the tops of the mountain, trying to find warmth. Trying to find a way back home after the problems that continued to pile up. Trying to keep warm no matter what…even if it meant burning money in the case of Benny and the others.

How the scent of burnt paper stayed on his skin like the sin of what they did never washed away. How he didn’t react when his friend passed. How the waves didn’t clean them of the scent and how all he smells is ash.

The fires fill the air with ash and he just feels polluted by the thoughts of that trip. 

They’ve talked about it extensively but he hates it when something so small and minuscule like a smell brings him back.

He’s grown from this…so why is he back at square one.

“Will-“ it was a mere echo against his thoughts up until Frankie’s hand reached for his shoulder. He was yanked back to the present immediately and the tension of his shoulders grew.

“Fuck… sorry I-“ he didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“Hey, it's alright, I’m right here.” Frankie moved his hand from him and the tension waned from his shoulders. “You want a minute.”

“No. I’m alright ‘fish,” Frankie raised his brows at him and he relented. “Last night was rough for me is all.”

Will loosened his grip from the kitchen counter and turned towards his forgotten coffee mug. It was teetering off the ledge as he grabbed it. 

“You seemed quiet last night…I just chalked it up to work,” Frankie responded, scratching his chin. “What’s bothering you?”

“The smells…” 

There was a part of him that felt silly for admitting that something of this degree would affect him so much but he knew Frankie would understand.

“Oh,” it seemed like he connected the dots quickly and leaned on the counter, somewhat close to Will. 

“I know, I’m not back there but just the smell sets me off,” he set down the coffee he doesn’t remember brewing for himself. His mind kept pushing things back and forth from his memory and taunting them towards him, Frankie rested his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, you’re alright we aren’t there,” he remarked rubbing the tension from his shoulder. “I know what you mean Will.”

“I’ll manage, I'm just dealing with it,” Will reaffirms while taking a sip from the barely warm coffee. The bitter taste gave him small bits of energy for the day. 

“Will,” Frankie said in a tone Will recognized as ‘cut the bullshit and just talk to me.’ 

“What can I say Frankie I can’t do anything about it-“ he stopped from continuing and took a slow breath to even himself from the burning feeling in his throat. “No use in dwelling.”

He was over the hump in some way or at least he thought he was. In the end of the day he…was not that warrior that he once thought he was anymore. He was just… him now. 

Maybe…

He pinched his brows trying to quiet his mind for the moment and file those thoughts another time and organize them to a degree where he wasn’t stagnant at the constant and consistent feeling of smoke and ash on his skin.

“Hey,” Frankie said, barely above a whisper to not overwhelm any other thoughts that looped through his mind and muttered a familiar phrase. “I ain’t going anywhere, I’m right here Will.”

“I know…I know. I feel a little bad is all,” he admitted sheepishly for not wanting to admit that. He just didn’t want them to walk on eggshells around him but from the look on Frankie's face he obviously didn’t mind. Frankie’s hand reached for his and squeezed it, silently reassuring him.

“What's the thing you always say…” His lips pouted to the side, deep in thought. “Best way to deal with this is talk it out and-” 

“Breathe,” how could he forget. Frankie’s hand grazed the one that was still tightly holding his cup of coffee. With the graze of his fingers he loosened the grip on the mug and Frankie quickly stole it from him.

“We aren’t gonna have a bonfire in a while but whenever we do we take things at your pace.” A sigh escaped Will’s throat and he nodded, absently staring at the amount of dishes that were piled up from yesterday’s activities. “When did you go to sleep last night?” 

Will scrunched his face and tried to recall last night, memories muddied against each other. Past and present coexisting. He remembered that you turned in after a couple of minutes of the nature documentary ‘Fish put on to ease his mind. Santiago soon joined you after a particularly interesting scene regarding lizards. 

“After two episodes of that british crime show,” Frankie did his best to remember the lists of shows Will would watch but it was just easier for Will to describe them like that. 

“Ah, and aren’t those episodes like fifty minutes each,’ his bright brown eyes stared at him wide. 

“What are you getting at “Fish.”

“Sleep a couple more hours, is what I mean. You look tired and this coffee sure as hell won’t help you,” Frankie sipped the mug with a grimace but continued to do so even if it wasn’t sitting right with his stomach. He was uneasy about leaving all these dishes for Frankie to do and not to mention the mess they left in the backyard. They still needed to clean the back and the bonfire pit. 

“We have a lot of shit to do today,” he muttered while pointing his chin towards the dishes. All Frankie did in reply was slowly nudge him out the kitchen. 

“Me, Benny, and Santi have a lot of shit to do today. All you gotta do is take a nap and take care of our girl,” he winked at Will. Frankie’s fingers traced down Will’s back, sturdy fingers easing his worries. “That okay with you, bright eyes?”

Will smiled at Frankie and easily relented, there was no fighting with Frankie, not listening to him was a poor decision. He learned his lesson with that early on. 

“Don’t hurt yourself alright,” he stated while slowly opening their shared room. He was sure that Frankie responded with something snarky but it was dull to his ears when he entered the peace of their room. You were still huddled up in a mess of blankets, all those blankets couldn’t replicate the three warm bodies that you shared a bed with. 

Your smell was the first thing that hit his senses as he sank on the bed. Almost immediately he brought you close to him, needing to remember the smells of sweetness, of the laundry detergent they use, of anything and everything that reminded him of you. Not of ash and smoke filling his head, clouding his judgments.

The blankets were tangled between your limbs, hands reaching out for him in your half asleep state. Smoke no longer filled his mind, the lists of things to do and feelings to understand fell into the background. The serene sensation of warmth bubbled within him and it was only heightened with your sleepy state. 

Will did his best not to move, not wanting to wake you from your slumber, you’ve worked so hard and being able to sleep in like this was something to not be disturbed. His fingers rubbed circles into your skin and the heat of your skin made him forget how much he was missing for not staying in bed with you in the mornings. 

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hear him or maybe you did but you seemed to be lost in your dreams. His nose rubbed against your neck, kissing every part of your skin hoping this would show you what he couldn't say through words. 

He was no longer letting those flames engulf him, the fire was a temporary object. When he has with them and with you, isn’t. As he remembered that he deeply breathed in and recalled the crackling wood from earlier and the fond moments linked with yesterday night. The soft laughter that easily slipped your lips as Santi kept teasing Benny and Frankie. 

An exhale out brought him peace and the pricks of nostalgia no longer bothered him like it did before because he was reassured by the people he cared about. 

He’ll be okay. He just needed to breathe.

[silkling]

This is part two of an ask box fic. For part one, click below.

Part 1

———————————————————————————————————

Cody had been expecting to see Blades sitting in front of the TV when he and the others returned. He had not been expecting to see the large bot the team had rescued holding the copter while said copter made a sharp, painful sounding noise. When he, his siblings, and the other three bots had returned to the firehouse, they’d been chatting and teasing Heatwave about his increasing frustration with his difficulty at contacting Optimus. Then when they’d gotten down to the bunker, the three Cybertronians had abruptly stopped talking, before they’d looked concerned and panicked and rushed ahead. The humans had followed as quickly as they could, and the group arrived to see Blades in the large bot’s grasp, making that noise that Cody didn’t know the meaning behind.

The large bot noticed the, first, and a sharp, red gaze snapped to the group. “More younglings, little one? I suppose I should not be surprised, the Rescue Force did tend to match teams within the same age bracket.” he remarked.

Cody didn’t know what a “youngling” was by Cybertronian standards, but to human ears it sounded like the new bot was calling Sigma-17 kids. Or at the very least, younger than adults.

Heatwave clearly didn’t care about what the bot had to say. “You let Blades go!” he snarled, stepping forward and looking ready to tackle the larger bot.

Blades had startled and gone silent when the bigger flyer spoke, but at Heatwave’s words he jumped and pulled himself free, gathering his pedes under him and standing between his team and the larger bot. “Wait!” he protested. “He wasn’t hurting me. I was kinda…collapsing, and he kept me front falling.”

Cody frowned. “Why were you collapsing?”

“He told me something that Optimus should have told us a long time ago. Something very bad.”

“And what was that?” Kade snipped, eyes narrowed.

“I’d be curious to know too.” Dad’s voice came from behind them. Cody turned to see his father stepping out of the elevator. “But first, maybe we should sit down. Something tells me this news isn’t going to be pretty.”

“You are a clever human.” The stranger rumbled. “I believe that would indeed be best.”

Heatwave growled, but nodded stiffly. “This way.”

He led them to the lounge area, where everyone got settled and comfortable. The stranger sat on the floor, Blades and Boulder took the couch, and Dani and Graham sat beside their respective partners. Heatwave sat leaning against the couch, and Kade sat leaning against him. Chase pulled over a Cybertronian sized beanbag Graham and Boulder had made, and Dad squished in next to him. Cody, after a moment of consideration, stepped in and sat in front of the newcomer. The large bot shot him an arched brow, and the human just smiled and waved in response.

“So.” Heatwave grunted. “What’s this news?”

“We’re the last Rescue Bots.” Blades cut in, voice quiet.

Chase was frowning. “That is not entirely news. Optimus implied as much when we asked him about the rest of the Rescue Force. I assume the rest of the Rescue Teams were folded into the Autobot ranks when the War began.”

Boulder frowned. “That would make sense, though I have a hard time believing the others would just….abandon in the oaths of neutrality we all took.”

“They did not.” The stranger cut in. “When the War began, the Rescue Force remained neutral. They aided and rescued mechs from both factions. Megatron offered them the chance to join the Decepticons, and they refused. They wished to hold true to their oaths to serve and protect all who needed it. Megatron did not take kindly to the refusal. In order to make an example of them, and also to remove a faction that would aid his enemies, he destroyed the Rescue Force Headquarters and offlined every Rescue Team there. Survivors of the initial attack, as well as those who were simply not present, were subsequently hunted down and slaughtered.” he said bluntly.

There was dead silence in the bunker, with horror growing palpable in the air.

“Dreadwing.” Blades’s voice was weak. “Maybe that was a bit blunt.” He glanced at his teammates. “I think he’s right. I found a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in one of High Tide’s data pads. Plus…remember what Optimus said when he first saw us? “I was not aware Rescue Teams were still active.” That’s what he told us.”

Dreadwing. So that was the stranger’s name. Still, he was more worried about the bots. Boulder looked horrified and increasingly sick. Heatwave looked stunned and angry and grief-stricken all at once. Chase looked disbelieving. None of them seemed to be able to protest what they’d been told.

“Dreadwing, is it?” Dad’s voice rose in the silence. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”

“Any Cybertronian who was alive at the time knows about the Fall of the Rescue Force. It was a great tragedy.”

“That’s why Optimus is so adamant about keeping us here.” Blades whispered. “He knew. He probably thought we’d be in danger if any other bot knew what we are.”

“You would be.” Dreadwing agreed. “If Lord Megatron were to discover your existence, he would send his forces to see you slain, even if it meant razing this island to the ground to do so. Perhaps he would even keep you alive long enough to force Optimus Prime and his team watch your destruction.” He stated, blunt and hard.

Everyone collectively flinched at that, looking sick and horrified at the prospect. Cody could relate. The way Dreadwing discussed such violence and such horrors…it was so casual. He didn’t know what to make of it. The Rescue Bots didn’t speak so bluntly about that sort of thing, but he knew that was due to lack of exposure to that level of violence. Optimus and High Tide were both also very…sanitized, in the way they spoke of the War. It wasn’t necessarily bad that Dreadwing didn’t care to censor himself, but Cody certainly wasn’t used to it. Just the idea of his friends being stolen away and killed to make a point made him sick.

Graham’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Megatron.” he sound, sounding strained. “You called him “Lord Megatron”. I can’t imagine any Autobot calling the leader of their enemy something like “lord”. Which means you’re not an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon.”

There was a second of silence, and then Heatwave surged forward and yanked Cody away from Dreadwing. As one, the Rescue Bots, baring Blades for some reason, lowered the windshields in their chests to let their partners climb in to safety. As for Blades…he just stood, carefully maneuvering Dani out of range of danger and stepping forward before anyone else could do anything. Cody, still dazed and now strapped into Heatwave’s passenger seat, could only watch in confusion.

“Everybody stop and calm down!” The copter snapped, his rotors rattling against his back. The other bots were still, and Dreadwing hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.

The large bot shifted his gaze to Boulder, or rather, Boulder’s chest where Graham was tucked away. “You are correct.” he said, voice somber. “I am a Decepticon. Or rather, I was. It was Megatron himself who gave me the wound that nearly offlined me.” He paused. “I am afraid I am still teaching myself to shed the loyalty that once bound me to him. I spent many millennia calling him my Lord, and it is a habit that is very difficult to break.” He tilted his head. “Regardless, I assure you I have no desire to return to the Decepticons. I would be destroyed if I were to return.”

That seemed to calm the bots down, and Dani frowned from where Blades had stashed her. “You knew, didn’t you partner?”

Blades sighed. “I suspected.” he admitted. “I read in the data pads that Optimus left for us that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers joined the Deceptions. Dreadwing is a Seeker. I put the pieces together.”

Dreadwing bristled at the mention of “Vos”, though Cody didn’t know what that was. “Vos was destroyed and razed to the ground by Autobot forces, little flyer.” he rumbled. “Seekers did not join the Autobots when the War began because most of those who did were the same who had spent generations abusing and ostracizing any and all flight-frames.” he said bluntly. “It is why most flyers joined the Deceptions. They did not wish to be treated as lesser simply because of a different vehicle mode.”

Dani blinked. “Huh. So bigots exist on all planets, then.” she sighed. “The War…are you saying it started as a social revolution?”

“Just so.” Dreadwing nodded at her. “In the beginning, it was not Optimus Prime who led the Autobots. It was his predecessor, a mech called Sentinel. Sentinel was backed by the Senate. The same Senate that had created laws to force mechs to live only by the function of their frame types, and the same Senate that allowed flight-frames to be treated as filth. When Megatron rose up initially, it was to fight for justice and put an end to the caste system.”

This was news to all the humans. They’d heard about the War, of course, but hearing about how it started and why it had began put new context on things.

“The Senate refused to listen, and thus the War began. Megatron initially led as non-violently as possible, but then any who harbored even slight anti-Senate mentalities began to be culled by Autobot Enforcers. Flyers were confined to the ground by force when not in Vos, and in Vos they were not permitted to leave the city.” The Seeker continued. “What started as a fight for equality turned into Decepticons fighting for their right simply to live. And then the Senate was assassinated, and Sentinel destroyed, and Optimus Prime took his place. By then, it was too late for things to return to peace. Too many Decepticons feared they would be killed for the crime of wanting a better life and fighting for it, and too many Autobots were bitter and angry towards the chaos the Decepticon had wrought. And so, the War continued.” he sighed.

There was silence for a long moment, and the Rescue Bots finally returned to their previous positions, though they didn’t let the humans out just yet. Blades sat on the couch, and Dani shifted over to perch on his shoulder. Everyone present was silent for a moment, taking in what they had been told. This…changed things. Certainly, the Decepticons had done horrible things. The fact that they had slaughtered the Rescue Bots was a prime example. But to learn why they had risen and where they had come from…it put a lot into perspective.

“Blades.” Dani spoke up. “You’re a flyer. Did you run into any of that sort of thing Dreadwing was talking about, before your stasis nap?” she asked.

Blades sputtered. “Well, no.” he seemed embarrassed. “You know I wasn’t always a flyer. I was a ground-frame, on Cybertron. Sure, I’d heard about the anti-flyer and anti-Seeker stuff but I never experienced it. Dreadwing is telling the truth, though. Cybertron…didn’t have the best social system. I did know about the civil unrest, thought it hadn’t grown to a revolution quite yet the last time I was on Cybertron.” he said, sheepish.

Before one of the humans could ask for an elaboration, Dreadwing was straightening up. “Youngling. You mean to tell me you were able to shift from a ground-frame to a flight-frame by scanning a new vehicle mode?”

Blades paused. “Yes?”

Dreadwing was quiet, before uttering what Cody was very sure was a curse. “You do realize that is an extraordinarily rare ability? Even triple changers are more common than that.”

“Really?” Blades, and even all the other bots, seemed stunned by this revelation.

“Yes.” Dreadwing was frowning. “Most Cybertronian t-cogs will only allow for scanning and transformation into a vehicle mode that is compatible with your root mode. To be able to change from a grounder to a flyer by simply scanning a new vehicle mode…it speaks of a highly malleable and adaptable base frame type. The kind one expects from the tales of the Shifters of old.”

That made the Bots perk up, and Cody made a note to ask about that later. For now, he opted to stay quiet and let the Cybertronians figure this out. And it seemed his family had the same idea. Even Kade, for once.

“Are you saying I’m a Shifter?” Blades seemed frantic at the idea.

“No.” Dreadwing shook his head. “But perhaps you have coding descended from them.” He sighed. “Your ability, little one, is one I have only ever heard of on Cybertron. Many would be jealous of you. I know many flyers would not give up their flight for anything, but I know of many more who would have wanted your ability desperately in order to change to a ground-frame and escape the derision.”

Blades blinked, then looked down. “Oh.” he whispered.

Heatwave growled. “Look, it’s all well and good that we’ve figured this out, but now what? You were a Decepticon! You could hurt us or someone else on the island!”

Dreadwing looked unimpressed. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing, though I will leave if you prefer.”

“But won’t Megatron kill you?” Boulder asked.

“He will try. I will simply have to avoid him.”

“Then why not join the Autobots?” Chase asked.

The Seeker’s expression went dark. “No. While Optimus Prime is honorable, the Autobots have not always been such. I have lost too much to their regime to submit myself to the brand, even if it is different now.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a long moment, the humans were finally let out of the cabs of their respective partners, and Cody saw an odd look in his Dad’s eye.

“Hoe about this, then.” Dad said. “We don’t feel right about sending you off where you might be killed. You don’t want to fight the Autobots, you don’t want to fight for the Decepticons. Am I right so far?”

Dreadwing simply bowed his head.

“Do you even want to fight in the War at all, anymore?”

Dreadwing paused. “The Decepticons committed a crime which I must put right. But other than that, no.” There was a pause. “Even with my end goal, it is not the Decepticons at large I wish to see defeated. It is only one mech among their ranks.”

Dad hummed slowly, then nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to tell us the details, so I won’t even ask.” he said. “Here’s what I propose: you stay here on Griffin Rock. You don’t let yourself be seen by the humans here, we do have a cover to maintain after all. You can think and plan your next steps here. That lets us keep an eye on you, and keeps our minds at ease that you’re not out there running for your life from a tyrant. You just can’t destroy anything or hurt anyone or cause trouble.”

Cody was surprised by the offer, and clearly Dreadwing was too. What did his Dad see in this large bot that was making him take a chance like this? Cody wasn’t against it, but it was a little unusual.

Dreadwing seemed to think over the offer, before he nodded. “I will accept your terms.”

Dad relaxed, and before Kade could protest he waved his children along. “Now come on, everyone. It’s late and we humans need our rest.” he said. “Kade, not here. We can discuss this more later. Let’s go, everyone.”

Cody hopped off Heatwave’s knee, and followed his siblings and father to the lift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was the Rescue Bots turning to their newest addition, and heard the start of a question before the doors shutting cut it off.

“So what else do you know that Optimus isn’t-“

——————————

Everything came to a head a week after Dreadwing had settled into the bunker. The Seeker had taken over one back corner of the large room, converting it into a small space for himself. None of the other bots or humans had raised a fuss at that. But Kade was getting increasingly agitated. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Blades and his team were so calm about letting a Decepticon live peacefully with them. Personally, the copter bot attributed that to the fact that the firefighter was human, so he probably didn’t understand the Cybertronian cultural or societal intricacies that had allowed the five bots to come to an understanding. That day, Kade had been particularly snarly. Even Boulder was starting to get put off by it.

They had gathered in the bunker. Blades was watching TV with Dreadwing and Chase, trying to explain the allure of his favorite show to the two bots. Boulder was painting, and Heatwave was on his little sparring platform. The humans had come down in time to see Dreadwing pinch one of Blade’s finials when the little copter bot’s rotors had straightened and extended, threatening to start spinning right there on his back due to his excitement. It had pulled Blades back to himself, and he’d sheepishly tucked his rotors back along his spinal strut while shooting the older mech an apologetic grin.

To a Cybertronian, such a gesture from an older mech to a youngling would not have raised any attention. The gentle tweak hadn’t even hurt his sensitive finials. But to a human, especially one who didn’t have or understand the context of Cybertronian culture, the gesture and lack of reaction from the bots could easily be misunderstood.

So really, Blades wasn’t surprised that Kade had finally snapped. As soon as he’d seen the interaction, he’d roared a demand to know what was going on, questioning how the bots could live with someone who had been part of the same team that had wiped out all the other Rescue Bots. That was when Chief Burns had sighed and suggested they all get settled in the lounge to talk again. They had, taking up the same positions as the previous time, though this time Boulder also dragged over a large beanbag for himself and Graham, while Dani perched on Blade’s shoulder and Dreadwing took the free spot on the couch. Which was where they were now.

“Alright.” Kade spat. “So I’m not getting something here, obviously. Why are you four so comfortable around him? He literally admitted that he used to be a Decepticon! The same guys that destroyed your Rescue Force!”

“But he wasn’t there.” Blades chimed in. “We talked when you went to bed that night. He joined the ‘Cons after the Autobots destroyed Vos, which happened after the fall of the Rescue Force.”

“And that changes anything?” Kade sputtered.

“It changes everything.” Heatwave grunted. “He wasn’t part of the group that destroyed the Rescue Force. And even though he joined them later, it wasn’t to inflict violence, it was in response to his home and people being destroyed. That may be hard to understand, based on what I know of your human culture, but for us Cybertronians that’s enough.”

Kade crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. “Fine. I guess I can accept that, even if I don’t get it. What I don’t get is why you’d defect.” he directed the last part at Dreadwing. “You hinted last time we talked that you served Megatron for thousands and thousands of years, and joined him because he was fighting for a just cause, one you believed in. What changed?”

Dreadwing frowned, staring hard at the human. “You are correct, Skyquake and I did originally join Megatron because we believed him to be honorable and just.” he tilted his head. “As the War progressed and left Cybertron, Megatron gradually became more…mad. However, we still followed him because we had sworn an oath of loyalty, and to break that oath would be dishonorable.” he rumbled. “And we did not fully agree with the Autobots either, even after Optimus Prime took command.”

“Hold on.” Graham cut in. “Skyquake?”

Dreadwing blinked, and something odd entered his gaze. Blades felt the flash of grief in his EM afield before it abruptly cut off. “Yes. Skyquake. He was my brother. We were split spark twins.”

“I thought you said you guys don’t have families like humans!” Kade said to Heatwave, eyes narrowed.

The fire truck scowled. “We don’t! Not usually! There’s only really one exception, and that’s so rare I didn’t think it mattered!”

“Two exceptions.” Blades intervened quickly. “There’s actually two exceptions, two ways for Cybertronians to have siblings.”

Looks were directed at him, and he squirmed under the attention. Slag, he hadn’t meant to say that. They’d want to know how he knew and that was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was his burden to bare.

Dreadwing sensed his discomfort, cutting in before the questions could start and drawing the attention back to himself. “Yes. The first exception is that of split spark twins.” He glanced at the humans. “We Cybertronians are not created like you organics. On Cybertron, our source of life is called the Well of All Sparks. It is where all sparks are created, and where all sparks return upon deactivation.”

“A spark is like…your soul, right? It’s what gives you guys life and makes you who you are.” Dani questioned.

Dreadwing dipped his helm towards her. “Indeed. When a new Cybertronian comes into be, their spark is created in the Well. It goes through several layers of the Well’s energy, the spark refining and becoming more defined as it progresses to the edge of the Well from the center. Often, the sparks will not maintain their form in this process, and their energy will dissipate and return to the Well.” Noting the human’s looks, he shook his head. “The spark has no life or sentience at that time, it is merely a small collection of energy. It is if the spark holds its form past the final layer of shaping that it gains sentience and life. At that point, the energy of the Well pulls resources from Cybertron itself to create a protoform, a physical body, around the spark. Then, the protoform is pushed from the Well, and thus a new Cybertronian is created.” the Seeker explained.

“That doesn’t explain how you guys can have siblings.” Graham pointed out.

Dreadwing dipped his head. “Twins like myself are a rarity. They occur when, just before a protoform is formed around the spark, a surge of energy from the Well causes the spark to split into two. When that happens, most sparks to not survive and dissipate. If they do survive, the Well forms two protoforms around the two halves. The two halves of the spark can function on their own, and are fully formed in their own right, but due to the fact they were one a singular spark those two halves are forever bound.” he explained it carefully.

“Two halves, one whole.” Graham said, eyes lighting up with understanding.

Dreadwing nodded. “Yes. That is how split spark twins are created. Due to the bond, twins are very close to one another. A spark bond is a precious thing, little human.” His optics went distant, and Blades’s own spark ached with painful remembrance. “Through a spark bond, you are always and forever aware of the one who you share the bond with. You know what they feel, how they think, you know them in every way that they in turn know you. You can talk and communicate using the bond, and it can never be detected or listened in on. Distance can dampen a bond, and the further one gets from those they are bonded to the more muted it becomes. At one point, the bond becomes too muted to talk in words, and you can share only base thoughts and emotions.” he rumbled. “But even so, the bond persists, and it allows you to know your bonded is still living.”

“And…this Skyquake. He’s your twin? Where is he?” Kade asked.

“Gone.” Dreadwing said, his EM field flaring with that sharp agony, and even the humans could hear the grief in his tone. “Offlined before I even arrived on Earth.”

“How did it happen?” Chief asked, voice somber.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, and Blades could see the grief in the angle at which he held his wings, even if he had reigned in his EM field. “Centuries ago, Megatron stationed my brother here in stasis in order to guard over Deception energon deposits. I was aware of his mission, but I was sent to far off star systems to fight in the War.” he sighed. “Recently, Skyquake was awoken, and in an ensuing confrontation with the Autobots he was slain by Optimus Prime and his scout.”

Blades flinched, optics wide. Bumblebee had killed Dreadwing’s twin? He supposed he couldn’t really judge a situation in which he didn’t have all the information, but he still had a hard time imagining the friendly yellow bit he knew actually killing someone else.

“How did you survive?” he blurted out. Looks were directed to him again, confused, but Dreadwing understood.

“Distance.” he rumbled. “I was so far away at from my brother at the time of his death that the bond was too strained for me to even feel his strongest emotions. I could only barely tell he was still living, and even then only when I focused on the link between our shared spark.” His gaze went sad. “I felt his death. The surge of energy that came from the bond breaking did reach me, but by the time it did it had had to travel so great a distance that it had dulled too much to overwhelm and gutter out my own spark. All I felt was a very faint sting. It didn’t even hurt to feel him perish.” he said, and he sounded bitter at it.

Blades could understand. “I’m sorry.” he said honestly.

Dreadwing sighed. “He died an honorable death. For that much, I am grateful.”

Kade cleared his throat, frowning. “Okay.” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t explain why you left the ‘Cons. Shouldn’t you have more reason to stay with the, if the Autobots killed your twin?”

Dreadwing growled lowly here. “No.” he denied. “The Autobots gave my brother a good death, a death I know Skyquake would not have been ashamed of. For all I resent the Autobots from taking my brother from me, it is War, and I cannot find fault in them removing an enemy from the battlefield.” He turned a sharp look to Kade. “It was the Starscream, however, who is a Decepticon, who desecrated my brother’s rest by defiling his corpse and turning him into a Terrorcon.”

Blades inhaled sharply, rage clouding his processor. He seethed, his rotors clamping tight to his spinal strut, his optics going dark and angry, and his hands curling into fists. Dani was the only one to notice, and she didn’t want to draw attention to him just yet.

“Terrorcon? Cody asked.

“A zombie.” Boulder offered, looking sick. Actually, all the bots look sick. “Or the closest equivalent to it there is for Cybertronians.”

And now the humans all looked sick. “Oh.” Kade said. “That’s why you left.”

“Yes.” Dreadwing said darkly. “I learned the truth, and when I attempted to avenge my bother Megatron attempted to destroy me. It did not matter to him that Starscream had attempted to assassinate and betray him on countless occasions. He sought my death in order to protect a known traitor.” he growled. “Starscream turned my brother into something twisted and abhorrent. That is why I left.” he finished.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rip his spark out.” Blades hissed. Stunned gazes turned to the copter, and everyone was alarmed to see just how angry he looked. “I’d have tried to, in your place.”

The only one who wasn’t surprised was Dreadwing. “I did try, and I was almost killed for it. I will avenge Skyquake one day, little one. But for now, calm yourself.”

Blades actually snarled at that. His rotors rattled aggressively, the smaller ones in his pedes whirling to life with a loud buzzing, and his engine all but roared with fury. “Just the idea of someone doing that-!” he cut himself off, snarling again. Dreadwing was quick to pick Dani off the youngling’s shoulder and set her down.

“Blades.” he snapped. The others were too frozen in shock at the sight of the usually bubbly copter so aggressive.

“No!” Blades snapped. “If someone did that to ‘Aid, or Groove, or Streetwise, or Hot Spot, or any of them, I’d rip them apart myself!”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics, his processor working quickly. There was no reason for the youngling to get so upset at the idea of a spark sibling being so badly defiled, no reason for him to take it so personally. And those names…

“You are gestalt, aren’t you, little one?”

That was enough to snap Blades out of his angry haze, and his optics shot wide. Fear swamped his field, and his rotors abruptly silenced and clamped back against his spine while the rotors in his pedes cut off with a sharp grinding noise. “What?”

“Given your reaction, and those names you said….it is the only conclusion that makes sense.”

“Wait, Blades…you’re part of a gestalt?” Boulder asked, his own optics blown wide.

“That…would explain your reaction.” Chase offered hesitantly.

“Blades.” Heatwave prompted at the copter’s continued silence.

“Uh, hello? Clueless humans here!” Dani called. “Blades, put me back up. Also, what’s a gestalt?”

The youngling bent down, allowing his partner to climb her way back up to his shoulder before he sat up. He sagged, looking defeated,

“A gestalt is the other way Cybertronians can have siblings.” he said quietly. “It happens in the Well. Most of the time, the Well creates on spark at a time. Creating a living spark is a complex process, so it can’t afford to create too many at once. Every once in a while though, the Well has an excess of energy, undetectable to any technology. When that happens, it creates multiple sparks at once. If all those sparks survive to the edge of the Well, then the excess energy pulls them together into one large, massive spark. Many sparks, becoming one. They remain combined until the energy stabilizes, and then split into the original number again and that’s when the protoforms are created around the sparks.” He sighed. “When that happens, all the bots in that group are linked. They were created by the Well together, and they were merged together by the Well to bind their sparks. That’s a gestalt. Because of the spark merge that occurred in the Well, gestalt can actually merge themselves again outside of it. They can push together their sparks and processors and very beings to become a singular bot. Gestalt frames are even adapted to that they can physically combine, each member becoming a different body part, in order to form the body of a new, larger mech while their sparks combine to form the mech’s own spark. Many, becoming one.” Blades looked down. “My brothers and I are that. We can combine to form Defensor. I’m the arm.” he said weakly.

——————————

Part 3

[shinyrockalaska]

Muggles: history (fanfic)

I know I haven't been active lately, so here I am posting a fanfic I wrote half a year ago (':

The inspiration came from when the biggest harry potter fan I know got upset that most hp fans don't remember minor characters like Inventors in the wizarding world so I wrote a short au fic where the Muggles world is a made up book series

Eeehh enjoy

&&&

Charlie finished reading "Muggles: history" for what felt like the millionth time, and he couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated. It was an addition to his favourite book series, and had the same name of the history book that was mentioned in the series, that his favourite characters studied from.

It was the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, and like every other early morning at the burrow, it was quiet for a while, since his siblings were still asleep.

I wish I was in Oxford.. he thought to himself. He wouldn't mind being in the Sorbonne or Harvard either, any school in his favourite book series would be fine for him.

Not that he hated going to Hogwarts or his future career as a dragonologist, of course. The only disadvantage the human world has, in his opinion, was that there were no dragons in it.

From across the room, Charlie noticed Bill turning over in his bed to face Charlie.

"Reading that book again?" He made the mistake of asking Charlie a question about his favourite book series.

Charlie took this opportunity to rant about it.

"Yes! You know I love those books! It's an entire world.. in a book series! I don't think I could ever write anything like that, not that I'm good at writing, but wow! Imagine if someone wrote a book series about our lives here! I mean, we have many books but no other author has invented an entire world with that many details in it with even additional books! I wish there were more fans of it, because no one seem to remember things about it like I do! I mean, you only know anything about the books because of me, and Tonks read only the first few books and forgot everything about it.." he sighed, "How can fans here not know about Johannes Gutenberg? His work started the printing revolution! Or not know who Thomas Edison is? It's like not knowing who Levina Monkstanley is!"

"Who?" Bill tilted his head in confusion as Charlie frowned at him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Bill quickly said, before Charlie could scold him. "She invented lumos, the lightning charm, I know."

Charlie huffed, frustrated, "good, I was worried you'd fail your NEWTs," he rolled in his bed, so his head was upside down, as he crossed his arms.

"You do know it's a fictional world, right?" Bill asked him, not for the first time, "it's a fantasy, made up, definitely not real world, so why would we remember who invented the.. how do they call it.. electricity?"

"Only one of the most important Inventions in the world, yes."

"A world that doesn't exist, Charlie."

Charlie, of course, knew all of that, but he always felt agony when he was reminded that the world in his favourite book is, in fact, not real, and he could never be a part of it.

He turned his head to not look at Bill as he scowled. "Hey," Bill's face was suddenly in Charlie's view again, as Bill sat next to him on his bed, placing a hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to comfort his younger brother. "I'm sure the characters in the book remember all those people and names that invented all those important things in the Muggles world."

"I know," Charlie rose fast, causing himself a short headache, "even though the author never given us any information on how those Inventors discovered their Inventions or how the world reacted to it," he said as he looked around the room for a piece of parchment and a quill.

Bill already knew what was going to happen. "You're going to write a story about it, don't you?" He asked, amused.

"Obviously! Someone has to write a story about how Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephones!" He said, already sitting in front of the table, dipping his quill in ink.

"The what??"

"Can't talk right now, Bill" Charlie said, gesturing his hand to dismiss him, "I'm writing."

[pizadowa]

I gotta say: I love that detail in the CarmIvy sickfic where Ivy is afraid to ask for help because of her experience in being in debt to that loan shark. It's an interesting (if sad) way to show how Ivy was affected by both that incident and having to be the Older Sister growing up. Part of why I like CarmIvy is because it's fun to explore how the relationship affects these two characters, with Ivy learning that's okay to be vulnerable and soft around people sometimes, while Carmen (at least in my interpretation) gets to experiment with relationships in a way she probably never could on the island. Anyway it was a great fic!

*SNIFFLE* I feel so seen right now. Ivy's whole deal (and by extension, Zack's) has so much potential, and I try to add a pinch of seasoning with my ideas whenever I write her :'> So I'm really happy you picked up on it. Like, what the hell, she and her bro got involved with a loan shark who threatened their LIVES????? UMMM CARE TO EXPLAIN, CS '19??Fghjdgdfg

Anyway..., thank you for your kind words and for reading my fic, it means sooo much to me ❤️🧡 Also, I couldn't agree with you more! Carmivy is such a great force to explore...I simply must talk about them now guh 😩😩

While I think Carmen is no stranger to compartmentalization, she definitely floats about her social situations like a free bird, whereas Ivy is rooted in Carmen and her bro and that is pretty much it. Unfortunately the show doesn't expand on that dependency, but the final Ivy we see is one of impassioned loyalty—and fears of loss that go with such loyalty, fears that she'd sooner threaten away with a knuckle sandwich than talk out with those exact people she's afraid of losing.

Carmen is also afraid of losing people, and despite being a little emotionally stunted in grappling with the severity of her own trauma or the trauma she may have inflicted on others cough cough that damn finale cough, she is very much willing to talk through her feelings with others. We see this in the first scenes of the show, with Graham on the train, with Player over the phone, and so on. She's had more people in her life to open up to. Even if the island restricted her curiosity and knowledge, she's learned how to navigate a conversation, at least. We can only assume Ivy's had just her brother to talk to, and uh. Yeah. That's made a difference in how she expresses herself lol

But...Ivy and Carmen are both guilty of putting up walls and shutting others out, partially because they were both quickly forced into tough leadership roles (an orphaned older sibling vs an escapee-turned-team leader). Where they link up to help each other break down those walls is, in my opinion, greatly thanks to their shared (somewhat mischievous) playfulness, wanderlust ambition, gumption, and the fact that nobody like them had existed in each other's lives before. No one like Ivy existed on the island. No one like Carmen existed in Boston. A new world opened up when they accidentally crossed paths. They both give each other things they never knew they needed. They’d do anything for each other siIIGHSSSSSS

...sorry for the ramble, I have so many thoughts about them ugh. Thank you again for this lovely ask even if I ran off with it lmao ❤️🧡

[astharoshebarvon]

I never expected to see that horseshit even in Hannibal/Will pairing. I’d really thought they were exempt from that bullshit.

All I can say is that the thirst for the dominant male/ homophobia is unreal. Female Will Graham—

At this point I don’t even know whether to get angry or simply laugh at such stories. This is beyond ridiculous! Imagine being idiotic enough to even write they aren’t murder husbands, and being weird enough to put in the story, its murder husband and wife.

Please. There has never been a wife nor will there ever be. Dream on.

Thankfully, the cringeworthy self insert fics are still in double digits.

Just say you want to fuck the Dom and can’t stand that two guys love each other and are in a relationship. Literally no one wants to read about your fantasy. Go and write self-insert/OFC with the male and be happy with that. Don’t be this pathetic and try to write your fantasy in the slash ship. Keep your straight agenda to your lame het self-insert ships.

No wonder this bull even bled out to shoujo manga. That is a new low even for a shoujo. Seriously, just say you hate gay people and get out. Having the fucking audacity to write that kind of homophobic content in 2020 is shocking.

There is really no need to be that disgusting. Just write your idiotic, stupid, annoying, brainless, obsessed, creepy fangirl with the male lead and leave gay people lout of it. No need to show again and again how foul you are by bringing them in. You are literally proving what kind of a person you are by writing such crap.

I am just so disgusted by that manga that I don’t even want to remember it if I can help it. Is that how fm couples are being made these days, by being blatantly homophobic and vile/showing het superiority or downright pedophilic content. No wonder those stories never reach more than 50? 60? Ratings on amazon.

Now, if you look at Ten Count, Given, well, there ratings are in 1000 or above 500.

Please, continue being so gross, at one point only garbage people will end up buying that crap.

Mediocre shoujo writers are so fucking threatened by the popularity of BL that they are even resorting to such vile tricks.

Seeing such things just cements what I’ve always thought. People just got better at hiding their homophobia, (we needed change so we turned a boy into a girl in slash fics of the coulple ) it’s painfully obvious what you truly think when you spit out such bullshit. No need to jump through so many goddamn hoops. Hell, I am not even surprised by this behaviour.

 These are the same kind of garbage people who screamed, Yuki should return to being a girl, we don’t like male Yuki.

Shut the fuck up! Luka is literally saying they have the same soul, he can only love once. Yuki is Yuki. So called female yuki was mentioned in passing at best, got two? three ? full pages.

Luka won’t fuck you no matter how much you wish it.

The story doesn’t even have a kiss scene between the fem yuki and luka or any hets while Senshirou breaks off his engagement saying quite clearly he cares for Kuroto. The girl is thankfully not a trash person like the homophobic readers. Neither is she like the one with sairi and touko.

The whole manga revolves around present male Yuki and Luka, their relationship and other bl ships. See the fucking artworks, go and buy Phosphor, its pure BL. There is a limit to how blind or in denial a person can be. 

This manga and anime is shonen-ai, it’s always been that and will always be that. All the main couples are slash. The mangaka is famous for her BL stories.

Uraboku was published in Asuka, the magazine which is infamous for never outright saying the two males are in love and are together.

Bloody Mary, X/1999, Kyou Kara Maou are prime examples, they are all shonen ai/BL subtext. Stop trying so hard to deny the fucking truth. The author’s new work, a shoujo, was so poorly received that’s it’s not even funny. Beautiful art couldn’t save it.

Clamp literally said do not call Kamui and Fuuma as brothers. They aren’t friends. They are soulmates! They parallel Seishirou and Subaru, an established, famous MM couple. Fuuma is all Kamui thinks about.

They don’t even mention the obsessed, creepy fangirl.

They are together in Tsubasa too. Stop trying to force your heteronormative bullshit onto everyone.

 No wonder some homophobic / thirsty person had the audacity to write in the fucking wikia of that light novel, this character is not gay you know. It’s implied he might be—

He is literally saying he is gay in the story, he tells it straight to the other party. He’s been gay all these years.

And, you are still trying to push your het agenda.

I totally get where that nonsense came from. He is a very very good looking man.  You want a chance to fuck him and think this is the best way to make yourself feel good. Go and get help if you are that fucking sad of a person. This isn’t normal behaviour, it’s creepy.

You gotta be some other level of stupid if you think they are friends/brothers. Friends/siblings don’t do this with each other.

Some idiots even denied Kurogane/Fai being a subtle couple in Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle. You have to be blind as a bat if you truly sat there and thought they weren’t a thing.

Even these two from get backers.

Hell, I think Get Backers author even said yes, those two guys are together. Like, please readers, take your homophobia and get out.

I have to give it to Atsuko Nakajima for drawing such beautiful illustrations. All of her works, whether they be MM, FM, FF are simply too beautiful.

  Stay mad that your imagined het only exists in your head not in actual story. Go read trash like that shoujo or see het pedo shows which thinks 500 year old is attracted to a little 7 year old. You’ll find many trash homophobic people like you there.

Even on manga sites you see idiotic lists like, erotica Not BL, smut with anything but bl, quality smut not BL.

Seriously, how fucking pressed are you that people don’t seem to give two fucks about your fm ships, these fm smut mangas have way less views than BL.

Be decent and write mf smut list, shoujo josei smut or something of the like. You have to mention bl somehow don’t you? This isn’t even pathetic, it’s downright gross. 

No wonder some foolish homophobic trash wrote lies like omegaverse does not belong to slash. You have to be completely shameless and downright stupid to write such horseshit.

Of course, some freaks even like that horrendous, homophobic, monstrous bitch from ten count. To this day I don’t understand how anyone can say such things.

She looked good standing next to kurose. She is good looking.

I just cant—

What a joke! She is human garbage nothing more and ugly as hell.

Ugh, the only place she should be in is a fucking sewer. I hate that bitch so much. She deserves to die a million times for what she did. Her existence is a fucking disgrace.

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter One

Hello there, friends!  I have to apologize profusely for this being a couple days late this week. I was visiting family over the 4th, helping to wrangle several little ones under five, and then was exhausted, but the first full chapter of my @cssns fic is here now.  Hope you will enjoy and forgive the slightly longer wait.

A million grateful thank yous to @branlovestowrite for this beautiful banner to go along with the story.  It adds so much, is absolutely beautiful, and I just smile every time I look at it!  Please make sure to send kudos her way for the brilliant work she did.

If you did not get to read last week’s prologue, you can find it here: Prologue

And now, one with the show....

~chapter one: the element of surprise

Sunlight slanted through the tall windows onto the long, wooden shelves crammed and stuffed full of books in all sizes, hard and soft covers, old and new, and onto the table where a petite sprite of a brunette sat at a long conference table with more volumes spread open around her where she jotted several notes in a pad at her elbow. The beams of sunlight bathed her in yellow glow, and golden highlights seemed to sparkle in the strands of her hair as it curled over her shoulder. She was intent on her work in this haven of her beloved stories, so enthralled in her own magical make-believe realm of tales that she didn’t even hear the soft footsteps padding through the aisles toward her, nor the soft chink of the front entrance clicking back into place from her visitor’s arrival.

He didn’t garner her attention in fact until he neared her side, a gentle whisper of her name on a soft, affectionate breath caused Belle to look up in surprise, an exclamation of startled pleasure on her face as her pretty lips formed an “O”. 

“Hello Lass,” Graham murmured warmly, leaning over to press his lips to her upturned mouth in greeting, neither one able to resist seeing the other without wanting to kiss them as well. Belle had spent so many years with a man who cared more for possessing her than actually spending his time with her or allowing her into his confidence. The luxury of loving someone not only open to her care and advice, but who needed her closeness and trust, thirsted for it as desperately and had looked for it as long as she herself had, was something Belle appreciated every day - never taking it in the least for granted.

“Hello yourself, Sweetie,” she answered, returning his kiss, and lifting a hand to stroke along his stubbled jaw with lingering fingers, reluctant to let the contact go.

For his part, a low hum in Graham’s throat, almost a rumbling, vibrated against her fingertips. The wolf inside was happy, turning to mush at her ministrations, puppy eyes and all. Even as their lips parted, he lingered to rub his nose along her cheek and nudge against her adoringly, a wordless signal of his devotion, chuffing almost as a wolf in the wild would to its mate upon returning from a journey or hunt.

“You asked me to meet you here,” the small town sheriff eventually prompted his girlfriend curiously, shuffling back just far enough to sit in the chair to her left. Even at that, he still reached forward to take Belle’s hand in his, twining their fingers and stroking hers with his thumb. “I’m always happy to see you, but… is something wrong?”

Belle looked at him for two, then three, searching moments, seeming to gather herself for a serious announcement. As if finally determining that she saw what she needed to in his face, she leaned toward him as well, bringing their joined hands to her chest. Graham realized then that she was blinking back emotion as she answered, “No, nothing’s wrong. Something is very, very right.”

Seeing him cock his head in puzzlement, she almost giggled joyfully at the truly canine trait before resuming her speech. She could see that he genuinely wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell him and didn’t want to leave him in the dark long enough to make him worry unduly. Graham had lived a far from simple or pleasant life, and snapped into fighting stance at a moment’s notice to protect her and the good life they had begun to build, as if still not certain after all he had suffered that something so precious could truly last. 

“Graham, calm down. It’s fine, I promise. At least I think it is… and, well, I h-hope you will too… I’m - I’m counting on it anyway…” Pausing only momentarily, Belle daintily caught her lower lip between her teeth in just one more slight moment of hesitation. Her wide, dark brown eyes fell to study their joined hands where she had clasped them close to her heart as she gathered the courage to continue.

However, even before that was necessary, Graham tugged gently, bringing the back of her palm up to his mouth, where his words brushed against her skin. “You needn’t worry, Belle. Whatever it is, you must know that I’m here for you… that I’ll understand.”

And with those words, the tiny seed of worry that her news might not be something he’d want, vanished like the dark clouds after a storm, melting away from where they had begun to constrict her throat and loosening her tongue at last. With a sure and steady gaze centered on his scruffily comforting face once more, she forged on with renewed confidence. “Well, it’s just that… for the last week or so I’ve felt a bit off - nothing serious!” she hurried to add, seeing the worry wrinkle his brow almost immediately. “Just not quite myself. I had a suspicion of what might be going on, but after a test and a visit to the doctor, I know for sure. Graham… I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby!”

His eyes, always so expressive and open windows to his thoughts, widened almost comically. He shook his head, seemingly stunned, and opened and closed his mouth several times before he could manage to speak, but when he did, she heard the depth of feeling quavering in his gravelly voice, blinking glassily to hold back tears of his own.

“We’re to be parents? Truly?” he finally whispered. Even as he spoke he was easing to the floor to kneel before her, still holding her hand, his other coming tentatively to rest on her stomach, still almost ginger with stunned disbelief. “I never imagined … never thought… that we could… that I… that we… And you’re glad of this?  You’re sure you’re alright?”

She nodded fervently, now unable to voice her reply, so choked up was she by his reaction. Beaming up at Graham, she was blinking back her own silent tears and couldn’t even care that they were falling.

With his warm, strong hand covering her stomach still, he leaned to press a kiss there as well, making her tingle even through the fabric of her dress. Leaning to rest his cheek against her warmth, Belle found her own free hand combing through his wild curls in a soothing gesture, much as his obvious love and acceptance for the new life within her and his touch to her midsection had calmed her. She had never feared for a second that he would abandon her, but she hadn’t been sure how he would react to the idea of fathering a child. Graham had been alone all of his life until Ruby had found him in the woods and she and her Granny had taken him in. He had never known his own parents, never felt a mother’s caress or heard her sing him a lullaby nor been bounced on his father’s knee. His closest siblings were literally wild animals; ‘raised by wolves’ was more than a mere expression in her beloved’s upbringing. The fact that he wanted this little one, this blessing that would forever link them, that they would have a chance to raise him or her differently than they had been, to care for and protect, making them a family forever, meant everything to her.

When he did at last lean back again to look up at her fondly, Belle saw the hope in his eyes, making them even brighter and more lovely than she had always thought them. Rarely had she seen such uncomplicated, untainted hope in his face as she glimpsed in that moment, her heart fairly overflowing. “And you’re happy, Sweetheart? This is what you want?”

“Absolutely,” she assured, cradling his face in her hands. “There is little I could imagine wanting more. A baby… with you… it’s almost too wonderful to believe.”

He nodded his agreement, a wide, crooked smile breaking across his face with the power of a beam of sunshine. “It’s almost like a miracle,” he concurred. “A child… a pup… of our own.”

Belle nodded once more, “That is why I wanted to meet you here,” she acknowledged with a tilt of her head to her gathered research materials and notes. “I’ve been trying to find out what I can about werewolf-human couples and childbearing. We ought to know if a child of ours would have your dual nature and abilities, if there are many risks to such a child being carried by a human mother… those sorts of things.”

Graham’s forehead creased with worry for her almost immediately. “What did you find?”

“Not much, honestly,” Belle sighed, shaking her head in dismay. “I realize that it isn’t an everyday occurrence, but we aren’t even the only interspecies couple in our town. I would have thought there would be records of others somewhere, that there might be some trace or knowledge of offspring from such a union - at least in legends or lore, if nowhere else. We can’t be the first ones to ever become pregnant… can we?”

The former huntsman’s brow was furrowed in thought, and she hated to consider than he might already be regretting his excitement at the prospect of a child. She wanted the little one she already felt as a part of her, human infant or wolf pup, however they decided to refer to it. Even after a mere day knowing of its existence, she found she was willing to defend its life fiercely with her every breath, every bit its mother. Graham’s clouded aspect didn’t fully clear, but his voice remained calm as he answered her query. “I wouldn’t have believed so - as you say, in a town full of werewolves, fairies, dwarves, and the like, I had almost let myself believe our coming together wasn’t all that peculiar…”

She was already beginning to shake her head against whatever he said next, sensing his hesitation, his fear for her safety, and that lingering blend of self-doubt and shame from the scars he bore, even before he got the words out. “No, Graham, it isn’t… don’t start thinking that! I don’t. Not even for a second.”

He leaned into the hand she was still pressing to his cheek, but he shook his head firmly, not willing to be completely dissuaded as he pressed his lips together before continuing, “But if you would be endangered, Belle… I couldn’t bear it.  I would treasure beginning a family with you… for us to raise a little one together.  But if carrying my child - a part supernatural child - puts you at risk, if it could cost your life… then I can’t help but worry. You’re the best, purest, most wonderful thing in my life.  To lose you now… it’s unthinkable.  No matter what we might gain.  I’m sorry, my Heart, but it’s how I feel.”

Belle simply listened, knowing she couldn’t change his mind nor ease his fears. She would have to hold onto her faith for the both of them for a bit, but she could do that. Something inside told her this little one was going to be a gift, a miracle, and that she would be just fine and there to see it all unfold. Graham’s initial reaction gave her all she needed to know about her love wanting this new arrival just as much - it was only concern for her holding him back. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on his bowed head silently as they drew strength from each other in the hallowed quiet of the library’s walls. To her, her happily ever after had begun when Graham opened the door to her cell and set her free. Every moment they’d had together since had built on that promise, and this baby was one more thing she had once believed lost to her as a desire she would never see realized. If she needed to carry all the optimism for a time, then she would do so gladly - she held her biggest reason to do so in her arms, and an added reassurance was growing within her at every breath.

~~***~~***~~

The afternoon hours had proven rather long and tedious at the station for Emma. Graham had returned from a long lunch visit with Belle bearing a grilled cheese and onion ring order for her in thanks for covering while he did so, and they had chatted a bit as she ate, but something was clearly troubling him which hadn’t been weighing his shoulders that morning. Emma didn’t pry - that wasn’t their way - but she did watch her boss and friend as he retreated to his desk to “catch up on paperwork” and hoped he would let her help if need be.  They had worked together long enough and come to trust each other well enough that she felt reason to hope he would share with her when he was ready, but in the meantime she hated to see him struggling. It had been wonderful to see him happy this last half year, when Emma knew he had spent so much of his life isolated, controlled, and lost.

Needless to say, when Killian had arrived at a few minutes after 3:00, wondering if she needed help with anything, or if she wanted company to ride with her as she made afternoon patrol rounds, Emma smiled at him gratefully, happy for any small diversion from the quiet bordering on monotony. Bidding Graham goodbye, she stood with the announcement that she was heading out on patrol, and Killian followed her quietly with a momentary greeting and wave to his friend. He obviously sensed Graham’s worry in the air as well though, and didn’t even attempt to pursue teasing or conversation beyond the quick ‘hello’.

Once they were settled into the department’s sturdy, if dated, car, Emma backed out into the street, moving slowly down Main and sent Killian a playfully devious smile. “Couldn’t go another hour without seeing me, hmm?” she teased, winking at the retired pirate beside her in the passenger seat. She was more than glad for the company and entertainment, but some small part of her felt the need to hold off declaring it immediately, trying to play just a little bit cool.

“Me?” her wolf man scoffed back, mock affront in his jocular counter. “It was you who jumped up like your seat was on fire and practically drug me out of there the moment I arrived with the offer of my accompaniment.”

Shaking her head, Emma snorted in feigned derision, attempting a haughty flick of her hair over her shoulder, as if his very insinuation was ludicrous, but she couldn’t keep up the unaffected façade for long; instead humor quickly got the best of her, and her frosty, unfazed expression melted in laughter, his deep chuckle rumbling right along with her giggles as she rested her right hand over his forearm where it lay atop the glove compartment when she finally tried to catch her breath. “Okay, Hot Stuff, you win,” she panted at last, eyes actually watering they had laughed so hard. As they reached the end of the street, she turned to make a loop past the school, the convent, and then to check the more deserted and less tended area of Storybrooke out by the old cannery.

Killian waggled his eyebrows with excessive flair as if needling her to say the words of her admission in full. “I win?” he prompted, “Why Swan, whatever do you mean?”

She huffed, though only really making a show of annoyance. “Of course I wanted to get you alone. Why wouldn’t I? A dashing alpha like you?” Even as she made her slightly embarrassing confession, Emma blinked her long lashes coquettishly, gazing up at him from under them for a moment, in a way she hoped was tempting.

Killian swallowed hard, and just like that, Emma knew she had turned the tables on him. He gave her a look every bit as seductive, practically singeing her skin as he murmured, “Easy there, Darling. I doubt you can handle it,” lowly against the shell of her ear. She shivered in reaction with no way to hide it.

For a moment, she had all she could do to bite back a moan at the wash of heat he sent cresting through her veins, press her thighs together against the lust that threatened to overtake her faculties, and simply keep the cruiser on the road. By the time she could see straight again without a haze of desire blurring her vision, they had passed the cannery and were now circling back around the outer edge of Storybrooke’s limits, headed toward the forest and the town line. For his part, Killian appeared quite pleased with himself, sitting quietly in the passenger seat, but with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Emma knew the time to explain her more serious reasons for being so happy to see him that afternoon would come. If Graham didn’t confide in her, perhaps Killian could offer a listening ear and help him with whatever was troubling him. Of course, they needed to know and deal with it swiftly if the issue wasn’t merely personal but the matter of some new trouble brewing in town. Right now however, she just wanted to sneak a few more private moments with this man she has come to love - and want - so intensely. She had never been able to let go this fully in a relationship before, to give up her doubts and her need to be in control, to let someone else take the lead and trust they were worth following. She didn’t go to prom and then to the local makeout spot with a date, didn’t get to attend college and smuggle her boyfriend back into a cozily crowded dorm room with her scrunchie on the doorknob as a warning to stay out. Emma had never been free to enjoy the youthful abandon that most did, and though Killian had been similar and understood that sort of stolen youth as few others could, he also inspired a bit of it in her now, and she wanted to enjoy it for at least a little while longer.

It was quiet all the way out at the town line where she parked by the side of the road near the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign. With the branches of the forest trees hanging over the pavement, their shade made the spot seem dim and secluded, even in midafternoon. Turning in her seat to face Killian, Emma arched her bow and shot him a challenging look, unbuckling her seatbelt and scooting a bit nearer as she did it. Licking her lips salaciously, her eyes automatically fell to his toned chest and the dark hair smattered across it generously, practically taunting her with its luxuriant abundance. Once her eyes locked onto his deeply opened collar, Emma couldn’t tear her gaze away from the feast before her; one hand moving of its own accord to brush through the thickly curling hair on his chest, appreciating the solid, warm muscle below it as well, and slipping beneath the loose material of his shirt to trail along his pectoral. Her hungry eyes took in his nearly sculpted beauty, and she wondered - not for the first time - why Killian even bothered with buttoning his shirt at all. She spent an inordinate amount of time doing just as she was now, imagining ripping it open completely and sending buttons scattering everywhere.

Killian’s head fell back against the seat, eyes slipping closed as a sinfully deep groan left his lips in response to her wandering explorations.  Emma bit her lip, knowing she was about to unman him even more completely, and yet, hardly caring, simply unable to resist the tempting image he made laid out before her. With one hand still planted on his chest, she let the other begin to work its way leisurely down toward his waistband, slipping her fingers teasingly beneath the tight denim as she worked her way to the button and zip.

Her boyfriend’s eyes snapped open at that, darkened with arousal that made her own pulse pound even more furiously. His hips bucked up toward her questing touch of their own accord, and a whine that sounded nearly as animal as it did human, escaped his throat, but he still managed to ask on a heaving breath, “Emma… are you sure? It’s the middle of the afternoon…”

Gazing down at him, Emma allowed the mischievous gleam in her green eyes to show him just how certain she was of what she was doing. As if to prove her point, she swung her leg over the center console and was already beginning to shuffle across to straddle his form in the passenger seat even as she nodded and answered, “Yes, but the whole town’s quiet. No one’s out here. It’s just you and me, Sailor,” in a low croon.

That last reminder seemed to be the final break in Killian’s tenuous control. His arms came around her, pulling her down on top of him fully and surging forward to kiss her with the same sort of fire that had already captured her. His hand was nearly fisted in her hair, drawing her head where he wished to kiss her more fully, and his hook traced over her curves, seeming to touch everywhere else at once.

Emma practically purred with satisfaction, hips rocking against his as they neared the point of no return, awkwardly close quarters and broad daylight long forgotten, when an inconvenient yet impossible to ignore sound broke into her consciousness. Heavy crashing noises approached through the woods nearby, moving quickly with no fear of noise or damage being left in its wake. She would almost swear the ground beneath them seemed to be quaking with the footfalls even before she heard the mournful howl of a wolf ring out on the breeze. Killian’s eyes were already riveted to the tree line, as if he had known what to expect from the first reverberation, and Emma’s gaze followed in time to see a large wolf break wildly from the forest, howling again and then bounding toward their car with purpose. The huge creature was nearly as tall as Killian when he shifted, but this one was more leggy and lean than her muscled mate - and where Killian’s wolf coat was startlingly black as night, this wolf was an exquisite near-white dusted with almost silvery grey accents across its back and haunches.

The look in the creature’s eyes though was what arrested Emma’s attention. Even before it reached the cruiser, she was throwing the door open, she and Killian scrambling out together to meet it. Just as she had seen numerous times with her love on full moon nights, there was still something compellingly human lingering in the lupine gaze as the wolf neared them, whining and circling, panting heavily, but refusing to sit or be still.

It motioned with its head as if asking them to follow, pawing the ground and then darting back toward the woods, only pausing to see if they would follow. Though Emma’s friend had never actually shown herself to them in shifter form, clarity suddenly came to Emma in a flash. “Ruby?” she whispered, awed and concerned at once. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The wolf dipped its head, as though giving a nod of confirmation, but then shook itself as if banishing all other questions and made for the tree line once more with a pitiful rumbling moan in its throat.

Killian’s blue eyes met hers, clouded with worry instead of lust, their private interlude pushed aside in concern for their friend. He nodded tightly, the tense movement in his jaw flexing before they plunged into the forest side by side, following the werewolf who had taken off again, leading them toward whatever new danger had arrived.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @branlovestowrite @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @spartanguard @laschatzi @bmbbcs4evr @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @therooksshiningknight @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @let-it-raines @drowned-dreamer @gingerchangeling @blackwidownat2814 @linda8084

[fandomwritingsgalore]

The Christmas Con - Chapter 3 (Chris Evans x Reader)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Few curse words. Fluff. Tiniest hint of angst.

Chapter: 3, Read More Here 

Summary: Chris Evans agrees to be your fake boyfriend when you head to your family’s annual Christmas holiday at a rented cabin in the mountains. You think you’re pulling off the con until you’re both faced with a few obstacles you weren’t expecting, namely meddling relatives. Your family love him and you’re starting to think you might, too. This holiday you’ll learn there’s more to the season of giving, and Chris, than you thought.

Author’s Note: What’s a cliche Christmas fic without a bonfire on a frosty night and a little pining? 

Y/N = Your Name, Y/F/N = Your (female) friend’s name

Word Count: 1.4k

Once the tree was complete, for the next few hours you and Y/F/N put up the garland on the large staircase and fireplace, while Chris entertained the rest of the family with some of his own family stories. You were now helping Y/F/N’s sister carry the food outside to the table that was set up as a makeshift buffet.

“I feel like something’s missing,” she mused, looking over your handiwork. She threw her hands up in realization. “Napkins! I forgot the damn napkins.”

“I’ll get them,” you offered, knowing she needed to fix her kids’ plates before they had meltdowns.

“Thank you! They’re next to the extra chips, on the counter nearest the fridge.”

“Got it,” you headed for the back door.

“Oh, can you grab the Jackson’s sippy cup while you’re in there?”

“Sure thing!” You looked back over your shoulder as you opened the door, and slammed it into someone on the other side. “Oh shit!” A loud groan answered and you darted inside to see Chris holding his jaw in pain.

“Chris? I’m so sorry,” you reached out and caressed his head to assess the damage you’d inflicted. “I came in for napkins and I wasn’t looking where I was going and, fuck, that was solid oak. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

At first, you thought he was crying with the way his chest shook, but you realized it was...laughter?

“Wha-” you watched his laughter grow, confused as to what the hell was so funny about this predicament. “Why are you laughing? Do you have a concussion or something? Stop laughing, this is serious!”

“Angel, I’m fine. I’ve gotten far worse hits from my sisters than a door could hope to achieve.” He grinned as you tilted his head side to side to see if his eyes were glazed, which would be the only sane reason he was making light of the situation.

“Then why were you laughing?”

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he gave a deep chuckle, “because I’m supposed to be the one knocking people’s socks off this weekend.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but knew you couldn’t stay mad when he cracked jokes and you were the one who had accidentally hit him.

“Well, you do have a pretty badass cut on you lip though.” You absentmindedly ran your finger across his lower lip to emphasize your point. His hitched breathing made you realize what you’d done and just how closely you were pressed against him. How had you never noticed he had tiny flecks of gold in his eyes when he smiled? When had his hands encircled your waist? The room suddenly felt much to hot. You dropped your hands and he quickly stepped back, taking deep breaths and gripping the counter behind him to steady himself.

“They need napkins-”

“We should join the party-”

You started speaking at the same time. You both nervously laughed as Chris reached around him and grabbed the napkins, holding them out as a nonverbal peace offering, which you accepted.

“See you outside.” He smirked, passing close enough you could feel the brush of his jacket on your shoulder making you shiver from the brief contact.

“Kay,” you managed to squeak out.

You stepped towards the cabinet to get the sippy cup and collect your thoughts trying to calm your racing heart. What was happening to you? When had you stopped looking at Chris like your best friend and like-.

Like what? A boyfriend?

Fake boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Was he really just playing it up to fool your family? It’s like the moment you were dropped into this Christmas snow globe with Chris, all of sudden the world shifted and nothing made sense anymore. You were letting yourself get way to caught up in the con. Chris was doing you a favor because he cared for you as a friend. That was all.

You straightened your shoulders and marched outside, determined to play the part and nothing more. You were stronger than this. He was standing near the fire warming his hands as you walked towards Y/F/N’s sister to hand her the sippy cup. You’d never risk your friendship with him. Not even if you could feel your heart clench at the sight of a few snowflakes in his hair and the firelight reflecting off the silver buttons of his peacoat. 

He held his hands up to this mouth and breathed into them. He gave a full body laugh as he chatted with your cousin, Ian, and your mom. As though he sensed your eyes on him, he looked up and softly smiled, his cheeks red from the cold.

Dinner flew by as laughs were had, food was passed around and marshmallows roasted.

Chris grinned as he passed you a piece of chocolate for your s’more. “You know, when you said Christmas trip, this wasn’t what I expected,” he mused.

“Were you expecting someone to have been pushed in the bonfire by now?” You giggled darkly.

He shook his head affectionately, “no, smartass. I mean, when I agreed to come with you for Christmas I didn’t expect it to feel so much like home.”

The fire crackled as he scanned the large backyard where the kids were busy pretending to conquer kingdoms with their makeshift stick swords, your parents were busy chatting with their siblings and Y/F/N was rocking her youngest baby niece to sleep in a chair near you.

His thoughtful gaze wandered back to you. “Despite whatever drama happens, you can feel the love you all have for each other. The faces and the names might be different, but,” he paused and looked down at the graham cracker in his hand, “here with you, Christmas feels like it does when I’m with my family in Boston.”

“I know it must be hard to not be with them during the holidays,” you said sympathetically. You knew how much he loved his large family. And he was right, despite all the craziness your family goes through, you knew when it came down to it, they would always be there to support and love you. You were luckier than most in that regard. “But, when you need one, you’ve always got a friend to help you set up Christmas trees and steal your desserts.”

He gave a loud barking laugh, “I knew you only stick around for the sweets. Speaking of.” He quickly went to work fixing his s’more and held it out to you. “A sweet for my sweet. But save some for me.”

You accepted the offering and took a bite of the warm gooey treat. You closed your eyes with a content sigh. “You can cook for me anytime, Evans.”

As you passed the dessert back, his hand brushed yours and he gasped. “Your hands are freezing. Come here.” He set the gooey treat onto a plate before he got up and stood in front of you. “Give me your hands,” he ordered.

You smiled as you held your palms out without hesitation. He bent over, being careful of the flames, and rubbed your hands together between his large ones and you felt the warmth spreading to the tips of your fingers. 

“Honestly,” he huffed. “You’re going to make me look bad. I can’t have my girlfriend getting frostbite on the first day,” he teased in a low voice. “What kind of boyfriend would that make me?”

“A real one,” you snarked.

He grunted in disgust, “well, then it falls to your fake boyfriend to show you how you should be treated by a real boyfriend.”

“And how’s that?” You whispered expectantly. Your heart was starting to race again as he gradually slowed his movements, until he stilled, brow furrowed, thinking over his answer.

“You deserve someone who’s willing to give you the world,” he drawled. “But, he knows and respects that you have the intelligence and bravery to get it all on your own. Someone who isn’t intimidated by your passion, but thrives in it and is turned on by it.” His blazing eyes pinned you in place, and took your breath away. “That’s how I’d feel, anyway.”

You felt a heat spreading through your body that you knew had nothing to do with the roaring fire.

My Masterlist

Chris Evans Forever Tags: @spider--bae @bookgirlunicorn @coffeebooksandfandom @ajosieface @patzammit @nerdgirljen

Forever Tags:  @appreciating-chase-brody

The Christmas Con Tags: @aboxbesidethesea @capcevans81 @inlovewith3 @memyselfandandrea @steftolbert @hiddlebatchedloki @jinglebella-maximoff @marvelgirlsthings @chmedic @sophiealiice @torntaltos @superwinterbell @queenred23 @jennabenna12 @xceafh @lexaandlincoln @cltex84 @imarypayne @katiedreamy @brutusr @captainrogersunderpants @mister-michael-langdon @siren-queen03 @spazztasticstiles @ezauraemmaline @buckysclub @bella-imperfecta-luna @the-doctors-fallen-angel

[truthofherdreams]

Long and Lost. (chapter 11)

also on ao3 and beta by the ever wonder @nightspires this time. If you like this fic and want to give me a little boost, please consider offering me a coffee for my words :D

It takes an hour after that to convince both Leo and Mary Margaret that they can go to school without feeling bad about leaving Graham behind, waking Henry up and forcing him to go to school, and telling everyone that she will call them if something else happens. Which, Emma really wishes it won't. Exhaustion is seeping through her bones already, her eyes heavy with sleep and the need to take a nap, and all she wants is an empty house to herself and a nice, warm bath. It won't be for this morning, though, since she is the one on call, even more so now that Graham can't make it to the station.

Emma rubs a hand against her face as she glares at her reflection in the mirror, at the purple bags under her eyes. There is not enough coffee in the world to get her through the day.

She sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, squaring her shoulders before she nods to herself and leaves the bathroom. A shadow in Henry’s bedroom catches her attention and, when she moves closer, she finds James there. He's looking at the posters Henry and Leo have put on the walls in the past weeks – Star Wars and Captain America and, more surprisingly, PAW Patrol – with too much concentration marring his brows for just a bunch of colourful pictures.

“I need to get you back to the station,” she tells him without preamble, startling him just so.

His eyes are wide when they find hers. “Are you leaving Graham here alone?”

She shakes her head, puts her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Ruby took some time off, she's coming to look after him.”

“I can look after him,” he replies in a heartbeat, indignant. “He's my friend too.”

“No offense but this is our house and we don't trust you.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a step toward her, in a way that is not entirely menacing but just enough to have Emma raise her chin and square her shoulders. He's slightly taller than she is, and it unnerves her. “Then tell me, love. Why did you even bring me here in the first place?”

“You could have been useful,” she finds herself replying with a would-be casual shrug. She hopes the lie passes as truth on her tongue, even if his eyes seem to read her like an open book.

“Bollocks.” Yet another step into her personal space, and Emma forces herself not to take a step back. Not to let him win. “You bring me into your home, you let me look after your son, so don't talk about trust like it was not easily given.”

“You could have been useful,” she says again, this time even less believable than the first. Truth is, Emma has no idea why bringing James with her seemed like a good idea a few hours ago. She could have left him in the cell for all she cared – he would have complained but that would have been the end of it. Instead, it was as if every cell in her body was screaming at her that she needed him by her side, even if Emma forces herself to swallow back the feeling. She doesn't need anyone to hold her hand, least of all a man who has been antagonising her since the moment they met. By all accounts he could have been more of a burden than anything else, but he didn't question her when she shoved Henry his way and out of the room. Didn't even complain about being made an improvised nanny. No, he took it all in stride, complied, and still wants to help. And something in Emma tells her she ought not to be surprised – it is who he is, loyal and helpful and comforting.

Emma's breath catches in her throat, just a little. Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, fire in her veins when James’ eyes fall to her mouth and linger for longer than is necessary. She refuses to let him get under her skin, refuses to be one of those women who confuses hatred with sexual tension.

Except he takes another step closer, until she can feel his breath on her face, until she can see the small freckles on his nose, and Emma doesn't know what to think anymore. It doesn't help that he whispers, “Stop lying,” and that his voice gets low and gravelly, bringing a shiver down her spine. Emma likes to think herself level-headed, which makes her reaction all the more confusing. It isn't like her to be that affected by someone, let alone someone like James.

He looks down to her lips once more, and for a moment Emma can't choose between horror or trepidation at the thought that he might kiss her. For a moment, she can't ignore the pull of his body toward hers, can only wonder if his lips are as soft as they look, how his hair would feel between her fingers, what he looks like breathless and wanting.

His fingers brush against her wrist.

Her heartbeat spikes.

And someone knocks on the door.

Emma startles away from him with a small gasp, turning her head to avoid his eyes. Her cheeks are burning from shame at her own impulses, and she finds herself mumbling something about Ruby and work and he needs to come to the station to sign papers. And then she flees the scene of the crime, telling herself that she didn't do anything wrong. Not entirely convincing herself.

Ruby's smile is wide when Emma opens the door, her lips stretched nervously, and it is enough to forget all about James and focus back on Graham. Emma fills Ruby in, just enough to make it clear that Graham is in no danger but if something should happen the older woman is to call her immediately. Ruby agrees, before she sits on one chair and takes her phone out, long nails typing fast on her screen. Graham is still sleeping soundly, soft snores escaping him every so often, and Emma spares him one final lingering stare before she sighs loudly and grabs her keys. James opens the passenger door by the time she turns the key in the ignition, and the next ten minutes are spent in a tense silence neither is willing to break.

Once back at the station, she goes through the paperwork with him as quickly as possible, if only to get him out of her way. And of her sight, if not of her mind.

 …

 It is as unproductive as days can get, Storybrooke holding its breath while its sheriff is off the job. Emma spends a few hours going through paperwork and mindless tasks, until her patience wears thin and she decides to call it a day. She grabs the station’s cellphone, keeping it in her pocket just in case, and makes her way to Granny’s at four o’clock, a good hour before the end of her shift. Ruby is back behind the counter, the school over for the day and Mary Margaret back at home, and she smiles to Emma as she goes to sit at the bar.

“The usual?” she asks, and Emma nods.

A hot cocoa with cinnamon appears in front of her a few minutes later, and Emma blinks at it for long seconds before her exhausted brain registers what is happening. The first sip burns her throat, but soothes her mind.

Emma is about to bury her head in her arms once more and take a quick nap right there on the counter, when a call of her name startled her. She turns around on her stool to face Leo with Harper and the boy she recognises as Gideon/Not Gideon, the three of them sharing a booth and a serving of fries. Leo looks at her in earnest, and it takes Emma less than a second to grab her drink and go to sit with them around the table. Leo slides to the side to give her more space, and Harper nudges the fries toward her with a kind smile Emma can only return despite her tired state.

She doesn't mean to stare at Gideon/Not Gideon, not exactly, but he's sitting right in front of her and her curiosity gets the best of her in the face of exhaustion. He is cute, that much is certain, with clear eyes and floppy brown hair. He also looks like he would rather be anywhere else when he notices her staring, which makes Emma smiles to herself -- she does like the idea of making her brother’s boyfriend squirm, just a little. Said brother kicking her shin under the table when he notices, sending her an exasperated glare when his eyes meet hers, to which she replies with an innocent face.

“How's Graham?” he asks after another beat, priorities sorted once more.

“Ruby didn't call, so I'm guessing he's doing just fine. Was about to go back home, but I needed sugar first,” she replied with a nod to her cup. Ruby has only texted her once earlier today, to ask if she could use the kitchen and make pasta, so Emma had assumed everything was good. And with Mary Margaret and Henry back home now, she has no doubt Graham is being treated well.

“Can we come with you to say hi?” Gideon/Not Gideon asks, blinking at her like she's about to chop off his head if he speaks too loudly.

Emma wonders how many people know already. Probably everyone, because that's Storybrooke for you, and Graham is quite the popular man in town. For even the teens he sometimes catches drinking in the forest to worry about the sheriff says a lot about the impact he has on the little community in this little town. It warms Emma's heart to know how loved he seems to be.

“I don't know if he's awake yet,” she replies calmly. “But tell you what, you can come and visit tomorrow if you want?”

Gideon/Not Gideon -- gosh what is his real name? -- turns wide eyes toward Leo, who shrugs in answer. “You can come early before we go to the movies.”

Emma turns in her seat to frown at her brother. “Since when are you inviting boys home?”

Leo looks at her like she lost her mind, while Gideon/Not Gideon turns a deep shade of crimson at the implication behind her words, mumbling something about it's just a movie and only friends and I don't really have to come if it's a problem. Which makes Emma feels like an asshole, but. Still.

“Oh, so now I'm not allowed to date?”

“It's not a date,” Gideon/Not Gideon squeaks in the background, not that either sibling notices when they are too busy glaring daggers at each other.

“I'm sixteen.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Leo laughs, loud and ugly, and Emma knows that this argument is pointless and she's just being stubborn but. It's her baby brother, and he thinks he's in love with the son of a fairytale character. He thinks he is a fairytale character. She's allowed to freak out about his wellbeing and who he gets involved with and whether or not his heart will break once he realises that guy in front of him isn't who he wants him to be.

“Says the girl who went around Papa and Mama’s backs at seventeen with a guy who wasn't even her betrothed.”

Emma opens her mouth, her mind blanking for a moment as she is only able to focus on one thing. He knows. He knows who Henry’s father is. He has known all along. She blinks down at him, too flabbergasted to say anything, which is when Harper decides to shift in her seat and exclaims loudly, “She's not here today,” which manages to get everyone's attention.

“Speaking of the charming…” Leo mumbles angrily under his breath at the sight of David Nolan in front of them.

The older man swallows at all the teens and Emma staring at him, his eyes sweeping the room to find out that indeed whoever he's looking for isn't here. It takes Emma a second to realise he's looking for Mary Margaret, then one more second to wonder when exactly her life became that joke of a romcom movie. A headache is slowly making its way between her eyes, and she frowns as she downs her hot chocolate in three sips, liquid burning its way down her throat instead of sitting warmly in her stomach.

She stands up, and stares at Leo. “Let’s go home.” His mouth opens into a wordless rebuttal, but she doesn’t leave him the luxury of a reply. “Now.”

Leo makes a point of sighing loudly as he stands up too, not that she can blame him for it — he’s a teenager acting tough in front of his boyfriend, after all. Like a peacock. He glares at her, before he grabs Gideon/Not Gideon’s chin and plants a kiss on his cheek, to make a point. The poor boy turns crimson, on the verge of a panic attack, even when Leo confirms to him that they will meet the following day to go to the movies.

Emma wonders how many awkward, silent car rides you can fit into one day.

 …

 Leo jumps out of the Bug before Emma even cuts the ignitions, slamming the door so strongly the whole car shakes for a couple of seconds. Emma follows him inside, swallowing back a yell when he almost slams the front door to the house in her face too before he stomps his way up the stairs.

Mary Margaret raises her head from where she's sitting at the kitchen table, helping Henry with his homework, quirking a surprised eyebrow at Emma. She shrugs her answer, before her attention is diverted to the living room where Graham sits. The big, fluffy blanket is still wrapped around his shoulders, but his face has its colours back and he offers her a crooked smile when their eyes meet.

Emma hesitates, just for a moment, before Graham nods at the stairs. “Go take care of your family first, Swan. I'm more than fine.”

Emma sways on her feet for one more moment -- the guy almost died, for crying out loud -- before her mind is made and she runs up the stairs after Leo. She finds him in his bedroom, door still ajar despite his earlier tantrum, and so she enters slowly. He glares at her from where he lies down in bed, but doesn't tell her to go away. Emma counts this as a victory.

“You know who Henry's father is.”

It is more of a fact than a question, and Leo dramatically rolls his eyes before staring up at the ceiling. He remains silent for a moment too long, having Emma wonder if he's offering her the silent treatment after all, before he replies. “Yes.”

She blinks, confused. “‘Yes’? That's literally all you're going to give me?”

Leo folds his arms on his chest, a frown marring his brows. “What else is there to say?”

“I -- what -- excuse me?” she finds herself stuttering. “Maybe who the guy is, I don't know? My son -- your nephew has a right to know who his dad is!”

“What's the point when the guy is cursed into not remembering you anyway?”

Leo is standing up now, only a few inches away from Emma. It would be so easy to slap him for his insolence; she wonders if they ever got into fights as children, if they were violent toward each other. Probably, if their sanguine characters are anything to go by.

“Oh, so flirting with the guy who can't remember shit only works for you then?” she snarls back, perhaps with more sarcasm that she'd like.

Leo’s nostrils flair for a moment, his eyes hardening, and it is all Emma needs to know she stepped over some kind of line.

“Don't you dare, Emma! Don't you fucking dare!” Tears gather at the corners of his eyes, bottom lip shivering, hands shaking. “My boyfriend -- the most beautiful and confident boy on this planet -- is cursed into thinking being gay is a sin and he should be ashamed of loving me. Me! The guy he's loved since he was twelve! You have no right to compare your situation to mine. So shut up with your bullshit, okay?”

Emma's mouth falls open while her heart drops to her stomach. She takes a step toward Leo, hand reaching for his arm, but he shrugs her off. “Leo…”

“Stop making everything about you. Everything has always been about you.”

He runs away once more before Emma has time to ask what he means, and the front door slams a few seconds later. With a loud sigh, Emma falls on her brother’s bed and runs a hand through her hair. The tears prickle at the back of her eyes when she takes a shaky breath, but she doesn’t let them fall, for someone else to enter the room at the same moment. With a startle, Emma rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, then look up to offer Graham a wavering smile. He looks ridiculous, one quilted blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, which helps Emma calm down until she finds it in herself to tap the empty spot next to her on the bed.

Graham sits down, leaning backward on his hands -- the blanket gets all tangled with his ridiculously tall body, making Emma snort a little. The sound makes him grin, before he tells her, “He’s just a teenager…”

The smile drops off Emma’s face as she shakes her head. “I think I really hurt him this time.”

She had never seen such anguish in Leo’s eyes before, not even when Mary Margaret hugged him last week after he aced a particularly tough sciences exam. Raw pain danced in his eyes when he started yelling at her, along with tears. Whatever happened, is happening, between him and this boy is affecting him more than he lets appear, and Emma curses herself for not noticing before.

“The boy worships the ground you walk on,” Graham replies, making Emma blush to the root of her hair. “Let him calm down, then have a quiet conversation with him. He will come around. Believe me, I know.”

Emma starts to reply -- she wants to tell him Leo doesn’t worship her as much as he was dragged along for the ride, that he seems to resent her for reasons she can’t even begin to understand -- but the conversation feels too heavy to have with the man who, for all intents and purposes, is still her boss. So she decides to focus on something else instead, throwing him a little smirk. “You, an angsty teenager? Yeah sure. You probably came to life as an old man, all terrible jokes and stupid vests.”

“You’re fired.”

The laugh bubbles out of Emma, so unexpected she slaps a hand on her mouth to keep it in. Graham sends her a sideway smirk, obviously proud of alleviating her mood. Once more, Emma has to remind herself of his critical state just a few hours before, and how he shouldn’t be the one taking care of her and her wellbeing. Quite the contrary. So she lets their playful silence linger for a few moments longer, before she asks, “How are you doing?”

A shadow passes in front of his eyes, his smile disappearing for good. When he talks next, his voice is smaller, almost scared. “You were right. About the wolf, I mean. I saw him and -- it was as if -- he knew me?” Graham frowns, eyes lost even when they fall on her face, before he goes on. “He came to me this morning and -- I don’t know, I touched him and -- I saw her.” Emma doesn’t even have to ask anymore; she knows. “There was blood. So much blood and, Mary Margaret was here too, but younger and -- I don’t know, things get fuzzy after that. All I know is she was here, and she was wearing one of those period drama dresses, and. I think I passed out after that.”

Emma leans forward, elbows on her knees, staring at one of Leo’s, comic books on the floor. Thor’s face in vibrant colours get blurrier and blurrier the longer she looks at it, until it’s only a mess of yellows and reds and blues, until it gets as fuzzy as her brain.

She didn’t realise she’d been still for so long until Graham touches her arm and makes her jump, so lost in her thoughts she had even forgotten he was there. Her eyes are wide when she turns them to him, meeting his anxious ones.

“Do you believe me?” he asks her, swallowing around the words, hopeful and vulnerable.

Emma is afraid she does.

 …

 In the end, Emma decides to give Leo a few more hours before looking for him, just long enough to give Henry his bath, have dinner with everyone, and drive Graham back to the shithole he calls an apartment. He looks equally pleased and annoyed that she keeps fretting over him all the way to his living room, until he’s had enough of her and pushes her out of his home with a few words about how he’s fine and she has other things to worry about. Which, he isn’t wrong. She just don’t want to think about those other things right now.

Except she doesn’t have a choice and, once Graham has rudely slammed the door on her face with a ‘See you tomorrow, Swan’, she can only sigh and go back to her car. A discrete text from Ruby later, she makes her way to Granny’s where, according to the waitress, Leo has been drowning his sorrows in chocolate milkshakes all evening long.

That is how she finds him when she enters the diner: sitting in the booth in the far corner with a bright pink straw in his mouth and his phone in his hands. She glances at the screen above his shoulder, only to see him going through his gallery, one picture at a time -- all of them of him, Gideon/Not Gideon and Harper, their faces squished together for grinning selfies. There is a particularly nice picture of Harper grabbing Leo’s face with both hands to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek while he makes a face, and another one of Leo and his boyfriend, both asleep with one’s head on the other’s shoulder. He smiles at that one, lingering on it for longer than he did the others, but his lips press into a tight line when Emma moves from his blind spot and sits opposite him in the booth.

He lets go of the phone, switching it off and putting it screen down on the table, but doesn’t move any further, straw still in his mouth and daggers in his eyes. Emma purses her lips, pondering on her next move, before she tries for a small, simple, “Leo, I’m so sorry.”

He scoffs, but his lips are trembling around the straw and his eyes are not as hard anymore, his anger escaping him like wisps of smoke. Emma takes it as her chance to move out of her seat and go next to him, suppressing a sigh of relief when her baby brother moves to the side so she can sit next to him. She grabs his hand where it lays on his knee at first, squeezing it, and it is as if something shatters within him at the touch, for he throws himself at her. His wet nose presses against her collarbone when he snakes his arms around her waist and holds on so tightly it steals her breath away -- his body all hard muscles, making him stronger than he looks.

“I miss him,” he says against her skin in a broken whisper, sob stuck at the back of his throat turning his voice into clipped little sounds. “I miss him so much.”

“I know, baby. I know.” She runs her fingers through his hair, holds him to her as if it would be enough to put the pieces of his heart back together. A single tear comes to wet her collarbone, soon followed by too many others, until Leo is openly crying in her arms. The longer it lasts, the more she wonders how long he managed to keep it in, to hide his pain from the world, to hide it all from her. Would he have ever confided in her if their argument hadn’t happened? Does he trust her so little that he would keep everything from her?

But it isn’t about her, Emma reminds herself. It is about her brother and his first heartbreak, and the fact that he is way too young to carry so many responsibilities on his shoulders. So she kisses the top of his head and hugs him to her, and wonders how she is supposed to mend a shattered heart.

It is another ten minutes before Leo slowly calms down, sobs turning into tears turning into loud breathing. When he finally sits straight again, it is with red cheeks and puffy eyes that he rubs with the back of his hand, and he doesn’t even complain about Emma brushing his hair out of his eyes. He looks exhausted enough to pass out but, still, Emma nudges him softly with a comforting smile. “Tell me about him.”

And he does.

He tells her about a boy who strains his eyes reading grimoires older than he is, the smell of burnt candles in his hair. He tells her about a first kiss, stolen between two shelves of a massive library, back pressed into the books and the taste of giggles on his lips. He tells her about the hours spent reading together, riding to the next village, lying on the grass and staring at the stars. He tells her of an orphan boy, no father and a lost mother, tells her of a queen’s kindness that sealed two boys’ fates. He tells her about the boy’s eyes, and his smiles, and his beautiful handwriting. He tells her about how useless he is with a sword, but still tried to learn because it is something Leo loves. He tells her about holding hands and dancing at balls and being upset that Mama’s engagement ring would be on Emma’s finger, because the emerald would be so beautiful on his thin, ink-stained hand.

He tells her and tells her and tells her, secret rendez-vous and stolen kisses and love letters and midnight dances, until a sad smile blossoms on his lips at the memories, until he stops sniffing but still looks entirely wrecked.

Emma caresses his cheek, and kisses his forehead. “If this boy loves you half as much as you love him, I have no doubt everything will turn out fine,” she tells him. It may not be the wisest words ever spoken, for Emma isn’t all that good with them, but it seems to have an impact on Leo, if the way he nods in reply is anything to go by. “And I’m sorry for… everything.”

Leo nods once more with a sniff, before he grabs his phone and puts it back in the pocket of his hoodie. Emma takes it as their cue to finally go home -- after an almost heart attack when Ruby gives her the bill for all the milkshakes Leo downed in only a few hours. She’s still glaring at him while he shrugs innocently by the time they leave the diner, her wallet lighter than it was when she arrived.

“I’m taking this off your allowance,” she threatens, pointing her car keys at him.

Leo grins softly by the other side of the Bug, folding his arms on the roof of the car. “You don’t even give me an allowance,” he reminds her.

“Great. Now you owe me money.”

He opens his mouth to reply, the sarcastic words ready to roll on his tongue, when the sound of a car engine surprises them both. It is late enough that Storybrooke is empty of any living soul, most shops close until morning and only Granny’s sign lightening up the street in colourful neons. A slick, black and expensive-looking car appears around the corner, moving down the road until it parks behind Emma’s Bug.

The door opens, and out comes the stranger. Leo’s gasp behind Emma mirrors her own, silent reaction, for the man looks straight out of a J Crew advert -- long, beige coat and brown sweater over dark slacks and leather boots. His smile is as bright as his skin is dark, curly hair cropped short. When his eyes land on Emma, his grin turns bigger as if recognising her, which. She would remember such a handsome face, memory loss or not. Still, she frowns, and shares a glance with Leo; her brother looks just as confused as she is, which is never a good thing.

The stranger takes a few steps toward her, stepping into the light of the street lamp -- just enough for Emma to notice the dimples in his cheeks and the scar below his left eye. His grin is soft, gentle, when he asks, “Am I in Storybrooke?”

“Yeah?” she finds herself replying. Asking. Both.

He heaves a tiny sigh of relief, before he goes on, “Do you know if there’s an hotel nearby?” Leo kind of numbly points at Granny’s behind him, and the ‘bed and breakfast’ in red neons on its window. The stranger looks at it, then back at Leo with another devastatingly handsome grin. “Thank you, young man.”

He makes his way toward the diner when Emma calls after him, then stops and turns to look at her once more. She swallows around the lump in her throat before she says, “I didn’t catch your name.”

His grin turns more cheeky when he answers, “That’s because I didn’t give it, Emma.”

He disappear inside before she can even react, and then Leo is on her, grabbing her wrist and shaking it. He doesn’t stop even when she focuses on him, doesn’t stop even when he says, “How did he get in? Nobody comes to Storybrooke.”

She blinks. “How does he know my name?”