#I grabbed the frenzy stick and I beat ash with it and I got his pokemon too

[huh-1260]

A noble frenzy

The former Warden when inside the Pokeball. Warden Satoshi went into the pokeball. Rei didn't want to believe it. He knew he was dead, but the silver of hope that somehow he lived, the amnesiac teenager somehow live past what history told, being killed by an assassination attempt of Adaman and Irida when they vanished. And he was going to get caught by some trainer that was incompetent enough. He doesn't care if he's a pokemon, dead or alive. He is going to get his friend, he runs towards the pokeball with a goal to break it.

" Passenger Rei that's very dangerous! Please get back!" Warden Ingo cried out. With the Hisuian Sneasel crying after him.

Rei was about to grab out his Kleavor. " Wait what are you doing?!" Goh calls out. when the ball bust open, revealing Alpha no, that's a Noble Pokemon. And a Shiny to be in fact. Those are sacred to the clans, and the only living Noble pokemon species left on this world. The Noble Pokemon stood up straight and he tolwers the two boys.

( oh God it looks like shit I hate it except goh because he knows he fucked, also I had no Idea Rei eyes register purple in Ibispaint)

" Oi, don't you know it's rude to interrupt someone when they are talking." A bitter voice speaks. Yep, that's Satoshi voice when his angry. "A new Pokemon form? I must get data on this." Rotomdex cried as it clicked picture of the Hisuian Zoroark. " Buzz of." Satoshi said and he released some bitter malice. " Chills." It cries. And the Rotomdex backs off. " And I thought the people in Hisui was weird enough, but at least they knew how to back off from a Noble." The Noble muttered.

" A what?" Mallow says.

Lmao they are in shock. Prof. Kukui is just amazed that there's a Noble Pokemon in existence right now. His class is so confused. And Ingo is dissociating right now., he reminded the time he and the man and white talked about coming here. And Gary learned what Hisuian Zoroark described and is scared because 1) they are described as vengeful beings, and 2) the Noble Zoroark was described as to help guide those who are lost in the Abalaster ice lands and weeping/grieving to move on in life. Ash could be dead. ( He is and right in front of him) the pokeballs near his feet shake and his Alpha Raichu burst out. Using its tail as a weapon to protect its trainer. " Rai, Rai, Rai." His Raichu speaks. " Pika, Pikachu, Pikachu, chu." Ash's Pikachu argued back on Gary's shoulder. Satoshi is just bored as fuck and wants to leave. ( He wants to bite Goh, I don't blame him)

Then the sky rips open. " A Ultra wormhole?!" The Aloha gang yells. Goh and Gary are confused af. While Rei is having Ptsd from seeing Lord Arcainine's frenzy similar like this. Ingo is trying his best.

Then lightning comes from the rift attacking both Zoroark ash, and his Raichu, with his pokeballs near his feet. And out came the golden glow, Rei and Ingo is familiar with. The Zoroark roars and lashes out with bitter malice.

Rei sees the title, ( Arceus gave him powers just Hella useless ones sometimes) Ingo says to run away from here, Lord Zoroark almost swipes at Gary, Pikachu used Iron tail to block it. A golden Raichu attacks with Thunder punch on Pikachu. The Pokeballs near the Noble's feet bust open revealing the rest of Satoshi's pokemon, a Hisuian Goodra, his Espeon, Hisuian Zoroark, Hisuian Arcainine, then his Lucario, and his Weavile all wanting to kill.

" What's his favorite food?" Rei asks.

" Now is not the time for food!" Yells Goh.

" Yes it is. We need to make balms for him now." Rei argued back.

" How about we worry about balms later and run!" Sophocles cried.

The Aloha gang and Co run away from the frenzy pokemon for now to plan.

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 4 - Impaling

Day 4 is here! This one HURT to write haha but I’m really proud of how it turned out. Hope you enjoy-- thanks for all the support on this so far <33

Summary: Peter and Tony get trapped under a collapsed building together. When an injury is discovered, they realize they don’t have much time...

Read this and previous chapters on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71709888

----

When the dust clears, Peter forgets how to breathe.

The bomb had gone off without delay, no matter how desperately Peter had pleaded it wouldn’t. Him and Tony had been pulling out the last few civilians out of the way when it had detonated.

The blast had been catastrophic.

He remembers sprinting for freedom, Tony at his side, his hand latched tightly onto Peter’s arm to keep them from separating. He remembers the horrible vibration of the floor, the impossibly loud explosion, the collapse.

He remembers the darkness.

The wreckage is severe, both internally and externally. He wakes up blinking blood out of his eyes and groans, touching gently at the sorest part of his head while trying to regain his footing in the coherent world. He tastes dust on his tongue and ash in his throat. There’s blood on his hands.

The worst part, however, comes when he looks to the side. He finds Tony, barely visible through the thick darkness, unmoving and still.

“Tony!” The two syllables come out strangled and weak, though in his shock it's intended as a scream. Coughing out concrete dust, he forces his body to cooperate, to move towards the heap of scarred and dented metal laying across from him.

“Tony-” Peter’s breath cuts short as his vision tilts dangerously, a sharp pain stemming from his shoulder and down into his fingertips. Broken, he thinks. He can’t move his fingers. Maybe his shoulder is dislocated too.

When his nausea eases he continues his journey, crawling to Tony on his knees. They had been very lucky, he realizes as he ducks through their small shelter of broken concrete and splintered furniture. Though the building has indeed collapsed, it’s nowhere near what he had experienced during homecoming; unable to breathe or move an inch.

This time, all he has to worry about is Tony.

Tony.

Peter reaches his mentor, pulling in giant lungfuls of dusty air that does nothing but make his head spin. Using his good arm, Peter tries to heave Tony onto his back, but something prevents the movement.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter falls beside his mentor, feeling small and unsure, like the countless comments about his age, his naivety, are finally shining through. He knocks his knuckles lightly against Tony’s mask, unable to see the man’s face. “Wake- wake up.”

But he doesn’t, and Peter feels stinging tears threatening to fall.

And that’s when he sees it.

He can’t help but gasp, falling back on his butt and shifting away from the scene with stars blinking dangerously in his eyes. Frenzied, he uses his unbroken hand to pinch the skin on his thigh, to wake him up from what surely must be a nightmare.

“No. No no no-”

No matter how badly he wishes for it to be a dream, the scene doesn’t change, and Peter understands with great horror the severity of their situation. He slides back over to Tony’s side- his side stained with thick blood, originating from a heavy piece of rebar sticking up through his abdomen.

He’s been impaled.

“Oh, oh man.” Peter places his unbroken hand over the wound and chokes on a gag as he feels blood soak through the material of his suit.

Wait. His suit!

“K-Karen?”

Nothing.

“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no no no-”

And just like that, his resolve breaks. He feels the sob rip through his throat, burning and stinging, but doesn’t quite hear it past the ringing in his ears. Everything sways and spins around him like a kaleidoscope.

He doesn’t even know if Tony is alive.

“Please Mr. Stark. Please, please wake up.”

The pain in his broken arm doubles and he looks down at it with a strangled cry, seeing the source of the pain to be the dented and scorched hand of the Iron-Man suit close around his hand.

He holds his breath, ignoring the grinding pain in his bones.

“To-Tony? Mr. Stark? Can you hear me?”

Slowly, so slowly it feels like a lifetime, Tony turns his head towards him. Peter cries out again, body aching with a deep relief. He presses down harder against Tony’s wound, pushing aside the fierce pain in his arm to allow it to be held.

“Hey kid,” Tony says, his voice pinched. “What- what happened?”

“The- the building collapsed. We’re still inside.”

Tony shifts again, small pieces of rock scraping and grating beneath the metal. He must register the pain because he tenses, the sounds of his breathing stalling. Peter notices him trying to lift his head, to look for the source of the pain, and flinch when it clicks.

“Oh lordy. That’s not good.”

Peter’s hands are shaking again, the walls feeling like they’re contracting, though he knows they stand still. Tony turns to look at him again, the eyes of the suit dark. “Are you okay Pete?”

“Me?” Peter asks weakly. “I- I’m fine! It’s you we need to be worried about.”

“I know you don’t like small spaces,” Tony mumbles, and Peter can hear the coherence leaving his voice. He holds on tighter, refuses to let go.

He can’t do this again.

He can’t.

“Stay with me Tony. Don’t go anywhere, okay? Someone will find us soon. They’ll be looking for us.”

“Kid.” Tony coughs. It sounds wet, like he’s bringing up blood.

“Don’t leave,” Peter repeats. “You can’t. Fight!”

“Kiddo.” The tone is gentle, kind. Peter lifts his head, more tears leaking out of his eyes.

“Can you- can you take off your mask?”

Peter stills, surprised by the request. “What?”

“I want to see your face.”

Swallowing through the tightness in his throat, Peter obeys, wincing as its removal pulls at the cuts on his face. He feels warm air hit the tears on his cheeks and freezes when Tony lifts a weak hand to reach for them, to brush them away.

“I’m- I’m so proud of you, Pete. I want you to know that.”

Peter shudders, grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it tight to his chest.

“Tony-”

But the hero’s hand grows heavy in his own, falling limply to the dust despite his attempts to catch it.

“Tony! No-”

Peter can barely see straight through the white, blinding panic. With bile threatening to tear through his throat, he rips off Tony’s helmet and reaches for his throat, fingers landing haphazardly on the artery and waiting, waiting-

A pulse. One beat, then two, then three.

They’re running out of time.

“Help!”

Peter doesn’t know why he’s screaming, doesn’t know who will hear. He crawls deliriously towards the side of their prison, feeling the walls, pounding against them. “Help us! Please!”

I’m so proud of you.

He can’t let him die.

With one last determined glance over at the fallen man, Peter digs his fingers under the biggest portion of the rubble, his bad arm hanging uselessly at his side. He doesn’t have time to think rationally, to analyze whether the disruption will bring more of the demolished building down over their heads.

All that matters is saving Tony.

Screaming through the blinding pain, the raw panic, Peter lifts. Just as he had at the warehouse, or when the ferry was tearing him in two. He feels every nerve burn, every muscle cry. It should be impossible to feel this much pain, he thinks, and choose to endure it.

But nothing can even come close to the pain of losing Tony, so he persists.

“Holy crap!”

Peter hears voices, hears hurried footsteps. He doesn’t even think of the ramifications of his missing mask until a paramedic is crouched in the rubble in front of him, eyes wide and disbelieving. “It’s Spider-Man! God- he’s just a kid!”

“Mr. Stark” Peter grunts, praying for the man to understand. Already, his knees are shaking, threatening to give way. Darkness teases at the edge of his vision. “Save him. Please.”

The medic looks beyond Peter, pulling out a thin flashlight and illuminating the space beyond him. “Oh man,” he says frantically. “I need all hands over here now! We’ve got Iron Man inside!”

The relief nearly makes Peter drop the whole structure back on top of them, but he refuses, forcing himself to stay lucid, to stay focused. His good arm shakes, threatens to snap, but he holds on all the same. For Tony.

It passes in a blur. Peter feels medics and firefighters rush past him, ducking through the small space he provides. He vaguely recognizes people trying to talk to him, offering him water.

Eventually, they pull Tony out on a stretcher.

“You can let go now,” a kind voice says somewhere distant. It's the first medic, a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder that he can’t feel. “He’s okay. We got him. You’re both safe.”

Safe.

Peter doesn’t need anymore convincing. He lets the crushing weight drop behind him, the world growing dimmer at its edges.

The medic catches him when he falls.

----

It must not be long after that he wakes up again. He sees the blurry ceiling of an ambulance, feels the ground shake underneath him. Blearily, he tries to push himself up but his muscles feel equivalent to overcooked pasta and his head is surely stuffed with cotton.

“He’s fine!” Says an exasperated voice he doesn’t recognize. “He’s right here, see? He’s fine. He lifted the building long enough for us to get you out. You’re both fine.”

“His arm-”

“He’s fine. We’ll get him all fixed up. You too.”

“Don’t tell me it’s fine! Peter. Peter. Over here, kid.”

It’s Tony, he realizes, a smile pulling on his lips. He turns his head to look at his mentor, widening his sticky eyelids. The world spins, but it doesn’t matter, because Tony is awake and alive.

“You’re okay,” Peter mumbles, dopey smile persisting.

It’s not a question.

“Yeah, bud,” Tony says, and through the blur of his vision, Peter thinks he sees tears on the man’s face. “Because of you.”

“Always keep you safe,” Peter whispers.

“I know kiddo. You’re a hero for a reason.”

Their hands reach for each other from across their respective strethers. They might even connect, but Peter loses his grip on reality before it happens, his last concern tethering him to the waking world resolved.

Tony’s alive.

Everything is going to be alright.

[tequila-clifford]

Taste of Your Tongue

Pairing: Ashton Irwin/Reader

Word Count: 3,540

Warnings/Rating: This is literally porn. 18+

Request: “Just imagine ash coming off stage one night absolutely dripping in sweat and he walks into his dressing room to you standing in nothing but one of his button downs and you turn around to face and it’s completely unbuttoned and he just looks at you with THAT look in his eyes and licks his lips and just says fuck babe you look absolutely delicious and just grabs you and pushes you on to the couch and kisses down your body, leaving the shirt in ofc, and after he’s done he says I was right delicious”

It was just under 15 minutes to show time. You were sat on the couch, fidgeting as you watched Ashton pacing with his earbuds in, fingers keeping the drum beats on his thighs as he walked, getting himself in the zone. You loved how he looked when he was concentrating, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line. He seemed more nervous than usual, probably because tonight they’d be recording the show for their live album, he had to be perfect.

The longer you watched him pace, the antsier you became. Before you even fully realized what you were doing, you walked up to Ash and cut off his path, placing both your hands firmly on his chest, as he stopped.  Your fingers played with the last button below his half-exposed chest, he looked down and raised a brow at you before pulling the buds from his ears. “Hi, baby. What’re you doin’?”

“Nothing. You just look a little stressed,” You popped the button of his white shirt and looked up to meet his hazel eyes. “Thought I could help you relax.” You started undoing all of the buttons still lining his torso, until his hands grasped yours, halting your efforts.

“I gotta be on stage soon, baby.” He let out with a sigh, clearly disappointed that you two didn’t have more time.

“Afraid, I’ll leave you hanging?”

Ashton let out a laugh at your choice of words. “Quite the opposite, actually, love.”

You nodded but ignored his words as you freed your hands from his and ran them delicately up his marvel of a chest. You wound your hands up his neck and into his hair before pulling him down to meet your lips fervently. His large hands immediately wrapped around your torso, one splayed over the middle of your back and the other instinctively gripping your ass. You tugged the hair at the nape of his neck and he broke from your lips, just enough to let out a low groan, mumbling “Fuck it.” before reaching down to grip the back of your thighs and lift you around his hips.

He backed you up and sat you down on the counter that wrapped around ¾ of the dressing room. As soon as he had you where he wanted, your hands went to his belt as your mouth began working a mark on his collarbone. His hands left your thighs and pushed apart your knees, immediately rubbing you through your leggings. Your mouth broke from his neck as your head rolled back with a moan, he lifted your shirt to get to your waistband before pulling your leggings to your ankles in one fast motion. He returned to rubbing your clit through your panties just as you got his belt undone, you pulled his pants just low enough to get to his CK’s, you ran your hand along his growing length and pulled at the band, about to work them down his hips when there was a knock at the door.

You were just able to make out Michael’s voice, the sounds of your heavy breathing making it hard to hear. “Ash, two minutes, let’s go!”

“Dammit.” You let out heavily, Ashton’s head falling to your shoulder, while you tried to catch your breath.

“I have never hated him more.” Ashton groaned and pulled back from you, adjusting himself in his black boxer-briefs and fastening his belt. He lifted you from the counter and pulled your leggings back up for you, smoothing them out around your waist, while you buttoned up his shirt, being sure to leave his chest exposed. “Alright, baby, time to go.” He smirked at you and pecked your lips before turning towards the door.

“I’ll see you out there.” Your words made Ashton stop and turn on his heel to face you once again. He stalked back towards you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling your body into his tightly, making sure you could feel the evident bulge in his black jeans.

He leaned down slightly, hot breath fanning over your neck as he spoke lowly into your ear “You better be right here and ready for me the second I walk through that door.” In the same instant, he released your waist and left the room without another word, leaving you standing there with your jaw on the floor and your panties getting wetter by the second.

You stood side stage, the perfect view of Ashton doing what he does best. His words from the dressing room still ringing in your ears as you watched his muscles rippling beneath his shirt, the sheer force behind every blow to his kit had you weak in the knees.

Just as the boys finished up Valentine, Luke’s vocal riff sending thousands of fans into a frenzy, the venue went black and they ran off stage. Ashton stopped in front of you and locked onto your eyes while the other boys grabbed waters from the table behind you and took a moment to catch their breath. “Getting down to the end of the set, baby. Don’t forget what I told you.” His voice was low and breathless, he took your hand and placed it over the zipper of his jeans, he was still hard. In that moment you were grateful for the dim lighting shielding you from the prying eyes of his bandmates and the crew backstage. He let go of your hand and looked past you, taking the water bottle that Calum had extended, he took a drink quickly and shot you a wink before turning to run back out on stage.

  You watched in awe as he stood on his drum kit, the crowd screaming as a spotlight fell on him and the remix audio for Meet You There began to play, he looked like a god. He hopped down and started his solo, your favorite part of the show. The boys rushed back out onto the stage, one of them touched your shoulder as they passed, but you were too fixated on Ash to know which one. You could feel every single beat in your throat, the vibrations from his drums radiating through you.

You stuck around to the end of the song, your heart pounding against your rib cage when Ash glanced over and shot you a wink before transitioning into Jet Black Heart. You turned away after another moment of pure captivation, and headed back towards his dressing room.

You shut the door behind you, found your bag, you pulled out your brush and ran it through your hair before walking into the bathroom to freshen up. When you returned, you grabbed Ashton’s carry-on from where he’d left it beside the couch, you rummaged through for a second before finding his red button up.

You could faintly hear the opening chords of She Looks So Perfect coming from the mainstage as you crossed your arms in front of you, grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head. You kicked off your vans and pushed down your leggings, you slid on his shirt, eyeing yourself in the mirror for a moment before pulling it back off. You ditched your bra and slid your grey thong down your legs, slipping his red garment back on, letting it fall loosely at your thighs and the sleeves concealing most of your hands. You looked in the mirror once again, taking yourself in and fiddling with the buttons, trying to decide if you should leave just the top undone like he does, or not button any at all.

The hallway was echoing with the screams of fans, louder than they’d been all night. The set was over. Your heart was in your throat, beating so hard in anticipation you didn’t think you’d be able to hear anything else; until you could faintly make out voices getting closer in the hall. You kept your back turned towards the door, a little paranoid about someone else walking in by mistake.

The door clicked open, but you held your position, waiting for it to close. You heard the lock being turned and you spun around on your heel to see Ashton still facing the door. His white shirt sticking to the ridge of every muscle in his back, soaked with sweat. He turned to you and you quickly took in his disheveled appearance, beads of sweat running down from his hairline and his hairy chest practically glistening.

You panned back up to meet his face, his jaw slack, his eyes looking you up and down hungrily. “I know I told you to be ready for me when I got back,” he spoke lowly, taking a few steps towards you. “But fuck, baby-” He licked his lips as you closed the gap between your bodies, your bare chest pressed against him as your hands worked open the buttons of his wet shirt, your mouth ghosting over his as he continued to speak.  “-you look fucking delicious.”

Ashton ran the tip of his tongue along your lower lip teasingly before gripping your hips and lifting you up around him, backing you up to sit on the counter where he had you before the show. Your lips pressed to his fiercely, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you pushed his shirt from his shoulders, taking in the feeling of every muscle within your reach. As you tossed the garment to the floor, Ash ran his hands up your thighs, his thumb immediately finding your clit; you arched your back, pushing your hips into his hand.

Your right hand gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head back and exposing his throat, you left wet kisses from his jaw towards his collarbones, teeth grazing his skin. You nipped at him right above his adam’s apple, then soothing the mark with your tongue, dragging a moan from deep in his chest. He slipped a long finger into you curling it quickly, his thumb still rubbing circles on your clit, your left hand locked around his wrist as his fingers worked on you, trying to keep him there as long as you could. He humored you for a moment, curling his finger a little faster and bringing you closer to the edge before pulling his hand from you; the hand that had been gripping your hip, reaching back and removing yours from the back of his neck.

He gripped both of your wrists in just one of his large hands, before bringing the other to your lips. You locked your eyes with his before taking his middle finger into your mouth, tasting yourself on his calloused skin. Ashton let out a moan at the sight of you with your lips wrapped around his finger, taking his lip between his teeth and eyeing your body. He pulled his digit from your mouth and grasped your other wrist, pinning both arms to your sides as he leaned down, not wasting any time teasing before latching his mouth around your clit.

“Mm-fuck!” you yelped at the sudden contact, trying to push your hips towards his face, but he had you exactly where he wanted you. He sucked harshly before easing the pressure with his tongue. He released your hands, wrapping them under your thighs and putting your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You took advantage of your hands being free, and tangled your fingers through his hair, your other hand gripping his shirt at your chest.

He pulled back from your for a second, you whined at the loss of contact as he looked up at you from between your legs to speak “Hold onto me.” You didn’t have time to question him, his hold on your thighs tightened, sliding up to grip your ass as he lifted you from the counter. You gasped as you were thrust into the air, legs still around his shoulders and your fingers twisting tightly through his hair to as carried you towards the couch in the middle of the room.

He sat down on the couch and then laid back, never letting you go. You were straddled over his face, his tongue licking up your slit as soon as you steadied yourself. He was gripping your hips, hard, undoubtedly leaving bruises in his wake. The feeling of his mouth on you was electrifying every single nerve in your body, you started rolling your hips down onto his face, causing him to moan into you, the vibrations sending a chill up your spine.

His tongue pressed to your clit, working in figure eights as you ground yourself into his tongue. “Fuck. Ash I’m so close.” You moaned, throwing your head back, as he pressed his tongue flat against you, moving his head side to side against your clit before pulling it back between his lips, running the tip of his tongue over it quickly. The sensation had you seeing stars as your orgasm hit you, your legs began to tremble as he pushed you through your high, not letting up for even a second until you all but collapsed back onto his torso.  

Ashton pulled your hips back towards his face, kissing your thighs and cleaning you up with his tongue. He lifted you slightly, helping you sit up and straddle his waist, he propped himself up on his hands, coming nose to nose with you. “I was right, baby. Fucking delicious.” He pulled your lips to his own, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled back after a few seconds, looking at you with dark eyes. “My turn.”

He picked you up and walked around to the side of the couch, sitting you on the arm. You held yourself steady as he undid his belt and slid down his jeans, your eyes going wide when you noticed how hard he was and the wet spot on his boxer briefs from dripping precum. He slid them to the floor, and you bit back a moan as his erection sprang free. You stood from where he’d sat you down, but Ashton grabbed your wrist before you could get on your knees.

“Did I tell you to move?” You looked up at him through your lashes, biting your lip and shaking your head timidly. Ashton slowly moved his other hand to your torso, sliding it up between the valley of your breasts before wrapping it around your neck. He pulled you by your throat so his lips could ghost over yours. “You know what I have to do, don’t you baby?” Without another word, he spun you around and pushed you over the side of the couch, picking up your lower half so your knees were resting on the arm of the sofa, lining you up perfectly with his hips.

You were expecting him to thrust into you immediately, instead he slipped two fingers into you, moving them quickly and curling them into your g-spot. You steeled yourself , fingers desperately trying to grip the couch. “Oh Ff- Ash, please”

Before you could finish speaking, his free hand came up and cracked over your ass, pulling a yelp from you that turned into a hungry moan. “Ask me nicely, baby.” Ashton spoke in a low, level tone while he rubbed his hand over the red mark he’d made below your hip.

“Mmm- Ash, more.” He lifted his hand and laid in to you again, you cried out at the sensation, feeling your second orgasm building as the sting faded.

“Try again.” Your legs were trembling as you tried to find the right words “What do you want Y/N? Ask me nicely.” You moaned out loudly as he pushed his thumb onto your clit, still pushing his fingers in and out of you at a toe-curling pace, sending jolts through your body.

“Mm- FUck. I want to feel you.” his fingers stilled inside of you, curling them softly. “I want your cock, Ash, please let me feel you.” He gripped your hip and pulled his fingers from you, running a tight hand over his length before pulling your hips back onto him with enough force to make you scream. His left hand remaining firm on your hip as his right came up and gathered your hair, pulling your head back has his hips snapped into yours.

You could feel the stretch in every thrust, your body clenching around him every time he pushed into you, your whole body was trembling, but you knew you had to hold on.

“Ash, I- oh fuck- so close.”

“Wait for me, Y/N. Cum when I say.” You managed to nod as your bit your lip and concentrated on anything but the way he felt buried inside of you. Ashton released your hair and wrapped both arms around your torso, pulling you so your back was flush to his chest, his teeth scraped down the back of your neck, hot breath fanning over you. He let out a breathy groan into your ear as you squeezed around him, his thrusts fell out of rhythm. “You ready baby?”

“Fuck- yes, Ash. Please let me cum.” He bit into your shoulder, moaning at how wrecked you sounded.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock.” his low voice in your ear pushed you over the edge before he’d even finished his command. “That’s is, good girl.” he cooed as you felt him twitch inside of you “Mm- oh fuck” He moaned under his breath, trying to keep pushing your high through his own orgasm.

When he finally stilled, he lifted you up and pulled his length from you, he turned you around and laid you back on the couch before dropping to his knees in front of you. He spread your quivering thighs with his hands and gently licked up your slit, your body jerking forward as his tongue flicked over your oversensitive clit. Ashton shushed you soothingly running his large hands up your torso softly, one hand kneading your breast, and rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other laying across your hips. He kitten licked at you tenderly for a few moments, not trying to push you towards another orgasm as you lay there breathless from the last. He pulled away, pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs, then over your hips and up your stomach. He delicately mouthed his way up your neck, stopping for a moment to pay extra attention to that spot below your jaw before finally catching your lips with his own.

He pecked at your lips gingerly, hands sliding up your body as he pulled back and looked at you. “Did I mention you look fucking edible in my shirt?” he chuckled and you just shook your head.

“Yeah, I think you proved your point.” He smiled down at you before l pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, you pushed his shoulder back slightly, making him look at you again. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever had sex and I didn’t give you head… I mean I tried to-” You trailed off, watching as Ashton’s face went red, you caught him mumbling something under his breath, but you couldn’t make it out. “What? What is it?”

“I caught you before you could.”

“Well, I know that, I was there. But why?” Ashton sucked in a long breath before answering.

“Baby, I sat on stage hard as a rock for ninety minutes. Then I walk in this room and you’re completely naked aside from my favorite shirt. Then you came on my face. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life, I wouldn’t have been able to last thirty seconds if you had used that pretty mouth on me.” You bit your lip, hands sliding up to either side of his face, you pulled him down and pressed your lips to his, feeling the smirk on his face.

You pulled back quickly when there was a knock at the door “If you two are done fucking, bus is leaving for the hotel in 5.”

“Fucking Michael, man.” Ash laughed as his head fell onto your shoulder. “I take back what I said earlier. Now, I have truly never hated him more.” You tapped Ashton’s shoulder signaling for him to stand up, he pulled back and lifted you to your feet so you could get dressed quickly.

You slipped your leggings back on and buttoned Ashton’s red shirt, throwing your previously discarded clothes into your bag. You walked towards Ash who’d finished gathering his things and was waiting by the door, he turned the handle and pulled it open as you got closer. You stopped in front of him and stood up on your toes to peck his lips before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Shower and round two, once we get to the hotel?”

His eyes went wide, before you went to exit the room, not waiting for a reply. He reached out and smacked your ass as you turned, wrapping his arm around your neck and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Fuck, I love you.” He exclaimed proudly before the door clicked shut behind you.

Hope y’all liked this one! I’ve obvs been deep in some Ashton feels. 

Tag List: @asht0ns-world @singt0mecalum @ashton-ma-bestfriend @h0tsos @hotmessmichael @karr-bash @dukesnumber1 @cxddlyash@naivelystan @angelbabycal @glitter-sos @irwinkitten @5sosdrfluke @playboyhood @thesensationalcalum @dancingonanemptywallet @gigglyirwin @problem-w-problemz

[littlemissnellie]

A considerable perk of being in such a highly regarded position in his field was that Victor could leave the organisation of all the technicalities of the move back to Windenburg down to his assistant, meaning that little to no stress was actually placed on his beloved family and that, when the time came, they could just walk inside the manor and instantly consider it ‘home’. And everything couldn’t have played out more perfectly when the Golgothas did return to their family estate.

As Victor led his family, with his wife on his arm, down the driveway of his childhood home, nostalgia gripped his heart tighter and tighter with each step that he took. But as the early evening sun beat down on him, sending searing pains crawling across his skin, the thought of savouring this moment seemed to disintegrate into ashes similar to those he could feel being lifted away from his cheeks on the breeze. But as they finally reached the front door, with the sound of their children clumsily trying to haul their suitcases up the marble steps echoing behind them, the excitement that Victor felt seep into his bones when Morwenna squeezed his arm made him forget all about the dreadful mood the various mishaps from this moving day had put him in. He took a deep breath and let his hand close around the cold, metal door handle. And as the latch clicked beneath his touch, the door to his childhood world swung open along with the manor’s front door.

“Oh, Victor, it looks spectacular,” Morwenna gasped the very second that she stepped inside. Her black heels clicked along the polished wooden floorboards as she took a few sweeping steps around the entrance area, before eagerly returning to her husband’s side with a delicate smile stretching across her crimson lips.

“Just as I remembered it to be,” Victor agreed, almost allowing a sort of contented chuckle to slip past his owns as he too gazed around the room.

As Morwenna’s reaction would have suggested, the sight that the Golgotha family were met with as soon as they stepped through the gilded, scarlet doorway was truly breath-taking. The gothic styling, perfectly-preserved, antique-esque furniture and what seemed to be the very essence of shadows themselves woven into the house’s heart and soul was enough to make any Golgotha feel more at home than any of their own belongings ever could.

“It’s even more perfect than I remember,” Morwenna gushed with a serene elegance that shouldn’t have been accompanied with such elation.

The couple’s eager inspection of the entrance hall was quickly brought to a halt when their children came staggering through the door behind them with their several, bulky, plastic-clad suitcases in tow. Sterling not only had to struggle with his own and his parents’, but his little sister’s too once he had unloaded the others in front of the staircase. Halo was practically wrestling with her suitcase as she tried to haul it up the stairs to the front door, but her older brother soon came to the rescue and carried it up them with ease.

“Thanks Sterling,” she said, flashing him a tired smile as she followed him through the door.

“No problem, Hales,” he grinned, affectionately flicking one of her plaits after standing the suitcase amongst the others that were crowding into the hall.

“Hey, watch it!” Halo whined, grabbing at her hair and desperately smoothing the strands back into place. But all that she got as an apology from her brother was him teasingly, and ever-so-childishly, sticking his tongue out at her, which not only set himself off to laugh, but got Halo giggling as well, after she’d made a point of rolling her eyes at him though.

Their laughter wasn’t enough to drown out their sister’s frustrated sigh as she trudged inside after them and pointedly crossed her arms as she perched on the corner of the, in her opinion, hideous, candy-pink suitcase she had been saddled with.

“You having fun there, No?” Sterling called across to her. A teasing smirk tugging at his lips as he looked across at her.

“No,” she replied bluntly. Her face showed all her emotions, and as usual, when she spoke it stayed as blank and seemingly grumpy as ever.

“Okay, now that we’ve established that that is in fact your nickname, do you think you’d be able to answer my question?” Sterling asked, raising one of his eyebrows and allowing his smirk to crack into a full, cheeky grin.

“God, aren’t you hilarious?” November shot back. Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but was laced with enough venom to tell anyone that Sterling was pushing his limits by teasing her like this. But then again, when didn’t he?

“I like to think so,” he smirked.

“Oh, I know you do.” The sickly sweet, and clearly forced, smile that November shot him after that was practically murderous. But Sterling knew her too well to be phased by any of her irritability and just smiled right back at her.

Halo giggled away at her brother’s antics right beside him before reaching up and tugging on his arm, which prompted him to bend down to her level so that she could not-so-quietly whisper in his ear.

“How many lizard scales do you think she’s going to slip into your dinner after that?”

“Hopefully none if Dad catches her in time,” Sterling chuckled. “But I’m guessing about seventeen when she finds out that I’ve got a photograph of her with that pink suitcase that I’m going to plaster all over her locker-”

“I can hear you, you know!” November snapped, glaring at her brother and sister. Her anger flared up a lot more than would be expected of an ever-sombre teenage girl like herself, but when she was wound up like that it was as if lighter fluid was being thrown on the constantly smouldering fire in the pit of her stomach, and the billowing clouds of smoke that erupted from it came spilling out of her mouth as sharp-tongued spite.

“I know,” Sterling said, yet again accompanied by Halo’s giggles. “Was I right with my guess of seventeen then?”

“Yeah, one for every year that you’ve pissed me off.”

“November, Sterling, would you two please just get along?” Morwenna snapped. Her head was spinning enough as it was from the stress of the move, not that she really had anything to do with the technicalities of it, but she still did not need her teenage son and daughter squabbling on top of it all.

“Mum, that was clearly all November,” Sterling started. He was acting as seriously as he could, but the smile that tugged at his lips told his mother otherwise.

“Oh yeah right.” November rolled her eyes again and sulkily scuffed her boot against the floorboards as her mother continued to scold her and her brother.

“I don’t care who it was. You were winding her up and you were losing your temper with him.”

“Mum, can you blame me? Halo’s acting more maturely than he is.” But November’s complaints were quickly squashed by Sterling and Halo bursting out into fits of giggles again.

“Oh, be quiet, all of you,” Morwenna barked, tired of the quarrelling that had been ongoing pretty much from the moment that they moved out of their previous house. It was no doubt down to the frustration of being uprooted from their last town and school mere weeks into the new year, as well as having to abandon their friends and the community that they had grown to know over the past few years, but at that moment Morwenna couldn’t bear to listen to them bicker any longer. This was something that they could talk through over dinner, or if her splitting headache persisted, it was something that could wait until the morning.

“Oh come on, Mum,” Sterling began, almost instinctively switching on his easygoing charm.

“Sterling, don’t push it,” Morwenna warned.

“Yeah, Mum’s getting fragile now. If you push her too hard she might break something,” Halo joked, which yet again set Sterling off laughing.

Halo’s frenzied giggles, Sterling’s roaring laughs and even the small smile that threatened to shatter November’s permanent scowl pushed Morwenna to her breaking limit, as Halo’s insensitive, and rather ill-timed, wisecrack suggested. “That’s it.”

“Oh Mum,” Sterling half-whined, wiping a tear from his eye as he tried to catch his breath after laughing so heartily.

“No, I’ve had it. Take your suitcases upstairs, you can start unpacking your things. And if your attitudes haven’t improved by the time that’s done then you can set to work on your moving boxes too.”

The chorus of groans, sighs and mumbles of discontent that rose from the three children would have suggested a reluctance to abide by their mother’s wishes, but, despite all this, they obeyed, albeit begrudgingly. November dragged the ghastly pink suitcase she had been given, but hated so fiercely, behind her as she stormed upstairs to find her newly allocated bedroom. And, after Halo even struggled to get the handle of her suitcase up this time, Sterling stepped in once again to carry it up for her, still chuckling away at the comment she’d made about their mother as he went.

“Well handled Morwenna, my dear,” Walter said from the seat he seemed to have acquired beside the front door, smiling at his daughter in law in almost amusement.

“Why thank you, Walter. And it’s nice to know that you were there to support me, Victor,” she added pointedly, shooting her husband a sharp glare.

“You didn’t need my support, my love. You had that completely under control,” Victor replied, smoothing things over with a loving tone and a tender kiss to her hand.

“Luckily for you,” Morwenna sighed. A smirk twisted her blood-red lips though as she withdrew her hand and demurely crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, Father, what do you think of the house? Just as you remember?” Victor continued, turning to his father with a hopeful smile peeking out from under his greying moustache.

“A lot tidier than I remember,” Walter chuckled as he let his eyes wander around the room. “But, then again, there haven’t been twin toddlers loose in here this time.”

“Ah yes, Sterling and November often kept things…interesting,” Victor said, smiling fondly as he thought back to the twins wreaking havoc amongst the family artefacts and luxurious furnishings.

“I just wish that they didn’t act as if they’re the same age they were when we moved from here,” Morwenna sighed bitterly.

“They’ll adjust Morwenna, they just need time,” Walter reassured her. “It’s a big change, especially for little Halo, she’ll barely remember anything about the house.”

“Of course she won’t, she was just a baby when we first moved,” Victor said, before pausing to think for a moment. “God, has it really been that long since we were last here?”

“How long do you think it’s been?” Walter chuckled.

“It doesn’t even feel like I’ve left at all,” Victor admitted. “It still feels just like home to me, even after all these years.”

“Ah yes, that’s what the Manor will do to you,” Walter said, letting the amused smile form on his face again before waiting a moment to bring up his next comment, which you wouldn’t have been able to tell from the effortlessly casual way that it was presented.  “So, when’s the welcome party?”

“What are you on about now, Father?” Victor asked, having already started to busy himself with checking over the remaining suitcases and boxes in the hall.

“The welcome party. I assumed you’d be throwing one of your lavish gatherings to welcome the family back into the neighbourhood.”

“And why would I need to do that? We’ve lived here for decades before this.”

“Don’t you think it would be of interest for you to ensure you’re on good terms with these people before we get too…settled in our old ways?” Walter asked.

“Father, you’re stuck in the past. No one does that nowadays,” Victor scoffed.

“Victor, I know the people of Windenburg much better than you, I know how some of the families think.” But before Walter could continue, Victor cut in with an all too wise tone.

“Look, I’m sure that we’ll be more than fine without bringing people into the house to nibble on elaborate canapés and make polite small talk. I know what I’m doing Father, don’t worry. Windenburg is my home, I belong here more than I ever have anywhere else, and the townspeople know that.”

Victor’s words and confident smile would have been so much more reassuring if they had been correct though. And Walter was then left to sit alone, amongst the boxes in the hallway, to mull over this idea whilst his son and daughter in law went to go and check on their children.

As Walter had hinted though, the news of the Golgothas’ return had spread across the town like the plague, and its effects were just as devastating to a certain family on the outskirts of the community…

[lemonconfessions]

Enslaved by Kings and Dragons- [Your Heart Is Mine] - ENDING TWO

[note: please catch up on what happened in the prior chapter, or read the full fic so you know what’s going on ;)]

Your king. Your love.

Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"...Give me the ring," Anon screams at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"

Dazedly, Legolas wrenches at his finger and presses the ring it on her palm. The emerald flashes black as Anon slides it onto a slender finger. For a second, she stands there, admiring the ring she had coveted for so long.

"Thranduil is gone. I have mothered his heir, and hold his father's ring of power. I claim Mirkwood as its rightful Queen."

"No!" You moan.

With her head held high, she surveyed the soldiers with coldly, daring them to challenge her. None did.

Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.

You have done well, Anon. You shall be my queen, rule by my side. Together, we will raze Middle Earth and build a new world in its place.

"...Will we, now?" Anon closes her eyes and barks out a harsh laugh. "My dreams, my ambitions have withered and died. They have fallen rotten, their corpses festering in the glare of your might. For centuries I have let you sap me dry, allowed you to wring and ruin me. All I have ever done, I did for you. For what?"

She points Oropher's ring at Sauron, dark energy crackling down her hand.

"What is power, when I can never have your love?"

I love you as a dark star loves the shadows. As ash clings to dying embers. Name your heart's desire, and I will grant it a hundred times over.

Anon shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have tasted love, tasted it in the gleam of honeyed starlight, seen it reflected in the eyes of the now dead elven king. That is something you can never give me."

Dark energy shoots from Oropher's ring, and wraps around the Dark Lord like a coil of jagged thorns.

"...As I woke you from your slumber, I now send you back to sleep," Anon whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.

How dare you betray me? Do you not remember what I am capable of?

Raging winds sweep dust into a mad frenzy. The air rumbles like thunder, with ear-splitting cracks of electricity. And suddenly the Dark Lord is gone, reduced to smoke carried by the winds towards Mount Doom. He is asleep, biding His time to be awakened once more.

The relief is short-lived. Legolas runs to his father, pulling his cold body into his arms. You run to him, and fall to your knees.

“Bring him back to life!" You shout at Anon, lips trembling. "Use Oropher's ring-"

She flings the ring at you. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey.

"It is a broken, dead thing now. Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic."

"...No," sobs Legolas. "I would give my life, to bring him back..."

Anon's expression softens, and she gently clasps Legolas' shoulder.

"There are spells. Dark, terrible spells to bring him back."

"Then do it!" You shout. "What are you waiting for?"

Anon bends down and yanks Sauron's blade from Thranduil's chest. There is a gaping hole where his heart used to be.

"Sacrifice," she murmurs, running a finger against the blood-slicked blade. "That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. Your throat is dry as she hands you the blade.

"Carve out your heart, and place it in his chest. It will beat as his once did, and he will live again."

Your eyes widen as her words sink in. You feel the thorns of the hilt dig into your palm.

Love.

Sacrifice.

A warm, familiar hand take the blade from you. It is Cumbersmaug, his eyes soft and full of sorrow.

"Use my heart. Bring him back."

"No!" You cry, hysterics rising in your chest. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

He smiles crookedly. "My heart is yours to do as you please. I cannot live without your love. And if bringing him back will finally bring you a life without darkness, if it means that you will forever love some part of me-"  

"NO NO NO NO NO!" You smack the sword from his hands, and it clatters dully against the ground.

"I would give my heart for you a thousand times over! I love you! Why don't you understand?" You sob uncontrollably, and he takes you in his arms and clasps you tightly.

"But I know your heart," he murmurs. "You love him as well. I would rather perish than to allow you such sacrifice for him."

Legolas calmly reaches for the sword, but Anon grabs it.

"No, my son. It is time I made things right."

Before anyone could react, she plunges the sword into her chest. The thorns around the hilt wrap around the blade, and suddenly the blade disappears. Anon's heart floats from her chest, glowing in a soft, red light. Legolas catches her before she hits the ground.

"Why?" You whisper. "Why are you doing this?"

"No one will ever love me as he did. No one ever will. But now-" She chokes, blood dripping from her lips. "...Are you crying for me? Foolish girl. I have taken him from you, now and forever. He will love me with every beat of his heart, for his heart will be mine. He will never love you again."

You close your eyes. "If that's what it takes to bring him back. That is all that matters to me."

She smiles slightly. Then she is gone, her body cold and limp in Legolas' arms.

Anon's heart bobs in the air, and you guide it into Thranduil's chest. It nestles, veins spreading out like roots of a pulsing, sprouting seed. There is a flash of brilliant light, and Thranduil's wound closes. You see the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. He stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.

"...You," he whispers, his voice trailing off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his eyes are wide, and he yanks his head towards Anon. He sees her, bloodied and lifeless. He staggers to his feet, shoving past you.

"What have you done?" He rasps, gathering Anon in his arms. "My love... my emerald..."

You know there are no words that would make this right. You have lost him to Anon. He will never love you again.

Cumbersmaug takes your hand, and pulls you to him. He is warm, his arms strong and comforting. You lean into him, breathing in his scent.

"...Let's go home," you murmur.

Cumbersmaug is asleep in the grass, with Juniper curled in a ball on his chest, her little scarlet wings stirring with every teeny snore. Cypress pulls himself from his daddy's arm and yawns.

"Mommy," he murmurs, and totters over to hug your leg. "You're back! We waited for you forever."

You pull tangled bits of dandelion fluff from his unruly mop of dark hair.

"I told you I'd be back before sunset," you laugh. "Want to see what I got from Laketown?"

From your knapsack you pull out a tight bundle of cinnamon sticks, a sack of roasted cacao beans, a thick slab of spiced jerky, two leather-bound notebooks, and some gold, eagle-feather quills. Cypress' amber eyes are wide with excitement.

"Are these all for me?" He asks, breathlessly.

"...I'm hungry." Juniper complains croakily as she wakes. She crawls from her daddy towards the knapsack and sniffs at the venison jerky, then at the notebooks. She pokes the notebooks with a finger. "...Can we eat these too?"

You tuck everything into the knapsack and pull the straps onto Cypress' little square shoulders.

"Take your sister back to the mountain and you can have a bit of jerky. And remember to share."

Cypress rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, a flicker of flame shooting from his nostrils.

"Come on, squirt," he mutters and starts towards Erebor.

"Jerky! Jerky!" Juniper chants as she skips after him. You smile as you watch them run up the beaten path towards home.

Cumbersmaug is still fast asleep, dark lashes fluttering. A scattered pile of fresh lilies and daffodils and a half-finished wreath lay near his outstretched arm. You plop down beside him. He smells of wood-fire and grass, with the familiar tinge of sulphur. You lay your palm against his smooth, chiseled chest, trailing your fingers against the tan lines of his muscular abdomen. He stirs slightly and grunts, blinking blearily at you.

"...Hello, beautiful," he murmured throatily, pulling you into a kiss.

"Someone got worn out," you chuckle.

"Little rascals," he sighs, shaking his head. "Couldn't get them to sit still for one second. Are they heading home?"

You nod, nestling against him. "I bought jerky; hopefully they'll remember to leave some for us."

He snorted. "That jerky is as good as gone. Dragons aren't big on sharing."

"I guess we'll have to make-do without it."

Ever so gently, you tease the edge of his trousers, slipping your fingers beneath the drawstrings.

His breath catches slightly in his throat, and he bites his lip.

"...How far are they...to the mountain?"

Your fingers wander low, grazing the length of him and stirring him into rigidity. "They're on the rock path now. Steps away from the entrance." You kneel between his knees, and slip him free. The cold air heightens the warmth of your grip, and he stifles a groan.

"...You don't think...they can hear us?" He mumbles, eyes glazed. "These canyons...echo."

You trail your fingers along the dark veins, the shimmer of scale-like patterns, brushing the edges of his ridged tip. He lets out a hoarse moan.

"Shhh..." you laugh, flicking your tongue across the glistening tip. "They’ll come running back to check what happened to their daddy."

"...I scarcely know...what is happening...myself-" His word catch in his throat as you envelop him in your hot, tight mouth, tongue swirling wickedly. His fingers are in your hair clenching desperately.

"Aaaaaughh..." He groans audibly, unable to contain himself. The hum of your laughter adds to the delicious sensation. He is grasping your head, his hips unconsciously thrusting and grinding into your mouth. You feel his excitement swell, feel him strain and pulse and grow hot against your tongue.

“...You’re going to be the end of me,” He breathes, and he pulls you into his arms. Your dress shreds under his anxious fingers, your underwear pulled from your legs. Your aching breasts mold perfectly to his warm, rough grasp, and he ravishes them relentlessly with rasps of his tongue. He draws his trembling desire against your own dripping heat, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Back and forth. Slow, maddening burn. You want to cry out, but he drags his thumb over your lips, and presses his mouth over yours.

“Shh,” he laughs, eyes bright.

He sinks into you, and you are consumed by his fire. He draws music from your flesh like bow against strings.Thick and deep. Rich and rewarding. Dark, fiery perfection with every generous plunge, every decadent twist. Like flint, like stone, you spark as one, until you are nothing but wave after wave of crackling electricity dancing through and between you. You are no longer certain where he ends and where you begin. You buck and shake, unable to contain the firestorm rippling and searing through you. And yet he does not stop, stoking the flames in delirious fervor until the very sensation pushes you deeper and deeper into oblivion. You clutch at him desperately, feeling as if you were on the verge of flying apart. He clasps you protectively against him.

“I love you,” he whispers, gaze tender yet fiercely possessive.

You unravel in his arms, your screams of pleasure singing in his mouth, your body shaking and clenching and sending him soaring with you. Now and forever, he is yours. Everything you have built together with your bare hands, the family you have created. Nothing could take that from you.

Across the lake, a white elk stares at Erebor in the distance, his heart empty but for a slight pang of unexplained emotion. He turns away, and heads home to Mirkwood.

Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. The Dark Lord lifts his hands, casting snarling shadows towards the elven prince. Anon throws herself before her son, gathering the shadows to her in a mad embrace.

“You have prevailed, Sauron,” Thranduil says slowly, stepping forward. “But it is not her you desire. It is the might of Mirkwood unified with a dragon that you want. Release her, and the might of Mirkwood is yours to command.” He falls to one knee, and offers his sword to Sauron.  “For her freedom, I pledge my allegiance to you.”

You stare in horror as the rest of Thranduil's men follow his lead, knees in the dirt and weapons in the air in surrender.

"There is no freedom, under the shadow of Mordor!" Cumbersmaug growls, eyes flashing. "You think surrendering the might of elves will keep her safe?"

Of course it will, Sauron purrs, his voice as soft as a blade across one's throat. The world will burn with the inferno of Mordor; all that stand against me shall be reduced to ash. Follow me, and the girl shall be spared. All that she loves will be spared.

"...Shall you stand by my side, and protect her?" Thranduil asks quietly, staring unflinchingly at Cumbersmaug. "...Or shall we perish here together?"

They stare at one another, the silence between them as heavy as death. Finally, Cumbersmaug closes his eyes, and jerks his head in a curt nod. In that instant, Thranduil leaps in the air and slashes down on the Dark Lord with violent hatred. On cue, Cumbersmaug yanks you away, shielding you with his body. His men whirl into formation, swords flashing, slicing away at the Dark Lord.

"You know nothing of Mirkwood elves, Sauron!" Thranduil hisses through clenched teeth as he hacks away mercilessly. "We will die before we surrender to evil!"

Sauron laughs, his form fading in and out like wisps of smoke. Then DIE!

A black thorn shoots from the sifting darkness, straight into Thranduil's heart. There is a shuddery gasp as he falls to his knees, staring disbelieving at the gaping hole in his chest. Then his eyes rolls back, and he falls over, lifeless.

"NO!" You scream, lunging for him, but Cumbersmaug holds you back. Legolas lets out gut-wrenching cry, and tries to grab a sword from one of the soldiers. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"...Give me the ring," Anon rasps at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"

Dazedly, Legolas hands her the ring. She slips the ring on her finger, and dark power crackles about her like fire. Cumbersmaug curses under his breath, and his arms tighten protectively around you. The Mirkwood elves back away in uncertainty, swords raised defensively.

Anon slowly turns towards the Dark Lord, green eyes gleaming.

"I have served you for many, many years, my Lord," she breathes. "I have given you my body, my soul. All I have asked for in return is your love. You do love me, don't you?"

Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.

All gods love their creations, no matter how wretched they may be. I have kept you alive, despite your many failures. Is that not testament enough?

Anon closes her eyes and lets out broken laugh.

"My son has taught me love to be unconditional sacrifice. I know now that neither you, nor I, will ever be capable of such true emotion."

With a shout, she directs a dark fireball into Sauron. There is a ear-splitting roar as Sauron dissipates into ash and is blown away.

"Is he gone?" Cumbersmaug demands sharply. Anon closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"You know He will awaken again, in time."

She kneels down, and carresses Thranduil's cold, white cheek.

"...Bring him back!" You shout, lips trembling. "That ring has the power-"

"-to bring back the dead? Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic. It is a broken, dead thing now." She holds out her palm. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey. "But I have no need of the ring. I know spells. Dark, terrible spells that can revive your precious king."

"Then do it!" you snarl angrily.

Anon bends down and takes Thranduil's dagger, tracing the sharp blade with her fingers. "Sacrifice. That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. "My heart is bound to his; he will live, if I give him my heart."

Your throat is dry as you watch her raise the dagger to her breast. "...You will die."

"Yes. But his heart will be mine, and he will never love you again."

Anon smiles cruelly. She pulls the dagger from Thranduil's sheath and examines the sharpness of the blade. "Unconditional sacrifice. He would give his life for yours. What would you give for his?"

"Anything," you say firmly, and Cumbersmaug grips your shoulders.

"I will not allow it!" He growls. "I will not have your sacrifice your life for another!"

"As if I would kill her and make her some sort of martyr for him to pine over for the rest of eternity," Anon snarled. "I merely ask for what is rightfully mine."

You stare at her uncomprehendingly, and she smiles cruelly.

"I will bring him back to life. In return, you disappear from his life forever. I will be Queen of Mirkwood, unhindered and unchallenged. I will resume being the singular light in his life, and you will be nothing but a distant memory."

Legolas staggers over and clutches at your arm, eyes red and frantic. "I cannot lose him," he pleads. "If you ever loved him, please..."

You close your eyes. You know you must let him go, if he is to live again. You lean down and kiss his forehead, whispering the words in your heart you never had the chance to say to him and never will have the chance to. Then you stand up and take Cumbersmaug by the hand.

"Let's go back to Erebor."

Thranduil woke with a horrible pain in his chest. Beside him lay Anon unconcious, a bloody mess at her chest.

Legolas: "Ada, she took a piece of her heart and placed it in your chest. It almost killed her, but we were able to revive her and you."

He staggers to his feet. "...What about the girl?"

"She's gone. She left with her dragon. Your wife risked her life for yours. Please don't speak of the human again. For my sake, please do not find her again."

Sometimes you feel as if you are being watched, catching a glimpse of a snowy white elk from the corner of your eye.

Did you think I would be so easily betrayed?

Thranduil's cry is choked by the gurgle of his blood.

He falls to his knees, his hand reaching out for you. Then he falls backwards, his eyes wide, his hair splayed about him like a halo. Then he is still, staring lifelessly at the skies above.

Your king. Your love.

Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"...Give me the ring," Anon screams at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"

Dazedly, Legolas wrenches at his finger and presses the ring it on her palm. The emerald flashes black as Anon slides it onto a slender finger. For a second, she stands there, admiring the ring she had coveted for so long.

"Thranduil is gone. I have mothered his heir, and hold his father's ring of power. I claim Mirkwood as its rightful Queen."

"No!" You moan.

With her head held high, she surveyed the soldiers with coldly, daring them to challenge her. None did.

Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.

You have done well, Anon. You shall be my queen, rule by my side. Together, we will raze Middle Earth and build a new world in its place.

"...Will we, now?" Anon closes her eyes and barks out a harsh laugh. "My dreams, my ambitions have withered and died. They have fallen rotten, their corpses festering in the glare of your might. For centuries I have let you sap me dry, allowed you to wring and ruin me. All I have ever done, I did for you. For what?"

She points Oropher's ring at Sauron, dark energy crackling down her hand.

"What is power, when I can never have your love?"

I love you as a dark star loves the shadows. As ash clings to dying embers. Name your heart's desire, and I will grant it a hundred times over.

Anon shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have tasted love, tasted it in the gleam of honeyed starlight, seen it reflected in the eyes of the now dead elven king. That is something you can never give me."

Dark energy shoots from Oropher's ring, and wraps around the Dark Lord like a coil of jagged thorns.

"...As I woke you from your slumber, I now send you back to sleep," Anon whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.

How dare you betray me? Do you not remember what I am capable of?

Raging winds sweep dust into a mad frenzy. The air rumbles like thunder, with ear-splitting cracks of electricity. And suddenly the Dark Lord is gone, reduced to smoke carried by the winds towards Mount Doom. He is asleep, biding His time to be awakened once more.

The relief is short-lived. Legolas runs to his father, pulling his cold body into his arms. You run to him, and fall to your knees.

Bring him back to life!" You shout at Anon, lips trembling. "Use Oropher's ring-"

She flings the ring at you. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey.

"It is a broken, dead thing now. Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic."

"...No," sobs Legolas. "I would give my life, to bring him back..."

Anon's expression softens, and she gently clasps Legolas' shoulder.

"There are spells. Dark, terrible spells to bring him back."

"Then do it!" You shout. "What are you waiting for?"

Anon bends down and yanks Sauron's blade from Thranduil's chest. There is a gaping hole where his heart used to be.

"Sacrifice," she murmurs, running a finger against the blood-slicked blade. "That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. Your throat is dry as she hands you the blade.

"Carve out your heart, and place it in his chest. It will beat as his once did, and he will live again."

Your eyes widen as her words sink in. You feel the thorns of the hilt dig into your palm.

Love.

Sacrifice.

A warm, familiar hand take the blade from you. It is Cumbersmaug, his eyes soft and full of sorrow.

"Use my heart. Bring him back."

"No!" You cry, hysterics rising in your chest. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

He smiles crookedly. "My heart is yours to do as you please. I cannot live without your love. And if bringing him back will finally bring you a life without darkness, if it means that you will forever love some part of me-"  

"NO NO NO NO NO!" You smack the sword from his hands, and it clatters dully against the ground.

"I would give my heart for you a thousand times over! I love you! Why don't you understand?" You sob uncontrollably, and he takes you in his arms and clasps you tightly.

"But I know your heart," he murmurs. "You love him as well. I would rather perish than to allow you such sacrifice for him."

Legolas calmly reaches for the sword, but Anon grabs it.

"No, my son. It is time I made things right."

Before anyone could react, she plunges the sword into her chest. The thorns around the hilt wrap around the blade, and suddenly the blade disappears. Anon's heart floats from her chest, glowing in a soft, red light. Legolas catches her before she hits the ground.

"Why?" You whisper. "Why are you doing this?"

"No one will ever love me as he did. No one ever will. But now-" She chokes, blood dripping from her lips. "...Are you crying for me? Foolish girl. I have taken him from you, now and forever. He will love me with every beat of his heart, for his heart will be mine. He will never love you again."

You close your eyes. "If that's what it takes to bring him back. That is all that matters to me."

She smiles slightly. Then she is gone, her body cold and limp in Legolas' arms.

Anon's heart bobs in the air, and you guide it into Thranduil's chest. It nestles, veins spreading out like roots of a pulsing, sprouting seed. There is a flash of brilliant light, and Thranduil's wound closes. You see the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. He stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.

"...You," he whispers, his voice trailing off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his eyes are wide, and he yanks his head towards Anon. He sees her, bloodied and lifeless. He staggers to his feet, shoving past you.

"What have you done?" He rasps, gathering Anon in his arms. "My love... my emerald..."

You know there are no words that would make this right. You have lost him to Anon. He will never love you again.

Cumbersmaug takes your hand, and pulls you to him. He is warm, his arms strong and comforting. You lean into him, breathing in his scent.

"...Let's go home," you murmur.

Cumbersmaug is asleep in the grass, with Juniper curled in a ball on his chest, her little scarlet wings stirring with every teeny snore. Cypress pulls himself from his daddy's arm and yawns.

"Mommy," he murmurs, and totters over to hug your leg. "You're back! We waited for you forever."

You pull tangled bits of dandelion fluff from his unruly mop of dark hair.

"I told you I'd be back before sunset," you laugh. "Want to see what I got from Laketown?"

From your knapsack you pull out a tight bundle of cinnamon sticks, a sack of roasted cacao beans, a thick slab of spiced jerky, two leather-bound notebooks, and some gold, eagle-feather quills. Cypress' amber eyes are wide with excitement.

"Are these all for me?" He asks, breathlessly.

"...I'm hungry." Juniper complains croakily as she wakes. She crawls from her daddy towards the knapsack and sniffs at the venison jerky, then at the notebooks. She pokes the notebooks with a finger. "...Can we eat these too?"

You tuck everything into the knapsack and pull the straps onto Cypress' little square shoulders.

"Take your sister back to the mountain and you can have a bit of jerky. And remember to share."

Cypress rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, a flicker of flame shooting from his nostrils.

"Come on, squirt," he mutters and starts towards Erebor.

"Jerky! Jerky!" Juniper chants as she skips after him. You smile as you watch them run up the beaten path towards home.

Cumbersmaug is still fast asleep, dark lashes fluttering. A scattered pile of fresh lilies and daffodils and a half-finished wreath lay near his outstretched arm. You plop down beside him. He smells of wood-fire and grass, with the familiar tinge of sulphur. You lay your palm against his smooth, chiseled chest, trailing your fingers against the tan lines of his muscular abdomen. He stirs slightly and grunts, blinking blearily at you.

"...Hello, beautiful," he murmured throatily, pulling you into a kiss.

"Someone got worn out," you chuckle.

"Little rascals," he sighs, shaking his head. "Couldn't get them to sit still for one second. Are they heading home?"

You nod, nestling against him. "I bought jerky; hopefully they'll remember to leave some for us."

He snorted. "That jerky is as good as gone. Dragons aren't big on sharing."

"I guess we'll have to make-do without it."

Ever so gently, you tease the edge of his trousers, slipping your fingers beneath the drawstrings.

His breath catches slightly in his throat, and he bites his lip.

"...How far are they...to the mountain?"

Your fingers wander low, grazing the length of him and stirring him into rigidity. "They're on the rock path now. Steps away from the entrance." You kneel between his knees, and slip him free. The cold air heightens the warmth of your grip, and he stifles a groan.

"...You don't think...they can hear us?" He mumbles, eyes glazed. "These canyons...echo."

You trail your fingers along the dark veins, the shimmer of scale-like patterns, brushing the edges of his ridged tip. He lets out a hoarse moan.

"Shhh..." you laugh, flicking your tongue across the glistening tip. "They’ll come running back to check what happened to their daddy."

"...I scarcely know...what is happening...myself-" His word catch in his throat as you envelop him in your hot, tight mouth, tongue swirling wickedly. His fingers are in your hair clenching desperately.

"Aaaaaughh..." He groans audibly, unable to contain himself. The hum of your laughter adds to the delicious sensation. He is grasping your head, his hips unconsciously thrusting and grinding into your mouth. You feel his excitement swell, feel him strain and pulse and grow hot against your tongue.

“...You’re going to be the end of me,” He breathes, and he pulls you into his arms. Your dress shreds under his anxious fingers, your underwear pulled from your legs. Your aching breasts mold perfectly to his warm, rough grasp, and he ravishes them relentlessly with rasps of his tongue. He draws his trembling desire against your own dripping heat, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Back and forth. Slow, maddening burn. You want to cry out, but he drags his thumb over your lips, and presses his mouth over yours.

“Shh,” he laughs, eyes bright.

He sinks into you, and you are consumed by his fire. He draws music from your flesh like bow against strings.Thick and deep. Rich and rewarding. Dark, fiery perfection with every generous plunge, every decadent twist. Like flint, like stone, you spark as one, until you are nothing but wave after wave of crackling electricity dancing through and between you. You are no longer certain where he ends and where you begin. You buck and shake, unable to contain the firestorm rippling and searing through you. And yet he does not stop, stoking the flames in delirious fervor until the very sensation pushes you deeper and deeper into oblivion. You clutch at him desperately, feeling as if you were on the verge of flying apart. He clasps you protectively against him.

“I love you,” he whispers, gaze tender yet fiercely possessive.

You unravel in his arms, your screams of pleasure singing in his mouth, your body shaking and clenching and sending him soaring with you. Now and forever, he is yours. Everything you have built together with your bare hands, the family you have created. Nothing could take that from you.

Across the lake, a white elk stares at Erebor in the distance, his heart empty but for a slight pang of unexplained emotion. He turns away, and heads home to Mirkwood.