#Illuminate Eradicate

[buckyalpine]

His Winter Flower

Modern Beauty and the Beast AU Winter soldier x f reader

Long awaited, I hope you all enjoy it as well.

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: 18 + Angst, injuries, Fluff, All the sweet smut, Bucky is a sweetheart

"оставаться внизу" [Stay down] The soldier ordered, holding his gun to the targets forehead, his metal finger twitching against the trigger while the man cowered in front of him.

"Please" The man tried to plead but it was no use. He knew his fate was sealed the second he heard the thud of the boots entering his home. The whirring of metal. The ghost people spoke of but never saw until it was too late.

"тишина" [Silence] The soldiers rough voice growled behind the mask that covered his face. He pressed the barrel further into the man's head, freezing when he heard the soft patter of footsteps nearing the office he had broken into.

"Papa?" A soft voice called, the scent of roses and vanilla accompanying it, "Papa, where are y-

You gasped as you entered your father's study, your heart dropping to your stomach seeing him kneeling on the floor with his hands tied while the soldier towered above him.

So the rumors were true.

The silver of his arm was illuminated in the moonlight, the rest of him covered in Kevlar and black leather. Weapons were strapped to every bit of his body but the only one that worried you now was the one that was about to take your father's life.

"Don't hurt him!" It was a futile attempt to save your father, you knew this enough. The Winter Soldier didn't spare anyone, in fact for the longest time you wondered if he was nothing more than an urban legend. No one had actually seen him. Those that did didn't live to speak the tale. The soldier grunted in response, hardly sparing you a glance as he stared at the man before him.

A professor. A brilliant man. One who was quietly working with a group of researchers aiming to destroy the the longtime work of Arnim Zola from so many years ago. No more serums. No more soldiers.

Hydra wouldn't have that.

Not when those very serums created their best asset, the Winter Soldier himself.

"Он моя миссия" [He is my mission] Was the only response you were given. You didn't understand the words he said but it didn't matter; it was quite clear. He didn't intend on sparing the professor.

"Darling, please go, it's okay" Your father shook his head, ready to accept the consequences of his choices. He hoped to aid in the movement of making the world safer and if this was his end, he was prepared to meet it. Tears welled in his eyes with a sad smile on his face, "It'll be alright, go, hurry-

"No, please!" You pleaded with the soldier once again, all you could see were his blue eyes, void of emotion, cold and icy. "If-if you kill him, someone will take his place and then another. My father will no longer help with the government if you spare him and take me. Please just take me instead, it will put an end to all this. Please"

If you kill him, someone will take his place

The words rang through the soldiers mind.

It shouldn't be a problem. He'd killed plenty of people before but...

Then it would be another mission to carry.

And then another.

Another.

The innocent man trapped in his brain screamed to stop. A voice long forgotten, begging him to reconsider. To fight against the words that were causing him to do this. The solider flinched, fighting within himself, contemplating his next actions. The mission was to ensure Arnim Zola's work wouldn't be eradicated. The girl was offering herself to ensure the same work wouldn't continue. He wouldn't have more blood on his hands if he allowed the professor to live.

He shouldn't have cared but a part of him did.

He didn't want to kill another innocent man.

He never wanted to kill anyone.

Your father let out a sigh of relief feeling the weight of the gun pull away, only to have his greatest fear come alive; losing you.

"NO, darling you don't know what you're doing, I'll be fine-

It was too late. The soldier cut through the ropes that bound your father's wrists, taking you instead. Before your father could reach for you, the soldier grabbed and hauled you over his shoulder and strode away, ignoring the plea of the professor to spare his only daughter.

His mind was made up.

She was not his mission but now he had a new one.

If he killed the man, another would take his place.

He was risking repercussions listening to the trapped soul only his mind could hear.

He shouldn't have listened to her words.

He shouldn't have let the professor go.

Yet he agreed.

The gait of the soldier lulled you into a dreamless sleep; exhaustion consumed you as he wandered through a thicket of trees and into the woods far from home. You hadn't spoken a word nor let out a cry as he carried you off, after all, you agreed to be his prisoner as long as you father lived.

-

He brought you to a place he knew no one would find.

A place no one else knew of.

A place that was now his own.

He was once sent to take the life of a wealthy aristocrat, a man who had no one to leave his estate to. The place was deep in a forest, away from most of humanity; even when Hydra had sent him to finish the man, they were unable to give him a location. The soldier had located the target himself only to find the man had already passed from old age.

No questions were asked.

The mission was considered complete.

The body was disposed of and for quite some time, the soldier thought nothing of the castle like place that no one else knew of. It was a secret only he knew and he soon found himself seeking its solitude. A resting place between missions. A place to patch up. A place to hide when his mind was too loud, trying to escape from clutches he didn't understand.

It was the closest place he had to freedom.

The soldier pushed through the heavy wooden doors, entering the dark oak foyer. He stilled, torn between taking you down to the cellar or taking you to the rooms up in the master wing.

How could he chain something so soft.

How could he imprison something so delicate.

His feet began to move towards the large staircase before his mind could process anything, shifting to carry you in his arms as he made his way up to the west wing. He set you down gently onto the large bed with the soft sheets, careful not to stir you. He stared at your sleeping form, unmoving from his place as you softly snored, the choices of his actions beginning to plague his mind.

What was he to do with you now. Why hadn't he gotten rid of you.

He knew the rules; once his job was done, he was to return to the base but he hadn't completed the mission. He had been away for weeks and the longer he was away, the louder the screaming was. The voice of a young sergeant who fought bravely in the war. The pleading young man, scared like a child, trapped in the body of a killing machine. The cries of a little boy trying so hard to runaway from monsters that haunted him every single night. All trapped and begging to escape.

He'd let the professor live.

It was wrong of him.

He disobeyed his orders.

Or perhaps it was the right thing to do.

Though the soldier had been brainwashed, there were times he found himself caught in-between a state of control and chaos. His duties were to Hydra. He knew this was wrong. You shouldn't be here. His task was to continue their vision. He was their asset. He belonged to them.

His tourmiol continued. Why did he spare the professor. Why did he bring the girl and set her down on the softest bed out of all the rooms when he should have chained her in a cell. Exhaustion began to weigh on him but he didn't close his eyes. He didn't allow sleep to consume him. The soldier remained in place even as the sun rose. He watched as you stirred, soft sunlight streaming through the curtains, falling onto your face.

-

You blinked, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a fearful gasp escaping your lips when you saw him sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. A thousand thoughts began to run through your mind at once as you sat up, a part of you surprised to find your hands and legs free from binds. You were atop a plush mattress on a large bed, the room itself surprisingly warm and quaint. Had you not been in a state of terror, you would have taken some time to appreciate the olive green walls and fine paintings that decorated the space as well as the well kept antique furniture.

"Please don't hurt me" You whispered, still disoriented from the night before.

"я не буду" [I won't] He replied, aware you didn't understand him. His lips twitched, all the words of English he wanted to speak dying in his mouth. His mind wouldn't allow it.

It wasn't required for this mission.

You stayed frozen in place while he said nothing else, walking off and closing the door behind him. Tears welled in your eyes as dread began to set in. This was your life now. He could kill you at any moment without warning. In fact, you didn't understand why he hadn't. From the rumours, you knew the soldier never took prisoners. You didn't know why you were spared; the only sliver of joy you had was that your father was alive. You thought about your him as you gathered yourself out of bed, deciding to make the best of your circumstances with the faintest hope that one day you'd be reunited with him again.

You inspected the room the soldier had put you in. There was a vanity across the bed. A walk in closet that only contained a few old sheets. You gasped as you entered the en suite bathroom, white marble tiles covering the floor, a large clawfoot tub, brass and gold accents decorated the handles of the cupboards.

The room was enchanting.

After splashing some water onto your face, you crept into the hallway, padding down to the staircase, surprised again at the beauty of the place. High ceilings. Dark wood. Crystal albeit dusty chandeliers. French doors. Original paintings. It was the type of place you'd imagine when you read fairytales. It would have been the type of place you'd dream to live in; one you'd only imagine in your wildest fantasies where the princess finds her prince. Such stories were only found in books.

You quietly explored the main floor of the mansion and avoiding the rooms which were locked shut. You didn't dare touch a thing, quickly retreating back to your room once you'd seen everything, familiarizing yourself with it's layout. The kitchen. A study. A living room. The hauntinly beautiful hallways. A door to the grounds in the back. You hadn't seen the soldier which both relieved and scared you.

Where did he disappear to?

That night, there was a knock at your door and when you opened it, a plate of warm food was left on a tray. Boiled carrots. Potatoes. A dinner roll. You hadn't even heard his footsteps down the hall. As you peered out of your room, it was empty without the slightest hint that anyone had been there seconds ago.

Where had he gone?

You hadn't realized how hungry you were until you took the first bite, scarfing down the rest in haste, placing the tray back in the hall. The next day was the same. You woke up to find a simple spread of breakfast outside of your room; toast and jam.

The soldier was a man of his word; if you were to be his captive, he had to keep you alive.

At least until he knew what to do with you...

Days had passed and you'd managed to avoid him, keeping to yourself and staying out of his way but you weren't able to avoid him forever.

-

The soldier had already heard you coming, pausing his cleaning as he waited for you to enter. The sight of your trembling form evoked something inside him.

You were scared. He didn't like it.

His mask remained on his face while his blue eyes peered at you, waiting for you to speak.

"I-I need clothes" Your voice was hardly a whisper, body shaking as you approached him, finding him in the study room, parts of his gun in hand. There was nothing wrong with the simple cotton dress you had on though it certainly wasn't comfortable to sleep in every night and you weren't able to wash and it dry within the same day. You needed at least one other set of something to wear. "Please"

He nodded without a word, resuming his cleaning while you retreated to your room. His brows furrowed as he thought about what you'd need. Perhaps it would be easier to return you and finish off the professor or get rid of you both-

No.

No.

He didn't want more blood on his hands.

The foods he stole were already a risk....where would he go for clothes?

-

The next morning, you found a fresh set of clothes left beside your tray of breakfast. You lifted the pile and brought it to your room, munching on the toast that had come with honey instead of jam for a change.

There was a red Henley and some sweatpants. A black t shirt and joggers. A few other basics for you to wear comfortably around the house. You couldn't help but giggle at the very large leather jacket he'd also left in case you felt cold even though there were already plenty of warm blankets. They were very clearly his own clothes but they were all washed and perfectly clean. You couldn't expect him to go shopping for you.

You threw off your dress, taking a long bath before drying off and slipping on the Henley and sweats. They were warm and soft, fitting loosely on your smaller frame, his soft scent of something distinctly him clinging onto the material. It was strange that it didn't bother you. Quite the opposite. It was pleasant, almost comforting.

You wondered about the man behind the mask and who he was. Such a dangerous man who was giving you the clothes off his back, feeding you and keeping you alive even though he'd killed hundreds of others. He was dangerous and yet he looked at you with such softness, you couldn't understand how he'd be capable of hurting anyone.

What was his story?

He hadn't chained you to the bed.

He hadn't locked you in your room.

You were free to go about where you liked.

Surely he wasn't all evil?

As you grew more accustomed to your living arrangement, you decided to inspect more of the kitchen. You hadn't been told you couldn't cook; even if the soldier didn't kill you, boredom eventually would. You needed something to pass the time and he had disappeared yet again.

You opened the fridge and pantries surprised to find a few fruits and vegetables stocked up. An untouched sack of flour and bag of sugar sat at the bottom of the shelves. Who knew the winter soldier enjoyed plums so much? There were a few pots and pans as well as basic kitchen utensils. You didn't need much to make a simple meal, careful not to make a mess as you began to peel some carrots.

-

The soldier blinked as he entered the house, the smell of food wafting throughout, a smell he hadn't come across in a long time.

Home.

There was a pot of stew left on the stove along with a pie left to cool on the counter. His eyes widened at the way his stomach grumbled; it had been years since he'd truly felt hunger. He ate for sustenance. Raw, uncooked, at most boiled food to keep him going. When he was with Hydra, he was fed with a tube.

Just basic nutrients to keep him alive.

He hadn't had a home cooked meal in years.

-

You woke up the next morning to find a pastry at your door instead of toast. When you wandered into the kitchen, you smiled at the tiny crumbs left pie tin and the now empty pot of stew. There were also newly stocked ingredients waiting for you; berries, potatoes, somehow even a whole chicken. You got to work, deciding to try something new each time; each night a warm meal awaited the soldier along with something sweet at the end.

He continued to bring you breakfast but there were only so many different pastries and cakes he could nick, besides they didn't compare to yours.

It wasn't enough. The soldier frowned at the strange feelings he had within himself.

He wanted to do something for you.

He wasn't sure what. He smuggled a handful of cookies you'd baked that morning into his room before removing his mask and savoring each once. He didn't leave a crumb behind, licking the remnants of chocolate off his lips while his mind wandered. You didn't have to cook for him. In fact you had every right to try and escape from him but you never did. He recalled the number of bookshelves that lined your home, after all he'd taken note of every detail as part of his mission.

You liked to read.

-

You sat up when you heard a knock at your door, the soldier waiting on the other side. He looked at you with a softness you hadn't seen previously, turning around and walking down the hall, hoping you'd follow him.

You stayed a few feet behind, trailing after him as he led you to the living room, leading you to the large bookshelf. He wordlessly stood by it, the strange sensation of nervousness and anxiety bubbling within him when you looked at what he wanted to show you.

Would you like it? You looked so unsure, scared. Perhaps you wanted to be free, you wanted to leave, you-

"M-May I?"

He blinked hearing your voice, nodding, watching your eyes light up as you scanned the various book titles. Gasps of joy and little squeals of delight escaped your lips as you came across stories you adored.

That wasn't the only thing that made his heart beat faster. Seeing you in his clothes stirred something in him. You were dressed in his red Henley, the hem reaching mid thigh. He was pulled away from admiring you as you squeaked, seeing one of your favorite books from when you were a little girl, a first edition no less.

"How did you get all these" You were in absolute awe, lost in your own world while he pondered how he came to own such treasures. Perhaps he was always a soldier gone rogue. His missions came with a side of thievery when he'd see something that would catch his eye. Something that would spark a memory of sorts, such as an old book he'd seen as he passed an vintage bookstore. Soon, the shelves of the mansion were filled with books and trinkets he'd collected. A part of his brain would nearly break itself to try and connect to the things he'd collect, only for the memories to fail to fall into place.

His mind felt like a pile of shreds from different cloths; pieces that would never fit together again. His little treasures were the closest he'd ever get to remembering, a few sparks from the past that would forever be disconnected.

-

Ever since the soldier had shown you the shelves of books, you'd left your room more often, spending more time reading after cooking. In a strange way you also began to trust the very masked man who had taken you away. You didn't worry about him hurting you. You no longer worried about running into him. He hardly spoke, nothing more than a few words of Russian. He hadn't demanded you stay locked in your room, so why did you?

You picked up one of your favorite books, deciding to read outside in the garden, in need of some fresh air. You hadn't taken much time to look at the outside of the house, pausing as you opened the doors that entered the grounds. It was strangely beautiful, especially considering the assassin who resided in it. For such a dark soul, nature still continued to flourish around it. Tall, overgrown hedge fences surrounded the backyard while weeping willows and bushes of flowers shaded the stone paths that led to a fountain in the very center. You found a comfortable spot under the tree, settling onto the cool grass, the scent of spring calming you as you turned to the first page.

-

The soldier trudged through the doorway, surprised at the way his appetite had grown since you'd started cooking. His body which was used to sustaining itself on the bare minimum now rumbled through the day. He'd find his mind wandering to your pies and craving the comfort of the soup you'd make. The food was set in the kitchen but you were nowhere to be found. He walked past your room, knocking on the door, only to be met with silence.

Where did you go? Did you run away?

He knew something was wrong when he felt his heart sink because he couldn't find you. He couldn't remember the last time his heart felt anything other than emptiness. It was more than just you escaping.

He was worried about you.

He took longer strides as he searched for you with purpose, fingers already itching to reach towards his gun, deciding to first check the grounds in the back. His heart settled when he saw the doors to the garden left ajar, finding you nestled in the shade, curled up in the grass with a book.

You were safe. You hadn't run away.

Again he was left stunned and unable to move. You were the final piece in the puzzle of the garden; you fit there like the perfect flower. He'd seen the garden 100 times before and it had never looked so beautiful.

Not until now.

Roses and daisies grew in abundance but you were the prettiest thing there. You were meant to be there; a soft, delicate, flower.

"цветок"

You set down the book you were reading, looking up to see the soldier peering down at you. You hadn't heard him coming as he appeared before you with the silence of a ghost.

"цветок" He repeated, gazing at you before looking towards a daisy. He kneeled, plucking one and handing it to you, "цветок. мягкий, как ты" [Flower. Soft, like you]. You felt your cheeks heat up as he looked at you intently, blinking with an innocence you hadn't seen before. He looked almost...shy?

"Thank you" You whispered, stroking the petal of the flower he gave you. You didn't understand why you longed for him to stay as he went back inside, your curiosity about him growing with each passing day.

It went on like this.

Most days, you would spend your time exploring the trinkets the soldier collected, staying out of his way while he disappeared into the forest to do things you didn't pry into. Each night you knew he would return, hearing the heavy creak of the doors open during the darkest hours. You'd hear the quiet sound of clinking cutlery and then the soft sound of his bedroom door shut.

Except tonight.

You set down your book hearing the sound of heavy boots dragging down the hall, quite different from the silence the soldier usually moved with. A sense of dread washed over you as you debated on staying put, something telling you to lock the door, hide, something-

"What do we have here" The click of your door opening sent shivers down your spine, your blood running cold as a man strode in, a metal mask covering his face showing nothing but his eyes. You wanted to scream but your voice was stuck in your throat, you felt safe with the soldier, this man was not the same, he lunged towards you, knife in hand, the blade swiping towards your neck, "The soldiers little pet"-

"DON'T TOUCH HER" A growl shook the window as you hugged your knees to yourself waiting for the knife to plunge but it never came. You gasped as the man was ripped away, the flash of silver gleaming as the soldier grabbed him and hauled him away, shutting the door behind him.

"You're weak. You were supposed to kill him"

"So this is what's been keeping you"

"Kill her and come back to us. That's an order"

"Rumlow-

"Kill her. They're nothing more than collateral damage, end them, желание-

You didn't dare move, tears spilling down your cheeks as you heard the sounds of a struggle growing further and further away, eventually melting into silence.

He saved you.

You heard him return, still frozen in fear but the sound of a pained whimper pulled you out of bed. You peered into the hall, eyes widening in horror seeing a trail of blood staining the floors leading to his room, streaks of crimson smeared onto the wall. You didn't think twice as you dashed out of your room to his, your body moving faster than your mind could comprehend as you let yourself in.

Your heart continued to race seeing the blood lead to the washroom where he stood with a needle in hand, beginning to sew a gash on his side across his ribs. His bloodied tactical gear was thrown on the floor though his mask still remained hoping to silence himself as he attempted to take care of himself.

He hissed in pain, piercing his skin while his head began to spin, multiple wounds needing attention, the blood loss starting to take its toll.

"Let me" you hesitated to touch him, going against your better judgement when you wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away. The soldier shook his head, fighting the way his body craved for something more gentle, more caring, more loving than the jagged and painful stitches he was giving himself.

"I won't hurt you, soldat" you looked in his eyes with such sincerity, for a moment he thought he'd ask you to be his girl.

Such a doll...

One he'd take dancing...

Call you darlin' with that Brooklyn drawl...

He blinked at the fleeting memory, a whimper escaping his lips when you dabbed his gash with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. You blew across the cut to soothe the pain before taking the needle and carefully stitching him up with a feather light touch.

"There" You whispered after taking care of the awful injuries that littered his body, leading out of the bathroom to lie down so he could rest. You didn't dare ask what had happened as you looked around the room; though there was a large bed with the softest sheets and finest materials but the makeshift pallet on the floor was clearly where he chose to sleep at night. He collapsed from exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep while you remained by his side.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, occasionally glancing over the dressings you'd put to see if blood had seeped through. You couldn't bring yourself to leave him alone, only getting up to see if you could find a sheet to drape cover yourself with in the cold room. As you removed the blanket that covered the bed, something caught your eye in the mostly untouched room.

A wooden box, carefully tucked away in the furthest corner of the room. There wasn't any dust on it, compared to the other pieces of furniture that were never used. It was something he very clearly wanted to keep a secret. His other treasures that were out in the open on the shelf were different from this.

Even the soldier had secrets.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you made your way to the corner, lifting the box as silently as you could so you didn't wake him, inspecting its contents.

Newspaper articles, some decades old.

Old photographs.

One of a young man.

The eyes.

Those blue eyes you'd become so familiar with.

James Buchanan Barnes.

A brave soldier who fought in the war. A young man, no, a boy, drafted to war, his life ripped away from him, leaving him for dead in an icy forest. You blinked back tears at the innocence the young Sergeants eyes held, bright and heroic, hoping to help in a fight that wasn't his. Scribbles on scrap pieces of paper read "I am James Buchanan Barnes" repeatedly.

Your could feel your heart break into tiny little fragments as you pieced together what happened to the boy from Brooklyn, he had his whole life ahead of him but-

A pained scream tore from his lungs, his eyes squeezed shut as you knelt by his side again, brows furrowed together. You looked over his injuries, everything was still in place but he sounded like he was being tortured. He tossed around, his screams melting into sobs, pleading for someone to stop.

"James?" You hesitated to use his real name, your hushed voice made him flinch in his sleep but it wasn't enough to pull him as he begged for the painto end. He didn't want to lose his memories again. He wanted to remember. Please?

"You're alright James" You cooed softly, running your fingers through his locks while tears continued to stream down his face, lost in a nightmare. "You're not alone"

You were careful not to scared him awake, your gentle ministrations soothing him, his cries coming to a stop. You wiped away the remnants of tears that fell against his cheek, some slipping beneath the mask he refused to remove. You didn't have in you to take it off, not without asking him first. His soft snores filled the room once again as the sun began to rise.

-

He stirred feeling a strange warmth surrounding his body blinking in confusion when he found soft sheets draped over him. The usual sting he'd feel after stitching himself up was nearly non existent. He ran his fingers along the gash, the neat little sutures still in place, covered with a bandage to protect the area. Bits and pieces of the night came to him in waves.

Running into his captors. Evading them. Escaping. The bloodshed. The weapons. The injuries. The pain.

However, there was also softness. Such tenderness. The touch of an angel he'd only be able to imagine in his wildest dreams that would never come true. Not for someone like him. Such sweetness. God, he'd missed it. He missed what such love and care felt like. It was so foreign to him. He was so used to the cold. Razor sharp, jagged edges. He'd forgotten so many things but the longer he kept to himself, the more that came back to him.

You called him by his name. He was sure of it. In the muddled fog of nightmares, he was sure he heard an angel call.

He knew he was in no condition to move or get you breakfast but the delicious smell of your cooking wafted through the halls letting him know it was okay for him to rest. He closed his eyes, flinching at the few prickles of pain he felt in his head.

You were there.

You'd take care of him.

He couldn't remember everything just yet but surely the puzzle pieces would fall into place soon.

-

"NO" The sound of the soldiers pained cry made you drop the book you were reading in your room, running off to find him. He'd fallen asleep after eating what you made for him that evening; you were sure he was getting better. He knelt on the floor, sweat covering his body as he gripped his hair, pulling from the roots. He felt another sharp piercing pain in his head, fleeting memories of things he didn't understand all flooding back at once.

You rushed to his side, taking his hands into yours to keep him from hurting himself. His eyes shot up, tears threatening to spill over, all the things he thought were lost forever coming back together.

He was a Sergeant.

A soldier.

A young man.

One who loved to go dancing.

One who wanted to help others.

Hydra turned him into a beast but you brought him back.

There was always something about you.

His sweet flower.

He relaxed feeling your soft fingers trace against his palms in hopes of grounding him, giving both his flesh and metal hands equal affection. He gently pulled his right hand away to remove the mask, letting you see all of him.

"Soldat?" You whispered, hesitantly brining your hand up to his scruffy cheek. He pressed his hand against yours, leaning into the warmth of your touch, he never wanted it to end.

"цветок" [flower] he whispered back, your eyes widening hearing the precious name he had just for you, "It's me, flower"

"James?" You knew it was no longer the soldier speaking, this was the little boy from Brooklyn, his piercing blue eyes now full of warmth and light.

"Your father, I have to take you home, flower I'm so sorry-" dread began to consume him as he realized how long he'd taken you for, trading one life for another, how could he-

"James, breathe" You held his face in your hands, wiping away the tears that began to fall, your hand coming down the rest against his erratic heart, "It wasn't your fault, I-I read what happened to you, you were taken, it was never you, you're a good person" You soothed his aching heart but it didn't ease how heavy it felt. Every part of him wanted to beg for you to run away, so far away from him so you could be home again yet his arms moved on their own, wrapping you up and holding you close, you fit so perfectly with him.

"I'm still a broken man, цветок" Bucky whispered with a sad smile, holding you with such care as you curled up in his lap. "I don't think I deserve to hold something as sweet as you"

"You're not broken, you deserve this and more" You cooed, inhaling his soft scent, your nose brushing against the column of his neck.

"You took care of me, flower" Bucky held you tighter, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, feeling safe for the first time in years, home had never felt closer.

"And you took care of me" Your fingers moved to card through his hair, pulling his face away so he'd look at you.

"I took you with me, doll" He couldn't shake the fact that he'd taken you from your father, first intending to kill him and then taking you in his place. "I didn't give you a choice, you should be home" The guilt ate him from the inside, if he'd been himself, he would have never-

"And you still protected me with your life" You whispered, your forehead resting against his.

"And I always will" Bucky promised, his lips brushing against yours. He meant it from the bottom of his soul, he'd always protect you no matter where you were. It didn't matter that he didn't want you to leave, that he wished you could stay, he knew you belonged elsewhere. He'd still always make sure you were safe. Exhaustion began to pull at him, his eyes growing heavy as his body continued to fight what Hydra wanted him to do and the man he really was.

"Sleep, Jamie" You pulled him down to lay on your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and for the first time in years, he slept soundly without a nightmare.

Over the next few days, you continued to nurse the soldier back to health, hushing him each time he plead for you to go, insisting he'd be okay to manage on his own.

"My body will heal, I promise, you don't have to do all this for me, let me take you home-

"Once you're all better. I'll write to him so he knows I'm safe" You pressed a finger to his pink lips before going back to tucking him in bed. It was true that the cuts had all cleared up exceptionally quicker than normal but you could see the mental exhaustion that plagued him each day.

He found a way to get in touch with your father without alerting anyone in Hydra from finding him and while your father graciously forgave him with understanding, nothing felt easier. He promised to return you home as soon as it was safe but the longer he spent with you, the more he selfishly wished for it to last forever. He promised your father he'd take care of you in every way possible but he knew it was truly you taking care of him.

He'd sleep soundly when you were near, falling asleep quickly when you'd read to him, sometimes softly playing with his hair so he'd relax. The few times he'd been alone, the awful memories would come flooding back leaving him confused and disoriented. It broke your heart hearing him cry, the soldier who was nothing but a killing machine truly an innocent man on the inside, a prisoner of his own mind.

You'd comfort him every single time, every moment more intimate than the next. It started with your soothing voice, sitting by his bed where you'd call his name, your fingers caressing the scruff of his beard, wiping away his tears. Then the nights came where you crawled into bed with him, helping him fall asleep with his head on your lap only to wake up with your limbs tangled together.

Then he started to hold you before he was asleep. He held you tightly while telling you stories about things he could remember. Things that made him smile. That his nickname was Bucky. You would do the same. You told him about all the things your father taught you. He'd start to kiss you goodnight. Innocently with a peck to the top of your head.

Sometimes your cheek.

He so badly wanted to kiss your lips, stopping himself when he felt his stomach stir, especially when your sweet doe eyes looked up at him. When he cuddled you, his arms would wrap around your body, his hands finding their way to the hem of the Henley you wore. His henley. His fingers would slip up to feel your skin, knowing such an angel was real grounded him. You'd do the same, tracing over his scars, neither of you openly talking about the growing tension between you both each day.

-

"Will you read to me?" Bucky asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder while you stirred some honey into the tea you were making. You giggled at his needy cuddles, his much larger form practically engulfing you from behind. "Please"

"Who'd have thought such a strong, scary soldier would want bedtime stories" you cooed, letting him carry you away to his room, making a stop at the bookshelf first to pick out a new story.

He settled against the headboard with you tucked in his lap, relaxing at you made yourself comfy between his thighs. Your words had an affect on him he couldn't describe, no longer paying attention to what you were saying and instead watching the movement of your lips. Your eyes darting across the pages. Your body pressed against his.

The butterflies started again.

His stomach stirred.

He tried to adjust himself, pulling you into a hug to calm himself down, ignoring the way he wished he could have more.

"You alright, Jamie?" you asked, feeling his squirming, his eyes growing wide as if he'd been caught red handed. He shook his head, insisting you continue reading, God he didn't know what to do with himself.

He fidgeted again, this time trying to keep you off the tightness growing more and more, you made it so difficult for him-

"Are you sure you're okay bub?"

"I don't remember much but-I-I know I want you closer, flower" His voice was shy, his adams apple nervously bobbing in his neck as he shifted, unable to hide the hardness between his legs. His mind was a mess, fragments of love and intimacy struggling to piece themselves together yet he knew enough to want to hold you close.

He wanted to feel your soft skin on his.

He wanted to kiss you in places that would make your cheeks warm.

Where you'd want to cover yourself but let him have you, just him.

He wanted to feel your hands touch him everywhere. He wouldn't flinch at your delicate ministrations, he'd give all of himself to you. He'd trust you in his most vulnerable state, feeling things he hadn't for years, so heavy between his legs.

"How much closer, Jamie" you couldn't meet his eyes, gripping onto his t-shirt instead, setting the book on the nightstand, now all your attention on him.

"You know, angel" He let his nose bury into your hair, the blush on his cheeks travelling to his neck. He couldn't bring himself to actually say what he wanted, hesitantly moving his hands to your hips instead, slipping up your shirt to hold your waist. "Can-can I kiss you?"

He could hardly recognize himself, nervous beyond comprehension, his heart racing when you nodded, cupping his cheek to look at you. He leaned down to press his lips to yours.

"More" You let your body melt into his, his tongue lacing with yours, deepening the kiss. He didn't pull away until he desperately needed air, no longer able to contain his arousal.

"M'sorry angel, s'been so long, my body's not the same-

"Don't. Don't you dare, I adore you just like this Sergeant" He sucked in a breath as you toyed with the hem of his shirt, nodding after a moment letting you take it off. You kissed every scar on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder where metal met flesh, "You're the most handsome, beautiful man," You kissed his neck making him hiss, your tummy jumping at the feeling of his erection now pressed right against you, "You deserve all of this"

"Can I see you, please?" He undressed you with such care as if he was unwrapping the most precious present, first laying you down before slipping your top off. You wordlessly undressed each other until there was nothing left to take off going right back to wrapping your body with his.

"You're the softest thing I've ever touched" He whispered, loving how you felt, your thigh hitched over his hip, your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your soft tummy against the hard planes of his abs, your hands rubbing up and down his spine, oh God your silky most sacred parts absolutely soaking his length. His body moved on its own, rutting up to chase more, his cock slotting so perfectly with his flushed tip rubbing against your clit.

The desperate moan he let out made you gush, seeing how lost he was in chasing how good you felt with the stutter of his hips.

"M'so hard" He whined, hugging you tightly, "Please angel, do something" It was the most delicious torture. You pulled away from his hold wanting to give him every bit of loving he deserved, giving his body the pleasure it had been deprived of. You shuffled to kneel between his legs, his eyes growing wide, your face so dangerously close to where he was achingly hard. There was no way, you weren't going to- your lips pressed a gently kiss to his frenulum and the tears started, you wouldn't give him more than this-

"Baby, oh God, no, no, I can't angel, oh God-OHH" He cried, his body splayed wide for you, bach arching off the bed as you took his swollen cockhead into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his circles, licking every bit of his essence that dripped out. Your face was between his legs, his cock was in your mouth, you were suckling off his most sensitive parts, how could he not spread his thighs apart further for you. He'd never been so open or vulnerable, letting you play and toy with his cock, his tears soaking the pillow at his balls started to pull towards his body, it couldn't be over so soon-

"Sweet baby, please, please-" He pulled you off his cock, bringing you up to smash his lips against yours, his thick length slapping against his tummy. He could have sworn he was close to cumming just tasting himself on your tongue. "Can-please I want to-" He scrambled to lay you against the pillows as you squeaked at the way he manhandled you in desperation, "please"

He was between your thighs, sighing with heart eyes as he carefully spread your folds with his fingers, taking his time smearing around your slick, your throbbing clit begging for his mouth. He latched on like a baby, nursing with the most needy gurgles, your gasp melting into a moan making his eyes roll back.

He couldn't believe he had his mouth on his pretty angel, his tongue toying with the precious parts between her legs, letting him taste her, drinking up her nectar, feeding him in the best way possible.

"I-oh-slow down baby, please, M'gonna- You gasped, feeling surges of pleasure already pulsing as he flicked his tongue with precision, his arms wrapping around your thighs, tossing them over his wide shoulders.

"Mph, cum" he whined before diving in for more, greedily humping and grinding against the mattress, how was he supposed to last like this.

"Want-want to feel you, please" You begged, needing him inside you, giving you something thick and hard to cum on. He didn't waste a second, shakily clambering back on top of you, nervously positioning himself at your entrance.

"You sure, sweet girl? I-it's been so long"

"I trust you" You pulled him down to kiss his reddened nose making him blush, letting out the breath he was holding as he started to push. You both moaned together as he buried himself all the way, stilling once he was flush against you, his orgasm already so close to shooting at the base of his cock.

"Hng, I needed this angel" He didn't move and you didn't need him to, just the feeling of him stretching and filling you fulfilling something you couldn't describe. You loved the feeling of you both being connected in the most intimate way, joined as one, it felt so right like he was finally where he was meant to be. Like he'd found his everything.

Your thighs moved to hug his waist, your arms around his shoulders. He drew his hips back and thrusted forward gentle, the gasp escaping your lips urging him to keep going. He started to move at a steady pace, bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning them against the bed.

"I love you-even if I have no right, I love you so much" Bucky lost himself to you, his hips moving at a slow grind, letting every inch of his cock fill and caress your walls, "You showed me love when I least deserved it"

"Fuck, I love you too!" You cried out, the curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, sending you higher and higher. "Oh, James!"

"My God, the way you say my name when m'inside you, say it again baby, please" He started to move faster on his own accord, primal urges starting to take over as he began to chase his pleasure and yours.

"Please, James, feels-feels so good"

"Gonna make me cum so hard, the things y'do to me baby, drives me crazy, wanna be like this for the rest of my life, making love to you and nothing else, swear this is all I want"

"James, gonna-gonna cum"

"Cum with me angel, all over my cock baby, cum on it, wanna feel it, please give it to me, I need it. Need your sweet cream all over me, fuck-yeah-jus like that-" You clenched around his cunt, his name dripping from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. That was all it took as he tucked his face right against your neck, holding you tight as he trembled, it was so much,

"M'cumming!!" His sob was muffled as his cock throbbed, warm streams of his cum pumping you full, his ass stuttering with each jerk of his hips. "So-so much for you, s'all for you angel"

Bucky made love to you everywhere, not one place left without him taking you apart to his heart's content, including the garden. The story you were reading was long forgotten as he took you under the shade of the tree, the long wispy branches of the willow tree hiding you from the rest of the world.

The summer sun cocooned you in a blanket of warmth as clothes were all tossed aside leaving you both bare on the sheet you'd spread on the grass, the sounds of the breeze, the rustle of the bushes and your moans blending in so perfectly with his rhythmic thrusts.

"Beautiful" he whispered against your cheek, pulling away so he could look at every bit of you, "So beautiful for me like this"

"Jamie, stop" You grew bashful, you knew no one could see you in your secluded spot so deep in the forest but you still felt so vulnerable, spread out naked with just his body covering you, shamelessly taking his cock while the afternoon sun hung in the sky.

"S'just us baby, just you and me, don't worry" He purred, bringing your arms up, holding your wrists in his metal arm while his flesh hand came down to caress your face. "We're not doing anything wrong darling, m'showing you how much I love you, how good you make me feel, yeah?"

"Yeaah" Your voice melted into a breathy whine as he started to move with more purpose, his warm breath fanning against your face.

"Lookit how pretty you are sweet girl, my pretty flower, you were meant to be here baby, feels so right, just like this"

Out of all the stories and poetry you'd read to him, this was what Bucky saw as true art. He'd seen the finest paintings around the world in the richest houses, guarded by the highest security. He'd seen nature's most incredible wonders with the tallest trees, the sweetest flora and nothing, absolutely nothing, would top how gorgeous you were, bare, on the grass, him filling you up, it was euproic.

The image was etched in his brain, he'd treasure it forever. Your shy moans. The clench of your cunt. The way he filled you up and kept his cock in you even after it was soft. The way you cuddled and kissed in a post sex haze, listening to the sounds of the forest. He could have cried at the way you fell asleep in his arms, so trusting for him to keep you safe.

This was all he needed.

He took care of you, keeping you protected while he did his best to eradicate Hydra with you to patch him up each time he came home. As soon as it was safe, he took you right home and under the care of your father, he healed from the words that held him captive.

It didn't take long for your home to be filled with the sounds of tiny feet mixed with the sounds of science experiments gone wrong; your little babies, their daddy and their papa getting up to mischief at all hours.

"Careful, flower" Bucky shook his head, running towards you as you waddled into the living room with an expression of concern on your face, cocking an eyebrow when you saw your son looking up at you with bug eyed goggles matching his papa.

Bucky came to steady you, his hands coming to wrap around your growing belly while your father and son continued to tinker away at a new creation.

"How are my princesses" He cooed while you huffed, still wondering what they were doing.

"We're both wondering what you're going here James"

"Papa's building me a rocket-

"A bicycle! Just a bicycle darling, go sit, son why don't you take her for a walk" You father ushered you and Bucky out, sending a wink to his grandson.

"A bicycle my foot" You shook your head while Bucky took you to the kitchen, setting a pot of water, ready to dote on you as usual.

"He gets that side of him from you, love" Bucky chuckled, coming down to kiss your belly, resting his head there. "Just wait until she's here too"

"You're a menace, Sergeant"

"You married me, darling" Bucky pouted making you giggle, cupping his face to kiss his jutting lips.

"and I love every bit of you"

"I love you more, pretty girl"

You would always be his flower.

[littlenightma]

Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

[hughjackmansbicep]

Delicate

a/n: hi friends!!!! im hoping to make this into a multi part series, got lots planned for this mini fic :))))) this is kind of the prolouge to the real deal, needed to get the setup for it started before we divulge. expect lots of twists n turns my friends!

Pairing: Logan Howlett X F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: uhhhhh none lol

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: The government has successfully began the eradication of all mutant species in the United States. Lucky for you your dad has taken careful precautions to protect you from the evil that lurks in the streets outside. Tucked away in a concealed basement you sat and rotted away clinging to your old life and dreams. What happens when one day you've got a severe hankering for some ice cream and he ran out of beer the same night? Both finding yourselves in the right place at the right time.

The world as you knew it was slowly coming to an end. Mutants everywhere were dropping like flies after the government slowly started poisoning everyone's food. Unless you were an off-grid loner living off the land, you succumbed to the same fate as everyone else, 6 feet under. Lucky enough for you, your father kept you pretty sheltered. Tucked away in your fully renovated basement, the world is ignorant of your existence. It was safer this way; I mean, sure, you missed going out to bars and seeing your friends; hell, you even missed those 8 a.m. bio classes you used to take. But this was safer; at least that's what your father always preached. “It’s safer down here, away from all those evil people.” He'd remind you every day, “You're to never leave my site, kiddo, and never step outside those doors.” Not like you could anyways, while your mutation allowed you to control the atoms around you and morph them into anything your heart desired, you had one weakness, adamantium. Your house was coated in it; every doorknob, lock, and even the goddamn windows were coated in the shit. 

It was 3:00am, no one was home, and you found yourself craving ice cream. It wasn't uncommon for your dad to leave you to your own vices. He still had a job he'd have to attend to, and that more often than not led you to solidarity on his trips. And here you were in the middle of the night, the light from the fridge illuminating the dimly lit kitchen, tearing your freezer apart hoping to magically find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s buried deep in the frost. You groan, sinking down to your knees, met with disappointment and an ever-growing craving for the sweet, delicious taste of The Tonight Dough. Sure, you could've totally put in an Uber Eats order, but where would the fun in that be? You stood in front of the adamantium-cladded door, using all your strength to melt it to the ground, but to no avail. The only thing between you and your Jimmy Fallon-adorned ice cream was some space metal, and to hell if your dad really thinks that's going to curve the urge.

For the next hour, you ran around the house like a lunatic looking for a weak point. Maybe your father missed just one spot—one tiny spot in this prison he calls a home. A small hole fit for the size of a mouse teased you. Sure, you control all the atoms around you but your own? You'd never even attempted to entertain that idea, although the worst that could happen is you turn your body into a permanent pile of slop. That didn't sound too terrible when compared to being a basement dweller for the last 7 years. And it turns out it wasn't as bad as you'd thought; you melted your body down into a pile of liquid, slithering your way through the walls of your house before you were spit out from a hole in the bricks. The air on your skin cascaded goosebumps along your body; you honestly couldn't remember the last time you felt wind grace your skin or the sun illuminating off your shoulders. 

You skipped happily toward the corner store, taking in every sound around you. The sound your feet made when they hit the pavement, the distant chatter of the locals crowding down the sidewalks, even the obnoxious sound of a car horn brought a smile to your face. You finally understood the saying, ‘the city that never sleeps.’ You reached the corner store, swinging the door open and prancing inside as if it were Disney World. Your happy fantasy faded as the man behind the register yelled at you to put some shoes on before walking into his store. You looked down, wiggling your free toes, with all the excitement of liquifying yourself to get a taste of the outside world, common societal rules had slipped your mind. “I um.. Just came to grab a pint of ice cream; I’ll be really quick, I promise.” You pleaded sheepishly, offering him a quick smile to butter him up a bit. He simply rolled his eyes in disgust and turned his back to you, mumbling something under his breath.

You made your way around the convenience store towards the dairy section when something, or rather someone, caught your attention. He looked tall, and even with a leather jacket on, you could tell he was huge. He had some silly-looking facial hair and even sillier-looking cat-ear-like hair, but man, he still looked good. Your eyes slowly traveled down his arms to his pants. Cute butt, you thought to yourself. He stifled a laugh before turning in your direction and saying, “Thank you.” He grumbled, turning back towards the beer cooler. “What?” You ask, heat rising to your cheeks once you realize you'd accidentally said that out loud. He didn't acknowledge you, just went back to scanning the cooler. You took that as a hint to keep moving, finally landing in front of the ice cream section and grabbing the last pint of your favorite ice cream. Carefully looking around to make sure nobody was watching you, you pulled the lid off and used your mutation to pull out all the atoms belonging to the anti-mutant poisons that were mixed in with the delicious sweet treat. Floating above the ice cream, you cautiously manipulated them into a different container of food and made your way back towards the front. What you didn't know was that the unfortunate corner store owner had been watching your freak act on the CCTV cameras the whole time.

Turning around one of the aisles, you had spotted two men in suits talking to the man upfront. You couldn't make out what was being said as they whispered, but watching him point to you using your mutation on the TV screen explained enough to you. You backed up slowly, trying to even your breaths out before you had a panic attack. You felt someone grab your shoulder, spinning you around into them. It was Mr. Cute Butt; he must be working with those suited men too. Your eyes go wide as you focus all your energy on him. You were attempting to melt him, freeing yourself from his grasp, but it wasn't working for some reason. He just stared at your brows laced together, trying to figure out what in the fuck were you doing. “You're going to shit yourself if you keep straining like that.” He whispered a low chuckle, following after.

You froze, looking up at the man with pleading eyes. “Please don't hurt me; I just wanted some ice cream. Please i'll leave right now, sir.” You rushed out searching his face for sympathy or remorse something in hopes he'd release his grasp on you. He looked confused at what you were saying to him as if you were speaking some foreign language, but that didn't last long once you two heard footsteps approaching you. “C’mon kid.” He grumbled out, dragging you by your arm, ducking in between the small isles towards the exit. “They're over here!” The man upfront yelled, and the mystery man beside you just groaned before scooping you up into his arms and rushing you out of the store. You both quickly fell into the crowd, blending into the sea of people that populated the streets of New York. As soon as you two were outside, he'd set you on your feet, his arm still gripping your wrist, dragging you through the city with him.

“I need to go home, sir; please don't hurt me. I'm so sorry.” You cried, tears adorning your cheeks as you pleaded with him; if your father knew what was transpiring at this very moment, you'd be toast. Absolutely never allowed outside your basement ever again; you could kiss the sun goodbye because you'll probably never see it again once he gets home. He ignored your pleas though as he pushed through the crowds to a parked motorcycle on the road. “Oh no, I am not getting on that thing.” You halted your movements, digging your heels into the ground. “Suit yourself, sweet cheeks.” He laughed at you dryly hopping onto the bike, “They'll find you eventually.” He kicked the stand up, revving the bike on. You looked through the crowd behind you, worry etching onto your face. Maybe he's right; maybe I should hop on that bike and ride it into the sunset with this beautiful specimen, or he's no better than those suited men and could ultimately be leading me to my death. “Just get on the fucking bike.” He growled at the sound of sirens roaring closer to you two.

Begrudgingly, you hopped onto the back of the bike, plopping the helmet latched behind you on your head. At this rate, your sure your dad is going to skin you alive and hang you up to dry. “Hang on tight, princess.” He turned around to smirk at you. You snaked your hands around his torso, and he took off, the force causing your face to smash into his back and your grip on him tightening. You were sure if you had been gifted some form of super strength, you would've popped his torso clean off his legs with how tight you were squeezing him. You attempted to give him directions back to your house, but he couldn't hear you and kept heading in the opposite direction. He totally could hear you too, but he was ignoring your requests to return you home.

The quick 15-minute drive felt like an eternity with how utterly petrified you were. Matter of fact, you were so scared, eyes clenched shut, arms squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs, you hadn't even noticed that you'd arrived at your mystery destination. He pried your arms off him, causing you to open your eyes; you were in complete shock. A gorgeous castle-like building stood before you, surrounded by trees, and a long gravel driveway trailed in front of it. A voice broke you from your thoughts, but this sound didn't come from the man sitting in front of you; no, it appeared like it came straight from inside your head. 'Logan, would you please introduce me to your new friend? The voice sang through you, your head whipping around frantically to find the owner of these words. “C’mon, I got someone for you to meet.” The man in front of you finally spoke, helping you off the bike and placing the helmet back in its spot on the rear. He guided you through the mansion all the way to the back, stopping at two huge double wooden doors.

“Come in, please.” Rang the same voice you heard earlier, the double doors slowly opening before you to reveal a small, bald man sitting in a chair. “And who might this be, Logan?” He questioned, looking towards the big man next to you. Logan, huh, you thought to yourself, cute name and a cute butt. Logan awkwardly shifted beside you, the bald man sending a booming laugh throughout the room. “Oh my God.. Did I say that out loud?” You whispered heat rising to your cheeks once again. Ignoring you, Logan started explaining to the bald guy, whose name you quickly learned was Charles, what happened earlier. Logan had seen what you were doing in that small store—how you made some substance float out of the ice cream and back into another pint. He assumed you were attempting to do something similar to that when he had grabbed you, and you began shaking like a Chihuahua, yet all you could think about during their discussion of the previous events was how you never got to eat the ice cream you risked your whole life for. “So,” Charles spoke, directing his attention to you. “What can you do exactly? What were you doing with that ice cream?” He hummed his eyes, raking you up and down, studying all your features. hoping they might tell him about who you are.

You were fairly normal-looking; I mean, to the average human eye, they couldn't tell you apart from another human. You felt like a deer in headlights right now, though; you'd never been asked or questioned about your mutation. You never dared to speak about it aloud; hell, your dad wouldn't even let you use your powers ever; it's like he was ashamed of you. “I can... manipulate things, i guess.” You spoke quietly; it felt taboo to you to speak about this, like this was some intimate, inappropriate topic to discuss. “And what do you mean by that?” He mused, deeply interested in your mystery. “I’m not exactly sure, sir. I just know I can do this.” You focus your eyes on the pen sat upon his desk, watching it quickly fall into a liquid puddle. “Fascinating.” Charles smiled up at you, “Can you change it back?” You trained your eyes down on the mess you created, quickly blinking as it slowly morphed back into its original shape of a pen.

Charles laughed in amusement before clasping his hands together. “We have much to discuss, little one, but for now Logan will show you to a room you can rest in. We'll talk more tomorrow.” He nodded at you before Logan had turned around out the door. You took this as your sign to follow, doors shutting behind you both. He guided you up the stairs, stopping at a random white door and handing over a towel and toothbrush he'd picked up on the way to your room. “Just try and get some sleep.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “I’m just up the hall if you need anything, i guess.” He nodded his head in the direction of his door. You just smiled, turning around into your room and softly closing your door. 

You had no clue where the fuck you were or what these strange men were planning to do with you. You've heard the horror stories from your dad about how the government would poke and prod you if anyone knew what you could do. you'd be a test subject for rich white males to toy and play with. You'd set the towel and toothbrush down on a chair in the room you were assigned and slowly stalked your way to the bed. As you crawled into bed attempting to get some shut eye all that you could think to yourself was, "Man my dad is soo going to fucking kill me when he finds me."

[helldivers-2]

MAJOR ORDER

Another colony has come under attack by the Illuminate. All Helldivers are ordered to converge on GENESIS PRIME and eradicate the remnants of this alien threat.

The Ministry of Truth has assessed that this Illuminate group represents yet-unknown survivors of the First Galactic War. It is unknown how they eluded detection for the previous century; however, their ability to do so is indicative of the limited size of the cell.

Their numbers are limited. This attack is an opportunity to complete the eradication of this xenophobic threat, securing the galaxy once more.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

Okay I have had this theory for months but I never actually laid it out before now. However it's well past time I actually do that considering episode 115 all but confirmed its truth (theres still wiggle room for me to be wrong, but honestly not much)

THE FERIN FAMILY ARE AASIMAR, AND HERES WHY:

The thing that originally made me go Hey Wait A Damn Minute was the visions of the original prophecy and its history that gillion got from that tree: "Another flash, and you see these red-haired olympian looking humans and elves and all kinds of different races that are flying with their own wings". And I heard that and thought about how much that sounds like aasimar, and then the weird dreams jay had and then captain widow insisting she has powerful blood and then star saying she sensed divinity on jay and then the whole ferin family's affinity for fire magic and everything just clicked into place.

Then in episode 114 we got the recording of Faye Ferin saying "hail the solar mother" and i was like no fucking way- BUT i set it aside because it felt like I could be reaching with that evidence. It could just be a religious phrasing, not necessarily something literal.

Then episode 115 happened and I got confirmation of my theory.

Grizzly doesn’t outright say "yes the ferin are aasimars”, but he gives us all the last few pieces of the puzzle.

Here's a link to the episode that should start where the confirmation is - the two tablets: https://youtu.be/M9ig9XCUrvU?si=oYdisYFxTqx6ogbb&t=868

Transcript of the tablets: Tablet One: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. We are descendants of the sun. Thus, we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail. Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history. Tablet Two: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes. Unity is the key to prosperity. Our elders will raise generations that burn with vigorous radiance.

NOW ON TO MY EXPLANATION!!

The thing that confirmed it outright for me is literally the line "We are descendants of the sun", because there are no ifs ands or buts about it - aasimar are descended from celestials. The aasimar entry for Monsters of the Multiverse states "Whether descended from a celestial being or infused with heavenly power, aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls." the tablet Jay stole from her grandmother is written in celestial, and says they are descended from the sun(aster), ergo, descended from a celestial.

Next up is the whole "Thus we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail." bit. The entry for Protector Aasimar (the subrace i believe Jay fits best) in Volos Guide to Monsters reads "Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness."

Then there's "Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history." Which then in the MotM entry it says "aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls. They can fan that spark to bring light, ease wounds, and unleash the fury of the heavens."

THEN THERES THE REAL FUCKING GIVEAWAY!!! THIS LINE: "Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes."

MotM says "They resemble their parents, but … often have features that hint at their celestial heritage." and VGtM says "They are a people of otherworldly visages, with luminous features that reveal their celestial heritage."

OF THE CELESTIAL FEATURES OPTIONS OFFERED BY MOTM, ENTRY 2 IS "METALLIC, LUMINOUS, OR DARK EYES" AND ENTRY 3 IS "STARKLY COLORED HAIR". THE FERINS ARE WELL KNOWN FOR HAVING BOTH.

The tablets are, of course, not my only evidence.

the ferins arent born with The Ferin Eye as revealed by Jay having to earn hers and Drey talking about when he got his. "now icarus," i hear you say "wouldnt that mean they dont actually fit the celestial features requirement?" and to that i answer "NO! IT IN FACT FITS IT BETTER!"

In discussing aasimar celestial features, MotM says "These [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature." Jay didn’t have the Ferin eye until she earned it and its subsequent abilities. And we all remember how she earned it, right?

A weird ass fucking dream.

Now let’s look at that. According to VGtM “An aasimar, except for one who has turned to evil, has a link to an angelic being. That being … provides guidance to the aasimar, though this connection functions only in dreams. As such, the guidance is not a direct command or a simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.”

In Jay's first sun dream (Juice Roll With It // Episode #88), Grizzly describes the sun and says "You feel like its presence is trying to reach you. And as you notice, you feel almost like you want it to.”

And then the core of the dream itself:

Grizzly: “Do you think Jay can withstand this impossible heat of the sun as you get just barely one step closer?” Condi: “I’m gonna say no… but she would try anyways, if that is, like, what the feeling is kinda giving her, you know?” Grizzly: “This powerful presence, as hot as it is - you can’t help but think of your sister. You can’t help but think of your friends. But then, you think of your mother, and then you think of your father, and then you think of your grandmother” (makes condi roll con save with disadvantage, condi got an 11) “with an 11, you take that step forward, but this overwhelming pressure, anxiousness, fear, handcuffs your spirit, closes your mind, and you just feel the heat of the sun overcome you. And you are jolted awake back in the reality. … but you know that in this dream you lost. You lost to the heat.”

Then the second dream (Happy Wife Happy Life // Episode 102), where the sun is hotter and larger than before and excruciatingly painful:

Grizzly: “You just can’t help but stare at it with both eyes wide open. And behind you you feel another heat.” (Condi asks if Jay can see this heat or if Jay is too focused on the sun) “You know that this heat signifies that backing away and falling is not an option this time. But as you look at the sun, you once again think about your family: your mother, who said she was sick; your father, who called you naive; your grandmother, who threatens the safety of your friends. You think of your friends. So I ask again, this time: do you think Jay can withstand that heat? That pressure and that fire?” Condi: “I think as Jay is staring up at this sort of immense fireball that represents… obviously her pressure, and she feels that heat at her back… I don’t think she would look at the heat as, like, something preventing her from stepping back and falling anymore. But in this metaphorical sense - since a lot of this is a metaphor - she’d probably look at it as what she basically can’t turn her back on, what she can’t leave behind. Basically like her new hope. You know, what she wants to protect. So she’s in between this and this giant fireball. Um. And I think with that in mind she would take a step forward and, um. While maybe not fully confident in herself, she would jump into the fireball with all her might, doing her best. ... I think she can handle it. She thinks she can handle it.” Grizzly: “Fair enough. That’s all I asked. You jump in- go ahead and roll a con save with advantage.” (Condi got a 19) “You leap with almost like a raging fire of conviction even if you doubt yourself, jay. And the sun almost seems to open up to welcome you in. And at first, the searing pain of the fireball’s heat feels like it’s melting your skin. You scream until it feels like it’s melting away that doubt. And then, all of the pain subsides. There’s a calming sense that kind of overtakes, jay, in your subconscious. And it’s all white at this point - your whole vision.”

So the sun reached out to jay through a dream, as aasimar’s celestial links tend to do, and gave her a test of strength that she had to figure out for herself (“as such, the guidance is not a direct command or simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.” - VGtM). She only passed it by remembering she had people she needed to protect (“Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness.” - VGtM). And when she passed this test given to her in a dream: “speaking of your vision, you begin to feel a warmth behind one of your eyelids. And the next day comes as you’re the first to wake at the very crack of dawn. The sun rises, and you rise with it. And you blink a few times - you feel something different. … This time, you look into a mirror and, just like your dad, just like Drey, you see this bright orange glowing eye on one of the sides. And you feel whatever that was: you passed it.”

This, therefore, perfectly fits Jay into the aasimar’s celestial features description that “these [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature.” Jay had to prove herself to the goddess to earn another celestial trait.

And once more, “Icarus!” I hear you cry. “You keep saying Jay fits the Protector Aasimar subrace, but don’t Protector Aasimar have incorporeal wings that come from their celestial heritage? Jay’s wings are from a tattoo! That doesn’t work!” To which I say, “Are you sure?”

The Protector Aasimar’s subrace ability is called Radiant Soul and allows the aasimar to “unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to glimmer and two luminous, incorporeal wings to sprout from your back.”

Jay’s wings come from enchanted tattoos with which she can cast Fly. These were a deliberate choice Jay made and are not celestial in origin. However, in the first sun dream, when Jay reaches out for the sun Grizzly says “You begin to feel the tattoo on your upper back sting.” When condi asks to clarify if it’s the Niklaus tattoo, Grizzly only says “Just the upper back.”

This, of course, leads me to believe that those dreams will or already have affected her wings in some way - perhaps leaving space for her to unlock more of her celestial heritage and power as she earns it. It’s something we’ll just have to watch and see for.

Either way the Ferins are aasimar, Jay's gonna be the first one in generations to earn their true celestial power from Aster, and i will Die On This Hill

[aventurineswife]

Stages of Shadows: Chapter 4 - Unexpected Friendship

The air buzzed with excitement as the audience erupted in applause, their cheers echoing off the high ceilings of the grand theater. Aventurine, with his flamboyant style and magnetic presence, commanded the stage, seamlessly weaving together an intricate tapestry of dance and music. His performance was a testament to his talent, captivating those lucky enough to witness it.

In stark contrast to the exhilaration surrounding him, [Name] sat slumped against the wall in the waiting room, staring blankly at the floor. Shadows danced across their features as flickering lights from the stage illuminated their downturned face. The cheers and music felt distant, muffled by the weight of grief and anxiety pressing down on their chest. Robin’s death loomed heavy in their mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life in this brutal competition.

Across the room, Ratio leaned against the doorframe, his muscular build casting a long shadow. He observed the other contestants milling about, but his focus remained fixed on [Name]. While most were lost in conversations or preparing for their own performances, [Name] was isolated in their sorrow, an island amidst a sea of vibrant life.

Ratio knew that it was time to act. He pushed himself off the frame and walked over to [Name], his presence commanding but measured. “You seem lost in thought,” he remarked, his voice steady and confident. “As though the world is pressing down on your shoulders. Would you care to share what’s on your mind?”

[Name] looked up, surprise flickering across their features. They hadn’t expected anyone to approach them, let alone someone as imposing as Ratio. “I—” they started but faltered, words caught in their throat. Instead, they lowered their gaze again, unable to meet his intense eyes.

“Do you think avoiding conversation will ease your burden?” Ratio pressed gently, crossing his arms. “You’re not the only one who carries a heavy heart in this place.”

At his words, [Name] finally met his gaze, feeling a flicker of curiosity. “What do you know about burdens?” they replied, a hint of defiance in their voice. “You seem too busy with your own ambitions to care about anyone else.”

Ratio’s expression softened slightly. “On the contrary. My ambitions stem from a desire to eradicate ignorance and share knowledge with others. But that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the pain around me. I’ve witnessed the struggle in many faces, including yours.”

[Name] inhaled sharply, feeling a twinge of something—recognition, perhaps. “I don’t know how to handle this,” they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “Robin—she was my friend. But… now she’s gone. I don’t know how to keep going.”

The vulnerability In [Name]’s voice struck a chord in Ratio. “Grief can be consuming,” he acknowledged, his tone shifting to something more empathetic. “But you must find a way to navigate through it. Knowledge is a powerful tool; it can guide you when all feels lost.”

“Easy for you to say,” [Name] shot back, frustration bubbling beneath their words. “You’re a genius. You have all the answers. What do you know about loss?”

Ratio’s expression hardened for a brief moment before he regained his composure. “I may not know your specific pain, but I’ve faced my own losses. The world is filled with cruelty and hardship, yet I refuse to succumb to despair. I channel my grief into purpose.”

Intrigued by his earnestness, [Name] felt the walls they had built around themselves begin to crack. “And what’s your purpose in this competition? To show off your intellect? To prove something to those who doubt you?”

“Partly,” Ratio admitted, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “But more importantly, I want to inspire others. I believe knowledge should be accessible to all, not just a select few. This competition offers a unique platform to reach people who might otherwise remain in the dark.”

Aventurine’s performance reached its climax, and the audience erupted into rapturous applause, bringing the waiting room back into focus. Ratio’s gaze shifted towards the screen momentarily, then returned to [Name]. “You see, we all have our own battles to fight. Yours may seem insurmountable right now, but perhaps you can find a way to transform that pain into something powerful.”

“Powerful?” [Name] echoed, skepticism lacing their tone. “How? How can I turn this agony into strength?”

Ratio’s expression softened further, revealing a glimpse of the man behind the intellect. “By sharing your story, by connecting with others who understand your struggle. It may not happen overnight, but every step counts. You don’t have to walk this path alone.”

For the first time, [Name] considered his words. They had been so consumed by their grief that they hadn’t thought about how sharing their pain could foster connection. “You really believe that?” they asked, searching Ratio’s eyes for sincerity.

“I do,” Ratio replied firmly. “And I’d be honored to help you find that strength. We can challenge this competition and the expectations that come with it. Knowledge and compassion can pave the way for a brighter future—even in a place like this.”

As Aventurine won his performance, the sound of applause washed over them once more, but this time, [Name] felt a spark of hope flicker within. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could forge a connection amidst the chaos.

This unexpected twist meant they would have to work together, possibly forcing them to confront their own struggles side by side.

“Looks like our paths are intertwined,” Ratio said with a hint of amusement, though the underlying tension was palpable. “Are you ready for what lies ahead?”

Taking a deep breath, [Name] nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and newfound determination. “Let’s see what we can do together.” they replied, a flicker of resolve igniting in their chest.

However, as they prepared to face the trials ahead, an unsettling thought nagged at the back of [Name]’s mind—a sense of foreboding that something darker was lurking just beyond the horizon of their newfound partnership.

“Just remember,” Ratio said, his gaze steady, “in this competition, we’re not only battling for ourselves but for those we’ve lost. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

[Name] felt a chill run down their spine, a premonition that echoed ominously within. The weight of his words lingered in the air, a fragile promise underscored by the reality of their perilous surroundings. In this arena of ambition and peril, they both knew that not everyone would make it through unscathed, and somewhere in the depths of their hearts, a fear grew that one of them might soon pay the ultimate price.

As the applause thundered through the walls, Sunday found refuge in the solitude of a dimly lit bathroom. The sounds of excitement and celebration in the waiting room felt like distant echoes, mocking the void inside him. He gripped the cold porcelain sink, knuckles whitening as he leaned over, desperately trying to steady himself. His eyes, usually clear and resolute, were clouded with grief and a pain he couldn’t seem to shake.

The loss of Robin hung over him like a storm he couldn’t escape, a ceaseless torrent of guilt and sorrow. Memories of his sister—her laughter, her strength, her unwavering kindness—flooded his mind, each one a dagger that twisted deeper into his heart. He remembered the last conversation they’d had, the words they’d left unsaid. If he had been there for her…

A tremor ran through him, and he swallowed hard, his throat tight with suppressed emotion. Sunday wasn’t one to reveal his vulnerabilities, especially not now, when so many were depending on him to remain strong, rational, and composed. But in this moment, all pretense fell away. He was just a brother grieving his sister, grappling with a loss he couldn’t protect her from.

“Robin…” he murmured, his voice barely audible, thick with pain. The name felt like broken glass on his lips, sharp and cutting. His grip on the sink tightened further, and his reflection in the mirror blurred, obscured by the tears he refused to shed. How had he failed her so utterly? How had he let her slip away in this brutal competition, this world that valued survival over compassion, cruelty over kindness.

He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep standing. There were others still here, others he was responsible for, others who could still be saved. But the thought felt hollow. What was the point if he couldn’t save the one person who’d mattered most to him?

Sunday’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes, trying to regain a semblance of composure. But the weight of his loss was overwhelming, pressing down on him with unrelenting force. For the first time in his life, he felt truly powerless.

He heard faint footsteps outside, voice muffled but growing closer. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to bury his grief, to hide it as he always did. The world wouldn’t care about his pain. It had never cared. And he wasn’t sure he had the strength to care anymore, either.

[Navigation]

[skay-ali]

The lonely lady

new fandom

The sun was shining, illuminating the dark streets, although they were very busy, there was a tense air in all the people, there was nothing but gray colors devoid of life, frowning or tired faces.

You would miss this small city full of aristocrats and commoners or normal people who always made you smile with their mundane, moderately fierce lives.

What you wouldn't miss is all the trouble about crimes at the hands of aristocrats, dealing with the helplessness of not being able to do anything about how innocent people suffered at the hands of monsters, only crying over the miserable end they had and enduring living without discomfort with the perpetrators. . of stories abominable actions.

You would finally be free from your entire evil family, you wouldn't miss them, they never showed an iota of compassion when you came to the family, you were just a stain on their lineage, that's why they could barely sell you to a nobleman.

But they were foolish, by compromising just to fill their pockets and have more power, they opened their doors to ferocious wolves, who meticulously planned their fall for all the evils they caused for generations.

You were never treated as their equal, you were just another maid, it didn't bother you even though they were cruel, the tasks they made you do were the typical ones you did in your old life, it was like a respite from all the work you were forced to do. to survive in a modern, capitalist world.

In addition, you had good friendships, you were able to gossip with the maids, drink with the gardeners and coachmen, play like a little girl with the children of the employees of the family home.

Your family in this new world would soon see its end, this was the night, the night where you would no longer see the need to stay in a house pretending to be an exemplary young lady and the fiancée of one of the most coveted men in the world. the ladies for their beauty and high status, afraid that your family will punish you for running away and ruining their business.

But above all you would no longer live with the fear of seeing your end at the hands of your fiancé and his family, the vigilantes of this story who wanted to clean up the world, you were not ready for such a thing, you were just an extra you told yourself and as a good extra You would disappear without a trace.

The United States seemed like a good option, going to the future land of dreams, where many people in the future could improve their lives.

Just don't look back, don't remember the affection you have for those characters with whom you lived for a few months, they were only pretending to achieve their goals, you repeated yourself endlessly... but you... you didn't, you actually got attached to them, they helped you overcome the emotional attachment you had with your former friends, the servants of the big dark house in which you were raised.

But now you were free although your heart hurt a lot, because you loved those people, you even allowed yourself to love, the one you never imagined, because you always had reason as your guide, it didn't end well, that person never saw you in such a way.

Even if you tried, you were in his eyes the evil that he sought to eradicate.

Not even his radiant fake smile could lie to you, you saw it many times captured in ink, in his story, that radiant smile he gave to his victims.

It was sad how such a vigilante would end up, not being able to witness the wonderful paradise he created.

Oh if only you had known, your escape would only cause problems later on, those people you didn't expect anything from would surprise you.

“Where is the lady?”

“excuse me who?”

“Miss ___, your fiancée” the maid became impatient, something that did not go unnoticed by those present.

“Excuse me but what do you need from her?” asked one of the brothers, disconcerted by the interest of the servant they had helped, in the noble woman who lived in their winery.

“She must know…” the young woman said calmly.

“she is finally free… she will no longer suffer for that family”

It was a bucket of cold water, although the entire group was very insightful, they never noticed such a thing, it must have been a very well-kept secret on your part.

They knew they had to talk to you after the maid's big confession.

They just didn't expect you to have left.

It is hopeful to see how in the darkness a being emerges capable of bringing light to this place again, it takes being truly brave and determined to try to cleanse the world of corrupt nobles.

But there is something that bothers me, perhaps this new great hero will be corrupted, or will he think that now he is the evil that must be eliminated.

I think that after his great deeds, the hero should live his happily ever after, even if it is a childish thought, doesn't he deserve to be happy after having sacrificed himself?

After all this, the obsessive characters are unleashed....

[idesofrevolution]

Party Animal

Danny smiled his signature perfect smile, posing stereotypically as the phone sat propped up on a sidewalk trashcan with a timed camera counting down. While it was his 21st birthday, and he'd invited nearly twenty people to come out clubbing with him in New York City, he wasn't entirely shocked when everyone had some lame excuse as to why they couldn't come. Victoria was in the middle of watching Yellowjackets and couldn't be bothered to get up off her couch. Taylor was stuck at the airport in Nashville, unable to board his connecting flight due to "inclement weather." Felicity couldn't find a dog sitter for the night (bullshit), and Kyle just didn't even respond to the text. This was relatively par for the course for poor Danny, who'd gotten all but used to the feeling of his "friends" ditching him when it was plans of his own.

There were absolutely reasons in their mind as to why going out with Danny was less than an ideal evening: he was a wallflower. Sure, like everyone else in his small town, he had a fake ID. So one would assume that his relative experience in bars would at least teach him something about how to have a good time in one. Unfortunately, this was certainly not the case. Danny was the friend who would get to the bar, order two Long Islands and drunkenly cry for the rest of the night. He couldn't hold his liquor, he couldn't hit a joint without having a fifteen minute coughing spell, his moves on the dancefloor were generously described as "cringe," he would leave early and complain about it the next day. Yet, without fail, the next weekend would roll about and he would be the first one in line at open. His messy party ways had completely eradicated any chance of an entourage going with him, even on his birthday. Thus, as he posed rather stereotypically on the side of West 17th Street, alone and underdressed for his first gay nightclub of legal age, there was a level of disappointment.

Chelsea was bustling that evening, with stunning people in outrageously skimpy outfits strutting from building to building. All were in their little cliques huddles together until they made it to the doorman, where they'd quickly disperse into the drunken crowd within. Guys like him were the ones standing in line, waiting for someone to leave so they could have a chance of getting in; wallflowers, all of them. Thus, as he finally arrived at the club he'd heard so much about on every gay travel blog imaginable, he wasn't shocked to receive a quick look up and down from the bouncer and a head shaking no. Dejected, alone, and not even buzzed, Danny pulled out his phone to call the Uber back to his hotel. That is, until he felt a subtle tap on his shoulder. He sighed and turned around, locking eyes with an unexpected but very welcome sight.

He was tall, maybe 6'4 in a cutoff white tank top, a golden chain hanging from just beneath his nipples. His abs sat like the cobblestones on the street against his chiseled torso, flanked on either side by two huge, vascular arms. His fly was undone, with his thumbs suggestively holding it open. He had a gentle, yet sultry face: perfectly manicured facial hair and sweaty, wavy curls atop his head. He smiled as he leaned against the wall, illuminated brightly by the streetlight above them both.

"Baby you're not gettin' in looking like that." He had a thick accent, perhaps Cuban or Dominican, but it rolled off his supple lips like the drool which had begun to slightly dribble down Danny's jaw. The man smiled and ruffled his hair, getting ready to walk back into the club.

"Hey! Uh... I really like your outfit. You wear it really... really well." The stud turned back, a small chuckle under his breath.

"Thank you baby! I wasn't sure about the chain, but it draws attention to all the right places, am I right?" He ran his large hands over his abs, winking at the salivating 21 year old. "I'm Mateo, by the way." The two shook hands, Danny barely able to contain himself.

"So, you come out to these clubs often? It's my first time in the city. My twenty first birthday, actually." Mateo's face lit up. Tossing his arm around Danny's shoulder, he leaned in close to hopefully be heard above the hustle and bustle of the chattering crowd outside. Danny blushed. He could feel the heat from Mateo's pit on the nape of his neck, the smell of wet armpit after a night of dancing tickling the hairs in his nostrils.

"Where's your party? You better not be out here alone on a Saturday night!" Danny looked down, trying to hide the thirst which had overtaken him.

"Ahh, they all cancelled. It's just me tonight." Danny felt an immediate yank, as Mateo squeezed him tightly against his pillowy pecs.

"Nahh. It's just you and ME tonight. C'mon." Mateo began guiding Danny down the street, chatting about the nightlife in New York City, how it's better than anywhere else, how it has the hottest guys and the best vibes. Mateo had been a staple of the ballroom scene for a couple years at that point, and was well acquainted with the bars and their owners. Any place of any note, he'd be able to waltz right in. Though in this instance, he decided to do something special for this little guy who he'd found meandering the streets. "It's definitely an in-the-know kinda place, if you know what I mean. And you're not getting in wearing that, so I guess we're just going to have to get you a birthday present." The two strolled up to a relatively inconspicuous apartment building, Mateo flashing his card to open the heavy metal door. Two flights up and ten doors down the hall, Mateo opened the door to his apartment. It was tidy for the most part. Plants sat on every imaginable surface, even hanging in macrame slings from the popcorn ceiling. Mateo flipped the lights on in his bedroom and opened his closet door.

"Uhhh, what are you looking for?" Danny nervously shuffled from side to side. This wasn't going to be one of those makeover scenes a la Clueless, was it? Mateo flashed several articles of clothing in front of his face, each vastly different from the one before: leather pants, a silk button up, a ripped up tank top, a latex polo... Under his breath, Danny could hear the quiet mutterings Mateo whispered after each one. Too young, too bulky, too preppy, too kinky.

"Hey. Like what's the vibe you're going for? If some hot guy walked up to you and was looking you up and down, what would you want him to see in a perfect world?" Danny sat there a moment, pondering. He wasn't entirely sure. He'd never thought about it. Closing his eyes, he tried to go back to his days of fantasizing about what a perfect Danny would look like. What he'd always wanted to look like. Though, for him, those days were far behind him. The years of being ditched and cast aside, while he understood why, had taken a toll on him. He'd only ever seen himself as that annoying friend who ruins the mood. Danny shuffled his feet beneath him, hanging his head.

"I don't know... just not... this." He motioned up and down, alluding to the rather sad appearance he'd taken on. Mateo stopped what he was doing, chucking a pair of sunglasses at the frowning young man, hitting him square on the nose.

"You stop that. This is not a pity party, it's a birthday party." Danny nodded, picking up the sunglasses from his feet: Balenciaga. "You know what you need? You need a confidence boost." Mateo pinched his chin, analyzing his closet. "And I have just the thing." It was like a frenzy. Within seconds, clothes were being tossed at him. Looking down at them, he anxiously investigated them. A long, almost see through tank top, a well worn sleeveless leather jacket, and a pair of wide, baggy pants- all of which about two sizes too big.

"Uh, hey, I really appreciate it but I don't think I'm gonna fi..." Mateo had plopped a heavy pair of beat up combat boots on top of the pile in his hands, nearly spilling the whole outfit out of Danny's arms.

"Shut up and go put this on, I promise you'll look great." Sighing, he started headed toward the bathroom, only for Mateo to stop him. "Here, just..." Mateo grabbed the wrists of Danny's shirt, pulling the gaudy top off his frail body. Snatching the tank top from the pile, he ripped it off the hanger and slipped it over his arms and head. The shit was undoubtedly massive on him. Danny was after all 5'4 and 100 lbs soaking wet, the tall hunk which stood before him would obviously be wearing way larger clothes than him. "Arms back!" Mateo slid the sleeveless leather jacket onto him. Danny could smell that this item was well loved, catching a subtle hint of weed, cigarettes, and sweat gently wafting from it. "Pants off!" He directed, Danny followed. Pulling his skinny black jeans down to his ankles, and taking off his brown loafers. He stood before Mateo in his whitey-tidies, and an unimpressive flat bulge. "Yeah, take 'em off and burn them. Besides, easier access for the lucky guy later tonight." He winked, causing Danny to blush. Any time his gal-pals had tried to do a makeover it always ended in a trip to Hollister or Abercrombie to look like every straight high schooler in 2013. He'd never had a guy, let alone a gay guy take the time to dress him. His guard finally down, he dropped them, quickly snatching the lightweight pants and pulling them up his legs, tightly pulling the drawstrings to keep them up.

Mateo looked him up and down, clearly thinking about what was missing as Danny slid his feet into the massive boots, feeling the squish of gogo boy sweat bubbling up onto his soles. Mateo snapped his fingers, grabbing the sunglasses and sliding them onto his face. Danny couldn't deny feeling cool in these ill-fitting clothes, whether or not he felt hot in them or not- if this sexy club kid thought he looked good he probably did.

"Awesome, here, take this bag. Happy Birthday, we gotta go!" Danny didn't even get a chance to peer into the mirror before a large leather bag was tossed at him and he was pushed out the door. He tripped over the baggy pants dragging on the ground, and the clunky boots which slid around on his now damp feet. "You look great," Mateo said as they hopped down the stairs. "I got just the place to take you."

The two walked for perhaps only a block or two before they turned into a dark alley, only a single red lamp far down the brick walled canyon illuminating the surroundings. They strutted up to the rusted metal door, Mateo knocking only three times before it swung open. The huge bouncer blocked the door with his arms crossed, though the moment he saw Mateo, he silently stepped aside. Thrust inside from behind, Danny entered the club.

From then on, the night was a blur. The few moments of clarity and recollection told quite the story. The club was packed, sexy guys dancing on eachother, gogo boys on the bar, discarded ecstasy pills littering the floor brightly glowing from the blacklights. A DJ played derivative beats as they approached the bar. The last clear decision that was made was to take a round of shots.

"Zayn! Could you get us two blowjobs?" Danny turned quickly, shocked at the prospect. He was slightly less anxious when the two cream topped shots were placed in front of them. After a quick birthday toast, the two downed their shots. Immediately, Danny felt an instant release. The nervousness had subsided, and he felt ready to enjoy the evening. He couldn't help but notice, before Mateo had ordered round two, that the sexy bartender seemed to smirk with every shot, heading to the back room for a moment only to come back with two perfect drinks. Round 2 felt just as good as the first, feeling himself smile and sway to the music. It was followed up by round 3, then round 4, then round 5... The shots just kept coming, and by round 7, the world was spinning.

From what little could be recalled, he hit the dance floor with Mateo, showing off the notorious dance moves which had caused him so much grief back home. Though, as the night progressed, he felt the music in a patently distinctive way. Every beat, every note hit differently. His body seemed to just move on its own, his hips swaying, his hands slowly wandering around Mateo's firm waist. The unfittedness of the clothes seemed to dissipate, and they began to feel... right. He liked the way that they showed off his broadening shoulders, his widening biceps... As he dropped, effortlessly pulling off spins and dips, his strong, muscular legs kept him firm in his stance, rooted in the perfectly fitted boots.

He could remember Mateo running his hands over the light tattoos sprawled on his pulsating forearms. He'd even done a few of them himself in his boredom during a relatively crazy shroom trip a few years back. In fact, as the two of them stood there in eachother's arms, looking eye to eye and towering over the dancefloor, he was so grateful that his bestie Mateo would give him such a night out on his birthday. Though, it seemed every year got more and more wild. The two didn't waste any more time. This was going to be a wild birthday, as Mateo planted a deep kiss onto his lips. Their sweaty, muscled arms wrapped around eachother, passionately making out on the dancefloor, before Danny reached into his bag, pulling out the magnum ribbed condom he'd gotten earlier that day, hoping the two would arrive at that point sometime during the night.

Mateo smiled and nodded, the two heading outside to wait for the Uber to take them back to the apartment. As Mateo eagerly tapped away on his phone, Danny leaned against the street pole, thrusting his sizeable package toward his boyfriend.

The next morning, Mateo woke up to an empty bed. Sweaty sheets tossed from one side of the room to the other, the stench of kinky sex still wafting in the air. He rolled out of the stained bed, walking past Danny's still warm, musky combat boots splayed on the hardwood floor. After a night of being railed with his face buried in it's ripe opening, he couldn't help but take a quick whiff down memory lane before going down to the front door. There, perched on the step, in all his blonde, shirtless glory sat Danny smoking his American Spirits.

"Good morning, sexy bitch." His velvety voice soared like the wind to Mateo's eager ear, something about that cocky, confident swagger behind his words always hit just right. He plopped down next to his boyfriend, sensually nibbling on his pierced ear. "Gonna get the neighbors all hot and bothered." Danny chided, Mateo knowing full well he loved being seen in even more compromising positions by anyone who stumbled across them.

"That's the idea." The two laughed and kissed, hoping old Mrs. Prallatt across the street was huffing and puffing in an indignant rage. "Hey the house is performing later tonight in the Bowery, I think you should show off the new number. Kick the LaBeija's ass off the floor." Smirking, Danny took a long drag and let out a large cloud of smoke before turning to Mateo.

"They don't stand a chance." Mateo stood up, kissing Danny's smooth hand before getting ready to head back up to get dressed for the day. "Hey, babe." Mateo turned and looked down at the beautiful creature which had been the wildest ride he'd ever taken. "How about you take those sweats off and I show you a couple more moves before we head out?" A strong grope of Mateo's growing bulge and a wink from behind his Balenciaga shades was all that his man needed to see.

[yustea]

Back to [Navigation], [Part 2]

Pairing: Ceo!Jongho x fembody!coworker!reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After an unexpected turn from a creepy colleague, you’re left within the comfort of your cold boss, Choi Jongho. However, he leaves you with an alluring offer of something more…

Genre: angst, heavily suggestive, comfort, slight fluff

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: reader!is!harassed, reader!cries!, making out, mentions of possessiveness!, claiming!, choking! and hickeys

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

Bzz, bzzzzzzz.

Bzz, bzzzzzzz.

Your phone vibrated with the soft echoing dingles of your alarm, gradually arousing you from your tranquil sleep. You yawned and stretched, taking satisfaction in the crackling of several bones along the curve of your spine. You sluggishly sat up, searching blindly for your phone, your hair and sheets a tangled mess. Once it was in your grasp, you quickly turned the alarm off, rubbing your face in tired motions as you took a moment to gather your bearings. You checked the time, squinting an eye in the process as the painful glare from your phone illuminated the room.

5:31 am.

With a sigh, you reluctantly crawled out of your warm, comfortable bed, making your way to the chilly bathroom as you scratched the back of your neck lazily. You twisted the sink tap, splashing cool, refreshing water across your face and neck, eradicating the last remaining hints of drowsiness from your body. You stumbled out to your wardrobe, hurriedly selecting a silk white blouse and a black pencil skirt, paired with a matching set of black lace undergarments for your work attire of the day. You strolled back into your bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you went.

You’ve been working for Choi Enterprise for the past two years under new CEO, Choi Jongho, whom overtook his father’s position as heir of the company for the past six months. Unlike his father, he exerted an intimidating and unrelenting energy that sent chills to your bones. He always wore a poker face and rarely ever spoke unless required to, more often than not resorting to unnerving stares and short, direct sentences when he conversed. Even the way he walked was domineering, his presence alone striking a quiver in your knees. It unsettled you… but also ignited a deep hunger within you. You couldn’t deny it - he was a handsome man, and his dominant aura just made you want to be railed by him even more; his strong, muscular arms choking you as he trailed bruising hickeys across your neck and chest as he possessively claimed you with each thrust. Is that too much to ask?

You brought a sharp slap to your cheek, snapping yourself out of your dreamy state. He’s your BOSS for god’s sake Y/N, you scolded yourself as an embarrassed flush began to bloom across your cheeks. With a shake of your head, you checked the time once more.

7:15 am.

“SHIT I’M GOING TO BE LATE,” you cried, quickly finishing your meal and slipping on your shiny black stilettos as you grabbed your purse and keys, and opened the door, haphazardly exiting your home as you headed to work.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived on time and stood outside Choi Enterprise, the tall skyscraper looming over your microscopic figure. With a deep breath, you smiled and entered the building, the echo of your clacking heels announcing your presence as you steadily walked to the elevator, swiping your key card as you entered and selecting your floor number. Soon after, you arrived on your level and stepped out, basking in the bright morning light through the crystal windows. Just as you made your way to your desk, your coworker, Madison, rushed over, plonking an array of files and loose forms on your workspace and panted.

“Woah, are you okay? You seem like you ran a mile,” You asked concerned as she propped her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. “We have meeting… with… Choi,” she gasped. “He wants.. see.. propositions… NOW.” A surge of cold dread ignited in your stomach, your jaw falling slack and your eyes widening at the sudden news. “Oh fuck,” you hissed, scrambling wildly through your draws to find your folio and USB. “I thought it was next week?!” You cried as panic began to settle in when you couldn’t find your business proposals. “He moved it up.. to today.. two minutes ago,” she inhaled deeply, finally composing herself. “Julian said that he didn’t know what spurred his decision, but he looked furious.” That was never good hearing it first-hand from his secretary; he must’ve been really pissed.

Finally, you grasped the dark navy blue folder attached to a ziplock bag stapled to its exterior with a USB sealed inside. A wave of relief washed over you. At least I haven’t fucked up yet. “Okay, let’s go.” You briskly ran to the board room with Madison in tow, mentally going over your presentation and the key points you’ll be stating. When you arrived, you saw Julian waiting for you both outside, ushering you in with urgent motions. “Be aware,” he whispered behind you. “The beast has awoken.” You gave a small nod as you and Madison piled into the room, Julian closing the door behind him as he left to go escort Jongho. Silent chaos encased the room as everyone hurriedly shuffled around, bowing their head slightly in acknowledgment as they passed. You sat at your designated seat, grateful for your earlier preparation as you let out a long breath, sinking into the fabric of the black chair.

“Well hello to you too princess,” a flirtatious voice spoke, bile rising within your mouth as an unamused expression plastered on your face. A faux tight-lipped smile graced your lips as you sat up, seeing the man that you despised most in the world sitting across from you. “Oh I’m sorry Rufus, I didn’t see you there.” He leisurely gazed his eyes up and down your attire, a sickening smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. You internally cringed. “You look gorgeous princess,” he whistled, a sultry look evident in his eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably and ignored his comment. Just as he was about to say something else, Jongho stormed into the room, everyone suddenly standing to attention and bowing in unison. “Let’s start,” he stated as he threw his file onto the table and sat in his seat, everyone following suit in silence. “Mr. Jones,” he called out as Rufus shot his head up. “Yes Mr. Choi?” “You present your proposal first.” Everyone turned their heads to Jongho, confusion and shock on everyone’s faces. Usually, he followed a particular order; starting from you and ending with Rufus. Why did he do that? you pondered, landing your gaze onto Rufus. He gulped, his eyes wide in surprise. “U-um,” all eyes turned to him. His hands visibly shook as Jongho waited patiently for his reply. Any sympathy drained away as a subtle smirk spread on your lips at his loss for words. Oh this was going to be good.

“W-we have nothing to present sir,” Rufus hung his head in shame as everyone held their breath. The room stood still. “Mr Jones, what is our company’s policy?” Jongho asked. “Be ready and prepared at all times, sir,” he responded. “And do you admit that you failed to fulfil this as an employee of this company?” “Yes sir,” Rufus poked his cheek with his tongue, embarrassment flushing across his neck. “Finish your proposal by next Tuesday and we’ll reevaluate your work ethic at this company,” he concluded, tapping his files together and leaning back against his seat as Rufus hung his head in humiliation and shame. Damn, your heart raced, that was attractive. “Miss L/N,” he turned his head to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Yes Mr Choi?” “Present your proposal for us please.” A small smile curved on your lips. “Certainly sir,” you stood up and made your way to the large screen, plugging your USB into the side and beginning your presentation.

After you finished, the room erupted in applause as you took a deep bow. Quickly, you gathered your things and sat back down. “Well done Miss L/N,” a proud smile splayed across his face. A surge of pride swirled within you as you nodded your head in acknowledgement. “Thank you Mr Choi.” “Now Ms Kahn, please present yours.” Ms Kahn nodded and stood up to present her idea. Suddenly, you felt something hard brush against your ankle. You flittered your gaze downward and noticed it was Rufus’ shoe trailing against you. You looked up as you met his enraged stare. Oh no, this can’t be good. The colour began to drain from your face as he slowly climbed higher, slowly inching towards your inner thigh. You shuffled your chair back in hopes to be out of reach.

His face contorted into a sneer as he dropped his foot, stopping his antics and setting his focus back on Ms Kahn. You eyed him disgustingly as you followed suit, calming yourself and ignoring the panic coursing through your veins. Unnoticed by you, Rufus knocked his pen onto the floor. He bent down to grab it, crawling further and further under the table. Coincidentally, his knuckle skimmed against your leg, causing you to jolt back as a pair of seething eyes witnessed the scene unfold. “We will continue this tomorrow, everyone is dismissed,” Jongho abruptly announced, interrupting Ms Kahn’s proposition and halting Rufus’ motions.

Seamlessly, he stood up, sending a flirtatious wink in your direction. Disgust morphed onto your face as you cringed, swallowing the fear of what could have happened if it wasn’t for Jongho’s impeccable timing. Just as you were about to exit, Jongho called out. “Except for you, Miss L/N.” Your body froze. What did he see? You turned around and bowed your head, obeying his instruction and standing still next to the doorway. Rufus was the last to leave as he strutted past you, a satisfied grin encasing his vile face as an angry gaze burned into the back of his skull. The door closed behind him. Silence engulfed the room.

Jongho stood up and made his way to you. He positioned himself directly in front of you, keeping a distance and his hands situated in his pockets. Your body trembled in nervousness. “Look at me,” he spoke softly. Startled by his gentle tone, you glanced upwards, noticing a forbearing smile on his lips. “Are you okay?” You looked away and bit your lip as you felt the familiar sting of tears brim your eyes. You nodded. Unconvinced, he gingerly stepped closer and gently placed a hand under your chin, tilting it towards his face. “It’s okay,” he cooed. “You’re safe.” Your facade caved as a tsunami of sobs escaped your throat. He carefully embraced your shuddering body, whispering caring and sweet phrases as you released your distress and fear into his chest. “I-I was s-so scared,” you choked. “Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe with me,” he gently patted your back in conforms as you continued to cry.

After a moment, your tears were dried, emotional relief encasing you as you inhaled a long deep breath. Jongho stepped back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “You okay now?” Your glassy eyes gazed into his as you nodded. He felt his heart skip a beat. Suddenly, your eyes widened at his soaking black shirt, realisation hitting you like a truck. “O-oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” you hurriedly pulled away to grab some tissues, only to have your wrists tenderly held in his strong grip. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got some spares in my office.” He gazed at you in a soft and affectionate manner, causing you to shyly look away. He gently brought his hand up to cup your face, stroking your tear-stained cheeks. Your heart fluttered. “Don’t let him get to you, okay?” You bit your lip as you nodded, your adorable doe eyes striking a chord in his heart.

As if possessed, he leant down to your face, his warm breath cascading against you as a shiver crept up your spine. Delicately, he placed a peck against your lips, once, twice, and then kissed you. Your body froze in shock, taking you a moment to grasp the situation. Suddenly, he pulled back, realising what he just did. “I-I-,” he stuttered as an embarrassed rouge reddened his neck, shyly fidgeting his fingers. Admiration surged within you at his cuteness, now seeing the unveiling of a mere sweet, flustered boy twiddling his thumbs compared to the stoic man you usually know.

Ah fuck it, you thought as you stepped closer and brought his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, he kissed back, your lips moulding one another’s in a slow, feverish make out. You prodded your tongue against his mouth, silently asking for permission. He let you in as you both battled for dominance, his hand snaking to the back of you head and waist as he pressed you closer. He carefully shifted positions and leant you against the table, trapping you in his hold, his domineering presence back again. He gently pulled away, eyes glazed with lust and hunger as he stepped away, admiring the view of you panting and disheveled against the table.

“Fuck..” he sighed, clenching his jaw as he resisted the urge to rail you senseless. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts and composing himself. He brushed his hair back and readjusted his tie, making his way to the door. “Meet me in my office at 6:00 if you want to continue where we left off.” With that Jongho calmly stormed out, leaving you perplexed and shocked. You just witnessed the duality of your boss.. and my lord both sides were attractive. Who knew such an intimidating, cold man could be so shy and sympathetic yet so hot and controlling? You glanced at the clock on the wall.

8:06 am.

Your head lolled back, huffing out a sigh. “Now I’ve gotta wait for fucking ten hours just to get laid,” you groaned, wondering what you were going to do with the dampness in your panties. Suddenly, you sat up. A devilish smirk carved your face as an ingenious idea came to your mind. Oh he’s going to feel it…

But so will you.

Part 2?

A/N: Hi again, thank you so so much for reading my fic :)) I was originally going to do this as one big fic, however, I ran out of time and so part two will be uploaded next week 12pm GMT on Sunday. (I can’t leave y’all on a cliff hanger for too long <33)

As always, please feel free to reblog on tumblr, give me any feedback (all is welcome), and if you have any fic ideas/thoughts please send them in my bio and I’ll make sure to tag you in the post. Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

Back to [Navigation], [Part 2]

[scarletwritesshit]

✿ Jiyan x F!Rover ✿ Forget-Me-Never

“You asked to meet me here, love?” Jiyan said, looking down at Rover sitting in a patch of the field free of Emortia flowers.

“Come sit down,” Rover said, patting the clear space on the ground directly next to her.

Jiyan sat down beside her, careful as to not accidentally step on any of the Emortia flowers. They were growing in a fair abundance, but Jiyan saw no excuse for carelessness. Harming one would be akin to damaging the memory of his fallen comrades, and every fallen petal shatters a part of his soft heart.

“Was there something that you needed to see me for?” he asked.

“Actually, yes, there is. I briefly mentioned us watching the sunset together beside the flower we planted, and I was hoping that you’d join me after all,” Rover said.

“I appreciate the thought, but you need not make time for me, personally.”

“I insist, Jiyan.”

Jiyan smiled softly in understanding, accepting her offer of a brief moment of solitude together. He had arrived just in time to watch as the sun slowly crept behind the mountains, a lingering orange glow illuminating the two of them and the field of flowers in which they resided. Rover ran her hand softly over the grass on her side opposite of Jiyan, feeling for the stem of the seed that they had planted together. When she felt it brush against her fingers, she lightly cupped its tiny leaves, feeling how strong it had grown in such a short amount of time.

“Our flower has been growing quite well,” Rover said.

“You’ve been watching over it this entire time?” Jiyan asked, somewhat surprised.

“Of course. Raising one of your favorite flowers is like taking care a part of your soul, and I couldn’t possibly disregard something of that importance.”

 “I…I see,” Jiyan said, blushing, “you must be rather knowledgeable of flowers to be caring for it so well.”

“I know you are, especially. I can’t let you down, so I must see that it grows properly.”

Jiyan did not refute Rover’s words, as he did indeed harbor a great love for herbs and flowers. He gently held one of the Emortia flowers in his hand, handling it delicately as to not accidentally snap it out of the ground or damage even a singular petal.

“It still has yet to blossom, but you still wanted to see me out here so soon,” he said, admiring the blooming flower in his hand.

“Well, Jiyan, sometimes, you talk about yourself dying a little too much,” Rover said. “It worries me. A lot.”

“The possibility cannot be eradicated. I lead the troops from the front, therefore making me a highly prioritized target. Should the worst case scenario come to fruition, I want to leave no ends left untied.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jiyan. I don’t want you to die. Just hearing you talk about it hurts me greatly.”

“I apologize,” Jiyan said, looking away, “but I would rather not leave you unguided in the event that we part ways without another word shared.”

Jiyan’s words stung Rover’s heard, bringing her on the verge of tears. She understood where he was coming from, and making such preparations was ultimately wise, but she did not want to consider that outcome regardless. She couldn’t imagine no longer having Jiyan by her side. He was perhaps the first person that she truly felt comfortable entrusting her life to, at least ever since she regained consciousness. Losing him would mean losing a part of herself as well.

Does that man ever not think about his plausible death? she wondered.

“I suppose you are right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I still want to think about it regardless.”

“I hardly want consider it myself, love.”

The silence between the two of them became deafening as the sun was sinking further behind the mountains and below the horizon. He wasn’t sure what to say, as Rover looked as if she would burst into tears should he say a single word. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that what was left of the was sunlight illuminating Rover’s hand resting on the grass beside him. He laid his hand on top of hers, gently sliding his fingers under it and holding her hand as gently as his strength would allow him to.

Rover looked up at him, the setting sun reflecting in her inquisitive, citrine-tinted eyes. Embarrassed, Jiyan looked away, his hand tense and frozen in place. Rover attempted to hook her thumb around his and gently rub it to signal that he was fine, but Jiyan still refused eye contact. He was proceeding cautiously, despite his most forceful moves being gentler than a flower petal drifting along the river.

“Is this why you invited me out tonight? Because you were afraid that you would never see the setting sun with me?” Jiyan asked.

Rover nodded her head. “…also had something that I wanted to give to you.”

Jiyan finally turned to look at her and watched as she used her free hand to shift through her pocket. He was ready to accept being shaken off at any moment, but Rover kept his fingers firmly planted to the ground, as if she were afraid that he would suddenly slip away. After a few moments of digging, she pulled out a stem consisting of many tiny blue flowers, just barely visibly in the last of the daylight that lingered.

She held them out to Jiyan, and he accepted her gift of tiny flowers. He held them in his palm out of fear of accidentally damaging them, as they looked even smaller and more delicate in his large hands. Jiyan held the small stem between his fingers and held them up to his face, leaning his head in and closing his eyes. They had no aroma, yet he breathed deeply as he held them close.

“Please,” Rover said, “let these serve as a reminder that there’s people who depend on you to stay alive. Never forget that there are people out there praying for you to not succumb to death’s loveless embrace.”

“These are most lovely, Rover,” he said.

He wasn’t admiring the flowers, though. In fact, Jiyan’s eyes were shut tightly.

“Never forget that I love you, I’ll be waiting for you, and I want you to live to see countless more flowers like the Emortia bloom before us.”

Jiyan still wasn’t saying anything, or even sparing Rover a glance. She noticed that his red eyeshadow trailed down the side of his face. Was he attempting to hold back tears this entire time? Jiyan was clenching his jaw and holding the flowers rather close to himself, seemingly in agony trying to repress his feelings.

“Jiyan,” she said, tearing up herself, “…I don’t mind it if you cry.”

Jiyan practically collapsed into Rover’s lap, his feelings breaking the instant she stopped speaking. He was trying to hold himself up in order to avoid toppling her on accident, but that was proving to be rather difficult with tears streaming from his eyes making him weak. Rover guided his head down into her lap comfortably, assuring that he did not accidentally crush any of the flowers.

Rover took the back of her hand and wiped off the smeared red eyeliner along the side of his face. She wished that she had comforting words to offer him, but perhaps, this is something that he had been needing for a long time.

“General,” she said, trying to not tear up herself, “I hope that tears of blood shall never have to be shed for either of us.”

[myunconquerablesoul]

CAN I GET A KNIGHT SUKUNA WITH WITCH READER??? A DRABBLE OR. A FIC. AS U WISH.

Until the end.

r.sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings: witch and knight au (or at least I tried.) mentions of a wound and healing, mentions of supernatruals; I think that's it.

Authors note: Thank you for requesting my love. Your wish is my command. Also, this is my first request, and I hope it meets your expectations. Please let me know if you like it. Or even feedback on what I could have done better. Love you all! Enjoy

Wordcount: 1.387

Being a witch is a constant balancing act between good and evil, light and chaos.

If you play your cards right, you can become respected in the six kingdoms, interfering and managing political affairs and playing a central role in military operations against supernatural beasts and fallen ones.

If you miss your chance and let chaos take over your mind, you will forever be nothing more than a marionette to it. Once you've crossed the line, there's no turning back…

With the plague 60 years ago came desperation, and more and more witches and witchers alike turned to chaos, which resulted in many humans serving as experimental objects to spells and potions of forbidden magic and even more villages slaughtered by the results. Humans mutated into supernatural monsters, and some witches and witchers have assimilated with them ever since they were known as fallen ones.

After years of darkness, a powerful witcher finally found the solution to the plague; the only horror left were the children of chaos.

All six kingdoms have made it their mission to eliminate these supernatural beings. Sometimes, they fought as a unit and sometimes alone in their territories. Despite their best efforts and even after working with witches and witches hand in hand, years later, the shadow beings still existed.

The kingdoms consist of Aikailon, Kerean, Khuigon, Nuniel, Zuisha, and Terosa.

Aikalion, Kerean, and Khuigon are the three most powerful and have been forming a coalition for several years. All started under the reign of King Ahap of Aikalion.

Until a few years ago, the Coalition could even eradicate more than half of the monsters, but it also ended abruptly.

Somehow, the supernatural beings were able to take over Terosa and almost completely exterminate the troops of the Coalition through an ambush.

King Ahap survived the battle but never recovered. He became a shell of himself, and the high council decided that his eldest son, Sukuna, should take over. But he never cared about the throne, always felt better as a knight, and ensured that his younger brother Yuji, who had always had a knack for politics, would become king.

Yuji ascended the throne when he was just 18 years old. And his brother, who was three years older, became commander of the army simultaneously.

You became an advisor to Yuji's request. For over 40 years, witches and witchers have been the king's consultants. They support in politics as well as on the battlefield.

After five years, you became familiar with both brothers and somewhat friends.

Sukuna led the Aikalion army to victory in each fight and soon became known as the king of battle and blood. Many feared him and even more respected him. 

Within these years, he managed to get past the borders of Terosa. The land was practically a giant forest.  

You were ordered to participate in this fight alongside Sukuna because of your magical skills. 

As an elemental witch, you could fight in forests the best. Your magic connected to nature allowed the troupe a tactical advantage.

After a month of constant fighting, you found yourself in the commander's tent one night. 

You stood before him between his legs, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder as he sat on the bed.

A gentle glow emits from your palms, a warmth that spreads from your hands and directly onto Sukuna's shoulder.

He has seen the capability of healing a Witch can do.

The glow was bright enough to illuminate the tent, but it was gentle, as soft as the golden rays of a sunset. Sukuna would never tire of seeing you use your magic. 

You could feel his eyes watching you with awe, which made your stomach twist into knots. 

You always look so eternally beautiful to him.

You guided your hand along the wound on his chest, trying to ignore the goosebumps as they rose in your wake.

You barely noticed as he crossed his right hand over his chest and laid his palm against your hands. 

"Thank you," he whispered, his fingers curling around the undersides of your hands until he gently tugged them away. The glow faded until the only light was the burn of the candle at his desk and the reflection of the moon peeking through the tent's opening. 

"Khuigon's army should arrive in a few days," you say absentmindedly. "Hopefully, they bring enough catering with them."

Sukuna hums in agreement as he carefully places his hands on your waist.

In this past month, the tension between you two seemed to grow with every passing moment. He didn't want to let you go, just jet. He wanted to savor the moment a little longer.

It's rare for him to get wounded during a battle, but if it means having you so close to him, then he might even consider getting a little clumsier out there.

His eyes flickered down to your lips briefly, but it was enough. Your heart skipped. 

You honestly just wanted to run away. "Next time, I'm putting a protection spell over you." Sukuna just chuckled at that. "Don't laugh. That was irresponsible of you. I had it under control."

He got wounded because he was trying to protect you. A shadow beast had it out for you; somehow, that monster wasn't as mindless as the rest you've encountered. This could only mean that you were almost at the source of the dark magic.

"I know you did. Never once doubted your abilities. I know firsthand what you are capable of." He was nothing but honest with you. He meant every word. but seeing that thing getting so close to you- he would do it a thousand times more.

You didn't say anything further. You wondered if Sukuna could hear how fast your heart was racing because you were sure it would beat straight out of your chest.

He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. 

You both stayed like this for a few moments.

This moment might be the last peaceful moment you two will have for a while.

Both of you know that the next battle will bring a lot of death and blood.

Sukuna wishes nothing more than to keep you away from all of this, but this is the life you two have. 

"You know I love you, right?"

It was sudden and unexpected, but it didn't surprise you. What scarred you was the meaning behind these words.

I never wanted to say it like this, but in case we will not survive this- Just that you know. So I can leave this world without any regret.

"Sukuna-"

"You know, right?" Of course, you did. Hell, everyone did. He never failed to show that you were off-limits. His.

And you know that he knows you feel the same.

"I do." your voice was small, but he heard you just fine. It was enough for him. He would never expect you to say-

"You know I love you too, right?" 

As a witch, telling someone that they loved them was like giving them your heart, body, and soul.

They only loved once.

It's something sacred to them.

And yet here you stand before him and let him hear what he desires most. 

He couldn't wait anymore.

The moment his lips touched yours, you lost your breath; fireworks and butterflies, twists in your stomach, and clamoring in your heart.

You could feel his smile spread into his cheeks, your hands seeking more of him as you slid them up the sides of his bare chest. 

He presses his lips against your jawline and smiles against the crook of your neck as you let out a breathy sigh, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin.

He pulls away and brings a hand under your chin, eyes gazing into your own before he crashes his lips against yours again.

Your hands splay against his back as he fervently kisses you, his hands pulling you as close as he can.

He groans as he leans in, trying to take in more of you. 

It didn't lead to more that night, other than sharing your feelings for one and another, but you were sure whatever was to come, if it was light or chaos, who'd win the final battle, you would overcome this.

Together.

Until the end.

[vibrantbirdy]

Helllloooooo~ your writing is fab! May I please request some Cal Kestis x Reader fiction???? Could the scenario please be that the reader was once a jedi padawan along with Cal and they were best friends and maybe have a little child crush on each other and they got separated due to order 66? Then, you guessed it, they find each other after all these years and it's all fluffy and they realise their true feelings and everything adorable?? Please and thank you! Have a lovely day/night!

Hi Anon, thank you so much for your kind words and thank you for this request! I really love writing for Cal!

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Familiarity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor games Setting: Prior to the events of Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Action/adventure; Fluff; Angst; Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Canon typical combat violence; canon typical death/angst/survivor's guilt relating to Order 66; mild sexuality; one claustrophobic scene due to ruined temple adventuring; SPOILERS for Jedi: Fallen Order and minor ones for the set up to Survivor. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: c.8k (this one got away from me!) Author's note: I couldn't write about Order 66 without a little angst but hopefully there's still plenty of fluff and romance and adventure to be found here! Summary: Believing each other lost to the brutal purge of the Emperor's Order 66, ten years after you were separated from your childhood best friend during the systematic eradication of the Jedi Order, you and Cal Kestis are finally reunited amid the strange Temple ruins of an ancient civilisation.

10 years ago

"Run!" Jedi Master Rena Daylum commands as the Clone Troopers who were once your trusted comrades turn their blasters towards you.

Master Daylum dispatches them quickly as you ignore her instruction and ignite your own lightsaber. The purple blade hums into life and you ready yourself for the next squad of Troopers.

But before your saber is even fully extended, a burst of energy hits you squarely in the chest and you fly backwards, skidding across the hard durasteel floor on your backside.

As you look up in surprise, you can't help the childish dart of hurt that stings your pride as you see Master Daylum, her palm extended towards you, and realise that she has pushed you away. She's never used the Force on you like that before.

"For once in your life, Padawan, do as you are told!"

Daylum extends her hand again and the control panels on the open blast door between you explode in a shower of sparks. Even as you run back towards her, the heavy metal doors hiss closed and lock shut in front of you.

With little other choice, you carry out the instruction you've been given and run. You are more frightened than you've ever been in your young life. As you sprint down the Venator-class Destroyer's corridors, you reach out for your Master in the Force. You sense only a dark void where her comforting, consistent presence had always been and in that moment, you know that she is gone forever.

The Albedo Brave, despite her rather sterile appearance with her harsh florescent lighting, her heavy, threatening blast doors and cold metal walls, had seemed homely to you only this morning.

Now the ship feels almost alien. The emergency lighting flashes intermittently, illuminating the corridors with an eerie crimson glow, and the mournful wail of the alarm seems to all but scream in your head.

You hide in a maintenance closet as another squad of Clones pass by. The once familiar voices of the Troopers now sparks a deep dread within you. Over the past month you've been aboard the Brave, you had started to recognise the individual Clones from their personal intonations and patterns of speech, even with their helmets on. Now, their tone is uniform, cold and robotic. And deadly. And this ship is teeming with them.

You think you are heading in the right direction towards the escape pods, but you are far from certain. Upon embarking, you'd been so thrilled about your first assignment to a Venator and the fact that your fellow Padawan and best friend, Cal Kestis, was already onboard. But this excitement meant that you hadn't really paid all that much attention to the safety drill with Master Daylum.

You always thought she'd be here to guide you if anything happened...

As you continue to stumble lost and alone through the gargantuan ship you once called home, you halt abruptly as you think you hear someone shout your name over the blaring alarm.

You look up towards the source of the sound and see Cal peering down at you through the grated walkway of the maintenance corridor above. There is a screech of metal as he removes the heavy durasteel access panel.

"Cal? The Clones ... they killed Master Daylum. She's ... dead," you manage to stammer, "What's happening?"

You feel your face crumple as fresh tears begin to fall. You wipe them away and Cal can only look at you with an expression of sympathy and grief on his kind, honest face.

You both jump as you hear blaster fire nearby. You need to move.

Cal lays himself flat on his stomach and reaches his arm down towards you.

"Come on!"

He stretches out a hand. It hangs agonisingly close, just out of your reach. Your fingertips barely brush against his.

"Jump!"

You try to centre yourself in the Force, but in your panic and confusion, you are completely closed off from it. All you can manage is a pitiful little hop.

"I can't Cal, I can't... I can't feel anything!"

The boy shuffles further off the ledge. He obviously has his feet hooked round the durasteel support struts as anchor points. Still, it looks impossible, but you bend your knees and spring up and off the metal floor.

Somehow, Cal grabs your hand.

Cal is the same age as you - thirteen - but due to a recent growth spurt you are a good few inches taller than him now. You've been teasing him mercilessly about it recently and he has been taking it with his characteristic good nature, biting back with quick witted retorts.

Neither of you are laughing about it now.

You are dangling just inches off the ground and, despite his best efforts, Cal simply doesn't have the strength to pull you up from this angle. He has no leverage. Eventually his grip slips and you fall away from him, hitting the ground with a painful thud.

You look up at Cal, his expression of alarm mirroring what you assume your own must looks like.

“Try again," he whispers urgently, his green eyes wide and desperate.

He extends his arm with all his might, splaying his palm as if the extra few millimetres will make any difference to your predicament.

You twist around from your position on the floor as a new sound carries down the Venator's passageways. Voices. There are voices now. Clones just beyond the nearest blast door. You took your lightsaber to the control panel, sealing it shut as best you could, but it won't take them long to get through.

You lift your gaze back to Cal - your friend, your best friend - and shake your head.

"I'll meet you there," you say, trying to sound brave and reassuring.

Cal hisses your name as you take off down the corridor away from him. You can't bear to turn around and see the lost, pleading expression on his face so you run around the corner out of his sight and you don't look back.

--------------------------------------------------------

Present day

This is not going well, Cal Kestis thinks wryly to himself as spins his lightsaber in his hand, the blue laser blocking blaster bolts and sending them ricocheting back towards the Stormtroopers firing them his way.

The fire from the Troopers is relentless and more and more units in white clad armour continue to pour in through the great ceremonial entrance of the Temple to the ancient Spori civilization.

It is clear to the Jedi now that he has severely underestimated the scale of the Empire's presence on Spori, and their interest in the ruined Temple.

As he raises his saber above his head to parry a strike from a Scout Trooper with a stun baton, he groans inwardly as he remembers the misplaced confidence with which he'd bid farewell to the rest of the crew of the Mantis as they dropped him off and set out on a supply run.

"In and out," he'd quipped. "Easy."

Idiot.

Cal's constant companion, the small bipedal droid, BD-1, is crouched low atop his usual resting place on the Jedi's shoulder. He peeks out every so often to analyse the increasingly desperate situation beeping and whirring unsolicited combat advice in binary.

"Yeah buddy, I know, I know, I know..." Cal mutters through gritted teeth as he is forced to swing his lightsaber in what has become a series of exclusively defensive manoeuvres.

The pace is unsustainable.

*********************************************

You are perched on the shoulder of a gargantuan stone statue, a grand monument to a respected Spori High Priestess. You gaze down at swathes of Stormtroopers as they pour into the ruined Temple.

You've just retrieved a data archive from the inner sanctum of the Temple. The Spori were an ancient civilization who, above all else valued knowledge and spent hundreds if not thousands of years collating information on other peoples, some now lost to the mists of time or ravages of war, including the Jedi.

When you'd heard about the Imperial invasion of Spori, you knew you needed to retrieve the archive in order to preserve any surviving ancient knowledge of the Jedi Order before the Empire could either destroy it or use it for some nefarious purpose...

When you first arrived, although you'd had to evade the occasional Imperial patrol on your trek from the Spori capital across the planet's rugged landscape, there was not the slightest hint of Imperial presence around the Temple itself. It was practically peaceful.

Now, it looked like the Empire had deployed an entire kriffing garrison to the ancient ruin.

From the safety of your high vantage point you watch the chaos unfold below. Or, more accurately, you stare in disbelief at the shockingly familiar figure wielding a blue lightsaber at the very eye of the storm.

"Cal," you breathe out his name.

He's older of course, but it's unquestionably Cal Kestis. You'd recognise that flaming red hair anywhere. He has a short beard to match now and, annoyingly, you come to the conclusion that he has undergone a considerable growth spurt in the last decade or so and he now looks to be much taller than you.

He has a little red and white droid with him. It clings to the Jedi's back, swaying perfectly in tune with its master's movements, never finding itself unbalanced. It's as if the BD unit is an extension of Cal's anatomy.

Cal moves with determination and confidence, striking and parrying with alarming accuracy and speed. It is the fighting form of a competent and experienced warrior, his physicality at once both elegant and deadly. It's a far cry from the stilted and unsure combat stance of the young boy who used to pull his punches in training.

Still, the Troopers just keep on coming and Cal is obviously tiring. He is now on the back foot and will soon be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Imperial soldiers.

You need to do something.

Scanning your surroundings, your eyes clock the huge, monolithic stone lintel slab hanging above the ceremonial entrance to the Temple. There's a weakness in the left side pillar. If you brought it down with the Force, you could seal off the Imp's only ingress point. Then you would only have to dispatch of the Stormtroopers already inside.

You'll have to find another way out of the ruin itself of course, but that's a problem for later. The situation is becoming dire and this is the thing you can think of to do.

Suddenly, a Rocket Trooper dives at great velocity and collides into Cal, slamming his boots into the trunk of the Jedi's body and sending the him sprawling across the floor where he curls into a ball,. His lightsaber rolls across the flagstones with a mournful clinking sound.

You stand up, using the Force to balance and centre yourself, to find strength. You puff out your cheeks and exhale sharply through your lips. Then, you jump.

*************************************************

Cal writhes on the ground clutching his abdomen at the agonising point of impact where the Trooper had barrelled feet into him feet first.

Didn't see that one coming.

He gasps in deep lungfuls of air as he desperately tries to regulate his breathing through the pain.

Another broken rib? No. Thank the Force. But he's severely winded and there'll be bruising for sure. He knows he needs to move but kriff it hurts.

BD-1, who was thrown from his shoulder on impact, is now dancing from foot to little metallic foot next to him, urging him to get up.

Suddenly, he hears the unmistakable song of another lightsaber and he looks up in awe to see a stranger standing in front of him, purple blade cutting through the air and deflecting the continuing onslaught of blaster bolts.

The figure is hooded, and even when they are forced to turn towards him as they wheel around to interrupt the advance of a Scout Trooper attempting to flank them, he can't see the face hidden behind the folds of material.

Something in the Force nags at him. There is a strange familiarity in the presence of this mysterious warrior who has come to his aid.

Spurred on by curiosity, Cal steels himself and tries to rise, extending out a hand to bring his lightsaber into his hand with the Force. Too late, he registers a flash of white in his peripheral vision as a Stormtrooper's boot collides with his temple and everything snaps into blackness.

***********************************************

You've been stood watch beside an unconscious Cal for almost ten minutes. The dust is still settling from the avalanche of rock you brought tumbling down to the ancient Temple floor. The plan worked. Tonnes of rubble now separate you and Cal from the Empire.

You look down at your childhood friend. Blacked out from a kick to the head or not, you can't believe he slept though that noise. You're just starting to get worried when he finally stirs and groans. His little droid, who has since introduced himself as BD-1, boops hopefully.

"Cal?"

His green eyes, still shockingly familiar despite the passage of time, flicker open. When they finally focus and lock on to yours, they widen in alarm.

Cal leaps clumsily to his feet and stumbles backwards away from you. Disoriented and in pain, he staggers, one hand clutching at his side with the movement, the other held out in from of him. His mouth is agape, and he stares at you as if he's seen a ghost.

Cal says your name as if it's a question. It's barely a whisper.

“Yes,”

“You're...here?" His voice is faltering, unsure. "You're not...?”

Dead? You think he's going to say.

"...not a dream?

“It's me Cal," you reply and your voice is hushed with emotion, "it's really me.”

Cal drops heavily to his knees and you dart forwards to catch him, fearing he's about to pass out again. Instead, when you are kneeling face to face, he grasps your hands in his.

“I can't believe it,” he says breathlessly.

You bring your forehead to rest against his for a moment until he pulls you in a hug so tight you can barely breathe. You return it anyway, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing as if to prove to him that you are not an illusion or some cruel trick of the Force.

He winces and it breaks the spell. You let him go and cast your eyes over him, examining for wounds.

"Force, sorry," you apologise, "Anything broken?"

Cal gingerly lifts up his dark grey shirt which is filthy with dust and grime but no visible blood. He reveals one side of his bruised torso and you can't help but notice how, under the welts, the muscles there are sculpted and strong. Even on this small part of his body, his skin is littered with scars. Like you, it seems, Cal is living the life of a warrior.

"Not this time..." he quips, letting the material fall back into place.

BD-1 jumps up onto Cal's shoulder and gives him a little butt with his flat, rectangular head. The droid ejects a small cannister from one of his compartments and Cal catches it, injecting green liquid into his chest. A healing stim.

"Thanks buddy."

Cautiously, Cal pushes himself to his feet where he stands with his hands on his hips, inspecting the huge pile of rubble covering what was once the grand and sacred entrance to the Spori Temple.

"That got anything to do with you?" he asks, gesturing casually at the mess.

You dust off your hands as you rise to stand beside him.

"Someone had to save your ass. Thought I might as well make an impression on the Empire at the same time."

He looks at you and for the first time since you've reunited with him, he smiles properly. Your heart soars. It's the same boyish grin you remember so well.

"Could be a problem."

"Maybe not..." you reply as you pull out the data pad you'd loaded up with an Old Republic era holo map of the Temple. The technological backflips you'd had to do to get that thing to run on your device...

BD-1 boops indignantly.

That's my job.

"Look at these tunnels," you continue, placating the little droid with a gentle pat to the head as you speak, "they connect to various ceremonial chambers, some functional rooms too, and then out the other side. I think they were once service passageways. It's the long way round, it'll take us a couple of days but..."

"Why are you here?" Cal asks suddenly, as if the thought has only just occurred to him.

He's looking at you questioningly. It's not suspicion. It's a sort of sharp curiosity, and you suddenly become aware of the obvious. That you and Cal are here for the same purpose.

Nevertheless, you trust him implicitly. You bend down and reach into your small knapsack which is currently resting by your feet. You rummage around until you find the tiny golden data sphere which holds the Spori culture archive.

"Why are you here?" You counter, although you suspect your theory must be correct.

Sure enough, Cal raises his eyebrows and nods towards the object in your palm.

"Figures," you say.

You are interrupted by the unmistakable din of a laser firing through rock. The Empire have obviously brought in heavy duty cutting equipment. They must want the Spori archive more than you thought.

"Work it out later?" Cal suggests.

You nod in agreement, before stuffing the data sphere back into your bag and grabbing Cal's hand, leading him briskly towards the nearest service tunnel marked on your map.

***************************************************

You and Cal follow the old passageways for miles. The two of you fall back into your old, easy way of conversation as if no time has passed at all. Your laughter echoes through the ruin, filling up forgotten rooms and dormant chambers where the ring of voices has not been heard in centuries.

Finally, the tunnel you are following leads out to a cavernous ceremonial chamber. It is an extravagantly long hall and all the way down there are huge pillars, inset with hundreds of alcoves where candles must once have been placed for illumination. You try to imagine a grand feast being held here, priests and dignitaries and attendants all floating across the chamber in their opulent ceremonial garb.

Cal nudges you, starting you out of your reverie. You look at him and he nods down the long room towards the furthest two pillars in the distance.

"Race ya."

"Oh, you are so on, Kestis," You accept and crouch into a starting position, welcoming a chance to properly stretch your legs. "On three...One..."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Cal suddenly exclaims, holding up his hands. "Not so fast. On three or after three?"

You turn to him and roll eyes as you register the mischievous smirk on his face. You've had this argument so many times.

"Remember that race with Kya and Mez?" He snorts with laughter, "You were so mad!"

"That's because you all cheated!" You argue and you can't believe that over a decade later, that particular defeat still riles you. "Everybody knows when you say on three, that means you go after three."

"No, that's what after three means!" Cal protests, your seriousness surrounding the situation only causing his mirth to increase.

You know he's right, but you were always so competitive back then. You always wanted, needed to win. Master Daylum had tried to temper and hone that determined spirit into something more refined but, even now, you aren't sure that you've even been able to tame that particular fault in your nature.

You remember once in sparring training, you'd thrown down your training saber in annoyance.

"Why are you doing that?!" You yelled at Cal, who was partnering you, storming across to him and shoving him hard in the chest.

You were convinced that he was holding back with his strikes and it was making you irate. You wanted a proper fight otherwise your victory would be hollow.

"Just because you are scared of everything doesn't mean I am!"

You'd stalked off, leaving him with an expression of shock and hurt on his face. Within five minutes, you'd regained your composure and your insides squirmed with the shame and guilt of unjustly embarrassing your friend.

Later that night, you'd snuck into Cal's quarters to apologise. He accepted with his usual good grace and, as you left, you'd placed a chaste peck on his cheek which made his face turn almost as red as his hair.

Cal was always quick to forgive you after that.

"Ok, ok, fine," you concede, bringing your mind back to the present.

You are unable to stop a smile spreading across your face as Cal struggles to stop his chuckling beside you. You'd always found his laughter infectious and nothing seemed to have changed there. Maybe, maybe you can see the funny side now.

"After three then," you say.

You both adopt a low stance in preparation to dart forwards and get the best start possible. You look at each other and grin and Cal starts to count.

"One...two...three..."

Before Cal can say go!, you set off at a blistering pace. You hear a scrabble of boots on loose stones and an indignant shout of hey! behind you as he scrambles into a run after you. From his perch on Cal's shoulder, BD-1 trills a similar reproval.

You laugh, exhilarated. The wind rushes in your face and through your hair as you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can. You feel like a child again. You feel free.

As you push your body harder, you reach into the Force and you sense the strength of Cal's presence, both familiar and new, in tune with yours. Something warm blooms inside you. It's as if a piece of you has been missing all these years.

It's meant to be like this, you think.

Cal is fast but you've always been quicker than him, your nimble frame allowing you to cover the ground like something feline. Even with his new advantage of height and longer legs, there's no way he'll catch you now as you speed towards the pillars and victory.

You raise your arms in triumph as you cross the makeshift finish line. You turn and Cal is right on your tail, BD-1 crouched low on his shoulder as if to be the cause of the least wind resistance possible.

Cal barely slows as he swoops behind you, grabbing you by the waist. You shriek with laughter and he picks you up and spins you around before setting your feet back down on the crumbling flagstones.

"Cheat!" He accuses, but his expression is joyful and his eyes sparkle with glee.

He puts his hands on his knees and folds over in an exaggerated gesture of catching his breath.

"Now you know what it feels like," you counter, and you slump down against the nearest pillar, enjoying the sensation of the cool stone against your back.

Cal joins you so that you are sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"Force, you're still so competitive," he says.

"And you're still such a sore loser."

You stick your tongue out at him and you both laugh.

You suddenly realise how tired you are. You and Cal have been walking and scrambling and clambering across miles of difficult, dangerous terrain for hours. The Temple is mostly in ruin now and so many parts of it have collapsed or caved in, placing obstacle after unexpected obstacle in your path.

"Rest?"

Cal takes a swig of water from his canteen pouch and grins.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

-------------------------------------------------------

10 years ago

"Padawan, your lightsaber!" Master Tapal admonishes as Cal's weapon skids across the floor and plummets into the oblivion of the turbo-lift shaft.

There is an uncharacteristic note of panic in his Master's voice. It causes a spike of fear to pierce through the young Padawan's very soul and makes him more afraid than even the betrayal of the once friendly Clones, the onslaught of blaster fire that seems to come at him from every direction, and the screeching, disorienting cacophony of the Venator's blaring alarms put together.

"Sorry Master!" Cal exclaims as he scrambles onwards and upwards, towards the escape pods feeling vulnerable and helpless without his weapon.

****************************************************

His Master lies dead on the floor before him. As the escape pod gives a terrifying shudder as it disengages from the Venator, Cal throws himself into one of the vessel's seats, fumbling to secure his safety belt.

He wonders what's become of you. The guilt and shame of his failure washes over him anew as he remembers your stricken face as you fell away from his grasp. He wasn't strong enough to help you. If you're dead, it'll be all his fault. Just like his Master.

The young Padawan clutches his Tapal's lightsaber tightly to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. Finally, he allows himself to let out a wail of despair as he hurtles through space alone towards the planet of Bracca and the unknown.

-----------------------------------------------------

Present Day

Cal is still asleep. You're not sure how - he can't possibly be comfortable. He's lying flat on his back, arms folded across his chest, using a low stone slab as a makeshift pillow.

You have no idea whether the Empire have been successful in their efforts to break through into the Temple and you know you really should get going. But Cal looks so peaceful, you don't want to wake him. Not yet.

Fondly, you examine his face, reacquainting yourself with the constellations of freckles that sit on his nose and cheeks. You still can't get over how grown up he looks. How handsome he's become. The beard gives him a rather dashing appearance.

You wonder how he got that scar across his nose which disappears as it reaches his right cheek then reappears again on his neck. You don't doubt he's got many such marks from his scrapper's life on Bracca.

Deftly, you reach out with the Force. You smile. Elements of his presence feel so familiar to you - Earnest, honest, kind-hearted Cal.

But there is also determinedness, a level headedness, and a self-assuredness you've never felt from him before. You feel a rush of emotion as you realise it reminds you of the steady, secure feeling you used to sense from Master Tapal once you'd stopped being scared of the purple Lasat's outwardly stern demeanour and truly giagantic size.

Whenever you and Cal got into trouble - or, perhaps more accurately, whenever you got Cal into trouble - by sneaking out into the Gardens of the Jedi Temple after hours or some such similar escapade, Master Daylum would almost always lead the reprimand, while Master Tapal would merely observe, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

As an adult, you understand now that the Lasat considered your independent spirit and rebellious nature to be a good balancer for his sometimes overly cautious and uncertain Padawan.

You retrain your mind on Cal. There's something else, something he hides, deep within himself. You realise it's the same bitter collection of feelings that you have struggled with every day since the violent extermination of your Order.

Doubt. Grief. Fear.

You pull back, realising you are teetering on the edge between curiosity and trespass. As if the you have summoned these unpleasant notions to the surface of the sleeping young man's psyche, Cal starts to mumble in his sleep. He twists and jerks as if he's having a terrible nightmare.

You crouch beside him and shake him gently by the shoulder in a desperate attempt to wake him. It takes longer than you would like and as he catapults back into consciousness, he sits bolt upright, his broad shoulders heaving up and down as his breath comes in short, sharp pants.

His eyes flash wildly as he reorients himself and when they finally lock on to yours they blaze with the intensity of green kyber. It's as if he's relieved all over again to see that you are alive.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he blurts out, "I left you there. I left you on that ship."

"No, Cal" you say softly and you place a hand on his bearded cheek.

You've never blamed him. Not once.

Over the years, you've been unable to quash a secretly harboured shard of resentment towards the Jedi, despite your love for the Order you once called home, your family. As an adult, you started to find yourself doubting the morality and the wisdom of training young children to be weapons and sending them off to war.

Nowadays, for the most part, you are able to reconcile your loyalty to the Order with these criticisms, but the realisation that Cal still perceives what happened on the Venator as some kind of personal failing makes these feelings flare up within you all over again.

"No," you repeat and your tone is firmer now, "we were kids, Cal. We both did what we had to to survive in a situation we should never have had to face.”

Cal shakes his head and looks away.

“Do you ever dream of it? Of the Venator?” he asks, staring into the distance.

“All the time,” you answer truthfully and you smile sadly.

You are relieved to see that when Cal trains his gaze back onto your face, his expression, while still sombre, is less feverish.

"How did you escape?"

"I commandeered a shuttle," you explain, then smirk, "Crashed it, of course. Into a field on Pelka-4."

"That sounds like you," Cal quips, and you are glad when the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"I was lucky. A family of farmers found me. They kept me safe, hidden while I healed. I stayed with them for a few years until I managed to find a Rebel cell to join. Been sticking it to the Empire ever since."

You suddenly realise that neither of you have spoken about your lives after the purge until now. You don't know anything about the last ten years of Cal's existence.

"What about you?" You ask.

"Ended up on Bracca," Cal says and he lifts the sleeve of his shirt to display a tattoo on the underside of his right forearm.

It's a worker identification tag and you feel a surge of sympathy for him. Force what a hard life for a kid.

"Scrapper," he continues, "Until, one day, I used the Force to save a friend from a fall. He died anyway when the Inquisitors came for me."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too..." Cal rubs the back of his neck as he continues, "I was working with a team including another Jedi for a while. It's complicated, but we went our separate ways and I've been part of Saw Guerra's operation since."

"You're working for Saw Gerrera?"

"I'm working with Saw Gerrera."

You both look at each other and burst into laughter, knowing that the formidable Rebel warlord himself certainly wouldn't see it that way.

"What does Gerrera want with a Spori data archive?"

"He doesn't," Cal says, "but intel picked up a lot of Imperial activity in the area and I knew that's what they were after. I wanted to take it out the game before they could get to it."

You take the Spori data sphere out of your knapsack again and hold it out towards Cal in your open hand.

"What do we do with it now?"

Cal reaches out and closes your palm around the device.

"If you have somewhere safe for it," he says, his emerald gaze earnest, his voice low and sincere, "You get it there."

************************************

Cal doesn't need to wonder if he's made the right decision in suggesting you take custody of the Spori archive. He's not ready to visit Cere on Jedha, and Saw Gerrera's numerous bases of operations are constantly at risk of Imperial attack. Smaller cells, like yours, are easier to hide, easier to move. More than that, he trusts you completely to keep the sphere safe.

Even as a child, you were the most capable, determined, head-strong person he's ever met. Nothing's changed. You still make him laugh until he cries and he can't believe quite how much he's missed being relentlessly teased by you.

Having you near him again is enchanting. He feels drawn to you, like the invisible chord that has tied you together all of your lives has suddenly been pulled taut and you are being pulled inexorably towards each other.

Despite the circumstances you find yourselves in, Cal is happier with you down here in the dark with you than he's been in years.

And it really is dark down here. And damp. And cold. Squeezing through the Spori service tunnels which seem to be in more and more disrepair the further you go, it is as if there are unnamed things skittering about in the blackness.

Cal tries to put this down to the loose pebbles and stones you both kick up as you make your way through the ruined passageways, but he's not convinced.

He doesn't much like small spaces, but as you make progress down the increasingly narrowing passage in front of him, BD-1 on your shoulder lighting the way, Cal can feel your panic rising in the Force.

He suddenly remembers that you are severely claustrophobic and he scolds himself for forgetting. How could he not remember the night he sat up for hours holding your trembling hand in the Jedi Temple's med bay after your experience on Ilum.

Master Yoda had taken you and Cal with your peers to the ice planet for the ceremonial Gathering, the traditional rite of passage where young Padawans explore the great ice caves to source the kyber crystals with which to construct their lightsabers.

The ritual was always somewhat dangerous, but you'd had a particularly fraught time, falling down an ice crevasse and almost getting stuck between the tightly packed sheets of ice. You were forced to crawl and squeeze your way out in the dark all alone.

You were hours later than everybody else. Cal remembers how he came the closest he'd ever been to disobedient, sneaking away from the pack of Padawans and Master Yoda himself who were waiting by the transport ship outside the caves for your return.

Determined to try and find you himself, Cal made it halfway to the entrance unseen - or so he liked to think - when you finally emerged from the caves, hunched over and limping, but your kyber crystal firmly in hand.

The Jedi Council had been impressed with your perseverance and bravery, but Cal had never quite forgiven them for allowing you to suffer like that.

"This is only getting narrower, Cal," you say, jolting him out of his memories. He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, "Maybe we should go back."

BD-1 lets out a little boop which is almost a scoffing sound.

"It's ok for you, buddy," Cal reminds him patiently, "You're very small."

He hears the droid trill a bashful apology in your ear.

"That's ok, BD-1," you say and the genuine warmth in your voice makes Cal smile. You always had a weakness for cute droids, even when they were cheeky.

"Kriff," you swear softly in front of him as you come to a halt so abrupt he almost crashes into you.

In the dim light, Cal can see that part of the tunnel has collapsed. He watches as BD-1 hops off your back, and scurries into the small opening on the ground. Glad of something to do, the droid proudly scans the terrain and projects the way ahead. It's not blocked and it's not far, but it'll be tight. You'll have to crawl.

Cal places a hand on your shoulder and has to resist the urge to recoil as your fear arcs through the Force and passes through his own body so acutely that it feels like a bolt of electricity.

"I'll go first," he says.

The narrow corridor is barely wide enough for two people. You press yourself as flat as you can against the damp stone wall so that Cal can squeeze past. He raises his arms and rests his palms against the rock either side of your head for balance as he steps cautiously in between and around your feet and legs.

It's intimate, almost awkwardly so. Cal hopes you don't notice the blush he can feel creeping up his neck as he is forced to press his body into yours as he climbs over you. He looks down into your eyes as he passes, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin upwards in mock flirtation in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He is relieved when you giggle and jab him playfully in the ribs. He can't help but notice that your cheeks have turned a rather fetching shade of pink, no doubt mirroring his own, as BD's torch lamp passes over your face.

Something inside him glows as he realises you feel it too - the ember of something new between you smouldering into life as your shared past collides with the present.

But now, he needs to concentrate. Reluctantly, he brushes aside the giddy feeling you've awakened within him and he reaches into the Force. He inhales then exhales deeply, slowing his racing heart as he focuses on the task in hand. Then, following BD-1's lead, he crouches down and crawls head first into the gap in the stone work.

*************************************************

If your lungs didn't feel so constricted, so full of dust and musty, cloying air, you'd probably scream. When you'd squeezed yourself into the collapsed passageway after Cal, at first you'd been able to crawl on your hands and knees. That was almost tolerable but now... Now you are now flat on your stomach, making painstaking progress by clutching at the rough, stony ground in front of you with your fingers and pulling yourself along like some undead creature in a horror holo novel.

You try to ground yourself in the Force, but just like when you were a child, your panic has severed your connection to it, cut you off from it, leaving you adrift in the painful void of its absence.

Suddenly, you hear the scrabbling of Cal's body and boots against the ground ahead. Before you can register what's happening you are plummeted into darkness, BD-1's headlamp extinguishing without warning.

Oh Force, they've fallen down some crack in the ancient structure, plummeting into oblivion where the earth has swallowed them whole and now you're stuck here in the dark alone with no way forward and no chance of turning around...

The sharp, solid ice - no, this isn't Ilum - rock bites through your clothing, stony shards pressing into your body as your chest expands with your panicked breathing.

"Cal?" You gasp out, then, in a shout that's almost a scream, "Cal?!"

Abruptly, your eyes are assaulted with a white light so bright it dazzles you. You jump and hit your head painfully on the stone ceiling above you. A pair of hands, Cal's hands you realise, reach through the blinding light of BD's torch and you snatch at them wildly as if he might withdraw them and leave you there alone in the dark.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. With ease, he pulls you gently through the last little length of the tunnel and up onto your feet where you emerge gasping and wheezing as if you've been held under water.

You throw your arms around Cal's neck in relief, launching yourself at him with such force that he staggers backwards. Once he's regained his footing, he places a hand at the small of your back, drawing you close to him and cradles your head to his chest with the other. His heart beats out a sonorous, steady rhythm and resonates through your own body, slowing your breathing and calming your rattled nerves.

Funny, you always used to be the one to comfort him when you were children.

"I've got you," he whispers gently into your ear, "I've got you."

A passing thought that maybe you should be embarrassed for allowing your fear to overwhelm you like this is discarded almost immediately as Cal places a soft kiss gently on the top of your head.

A feeling of warmth rushes through you. You suddenly realise how safe you feel with him as you press into the warmth of his strong, solid body. You breathe in his old familiar smell which has a new, heady quality to it like clean leather mixed with the oddly pleasant scent of his physical exertions.

"Sorry..." you mumble, finally, into his chest, hoping he can't feel where your panicked tears have rolled unbidden down your cheeks and soaked into the fabric of his shirt, "I was thinking about..."

"Ilum," Cal finishes for you, "I know."

"You remember?" you say, pulling back to look at him.

He smiles kindly.

"I remember."

You shiver. Is it the memory of that icy planet that still chills your bones? No, you decide, it really is cold in here. Although, you realise, the air feels and smells different somehow. Fresher. Sweeter.

Reluctantly, you extricate yourself from Cal's arms and take a look around the Spori chamber you've just put yourself through hell to get to.

Except...you're not in a chamber at all. You're not even inside.

You look upwards and see stars twinkling above you, a million points of light in the darkness. Around you, the roofless, crumbling remains of the Spori Temple stretch raggedly into the inky sky like skeletal fingers.

You think back to when you'd studied the climate of planet and the geographical position of the Temple before setting off on your mission. The ancient structure would certainly be exposed to harsh winds on this northern side, especially in the formidable Spori winter. This part of the Temple has simply not weathered the ravages of time.

In the twilight, you take in the shadowy treeline of a great forest which lays across a meadow of high, fragrant grass which sways gently in the breeze. The tops of far away mountains are illuminated by the ethereal blue light of Spori's twin moons. The natural beauty of the place is magical.

You fill your lungs with beautiful, clean air. You can breathe again. You let out a joyful whoop, throwing your head back and laughing, stretching your hands up into the night sky and spinning round and round in the glorious open landscape.

When you finally stop, you notice that Cal is watching you with an expression of pure delight.

"We did it!" You say breathlessly, coming to rest in front of him and he laughs.

BD-1 hops from foot to foot in front of you, wanting to join in your celebration. You crouch down and scoop the little droid into a tight embrace where he purrs like a Loth cat. After a minute, he hops out of your arms and across to his usual spot on Cal's shoulder.

Cal's face is covered in dirt which runs in dark streaks down his cheeks where rivulets of sweat have trickled their path. You imagine you look similar. Automatically, you reach up and rub at the patch of grime caked above his left eyebrow with your thumb.

Cal brings his hand up to rest against yours as he leans into your touch. His expression is soft and there is a longing in his face so intense that he almost looks lost. You burn with a sudden yearning for him as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips.

Something chirps, breaking the spell. Cal reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small data pad.

"The Mantis can pick us up here in the morning," he says, inserting coordinates into the device and transmitting them to his crew, "We can drop you back wherever you need to be if you want a ride?"

Your heart sinks and you can tell by Cal's regretful expression that your face has fallen with it. In your euphoria, you'd almost forgotten that your reunion was probably only temporary.

Cal looks crestfallen by your reaction and you know he must realise that, however unintended, the abrupt shift in tone would have seemed callous to you. You can tell that he is searching for the words to repair the damage - he still has this need to say the right thing.

But it's too late.

"Sure," you reply, and you hate the coldness in your tone.

****************************************

Cal is lying on his side in the grass, somewhat sheltered in the corner of the part of the ruin you'd chosen for your camp. It's little more than a cluster of decaying stones, but it's better than nothing and it keeps the wind at bay. You've built a fire for warmth and placed yourselves at either side of it.

As Cal studies your peaceful face through the leaping, crackling flames, he smiles to himself. You look so beautiful to him, as you always had. Even on your worst days when your temper or your hard-headedness won out, he'd always likened you to a force of nature - a tempest or a forest fire. Something elemental.

The thought of going through another separation from you is unbearable. He curses his thoughtlessness earlier. He was certain that he had just about plucked up the courage to kiss you. Sensing your own feelings through the Force, he was almost sure that you wouldn't have rejected him and he'd certainly been willing to take that chance.

Wallowing in self-pity for this missed opportunity made it impossible to even think about sleep. If only that blasted device hadn't interrupted the moment.

And besides all that inner turmoil, Cal's teeth are chattering so loud in his skull that he's certain they could wake the dead, never mind himself. While softer than the solid rock that had been serving as his bedding recently, the turf beneath him is damp and the chill is seeping through his clothing and into his skin. He is so uncomfortable.

"Cal?"

Just as his eyelids start to droop, he hears you speak his name in a soft, sleepy voice. When he looks across at you, you are sitting up, the firelight dancing across the bright, glassy orbs of your eyes, your hair wild.

Force you look ethereal.

"Are you cold?" You ask.

"Freezing," Cal admits.

"Me too," you pause before saying in a hushed tone that makes Cal's stomach flip, "Come here."

He hesitates for a moment before he does as as he's bid, standing and making his way over to you. Wordlessly, you reach up to him and he takes you hand in his as you guide him to lie at your back and return to your position on your side. He feels a heady thrill when you press yourself into him as he curls his body around your smaller frame.

Cal laces one arm underneath you while the other wraps around your waist, holding you flush against him. You clasp the hand the hand that rests against your stomach in your own. Cal wonders if you can feel his heart slamming against his chest.

"I've missed you," he hears himself blurt out suddenly and he curses inwardly, feeling stupid.

But the temporary embarrassment fades quickly and is replaced by certainty and desire as you bring his hand up to your mouth and trace a trail of kisses across his knuckles with your soft lips.

"I can't lose you again," he continues ardently, "I can't."

Cal brushes a strand of stray hair away from your ear, as if that might allow you to heed his words more clearly.

"You won't," you say firmly, and a new sense of hope blooms inside him for the first time in a long time.

You twist towards him and onto your back, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up into his open, sincere face. Unable to resist any longer, Cal places a hand at the nape of your neck and draws you up into a deep, passionate kiss. His heart sings as your hands fly up to twist in his hair as you move your lips urgently against his.

As you embrace, Cal feels your familiar presence in the Force blossom with something new, something which glows incandescent like a beacon guiding him towards you and only you. Suddenly, every nerve in his body is on fire and, as you move together, he feels as if you are two flames blazing through the very heart of the Galaxy itself.

Only in his dreams did he ever imagine that he would see you again after that awful day on the Venator so long ago. Now, as you lie down together beneath the stars amid the mysterious ruins of the Spori Temple, Cal Kestis promises himself that whatever the future holds, he'll never let you go again.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part One

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 390 ~ Amelia

It was in my mind to go back the way I had come. To trudge through the heavy undergrowth of a path that was once there, but was now being reclaimed. But putting one foot in front of the other was easier on the road. Perhaps this lazy thought put me precisely where I was meant to be?

The mist was low and thick. The curve of the trees as they lined the asphalt disappeared into the smog. I could scarcely see where each step would take me, although I knew this road even in darkness. The way ahead was shrouded and I was weary. Carrying the heavy load of fire wood on my back and a sadness that had begun to gnaw away at the corpse of my resolve.

I was half a mile away from Grandma's cabin when I heard it. The low thrum of a sound that had no place in the silence which had become my world. Any sound that was not made by my own footsteps was nothing more than a tree in the wind or a creature meandering through the brush in search of food. I hadn't heard anything else in so long that my heart began to pound in my chest.

I knew that I had heard this sound before. It was familiar. And as it grew louder, I could feel the prick of fear at the back of my neck. The clamorous growl of it made me want to start running. Unable to take in a full breath, I started walking with more purpose into the line of trees.

I was never really certain what made me look back. The force of something beyond myself told me that I had to be brave. That if I were to hide, I would walk this earth alone forever more. And so I dropped the fire wood and turned into the mist. Swirls of it catching the golden hue of headlights as they illuminated the white fog.

The deafening screech of tyres on the corner rooted me to the ground. The fleeting moment seemed to pass me by much more swiftly than I would recall it later. All I knew was the streak of red as it crossed my path, the unfathomable look in the eye that caught mine through the windscreen and the way I seemed to know that one of us was going to bleed for it.

I clamped my eyes shut and waited for impact. Certain that the trajectory would bring me to death. And I would greet it as a friend. The intolerable ache of loneliness was all consuming. The days of solitude had etched away at any desire to remain alive. I hadn't known I was ready to die, but in that moment it was a truth I could not deny.

I felt the air sweep past me. The inevitable crash of metal on wood forced my eyes open. Colors of red and black and grey permeated the mist. And I felt the first drop of rain.

A former life that I had not lived in so long was resurrected. My brain seemed to ignite into a frenzy of pathways reconnecting themselves as I ran towards the billowing smoke. Whether it was adrenaline or something outside of myself willing me to strength, I managed to yank the driver side door open and step back as a lifeless body limped over the wheel.

I hadn't seen another soul in so long that I held my breath at the sight of him. A tangle of brown hair and blood, I instinctively moved him back as the scent of fire began to burn. His serenity came from the way it looked as if he was simply sleeping. I was stolen from the urgency of the situation as I began to wonder if he was dead or dreaming. My breath stilled in my chest as I pushed back his blood drenched hair from his brow.

And then he moved. Just a twitch of his eyelid. I frantically pulled off my gloves with chattering teeth, placing fingertips at his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. I clicked his seatbelt open and let his body fall into mine, dragging it into the mud as the wreckage began to blaze.

He let out an agonized groan as he hit the ground. The sound of another human voice sent me into a flutter of panic and relief in equal measure. Lifting his eyelid, I watched for any focus in his irises. Any dilation in his pupils. He didn't seem to be fully conscious, but the way he sucked the air in told me everything I needed to know about the balance of his life.

Lifting his shirt, I could already see the broken ribs against his fight to breathe. The potential for a collapsed lung was high, but without any medical equipment at my disposal I had no other choice than to drag him the half mile back to the cabin.

With the rain beating down beneath the canopy of trees, my hands covered in blood and soil, I felt his body slip from my grasp as I tried in vain to raise him. There was no strength I could muster to get him to his feet, he was like a rag doll. Void of any life that would grant him the strength needed for me to carry him.

Every muscle and sinew in my body fought against leaving him there. To stay with him next to the burning rubble of his car as flames licked up the branches of the broken trees was not an option, either. And I knew that dragging him by his feet would inevitably kill him. Each of those choices ended in him dying, regardless.

I didn't know that I was crying for this stranger until I felt the warmth of salty tears on my lips. I dipped my hand into the pocket at his groin and pulled out his wallet, searching for something with a name.

"Jacob..." I whispered, my own voice coming out of me as if I'd never heard it before.

I had to try. I had to kill him knowing that I'd tried to save him. At least then I could go on in my solitude knowing that I'd tried to end it. That there was a part of me that had wanted to know what it felt like to hold a conversation with another for one last time.

I tied his shoelaces together and took one of the sturdier looking sticks from the fire wood pile and wound it around the laces. Pulling it through the overgrowth that I had tried to avoid, his body trailing behind me over rock and fern until I reached the gravel path towards my dwelling. The weight of him sending shockwaves of pain through my shoulders and arms, rendering me weak and wearier than I had ever thought possible.

How long had it taken? An hour? Possibly two? The rain refused to stop pouring and the wind continued to howl. The mist remained on the forest floor like a blanket of cloud that did nothing to soften his journey. But somehow, I made it. Trembling against cold and fatigue, I pulled this lifeless body up the porch steps and into the sanctuary of my Grandmother's home.

I thought I would have felt something as I stared at him. But within the confines of my familiarity, it was like seeing him for the first time all over again. And I was flushed with fear anew. The questions I so desperately needed answering screamed at me from the back of my mind, not knowing what it meant that someone else had been left behind, too.

There would be time enough for that. I silenced the echoes of my intrusive thoughts and ripped the front of his shirt open. The true extent of his wounds becoming apparent as I ran my hand down his sternum. There was no way of knowing if he was bleeding internally, or if his breakages were life threatening but I was bolstered by his ability to carry on breathing as I ran for my supplies.

I was lost in a flurry of muscle memory as I fitted a canula to the back of his hand. Fixed the saline drip on the stand and managed to get a pillow beneath his head. I gave him a shot of morphine to keep him sedated and wrapped his torso in linen bandages to keep his ribcage from falling apart. I cleaned up the blood from the wound at his temple, stitching it up against the tendrils of long brown hair.

And then I sat.

There was nothing left in me to give. I sat and I stared at him. Taking in the cupids bow of his lips and the strict line of his jaw. The mole on his right cheek and the tiny, almost indiscernible pock scar on his left. I took note of his deep set eyes behind closed lids, the thick brows above them and the way his teeth sat just behind his mouth as his breathing began to settle into a regular pattern.

And then I began to wonder about what sort of man he was. If he was good and kind or if he had a terrible temper. I wondered what stories he had to tell, or if he would want to leave without telling me any of them. I wondered if he had been alone as I had. If his solitude had driven him mad or if he wanted nothing more than to be alone in this empty world.

I wondered if he would try to hurt me. To take my food and my body. And the thought that he would regain his strength and try to force himself upon me was one that made me physically move back from him. Every danger receptor in my body alerting me to something that was entirely perceived.

He was just laying there on the cold, wooden floor. On the flatweave rug that was faded and frayed that had been there since my early childhood and was now tainted with blood stains. He wasn't a threat. There was too much morphine in his blood stream. But still, I found myself concocting a menagerie of thoughts about his character as he laid there, unconscious.

I nervously moved around, building a fire with the last of the wood and cursing myself for not going back for the pile I'd left at the side of the road. I made a pot of tea and kept a watchful eye over him as it brewed. Sipping on it thoughtfully as I sat at the kitchen table, unable to focus my attention on anything but his half naked body.

Eventually, I gave in to the shock and fell asleep with my head propped against my forearm. The gentle crackle of the fire fading away as it burned to embers. And the rain continued to lash against the window, until day turned into night.

Day 392 ~ Jake

The ghost in the mist haunted me. The sight of her in the thickening fog, watching me with those doleful eyes. A dream that wouldn't release me. Repeating over and over until all I could feel was unbearable pain shooting through every inch of my body.

I didn't think ghosts could hurt me. But she was standing over me with a hand on my chest, running her fingers down my throat and ripping my clothes to shreds. I could hear my name on the wind, being whispered somewhere beyond my comprehension. And then there was nothing but eternal darkness. My only sense of reality was the smoke in my lungs that smelled like burning rubber and it would not relent no matter how hard I tried to breathe.

It felt like I had died. And when finally I opened my eyes, I wondered if I'd stepped over the threshold into the place beyond. If I had, then surely I was in hell. All I could see through blurred vision were flames licking high in a roaring fireplace. The heat of it making me sweat. I could feel myself shrouded in something, a blanket? It felt itchy against my skin. I wanted to shuffle free of it but couldn't move. The torture of my body not doing as I willed it was surely a punishment that should have come to me a long time ago.

The ghost of my dreams appeared to me through the flames. Her hand clammy and cool against my brow, her voice soft and low as she soothed my aching moans. I couldn't see her face, only the outline of her as she stood above me. Angel or demon, I couldn't decipher. But I knew I had died. There was nobody left in the world I'd left behind.

"Jacob?"

It was like my head was being lifted out of running water. The muffled drum of my own heart seemed to beat loudly in my ears and then suddenly it was like I'd stepped onto dry land.

"Jake." I mumbled, a habit I'd developed whenever anyone called me by my full name.

My mouth was bone dry. I could feel my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips covered in a sheen of dried saliva as I tried to speak. My head snapped up, panic rising in my chest as I realised I wasn't in my own clothes. I was stitched up and laid out on an old couch in front of a stone fireplace. My ribs felt like porcelain as I tried to sit up, only to find that I couldn't.

"Don't try to make any sudden moves."

She wasn't a ghost. She wasn't a spectre in the mist. I could see her concern laced in her unwavering eyes. Blue as the sky I hadn't seen for days and red rimmed from tears she'd no doubt shed at my expense. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to fluff the pillow behind my head. Heaven nor hell could have prepared me for this. The reality that I had survived.

She placed a glass of water to my mouth and let me drink until the water ran down my chin. Until my parched mouth was satisfied. And then I watched as she retreated to the chair beside the fire, sitting on the edge of it as if my presence made her nervous. Her hands wringing in her lap and a fearful expression on lips she couldn't help but bite.

It had been so long since I had seen another living soul that I was struck by the same uncertainty. Perhaps I would have been more gracious if my body had allowed it, but all I could do was lay there and wonder if me looking at her was the wrong thing to do.

"Where am I?" I asked, my eyes still adjusting to the sombre fire light.

She was considering my question. To be specific or to give me just the right amount of information. Her distrust of me was a little off putting, considering I'd only been unconscious in her company thus far. It felt as if she didn't really want me there, but neither could I simply get up and walk out.

"A few miles outside of Roanoke." She confirmed, "You don't remember anything before the accident?"

I could have lied. But she wouldn't have been comforted either way. It was my presence that was scaring her, not whatever I had to say. I could see her knees bounce up and down where she sat, her chest rising and falling beneath an oversized flannel shirt as she breathed a little harder than usual.

"I remember." I replied, wincing as I tried to shift my weight.

She flew to my side. Despite her fear, she opened the shirt that I was wearing that didn't belong to me and ran careful hands over my bandaged middle. Her touch settled on the fabric, my flesh beneath it screaming out to be held.

"Where does it hurt?" She asked plainly, inspecting me like a book she had never read before.

There were freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"Just my ribs." I replied, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could muster.

"Without access to imaging machinery, I couldn't decipher the extent of the wounds." She said, buttoning up the shirt a little higher than I would have usually worn it. "After I was able to get you out of the car, I had to drag you through the woods. I wasn't sure if you'd sustain more injuries. Luckily, the front of the car took most of the impact. Your body just shattered in the reverb, from what I could tell after I examined you. I was concerned about internal bleeding, but after the first 24 hours I could see that your bruising was from multiple bone fractures. I don't know the extent of those either, but at a guess I'd say there's a fair few. You hit your head pretty hard, too. But I managed to get it stitched up. You just needed fluids after that, and I gave you some sedatives to keep you still. Just in case..."

She traced a finger over the dressing on the back of my hand and peeled it off. The sensation of it drew a swift intake of breath. She rubbed at thumb over the puncture wound where something had been and walked away. Nobody had touched me in what felt like a thousand lives lived in complete solitude. And I almost felt the sting of tears betray me.

"What are you, some kind of doctor?" I jested, although she didn't smile.

"Medical student." She corrected, "I was a few months away from graduation when..."

She didn't seem to want to say it out loud. She lingered in the space between the couch and the chair, eventually throwing the dressing she'd taken off my hand into the fire and stoking it with a heavy looking iron poker that looked out of place in her tiny hands.

"I thought I was the only one left."

My confession drew her back from the fire. A look of intense pain that she couldn't speak of in those blue eyes. She was the reason I was laid up like that, unable to move. I couldn't tell her that, though. That her appearing to me like that through the mist had made me swerve, that she was real and not a figment of my imagination had brought me crashing through the trees.

There was so much I wanted to say. And none of it that I could easily spit out. And she, in return, could not speak to the thing which had brought us to that moment. There was a mounting sadness which seemed to be shared. But she wouldn't let me dwell in hers, I was an outsider.

"You must be starving." She surmised, snapping out of her melancholy.

My stomach ached for food, but I didn't want any. The way she stormed across the room, as if the act of bringing me food was a welcome distraction made me feel a strange sense of guilt.

"No, wait..." I lifted my arm, felt pain shoot through my chest and put it back down.

She stopped at the foot of the couch. Ready to tell me that I wasn't strong enough to be making such bold movements yet, but she remained silent. The look of uncertainty still there, like a third person was in the room with us.

"What can I do for you, Jake?" She asked, so sweetly I almost relinquished myself to the pain just to sit up and get a better look at her.

I settled on the way she looked at me, instead. "What's your name?"

Something she could freely give me. Something she already had of mine that she could reciprocate. Just a simple name, and she smiled right before she gave it to me.

Day 1 ~ Amelia

Christmas never felt quite right in California. I longed for the morning dew of the appalachian woods where the rest of my family were celebrating. The fireside mulled wine and ridiculous conversations that my Mother would have with her Mother. My younger brother fighting with my elder brother over the last cookie, or something equally trivial that never would have been a point of contention if they'd been at home.

At Grandma's cabin we always became children again. That steady tone of her voice as she admonished us was a comfort in adulthood. That I couldn't be there had made my Mother cry, and I couldn't shift the memory of her wiping away tears as my Dad put a careful hand to her shoulder. Only he understood why. And I knew, as I stood clicking my pen at the 4th storey window of UCSF Fresno, that he would be comforting her in my absence.

Dad came from a world of surgeons and lawyers. His family were big on careers, whereas my Mom had grown up the child of appalachian homesteaders. Or doomsday preppers, as Dad so affectionately called them. The two of them colliding at the 1991 birth of Lollapalooza.

It was easy to live in privilege around my Dad. The way he walked me into the most prestigious residency I could have ever dreamed of was not something I could give up just for Christmas. But my Mom was always there to remind me to be humble. That nothing worth having meant a damn if you didn't work for it, and I was determined to work for this place I had found myself in.

"Doctor?"

I slipped my pen back into my coat pocket. As I turned, I caught sight of the little old man standing at the foot of his hospital bed in a mint green gown. His little legs were trembling, his eyes sunken so deeply I could barely make out the color of them.

"Mr. Matheson, I thought I told you to stay in bed?" I tutted, helping him into the chair before his legs gave way.

He was quite adamant that he wasn't getting back into that bed. Pulling me down to meet his milky gaze, the paleness of his cheeks somewhat whiter than they'd been a moment ago.

"I don't feel quite right, Doc." He fretted, batting away my attempts to check his vitals.

"That's because you have liver disease, Mr. Matheson." I replied, keeping my tone accustomed to the teasing manner this particular patient enjoyed. "You remember? You're in the hospital in Fresno."

He would usually spare me a toothy grin. Tell me I was the prettiest Doctor he'd ever seen. That I reminded him of his late wife, except she didn't have freckles on her nose. When he sat there silently, staring through me like I wasn't even there, I took out my pen light and waited for him to follow the glow.

It was as if he had vacated his own body.

"Mr. Matheson?" I chimed, curling my hands around his shoulders in order to shake him back into himself. "Mr. Matheson, can you hear me?!"

He never ate much. He was barely keeping his bones together with what little flesh he had left. He seldom slept. The disease ravaging his body had caused red welts to appear across his flesh, painful to the touch. I swept my hand across his forehead, something which usually caused him to wince in pain. But there was nothing. Not even an errant blink.

"Ok, you're scaring me now." I confessed, hitting the call button with my fist as I laid the old man out on the floor.

Nobody came. The alarm sounded out over a silence I hadn't noticed. There were no clamouring footsteps, no hurried voices.

"Can somebody get in here please?!" I called, damned if I was going to leave this sweet old man on the floor like that. "Hello?! Is anyone there?!"

There had been Christmas music playing from the nurses' station. Visitors coming and going all day. The gentle realisation that there was only the alarm I'd set off myself sounding out sent a blood curdling chill down my spine. I felt it spill like ice down from the nape of my neck until my fingers tingled with it.

I felt a wave of nausea. My body began to feel irrepressibly cold. The essence drained from me.

"Please..." I begged, my voice coming out so thinly it was barely audible. "I need...someone...to help..."

I hit the ground before I finished speaking. My body listless and paralysed. My mind urging myself to move to no avail. I could only stare up at the fluorescent light above, buzzing and flickering on the white painted ceiling. I thought, perhaps, I had worked myself into a psychotic frenzy. That my perception of time was off and that it had only been a second since I hit the call button.

They'd be here any moment, wouldn't they?

The light swallowed me. Rendered me blind. Time lost all meaning. My own heartbeat the only reminder that I existed at all. The tell tale sound of my own breath, like my head was under water, rushing in and out as I tried to move.

I couldn't see my own body. As if I was shrouded in darkness, but where the void should have been black there was only white. Not smoke, nor mist. Not something I could place outside of myself, it was within. And yet, it was beyond me. I could feel it trying to drag me away. Like it wanted me to let it consume me.

I thought that I was screaming. I knew my mouth was moving but there was no sound coming out. I knew that I was fighting something that wanted me to remain still. It wanted me to submit. And it felt as if, for a moment, that I should.

Just let it take me. No more pain. No more struggle. No more life. No more waking up each day alone, the hours of my life dwindling down at a job that was making it hard to find love. No more missed celebrations, seeing the look on my Mother's face when I couldn't be there. Whatever it was that wanted me, let it have me.

My heart began to beat faster. Thrumming harder and harder against my chest, threatening to beat right out of my body. Until all I could hear was the deafening roar of it. Certain that I was dying, I accepted my fate. I stopped fighting it. And the moment I did, everything became abundantly clear.

I opened my eyes. Breathless. Drenched in sweat. Christmas music echoing down the corridor. Every muscle, every sinew robbed of it's strength. My eyes were streaming, like I'd been crying but couldn't recall what it had been about. Utterly broken. But I couldn't remember why.

For the briefest moment I was numbed with amnesia. The sweetest, most pure moment that kept me safe from what I was about to recall. I picked myself up slowly, gathered my composure. A headache pounding away behind my temples that hadn't been there a moment ago.

And Mr. Matheson was nowhere to be seen.

Day 2 ~ Jake

The bottle of tequila my brother had left on the counter was still sitting there, half of it spilled down the kitchen cupboard. As if he'd been pouring it and simply wasn't there to hold it anymore.

The TV was playing static. My parents had been sitting on the couch watching an old movie, their positions still moulded into the scatter cushions. There wasn't a single thing out of place. Even the cars parked in the driveway signalled that no one had left.

Except I was alone. So irrevocably alone that I had burst into the houses nearby in a blind panic, looking for signs that anyone was still there. Every house in a state of eerie abandonment. Like Christmas had been happening until the moment it somehow wasn't.

Music playing. Food left on tables. Spilled drinks. Toys scattered across the floor, wrapping paper littering the space beneath Christmas trees. Like children had been playing with them only a moment ago, until they were inexplicably taken.

And I couldn't bear it. One minute I'd been standing on my parents' front porch, sharing a smoke with my girlfriend after we'd eaten a good meal, feeling content as we talked about our plans for the new year. I thought she was just playing at first, collapsing down the porch steps into a heap at the bottom. I was blinded by the light before I could reach her.

I never did reach her. It was as if I blinked and she was no longer there, the light dissipating into a world void of others. I screamed their names. I ran from house to house, I tore them apart. I told them to quit messing around. Only silence responded.

Like the Marie Celeste. Floating on the sea without a crew to steer her. Warm and inviting, a meal set to be eaten. But none to eat.

Nothing but the remains that they had once been there. And now there was only sadness and a fear I knew would choke me, if I let it.

Part Two

@thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch

[miirshroom]

The Moon of Nokstella - The Language of Elements

A while back I counted the gemstones and found that the sides of the moon of Nokstella are not equal. I did this because I had a thought that it might be a kind of dot diagram for an atom surrounded by electrons. It's not the only item where I speculate this, there are many shields where similarly I am interested in counting the rivets. So the assumption here is that there is a story around the synthesis of element 38 from elements 34 and 4.

Element 34 is Selenium, which was named for a Roman goddess of the moon. It is a dark silvery metal. This immediately seems to confirm my suspicion considering the dark moon theme of the talisman.

Element 4 is Beryllium, which is a component of the Beryl gemstone. These are all Beryls:

If it is assumed that the 34 surrounding gemstones are also beryls for consistency then they have a good colour match with aquamarine, while the 4 quadrant Beryls resemble maxixe. The colour of aquamarine is generally stable (it is made by trace amounts of iron), though it can be intensified with heat treatment. The colour of maxixe is artificial due to radiation and will fade over time. Clear goshenite is the mother of all beryl's because it can treated to re-colour it to the others.

Aquamarine and Bloodstone are the two birthstones for March. The corresponding zodiac signs would be Pisces and Aries assuming Western astrology (sun signs) or Aquarius and Pisces by Vedic astrology (moon signs).

Element 38 is Strontium. It is a soft metal that is silvery but rapidly tarnishes to a dull yellow when exposed to air. It burns red in a colour similar to Elden Ring's bloodflame:

It was named after the Scottish village of Strontian (Sròn an t-Sìthein), which means "nose of the fairy hill". The overall color of the talisman recalls that there is a nebulous blue fairy and/or dancer in the lore. And "Siofra" means "changeling" in reference to the fairy creature.

Combine with the above knowledge of Aquarius, the fixed air sign that sweeps away the past to make room for something new, and this implies that a fairy changeling was created by the power of the metallic moon and stone. And that was the beginning of the ancient wolf-and-sheep themed blood dynasty.

Fragments and updates from my earlier speculation about the creation myth(s) of the Lands Between. Presented in format of trumpet sounds to herald what is to come in the following astrological sign:

Scorpio: An existing world ruled by what would eventually come to be known as the God of Rot. 1st trumpet - hail and fire mingled with blood thrown to earth. Scorched 1/3 of the Earth.

Ophiuchus: 1st Day: "Let there be light". Memory of grace. Light of the rising sun reflecting on the water 2nd trumpet - great mountain burning with fire, 1/3 of the land turned red.

Sagittarius: 2nd Day: Creation of the Firmament (i.e. the heavens and the sky) 3rd trumpet - star called wormwood poisons 1/3 of fresh water sources (wormwood is also called "absinthe sage"). This star is quite likely the Elden Beast, but could be an Astel.

Capricorn: 3rd Day: Creation of dry ground and plants. Likely creation of an Erdtree, or a certain species of tree in general. 4th trumpet - 1/3rd of the light from the sun, moon and stars goes dark.

Aquarius: 4th Day: Creation of sun, moon, and stars - creation of a black moon? Or representing a moon cycle - the emergence of an illuminated full moon from the previous new (dark) moon? 5th trumpet - the first woe. A star falls from heaven, with Scorpion-like tail. Creatures are eradicated unless they have a certain sign on their foreheads. The Scorpion-like tail again may reference Astel, more likely than the Elden Beast.

Pisces: 5th Day: Creation of birds and sea creatures - Creation of sea life could be re-contextualized as eradication of all sea-life that does not fit within a strict definition (considering how rare it is to see true sea creatures in the game and especially the lack of fish). Creation of birds likely corresponds to creation of the Twinbird, considering that Pisces is associated with two fish moving in different directions, or with the swallow bird in the Babylonian zodiac. 6th trumpet - the second woe - 4 angels released from binds in River Euphrates.

Aries: 6th Day: Creation of land animals and humans - created with a Cardinal fire sign. Origin of bloodflame, probably, for the warm blood that is poetically considered the animating source of life for humans and mammals. 7th trumpet - the third woe - kingdom of the world becomes kingdom of the Lord. Presumably Placidusax, the first Elden Lord.

Moon of Nokstella

This legendary talisman is a treasure of Nokstella, the Eternal City. Increases memory slots. This talisman represents the lost black moon. The moon of Nokstella was the guide of countless stars.

At my current guess, I would place the mythical black moon of Nokstella as dating back to the ancient era of Aquarius. For context of what that means relative to other points on the timeline, I expect that the era of Scorpio corresponds to the desolation of Rauh and origin of the ancient God of Rot (scorpions and all). The Abyssal Serpent (Ophiuchus) arrives being "hail and fire mixed with blood" that "scorched 1/3 of the earth". And is followed by the Primordial Crucible - a giant fiery volcano - in the mutable fire sign of Sagittarius as heralded by the 2nd trumpet and demonstrated by the presence of Crucible Knight Denovia with the centaur Aspect of the Crucible. The wing of Astel is a curved sword such as those used by the Warrior character class who resembles the folkloric dancer in blue, and Astel itself has the appearance of a monstrous blue fairy - thus the Ancient God of Rot was also sealed at this time of change represented by Pisces.

And this weaving of chemistry, astrology, birthstones, Abrahamic creation myth, Christian book of Revelations and fairytale folklore is one example of how the timeline is complex, but it's possible to assemble a shape for even the more nebulous earlier points by identifying and dissecting the mythology inspirations. There are certainly other layers relating to the creation myths of other cultures, but this is as far as I intend to speculate based on the Moon of Nokstella alone.

[heazueken]

Partake

*ೃ༄ summary: Hibiki, wounded and exhausted from the fight previous confides in Vampire!Suguru for some comfort in front of the fire. Oh and Satoru just so happens to be sleeping not too far away from them...

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, blood drinking, biting, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering and some slight voyeurism?

pairing(s): Kubo Hibiki(oc)/Geto Suguru

w/c; 8.6k

a/n: Thank you so much @stsgooo for letting me adopt your JJK oc Hibiki for this! We've been conversing about a vampire au for a bit now and i could not get rid of the brain worms. This is self indulgent but does play into the plot we created and just a little backstory - Satoru and Suguru work for Hibiki to eradicate pure blood vampires in exchange for Hibiki's life (she she doesnt know that..) this is just a small scene that takes place after a rather nasty fight :) hope you enjoy!

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    Satoru had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge tucked in the corner of the room by the time Suguru had finished wiping Hibiki’s wounds clean. He laid her on the carpet in front of the fire place that was lit ablaze, illuminating only a portion of the large living area. The light flickered over her face, her eyes barely opening as she watched Suguru dress her cuts and bruises.

    “You really don’t need to be doing this.” Her voice is quiet so as to not wake Satoru up. The fire licks over Suguru’s eyes when his eyes flutter up to look into hers, his eyes a hint of red in the warm flame. There’s a determination in the way he looks at her and his hand tightens its grip around her wrist, pushing more blood out in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

    He knows why she’s saying this. He can feel it, the ball forming in his throat. The gurgling in his stomach, his fangs growing prominent inside his mouth. He was an animal, he knew this, it was natural for his body to react this way. Drool had dripped from out of his mouth when he had to carry her back to the estate, a bloody mess (himself too.) The wafting of iron and this sweetness of her blood had overcome his senses, he had to fight back the urge to pounce and drink her up then and there. Thank god Satoru had been there to help him keep a level head. 

    Not yet. We gain her trust, then we feast and get the fuck out of here. He had said with his stare when they supported her by the waist to make quick work back to the house.

    Suguru felt something strange though when he held the cloth to Hibiki’s wrist and pressed hard, watching the blood soak into the material. Sure, his body was kicking into its natural instinct, but as far as what he felt in his heart and mind; He didn’t want to feast on Hibiki, no matter how hungry he was. 

    He had used up a lot of energy, his own wounds finally healed over and they had cut deep. It takes a good while for a slash like the one he got to fade away and he had used up the rest of his energy to heal it in under ten minutes so he could prioritize Hibiki’s safety. He had to be strong for her. But why? When had he begun to feel for her this way? Was it when she had let them free and made a deal with them? Or maybe it was the fact that she gave them new clothes and fresh food that would at least suppress their temptation (she took to giving them a dose of pig's blood to help satisfy them. It would never compare to the taste of human blood but it was close enough for their desperation at the time). Or maybe it was her kindness. Despite this human being a hunter for his people, she had confessed to him that she wanted to help the ones who were turned by pure blood vampires - like Suguru and Satoru. She had shown him her lab, shown the collection of blood, teeth, and her books with her own research. Hibiki never looked at him like he was a monster, it was more like she looked at him like he was still an ordinary human. Suguru hadn’t been looked at like that in a long time, and that’s what made his heart crack and open to let a piece of her crawl in and find its home within him.

    He couldn’t tell Satoru. Never. He had to keep this a secret.

    “You’re bleeding a lot and you don’t have the strength right now to be doing this for yourself.” He says it like it doesn’t bother him, like his teeth aren’t poking out of his mouth and he keeps swallowing because his mouth is watering.

    “I know this is torture for you, Suguru. You’re exhausted.” She reaches her free hand over to place her hand over the large one holding the fabric to her open wound. Her fingers are cold and when Suguru looks at her, she’s pale. Dried blood begins to crack on her forehead and she gives him a weak smile. The flames behind her illuminate her hair when she groans and finds the strength to sit up. Suguru regards her for a bit before his attention is turned to where her hand is still over his. 

    “You need to feast before I can let you help me anymore. Please.” She tries to pry his hand off, his fingers loosen and the rag is raised with his hand.

    The smell overtakes him, blood already beading past the broken skin and just the sight of it has him turning his head away and covering his mouth in an attempt to repress the instinct to lick and lap and suck. Hibiki watches this, her hair falling over her face and gauging her own safety through strands of hair. She had been afraid at first, of course. They could have very well been planning to feast on her from the start, she had been prepared for that moment and it didn’t go unnoticed - the way Satoru had looked at her at times had her thinking that maybe, just maybe, they whispered to each other about their schemes to bring a downfall upon her and leave her for dead and a husk of skin.

    But the way Suguru turned away, the way he almost seemed disgusted with himself when she had shown him her blood had her thinking that maybe something had changed between them. She could admit to her own feelings about Suguru, she was fond of him. Incredibly fond of him, he was tall, dark, handsome, he was kind and soft, gentle with her and regarded her with respect she had never seen from a vampire. She didn’t need to be reminded that before those marks on his neck, before his suffering at the fangs of some pure blood, he was just a boy. A human who didn’t have to live in fear, who didn’t have to kill to survive. She was very fond of Suguru, she was sure of that.

    Hibiki raises her arm towards him, her fist tapping his shoulder for his attention. He looks over to her, his eyes meeting hers first and she can see them bloodshot, slowly turning red even in the dim flame light. Then his eyes trail to her cut, already trickling down and a droplet falls onto the carpet beneath them. They widen, and he firmly holds his hand to his mouth. He looks at her again and Hibiki is telling him, showing him what he has to do.

    It’s unspoken, what she wants him to do, and he doesn’t need the words to know. He shakes his head, his voice muffled. 

    “I can’t, Hibiki…What if I lose control and then I-“

    “You won’t. I trust you.” There are no tricks, she has no weapons and he knows that because he helped her undress into just her undergarments, releasing the hidden away silver and knives stashed against her thighs, waist, and inside her boots. She sits before him with such trust, she might as well be a full course meal on a platter for him. That metallic smell found its way through his fingers and into his nose, the smell making his drool produce tenfold.

    “Suguru, please. Do this for me.” For her? For her? How could any of this be for her? Here Hibiki is, risking her life inside her own home by offering her wound to a man-eater, a monster of the night, a vampire. His mind began to feel fuzzy when he parts his lips and tastes the smell on the roof of his mouth, a shudder overcoming him. He finally turns to her, slowly lowering his hand with a struggle. His chin is wet, and he feels droplets of saliva drip onto his clothes when he leans closer. 

    He reaches over to where he had dropped her dagger in a haste to get it off of her and let it topple over to the floor. He forces the dagger into her hand, curling her fingers over the hilt of it.

    “You use that in case I go too far. Got it?”

    She nods and he senses no fear from her. Suguru’s eyes flicker back to her arm, he grabs the rag he had used and wraps it on her under arm, catching some of the dripping blood. The room feels like it’s closing in when he lifts her arm closer to his face, his mouth on its descent to bridge the gap between his fangs and her delicate skin. Hibiki watches with a curious look, like how you would watch an animal in the wild when it hunts for its prey, catches it and eats it. Her eyes widen with wonder and he looks beautiful like this. The way the flames lick across his skin, making his skin look warmer than it is, the way his eyelashes cast a shadow over his cheeks, his mouth opening and his tongue creeping its way out until it reaches her cut.

    The taste…the taste is better than he expected. Nothing could compare to the way Hibiki tasted, no finest red wine, no fancy meal, no delectable dessert could compare to the sweetness of her blood. It overwhelmed his taste buds with a sweet, warm, metallic taste. Maybe it was his feelings for her that elevated the taste and sent a shiver down his spine, or maybe it was just her and the fact that she was blessed with liquid gold for vampires. His lips took over and wrapped around the skin and his fangs pressed fully against the skin making it pliable and his saliva worked as a numbing agent to dull the pain when he had to use the sharp ends of his teeth to reach further in and gather more blood.

    Hibiki gasps, not because of the pain but because of the pleasure that washes over her. It had taken her aback, adrenaline suddenly coursing through her veins and a second wave of strength sprang forth and her limbs felt almost numb. Or perhaps it was Suguru’s saliva. She learned very quickly of vampires and the properties of their spit, using it to numb their victims, or - if skilled enough - it could work as a healing serum and completely close any wound. Although, the larger or deeper the wound, the more saliva it would take. 

    Suguru’s saliva worked to numb her body, feeling loose and good, working almost like a drug. Her eyelids feel heavy and she watches through a blurry gaze him suck more blood from her, his fingers grasping tightly and nails digging into her skin. He’s so beautiful like this.

    “Good…you taste so good, Hibiki,” he gasps when he breaks from her skin for a moment. Her eyes are able to widen when the cold air hits her cut and she can see the blood has almost completely stopped flowing. She gasps too when Suguru is lifting the rag off her arm and his tongue is making long stripes to clean where it has trickled around and down her arm. Warmth spreads across her body and Suguru’s eyes crack open to look at her. His stare is…dark but not in a vampiric way where there’s a murderous intent behind those eyes but more like…one that holds a hunger to be closer to her. To touch her. She watches the way his tongue laps at the dried blood, the way it trails back up to the source and gives her wound a long, firm lick. The wound closes behind the path of his tongue, leaving just a divot of skin that trails up to her wrist. 

    Color is restored back to Suguru’s face when he pulls away slowly, a bridge of spit breaking between them. He inspects the scar for a second, his other fingers trailing over it and swiping the healing property around it in hopes to make it go away further.

    “I think that’s all I can do with what you’ve given me,” he says quietly, there’s a bit of regret in his voice and Hibiki wonders if it’s because he had to feast on her or the fact that he had to stop. Whatever it was she knew she didn’t want him to stop there, she wanted to feel that shudder, that drive, that high again. She doesn’t say a thing when she’s raising to her knees, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder and she looks down on him. His eyes grow in size when he lifts his head, if his blood could circulate more properly he’d have flushed cheeks.

    Hibiki sets herself into Suguru’s lap, her thighs on either side of his waist, the position has him bracing his hand behind himself to hold himself up and Hibiki’s neck is right in front of his line of sight. There’s a large bandage that he applied to her right shoulder, where beneath it laid a large scratch and had been the one to bleed the most. 

    Suguru’s eyes flicker to it then to her face where she was looking at him, her pupils blown out, cheeks blushing red - the color traveling down her sternum and where her breasts began. He looks away quickly and is stuttering, shifting underneath her and feeling her groin meet his perfectly. He gasps, turning away again.

    “Wh-what are you-“ Habiki lowers her bra strap that rests just before where the bandage starts. Then she’s pulling away the tape Suguru had placed to keep it there, he glances to watch the bandage reveal the brown shade of older blood, the cut crusty and scabbing over and his breaths become shallow when she leans in close to him.

    “More. You need to have more.” She sounded seductive, her voice low and with a drunken drawl that almost had him giving in already. Lord, she made him so weak! How?! How could she have found her way into his life like this and improve it in such a way? He breaks out of his trance when her breasts press into his chest and she’s encouraging him to turn his attention to her shoulder. He looks up at her again before asking,

    “This isn’t a good thing to be doing, you know that right? It’s not smart.”

    Hibiki looks down at him, then her eyes glance back to where Satoru lay in the corner, his back turned to them. Then she looks back down at Suguru and gives an uneasy look.

    “It isn’t. But I trust you. I want to help you,” her hand cups over his cheek and they stare at each other for a moment. The sound of the fire crackling, the soft sound of their breaths mixing together, the smell of her enveloping him like a warm blanket. His eyes shut and he leans into her touch and he cups his hand over hers, cocking his head to plant a kiss inside her palm.

    “You tell me when to stop…and you keep that dagger on you.”

    “You’re repeating yourself, Suguru. I know that alrea- Ah-!” He bites into her wound to silence her, separating the skin and letting more blood flood into his mouth. Hibiki’s hand swoops to the back of his head to grip a fistful of his hair and her face ducks into the crown of his head, biting her bottom lip to fight back anymore moans. Suguru breaks from her, mouth bloody and fangs coated in red, gasps of breath releasing from him.

    “You need to be quiet. Satoru could wake up at any moment.” 

    She responds with a tug on his hair and a pout, “You didn’t warn me, asshole,” she whispers aggressively. He smirks against her skin and she lets herself smile a little bit, the excitement of their transgressions igniting an arousal between them. Suguru’s hands find comfort on her naked waist, cold hands against warm and malleable skin. His hands grip Hibiki with a strength that sets her skin ablaze and her hands gather more of his hair to ground herself and hold onto her sanity. She feels it slipping, the fuzziness returning when he suckles on her shoulder and lets his spit coat her skin - helping the wound close.

    Suguru could feel his own sanity slipping when she grabbed him, pulled at his hair, had her lips pressed into his temple and was whimpering as his tongue made long licks across her skin. The whole thing had been erotic from the beginning, it usually was meant to be. He had never had a victim that didn’t let him bite willingly, he was a natural seducer and would take anyone to bed and be able to make them turn into a moaning mess like this before sinking his teeth into their neck and draining them of their blood. The taste of Hibiki’s blood was now the only thing he would crave for the rest of his time on earth, and he didn’t plan on letting her go that easily. His arms wrapped around her as he finished lapping her up and healing her in the process. 

    He’s aroused. He can feel it when Hibiki scoots her hips in a certain way and he can feel her core graze over where he’s hard. He reaches to her shoulder to swipe her hair to the side, the skin practically glowing in the light, inviting him for another taste, another bite. He shouldn’t, he knows not to…but…she’s in his lap, letting him do this. She wanted this for him, surely she would know the consequences with trusting a blood-sucker! He reasons with himself in a drunken stupor of her smell and taste and finds himself opening his mouth and grazing his teeth over her soft skin. Hibiki lets out a sigh, her whole body shuddering under him and she presses her hips back down to grind herself over his hardened cock. There’s a choked sound that leaves his mouth and his eyes shoot open to stare at the opposite wall of him, staring into one of the many paintings Hibiki had hanging inside her estate. The depiction of a woman with a dagger, holding a man down and slicing his neck open, the man clearly in anguish during his last moments stares back at Suguru. Something clicks inside him and he’s quickly shutting his jaw tight and pulling away, resisting any urges to feast on her.

    I’m sorry, Satoru. I need to keep her. His brows furrow together at the thought of having to explain this to his white haired friend. He simply can’t, Satoru wouldn’t understand. He was stubborn and brash and self centered and held too tightly to his word. He could never see how precious and beautiful the woman who sat in his lap was, he could never understand Suguru’s feelings for her. Whatever relationship Hibiki and Satoru had before he had been turned into a monster crumbled to pieces and there was no way of fixing it, not after what they went through at the hands of Toji.

    Suguru wraps his arms fully around Hibiki and holds her close, that arousal grows inside him and he’s hiding his face into the crook of her neck to muffle a groan that leaves his mouth. 

    “Suguru,” Hibiki whispers, her fingers now sifting through his long hair. He hums an acknowledgment, What?

    “Will you…can we…” She pulls away slightly, enough to meet his eyes, his are back to normal now. He’s done drinking her up, but the gaze he held is still one of hunger. So is hers.

    Her hand swipes over his neck, then to his jaw where she let her fingertips draw a path to his parted lips. She places her index finger over his bottom lip and pulls it down slightly, her eyes half lidded.

    “Can you kiss me?” 

    Can he kiss her? Of course he can, why would she ask such a ridiculous thing? Suguru doesn’t say anything but supports the back of her head with his hand and strains his neck up to meet her lips in a firm kiss. Her lips part and his join as well when they swiftly take a breath and weave their lips together again. He’s cold and it sends a wave of goosebumps to travel down her arms, but she doesn’t stop, she can’t stop. He tastes metallic, that iron still faintly on his tongue when he swipes it against her mouth - asking for an invitation to connect his tongue with hers. Hibiki opens her mouth, letting him in with eagerness that has her back arching and feeling his hard-on poking her inner thigh, eliciting a moan into his needy mouth. He silences her whimpers with an intense kiss, their lips moving in unison, their breath mixing together and panting together. 

    He needs her, he needs to have her right here. It doesn’t matter that Satoru could wake up at any point, anymore. He needed to take her right here and there, and she was just as eager to get the same from him. The way she grabs at the collar of his shirt, pulling it thinking it could somehow make him closer than he already is (it couldn’t) has Suguru almost whining too. She kisses him feverishly like at any minute he’d pull away and leave her there, wet and begging. He leans forward, getting onto his knees, his hands supporting her back and lifting her. His strength is clearly back and he lays her flush against the carpet, not once breaking their kiss until she locks her ankles over his back and she’s letting her head rest on the floor.

    They stare at each other with their faces inches away as they catch their breath. That iron smell still tainting his breath and traveling into Hibiki’s nose. Her hands grip his shirt and tug him to be closer, their noses brush together and her lips ghost over Suguru’s when she whispers to him.

“Will you fuck me, Suguru?”

    His breath catches in his throat at the bluntness of the question, the language makes his face flush slightly and he’s ducking his head into her chest. His bangs fall against her skin and he’s screwing his eyes shut at just the idea of being connected to her in such a way. Him inside her, her sounds, the way she would cling to him, the way he’d cling to her. He’d whisper filthy things into her ear. He’d been thinking about this for so long, late into the night after Hibiki and Satoru fell fast asleep he’d dream about this very moment. Having it come to life like this had been much more nerve wracking than he thought it would be. 

    “We shouldn’t…I want to…I want you but,” He looks at her with concern. “Satoru…” He glances back over to him, still fast asleep. Hibiki bites her cheek in thought for a second, staring at their albino friend before she’s leaning up again and whispering to him.

    “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

    It’s mischievous, it’s cruel, it’s betrayal on Suguru’s end. 

    “I don’t know…” He wants to give in, he wants to know what she feels like and he wants to feel her skin and body give in to his touches and presses and he wants to feel his cock slide into her. It would be so easy to just push her underwear to the side and fuck her sensless.

    Suddenly Hibiki is forcing his mouth open with her fingers, Suguru lets out a sound of surprise and he feels her thumb nick his sharp canine. He blurts her name, but then the taste of her blood coats his tongue once more and he’s immediately silenced when that warmth floods his body. His limbs go numb, weighing down on Hibiki’s body as he gives into the taste of her, letting it control him because oh does it taste so sweet. She could make him do anything if she offered her blood like this.

    She kisses him again on his bottom lip and keeps her thumb pressing on the softness of his tongue.

“Please…I want you to fuck me.”

    All reason and consequences are thrown out the window when she asks again because he wants her just as bad. His hands grip at her waist and he pushes himself up till he’s leaning far enough that he can freely touch her whenever he desires. His hands follow where his eyes go, first he starts at the base of her neck, her skin red with desire and she’s so warm. Her heart is beating so fast and hard when he presses his fingertips further down, teasing at the cup of her bra. Her chest rises and falls with anticipation, watching with a glossy look as his fingers pull away, releasing her breast free from its confines, her bra strap following suit.

    He breathes, taking in the sight of her half naked, the firelight flickering and illuminating her in such a way that it felt like time began to slow and everything began to disappear around them. Then it was just Suguru and Hibiki.

    He confesses, “I’ve thought about this for so long.” He feels a relief to finally be saying it. He’s not confessing his undying love, but here he is showing her a part of himself he had been so scared to. Afraid of her rejection, of her disgust with him. But he knows she would never react like that. He knows that now.

    “What,” Hibiki chuckles, a playful smirk, “You’ve been thinking about fucking me on a carpet in front of your best friend?”

    He chokes on his objections, making Hibiki giggle and lean up to give his cheek a chaste kiss. “I’m teasing.” Her hand cups his cheek and rubs her thumb over his lips. 

    “I’ve thought about this too…If I’m being honest. I’ve thought about it a lot.” There’s a new found confidence that awakens inside Suguru when the same confession stumbles out of her and he’s ducking his head, his chin pressing into the underside of her breast, his breath fanning over her nipple.

    “Really? What did you think about?” He dares, his mouth parting and morphing into an open smile, showing off his fangs to Hibiki. She shudders under him, biting her lip and meeting his stare with half the confidence of his. 

    “Well…I, uh-“

    “Lemme guess, you also thought about me fucking you right on this carpet in front of Satoru, too.” Hibiki’s eyes squint at him in a glare and she sticks her tongue out at him.

    “Oh, har har, Suguru.” He chuckles and kisses her breast, making her breath cut short before she’s continuing. “I was gonna say before you rudely interrupted - I’ve thought about the way you’d touch me.”

    The room grew warm. 

    “Oh yeah? How did you picture me touching you?” Their voices are so low, only able to hear between them. Suguru’s other hand grips the other cup to her bra and forces it down to match the other. His eyes don’t break from Hibiki’s even with her chest fully exposed to him now. Instead he stares her down, waiting for an answer. Her face is crimson, he can tell even in the low light and her lips part to stutter a little.

    “I pictured…your hands touching my chest…” Suguru’s hand cups over her breast, enveloping the whole thing with one hand, his thumb presses into her nipple. He can sense her heartbeat quicken when they’re so close like this, and he can see her throat bob as she swallows hard.

    “Yeah? What else?”

    She squirms. “You using your mouth…and biting into me…licking me.” It’s erotic and filthy and something he has thought of too. Biting into the soft fat of her breast and wrapping his mouth around her nipple, giving a good suck. His mouth inches closer, her nipple rising to its peak under his cold breath. 

    “You want me to bite you?” She only sighs in response, taking that as a yes. He can’t say he’ll be able to control himself after a fourth taste of her blood. Every drop seemed to fill him with such power, he was afraid he’d completely lose his head and drink her up until there was nothing left of her. So instead, he leans in close, opens his mouth and drags the tip of his tongue from the underside of her breast to her nipple. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, his tongue flicks against the bud and he finally hears the faintest moan come from Hibiki’s mouth. He sucks harder, knowing full well there would be a mark, his other hand gropes at the other breast, pinching her nipple between his index finger and thumb. He releases the hardened peak to take a breather but lets his tongue lap and flick on her skin. Hibiki shoots a hand over her mouth to conceal the onslaught of whimpering. Her knees drive together and dig into his rib cage as his mouth finds itself on her other breast - doing the same thing. 

    “I’ll admit,” Suguru begins, letting his thumb replace his mouth for a second, “I didn’t think you’d have to be so quiet…I always imagined letting you be as loud as you can.” He sounds almost disappointed, and she’d agree with him as well. Hibiki nods, breathing heavily through her nose when his mouth is on her again.

    “One day, aah, one day I’ll let you hear me proper.” She gasps out, arching her back off the carpet.

    “Promise?” Suguru sucks on her skin and leaves a dark mark in its wake.

    “I promise.” 

    Suguru’s hands travel down after she speaks, his mouth not leaving her as they go down, down and down until they’re back on her waist. His fingers grip and press into the skin, practically feeling the blood pump throughout her body. He can feel her heartbeat under his teeth and tongue, he can taste the salty sweat on her skin and it makes him crave more of her. He wants to sink his teeth deep and suck and he knows she wants the same thing. But he’s taken too much already. His hands find her hips, his fingers slender and long against the fabric of her underwear. He releases her nipple with a soft pop and smooths over her hickey with his wet tongue.

    “Any other fantasies you’d like to share with me?” He asks with a whisper. His mouth trails kisses down her breasts, following the natural path down her body. His lips press and leave wet marks, making a trail down to her navel where her stomach twitches under the sensation. Hibiki has to struggle not to release any of the sounds she wants to. She wants to beg for him, whimper his name and moan for him. She wants to hear him too, needs to memorize the way he would say her name when he’s fucking into her, memorize the way he’d grab her by her hips, lift her up and fuck her hard and fast like that. But with their circumstances at hand she was happy enough to whisper to one another and promise a next time.

    “I’ve thought about the way you’d touch me…” She confesses with a sigh of relief when his fingers hook around the hem of her underwear.

    Suguru cocks a brow and looks up at her then. “Now who’s repeating themselves, hm? And how did you picture me touching you?”

    “You know how, Suguru…c’mon…” She huffs.

    He releases a laugh from his nose and his lips plant more kisses around her belly button, her warmth increasing the lower he gets and it makes his cock twitch in his pants. He was having fun - teasing her like this, especially when his fingers lowered the thin piece of fabric to reveal the beginnings of coarse hair. Then he pulls the fabric taught and releases it with a hard snap! and Hibiki gasps. 

    “Tell me, Hibiki.” He demands and it makes her whole body shudder and she could feel herself getting wetter by the second.

    “Fuck- Your hands…I thought about your hands spreading me open…and your fingers…fucking into me…” She gasps through her fingers, covering her mouth in an attempt to lower her volume. She sees Satoru shift in the corner and groan in his sleep. Fucking shut up, Hibiki! She chastises herself. Suguru hums, his voice vibrating against her skin when he plants more kisses down her navel and to where her underwear begins.

    He lifts his head then, his fingers place themselves over her core and he feels just how hot and wet she’s gotten since this all began. Suguru watches as Hibiki’s face contorts, her mouth hangs open just slightly, her eyes glaze over with a need that’s apparent and her face flushes even more. She makes eye contact with him, a determination flashes across her gaze and she’s lifting her hips in an effort to create friction between her core and his fingers.

    “Suguru…please.” His fingers rub her achingly slow, up and down he goes, watching the way she twitches and tightens her knees around him in the process. He pulls away at the hem of her underwear to see her soaking wet, glistening under the light and making his mouth water at the sight. He dips a finger between her folds and with a curious touch, he swipes up to where her hood sits aching and enlarged. Suguru purposely avoids it and goes to rub around it, slicking her up and watching the way her hole clenches and unclenches around nothing, waiting for him to enter her. He can hear her whimper quietly, her hand reaching down to grab his wrist and guide him to where she needs him most.

    He grabs her back, forcing her wrist away and he hmphs in disappointment with her action.

    “Let me do it.”

    “You’re going too slow,” Hibiki practically cries. Suguru smiles at the triumph of finally having her like this, begging, wet, and weeping for him and only him.

    “You want me to finger you?” She nods in response. He lets go of her wrist and his index and middle finger stick between her folds, feeling the softness of her entrance.

    “You’re so wet, Hibiki.” His eyes flit up to hers.

    “You’ve fingered yourself thinking about me, haven’t you?”

    Hibiki nods again, her hair splaying out around her head and she draws her thighs together but only squeezes once more around Suguru’s body. His fingers dip further in, teasing her, before pulling back out.

     Suguru takes a deep breath in. 

    “Show me.” He demands.

    “Huh?” Hibiki leans her head up to look at him.

    “Show me how you fingered yourself when you thought about me.”

    Her eyes widen and her heart rises into her throat, heat spreading over her body and making her blush all over. She shakes her head, biting her lip to contain the embarrassment she suddenly feels.

    “You’re crazy…right here?” Suguru gives her a single nod. 

   Hibiki’s arousal increases when he’s holding her panties to the side and she slowly guides her hand to her inner thigh. Her chin trembles and she draws her fingers across herself, shocked at just how wet he made her. Even by herself she could never get herself this slick and hot. Her fingers spread apart to open herself up and show him just how much she was dripping, she dips a middle finger inside herself. Slick and warm, she sucks in the digit easily and she pumps it inside her a few times before including a second finger. She throws her head to the side, eyes naturally shutting to imagine it was his hand instead of hers. Soft huffs of breath escape from her as her fingers curl inside herself, the wet sound filling the room when she finds that spot inside herself and thrusts against it with the pads of her fingers. Hibiki chews on her lip to contain her moans, almost completely forgetting Suguru was there when she drew a leg up and her knee pressed into the side of his face. He grabs her ankle and forces her leg back down, a gasp escapes her and he’s pushing her leg open and holds her thigh down against the carpet.

    He wants to stop her and take over, he knows he can do a better job. He can reach further and find the perfect spot to make her whine his name and cry out for him. But still he watches and his eyes wander all over her as she squirms and starts feeling up her own breast in the heat of the moment. Suguru’s eyes widen when he hears the squelching and he looks down to see her fingers coming back out dripping clear and creamy and thrusting back in with a filthy sound that has him twitching in his pants.

    “Suguru,” Hibiki says softly, her voice quiet and small. Something she was the opposite of. She almost forgot he was still there until his thumb starts rubbing over her inner thigh in a comforting manner.

    He needs her now.

    Suguru stops her, pulls her hand away and Hibiki opens her eyes just in time to watch him raise her fingers to his mouth and lick them clean. His tongue laps up the saltiness and he breathes hot and heavy. Even this tastes amazing to him. He locks eyes with her when he sucks on her index finger and does the same to her middle one. He kisses the wet fingertips and then down the length of her finger to then kiss her palm.

    “I need you. I need to fuck you now.” She wouldn’t object to that.

    She’s leaning on her elbows when he makes quick work with his pants, the buckle wrapped around him clicking out of place and the soft sound of his zipper, lowering them just far enough to pull himself out of his undergarments. He’s hard, and bigger than she thought he’d be. His tip drips precum and he’s already giving himself a few tugs, groaning lowly and ducking his chin into his chest.

    “Fuck…” He sighs, his hair hanging over his face and toppling over his shoulders. Hibiki watches the way his arm seems to grow veins when his hand tightens around his cock and he pulls his foreskin over his tip and then back down, his movements are slow and controlled. She wonders how often he had done this and thought of her, she suddenly had the idea to turn the tables and demand he show her how he’d touch himself when he thought of her. She doesn’t need to ask because his mouth begins chanting her name, his brows pinch together and his chest heaves when his hips seem to gain a mind of their own and he thrusts into his hand.

    “You’re gonna get yourself off before you even fuck me, Suguru,” Hibiki says with a small voice. She reaches upwards to tug at the collar of his shirt. His attention is back to her, eyes shooting open and looking at her with a flushed face. His lips are still wet from their kisses and his attack on her breasts, his eyes seem bigger than before and he’s looking at her with a wonder. 

    “Sorry, I’m sorry. Here-“ He scoots closer between her legs, spreading her legs and bending them at the knee so they lay over her torso. Suguru places a hand on the underside of her thigh to hold her open, then he’s grabbing his hard-on and moving closer to press his thighs against the back of hers and his cock sits along the strip of her core. 

    There’s a pause between them. Hibiki’s holding her breath, waiting for Suguru to push himself past her threshold and fill her to the brim. Suguru lets silence fill the room before he’s swallowing the ball that’s formed in his throat and looks at Hibiki with a worried gaze.

    “You sure about this? You really want this.”

    Hibiki somehow spreads herself further apart, his cock now flush against her wetness. She shimmies her hips until his tip barely catches over her entrance and slips past and runs against her clit.

    “I’m sure…just fuck me, Suguru.”

    That’s all the permission he needs.

    He holds his dick in his hand, rubs the underside of his tip against her to lather himself up in her natural lubricant. He slaps it against her clit a few times, then thrusts up and down to completely coat himself with her. He braces himself, slips his hands beneath her waist and hoists Hibiki’s hips up. Having this angle is perfect, the head of his cock easily slips inside and she’s practically sucking him in, giving into his length and girth so easily. It was as if she had been made to fit him perfectly, her walls squishy and wet around him, pulling him in and holding tightly when his pelvis presses flush against her. They both release their breath, Hibiki’s letting her head drop back onto the carpet and she’s drawing her knees together and she squeezes harder around Suguru.

    “Fuck- Hibiki,” He pulls out just slightly to see the way her slick covered him. Her hole clenches around him so expertly that he has trouble pulling out completely. He grunts, pulling out just until he sees the ridge where his tip begins and he’s suddenly thrusting back in, this time with a harder slam. It jolts Hibiki’s body, sending a cry out before she’s covering her mouth again to hide her indecency. Her legs separate from one another as Suguru thrusts out and back in again, his skin smacks against her quietly, he holds her thigh open still and his other hand presses below her bellybutton.

    He can feel it. Suguru can feel his dick inside her when he thrusts in, seeing the slight bulge of his dick deep inside her. It ignites something in him, something akin to the way he feels when he drinks her blood. It’s animalistic and passionate, his hand is sliding to grab her hip and digs his thumb so roughly into her hip that he knows there would be a bruise. Hibiki doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she welcomes the way he grips her and the way his hips are now snapping to thrust into her quick and hard. She bites the inside of her cheek, her head thrashing back and forth as Suguru’s dick reaches a depth to her she didn’t know was possible. She’s somehow growing wetter and wetter by every thrust, it sends a heat throughout her body, sweat forming across her forehead.

    She reaches up, hands blindly finding anything of Suguru to cling onto. She finds the collar of his shirt again, pulling him down with a startled groan and he’s got his hands on either side of her face so as to not drop his entire weight upon her. His hips still for a moment when their eyes meet, the tips of their noses touching one another’s. 

    Hibiki’s reading his eyes, he’s begging for her, she can see it. The way his eyes squint and his eyebrows duck in a way that tells her he wants to keep going. She tilts her chin up, grazing her lips over his before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him so close so they’re chest-to-chest. Her legs wrap around his back again and she’s moving his hair out of the way to whisper into his ear.

    “Don’t stop. Keep going…please.”

    His thrusting continues, one arm immediately wrapping around her back and pulling her back up off the carpet, his cock thrusting into her and the lewd sounds of her being so wet for him and their grunts and moans mix with the sound of the crackling fire.

    “Beautiful…You’re so beautiful like this,” he says with a softness that melts Hibiki’s heart. It’s genuine, the way his voice cracks when he says it and the way his cheeks grow redder at the mention. His face digs into her neck, his sharp teeth trailing up and down her neck in a teasing way. The pleasure begins to build and coil inside Hibiki’s bowels. Something begins to tighten and it causes her toes to curl and her body becomes almost limp in Suguru’s arms. She barely even registers his compliment and instead grapples onto his shirt and presses her face into his neck to quiet the squeaks of pleasure that escape from her when Suguru fucks into her with vigor.

    His passion grows, his cock twitches inside her and his forehead presses into her shoulder to steady himself. Suguru slides a hand between their hot and sweaty bodies. Trailing down and down until he feels that coarse hair again and the fabric that is pulled to the side and dripping with Hibiki’s arousal. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing around it and searching for a sign of her getting close. His eyes crack open to watch the way a vein pops out of the side of her neck, blood rushing up into her face as that coil tightens even faster after he’s begun his attack on her clit like this. Hibiki’s head is thrown back and her back is arching off the carpet.

    “Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru!” She says his name over and over like a mantra. Like if she said his name enough he’d meld together with her, he’d be connected with her for the rest of time and he could never leave her ever again. She chants his name in hopes that he’ll stay inside her and fill her up with his own release and keep fucking her until her body can’t handle anymore. His dick still thrusts, his thumb still flicks and presses against her clit and her walls begin to flutter around him.

    She’s close. He can tell. He watches her again, watching for these signs so next time (if there is one) he can tease her. Make her feel good and just as she’s about to reach cloud 9 - take it away from her in an instant only to build her back up to that point again and finally give her the orgasm she deserves.

    But they were already testing their luck by fucking like this in the first place.

    “I’m close-“ Hibiki gasps, her eyes squinting up at Suguru. “Keep doing that, yeah.” Her body jerks with every thrust, her back rubs on the floor and is starting to burn from the friction atop the carpet. But that doesn’t matter when Suguru is balls deep inside her and she’s about to cum all over him.

    “Yeah? I want to see you cum for me, Hibiki.” Her stomach churns with excitement, that coil so close to snapping and releasing pleasure throughout her body. Hibiki looks up at him, her fists full of the fabric of his shirt.

    “I want you to cum in me, Suguru. Make me cum and fill me up, okay?” He lets out a choked grunt that might as well be a promise to her, his own climax reaching him faster than he thought. He holds back, continuing his thrusting when he feels Hibiki squeeze around him much tighter than she had been this entire time. Her orgasm hits her like a landslide, unexpected, hard, fast and heavy. Her chest rises and falls as her body grows numb and her eyes squeeze shut to see flashes of white dance across the blackness. 

    Suguru’s quick to join her, the way her walls pulse around his cock has him pulling back and thrusting in one final time before his cock is jolting and his cum fills her up. He rides out his orgasm with a few slow and shallow thrusts, his hand wrapping around what’s exposed to help milk the rest of him.

    They catch their breath, Suguru’s gaze is down to where they’re still connected, his tip plugging her up. They’re sticky and sweaty but that doesn’t seem to matter to either of them. Hibiki, calming her beating heart, sits up, pulling away so Suguru has no choice but to pull out. She feels his cum begin to ooze out of her. 

    “Oop-“ Suguru is quickly grabbing another rag he had used previously to clean her up and wipes her gently. His actions are soft and the kindness overwhelms Hibiki for a moment, watching the way he lightly wipes across her still tender clit. It sends a judder across her core and he’s softly apologizing, ducking his head low to kiss the top of her bent knee.

    “Thank you.” She says softly.

    Suguru uses the same rag to wipe himself and quickly tucks his now softening cock back into his pants. They’re silent, as Hibiki fixes herself and fixes her bra, tugs her underwear back into place and is getting up with wobbly knees. Her legs feel numb and she stumbles a little bit towards the doorway that leads out of the room. Suguru chuckles to himself at the sight, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, flattening it so it doesn’t look like he was just fucking Hibiki on the carpet in case Satoru suddenly decided to wake up.

    Suguru sits there in silence as he waits for Hibiki to come back. His eyes going back to the flames that began to burn dimly. An uneasy feeling washed over him when he remembers his plan with Satoru, his lips turning down into a frown.

    I can’t do it, Satoru.

    How is he going to explain that he wants to back out? That he doesn’t want to kill Hibiki. How will he tell Satoru that they had sex together? He’d be furious - maybe even try to kill Suguru and then Hibiki. Should he tell Hibiki? No. That would only scare her, or worse - she’d feel betrayed by Suguru. Maybe she’d stick a wooden stake in his heart.

    “You used me! You seduced me and tricked me!” He could practically hear heartbreak. No. He can’t tell her, either. He drops his head down in shame.

“C’mon, get up.” Hibiki’s calling to Suguru, he looks up to see her in a sleeping gown now. One that hangs so low it bunches at the ground, it’s unbuttoned at the chest, showing off the marks he left on her skin. They stare at each other while she waits for Suguru to get his ass up.

    “I said come on, you need to have a wash.” He gets up then, slowly making his way over to her. He zips his pants back up as his feet drag across the floor.

    “Why the long face all of a sudden?”

    I’m planning on betraying you and I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you the truth about how Satoru and I plan on murdering you and running away like we always have done. I can’t tell you that I think I’ve fallen for you.

    “Are you sure what we did was okay?” He asks instead. His chin rising to meet Hibiki’s concerned look. She sighs, her eyebrows furrow slightly.

    “I don’t regret it, Suguru. I won’t tell Satoru, either. As long as you don’t, remember?”

He nods, clenching his fists.

    “I won’t tell Satoru. I promise.”

[loderlied]

thinking of gort hands once again i am so sorry. his divine instruments carrying out his perfectly crafted design.

steadiest hands of a surgeon, knowing when and where to slice and cut and tear to learn exactly what he needs.

strongest hands of a mechanic and inventor, shaping, bending and breaking metal and people alike.

most illuminating hands of a conqueror, bringing this design into everything and everyone.

bloodiest hands of an executioner, eradicating any mistakes in his way to power and perfection.

divine hands of a creator & god, the core of the machine.