#Ravine Guard

[whotookmysenbon]

Can I just say that trying to drag rookies through a survival evaluation is like trying to herd cats? They don't listen then are surprised when shit goes wrong.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Hi! Are you still taking orders or something? If so, I have an idea for you~ For example, a werewolf × a Fox!the reader is like enemies-lovers. Where we tease him all the time, and it really annoys him, ho-ho~

I was listening to a song when I got the inspo for this. It's in Croatian, by a band called Tutti Frutti, and the lyrics go like this (my translation):

Kao srna gonjena preko snijega duboka (Like a pursued doe in the deep snow) Iza moga ramena skloni se od lovaca (Hide from hunters behind my shoulder) S oba oka sklopljena (With both of your eyes closed)

Thank you for the ask! This fic got a bit long so I'll split it in two, I apologize ^^'

Don't You Dare! (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 13 [ Mating / Hunting season ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fox hybrid fem!reader ]

You two grew up together. Since your clans have lived next to each other peacefully sharing a vast forest for many years, that wasn't so unusual. You and Ash were friends when you were kids, but he was too shy and aloof for your teen tastes, and you slowly grew distant.

Today, for the first time, you were tasked of guarding the eastern part of the forest. The hunting season began just a few days ago.

"Ugh, you're so booooring," you complain. "Let's at least play a game."

"We're supposed to be watchful," he retorts.

"You know hunters never come this far so early. It will be a peaceful evening, I just know it. Come on, Ash, truth or dare?" The werewolf huffs and keeps walking in front of you. How dares he ignore you! You take your staff and smack his ass.

Ash jumps from shock and swings his strong arm, ready to strike. With a swift leap backward, you escape him, giggling. When he realizes it was only you teasing him, he growls. He is kinda cute when he's angry. "Don't do that! I could've..."

"What? You're too big and slow for me. Truth or dare, Ash? I'll slap your cute ass until you accept."

His werewolf ears fall behind and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head. With another huff, he continues walking. "Uhh... Truth?"

"Have you ever orally pleased someone?"

He trips and turns toward you in shock. "That's a really private question!"

"That's the game, pup, you know the rules." You loved calling him pup because he was three years younger than you and everyone knows werewolves mature slower than fox hybrids.

He scowls at you but answers, as quietly as he could: "Yes..."

"Oh you're a big man now! Good job, pup, I'm glad you know how to please your partners." He shakes his head and continues walking, faster than before. You run after him. "I choose dare!" You're sure he heard you, but he was quiet for quite a while before asking his question.

"I dare you to—" but he suddenly stops and sniffs the wind. He looks at you and and swallows hard. "D-do you know you're... you're about to..."

Why is he so uncomfortable all of a sudden? "Ash, speak up, I can't hear you!" you shout, impatiently dragging your fox tail across the ground. But the silly big pup in front of you continues being awkward. You can sense he is blushing, even though you can't see that on his canine face. "ASH!"

A rifle blast shuts you up, and a bullet flies dangerously near Ash's face. Hunters!

Instinct immediately kicks in and you start running. You are faster than Ash, but you would never leave him behind. Hunters are apparently too far away because they don't shoot again. Still, your heart is racing, fear and excitement electrifying your blood and also... also...

Oh no.

Your cycle. You're in heat! It's still early and you can focus on other things, but... You need to get to a safe place, quickly.

"Ash, I'm—"

"I know," he immediately replies, checking your surroundings. "There is a waterfall not far from here. The water will hide us and our tracks."

You change direction and very soon you hear the rushing in the bottom of a ravine. Of course, you and Ash have no problem getting down safely and you jump into the shallow stream. It is cold and fast, but walking upstream will confuse your pursuers. Also, you need to warn your clans as soon as possible. Yes, you need to focus on that. Only that. Not on how tall Ash is or how good he smells. Or how you always thought he was smart and sweet. And how you saw him swimming once. Or how you wanted to push your finger into his sheath and see what's inside. Or how... shit.

Your pussy started aching, itching, pulsating from need. You had to press it, rub it, stimulate it somehow or you'll go mad. You squeeze your thighs together, pushing your fist against your entrance, with a weak whimper - and you trip, almost dropping your staff. "Fuck, Ash. I can't hold it."

Ash stops but doesn't help you - he hasn't said a single word the entire time or looked at you. And he was constantly trying to walk upwind from you. "Do it quickly and we'll continue. I'll... keep watch."

That idiot pup. "Ash..." Your voice got a note of urgency. "Don't make me beg."

His ears perk up and he stares at you all big eyed, looking like a virgin doe-eyed buck. You roll your eyes, irritated. "Just my luck - I'm horny as a rabbit, and stuck between rifles and a cherry boy. Maybe rifles will give me..."

You are interrupted by a hand grabbing your throat. The other palm is on your ass squeezing it like a sponge. Ash is in your face, snout almost touching your nose. He is quietly growling, but you feel that tremble in your core.

"You chose dare, didn't you?" he asks you. His palm slides from your ass, follows the roundness of your hips and cups your mound. The tip of his finger immediately finds your aching clit. You gasp. "I dare you not to scream when you cum with my knot inside you."

[ part 2 ]

[sparky-is-spiders]

Hey what if instead of thinking about my fics I thought about lore for my Minecraft world to explain why my time travel fic exists in the books there. And then built a little writer’s shack instead of actually writing?

+

[mochiwrites]

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

Scar never believed in it, not after dying twice, both times having been caught off guard. He didn't have time to reflect on the life he'd been leaving behind, not when everything happened so fast, not when to Scar it was like blinking before he was surrounded by total black.

But as he lay in the sand, letting the wind sweep over his weakening body, he starts to look back. He starts from the beginning, from setting Etho's tree on fire to pulling Grian into the desert on Pizza. He thinks of his second death to the ravine, how Grian's scream had been the thing to accompany him on his brief journey to blackness. He thinks of holding Grian in his arms as they celebrate a successful trap, or their hours spent digging a bunker.

Scar thinks of their ruined home, the place he'd always return to.

It's funny, how different this death feels to the other two times. Maybe that's because there's no coming back from this one. This is it. This is the end for Scar. His final breath.

He stares up at the big beautiful blue sky, and there is no longer any red to cloud his vision. If he had any energy left, he'd probably smile. All he can muster is the smallest twitch of his lips, blood drying on his chin.

A shadow fills his vision, and Scar has just a few seconds to see Grian's bruised face enter from the corner. He sees tears welling in those red eyes, one or two rolling down his cheeks as he picks up Scar's fading, cold body, pulling it tight to his chest.

Scar wishes he could reach out, he wishes he could press his palm into Grian's cheek and tell him not to cry. He much prefers it when Grian is laughing, when he's smiling. It suits him much better than this guilt ridden expression. Why are you crying? He wants to ask. You won! Scar is happy he won.

"I'm sorry Scar," Grian shakily whispers into his hair, his wings wrapping around the two of them like a shield. Scar isn't sure what he needs to shield them from, not anymore. The ghosts? Surely they aren't interested in this. In them. "I'm so sorry."

It's to Grian's warmth that Scar fades away, eyes fully shutting as he finds he's lost the energy, the will, to keep himself alive. Scar's purpose is complete, Grian is alive and well, and that's all that matters to him. He's okay with saying goodbye.

He joins the living dead, nothing more than a spirit.

He returns to the image of Grian hugging Scar close, yet as a ghost. His body is see through, he is no longer a corporeal being. Even as a ghost, he's returned right to where his heart and his soul rests, he's returned to his home, to his Grian. Scar doesn't question it. Of course he's ended up back here, back to the other half of his heart.

Grian had said once that everything in their story was dead.

Maybe it was just Scar being an optimist, but he liked to think that their story didn't have to end in death. Maybe it had just been Scar looking to a life after this, where there will be more laughter, more pranks and joy, more warmth shared. Scar liked to think that they were in control of their narrative, that not everything was dead, because they were alive.

But looking as Grian grieves over Scar, he wonders if Grian had always thought they were dead from the start.

As a ghost, Scar is forced to stand there as Grian rises on shaking legs. "Just one life left," he says, and Scar's nonexistent heart leaps to his throat.

"Grian, stop," he pleads, but his voice is nothing more than the breeze of the wind. He's helpless, unable to reach his partner as he takes slow, agonizing steps toward the edge Monopoly Mountain, right beside Pizza's grave. "Grian," Scar begs. It wasn't supposed to go this way.

Drops of blood fall from Grian's bloodied knuckles, staining the sand below. He walks toward the edge, and Scar follows, trying to reach out to him. Yet his hand phases right through Grian's back, never making contact.

Scar's heart breaks.

What else can the king of death do but watch his ever faithful knight follow him to where he should not?

[girlithinkimgay]

genuinely, my favourite life!series bit is the "you should watch your back" bit

I love how it started off as etho just looking out for jimmy, over the ravine, but it spiraled into a threat that jimmy constantly tries to turn around on joel and etho, but he always fails and they do it to him, especially when they creep up on him and tell him when he's caught off guard.

jimmy: hey joel, you should watch your back..

etho: what was that some kinda threat jimmy?! what do you mean by that?!

joel: jimmy what do you mean by that? that's disgusting. why would you even say that to us? the state of you, to say something as insulting as that, to us, to be honest jimmy, now you've said that, I think you should watch your back.

jimmy: what- no don't turn it on me!! I said it first!!

(dl, smallishbeans pov, ep 3, around 14:50)

[warrioreowynofrohan]

A bit of a theory that I’ve struck on while rereading the start of FOTR. I think there’s something guarding Rivendell besides the Bruinen. I think Elrond has taken a leaf out of Melian’s book.

There are some hints that the distance to Rivendell varies depending on who you are. Frodo starts approaching the Ford in late afternoon; he is in desperate need of healing, and is brought to Rivendell midway into that same night.

In The Hobbit, in contrast, the dwarves and Bilbo cross the Ford of Bruinen in the morning, and the sun is down by the time they reach Rivendell. There’s lot of references to the journey being longer than Bilbo would expect:

They came on unexpected valleys, narrow with steep sides, that opened suddenly at their feet, and then looked down surprised to see trees below them and running water at the bottom. There were gullies that they could almost leap over, but very deep with waterfalls in them. There were dark ravines that one could neither jump over or climb into. There were bogs, some of them green pleasant places to look at, with flowers growing bright and tall; but a pony that walked there with a pack on its back would never have come out again. It was indeed a mich wider land from the ford to the mountains than you would ever have guessed. Bilbo was astonished.

Then there’s Aragorn’s line when Merry asks him how far it is to Rivendell:

“I don’t know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond The Forsaken Inn, a day’s journey east of Bree. Some say it is far, and others say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk are glad to meet their journey’s end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune: twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen.”

(By the way, it always amazes me, now I’ve noticed it, that the hobbits manage this journey - which Aragorn says would take him 12 days on the Road, with “fair weather and no ill fortune,” in only 14 days with Frodo severely injured, travelling mainly off the Road, and with some bad weather and wrong directions. Some of that’s due to the extremely fast pace Glorfindel sets for the last twoand a half days, but it’s incredibly impressive.)

If anyone should know the distance from Bree to Rivendell, it should be Aragorn, a Ranger of the North fostered in Rivendell, who has probably covered that journey dozens to hundreds of times. And the Road is fairly straight; it shouldn’t be hard for travellers to keep track of the general distance. And also, Aragorn only gives the distance to the Ford, not to Rivendell itself. What if the distance and difficulty of the Road from the Ford to Rivendell varies, based on how well a guest is known. Frodo is the Ring-bearer, in desperate need; he makes it there fast. Thorin & Company are vouched for by Gandalf, but are largely an unknown quantity; it takes them the better part of a day. Someone with hostile intentions might never find Rivendell at all, even after days of wanderings.

[calissarowan]

I was thinking, what if, because Omega is actually a prison and you can’t legally just dump people in prison with no trial, and the wizards appeared to actually be guarded in some kind of cave in the comics, the wizards actually did have to stand trial? Like the Council of Light sent in a team to fetch them from that ravine the Winx dropped them in, brought them out defrosted them, and brought them to the Fortress of Light to be officially sentenced. And they’d have magic dampeners and chains and such, but they probably wouldn’t be necessary, because even a few days in ice is probably enough to make fighting back seem pretty damn impossible, not to mention that they’d all probably be sort of in shock from getting defeated, frozen, and losing Duman. Maybe even thinking they'd have thought they’d lost each other, because how would they have seen if each other had shattered or not? They can’t move; not even their eyeballs.

So they’d just get taken to the Fortress and have to get sentenced, and they’re just freezing and bereaved, but Ogron’s probably got to pull himself together to try and defend them, to keep them from going back to Omega, but it’s all for nothing anyway, because this is all just a formality, so they get sent right back to Omega, but this time it’s a secure, monitored area, not just the bottom of a ravine, and they’re sent back on that ship that transports the Trix, because that ship had a cool design and I want some structure in terms of how people get sent to Omega.

@niklaushenning, I don’t know why, but I thought you might find this interesting.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadow and Paws

Chapter 3: Trust and Territory

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

AU: Hybrid 141 x reader

Warning: Mild Violence/Tension, Injury and Medical care briefly mentioned, mentions of isolation and survival

Authors Note: The reader’s nickname is Foxy, we get the chance to build more of a relationship between the reader and the boys!

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Dawn was only a gray smudge on the horizon when Foxy woke, feeling the cool weight of the morning fog settled on the forest floor. The team was already stirring, shaking off the stiffness of a night in the woods and preparing for another day’s trek. Foxy made quick work of dousing the remaining embers of their fire, keenly aware of the silent eyes watching their every movement.

They’d stayed longer than planned, both sides testing the unspoken boundaries of trust. There was a growing familiarity between them—a faint, hesitant bond weaving itself into place. Price caught Foxy’s eye with a curt nod. “We’ll keep a steady pace,” he said. “You lead.”

Foxy gave a slight grin, checking their gear. “Think your boys can keep up?”

Soap rolled his eyes but bit back a retort, while Ghost’s silent, appraising gaze betrayed no reaction. Gaz, perched above in falcon form, scanned the trail ahead as they moved out.

They traveled in a silence broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional call of a distant bird. The terrain grew steeper, winding into dense clusters of trees, where every step required precision and awareness. They were heading deeper into rogue territory, and each of them felt the tension thickening, the unspoken need for unity pressing on them all.

After hours of careful travel, Foxy stopped short, raising a hand. “Ravine up ahead. Narrow, but deep. You’ll need to jump across, one by one,” they said, casting a knowing glance at Soap. “Or is that too much finesse for some of you?”

Soap grinned, never one to back down from a challenge. He took a few steps back, then launched himself across the gap, landing with a triumphant nod. Foxy’s expression betrayed a hint of approval as Gaz made a smooth glide over, his falcon wings catching the morning breeze. Ghost was next, his leap almost noiseless, landing without so much as a whisper of sound. Price was last, his jump solid and controlled, meeting Foxy’s gaze as he landed.

Foxy moved ahead, navigating through twisting trails and overgrown paths. The day stretched on, each step taking them deeper into territory that bore Foxy’s subtle mark: worn trails, signs of old camps, and hidden paths only someone deeply familiar with the land would know. Finally, they stopped at a secluded glade, sunlight filtering through the trees in muted streaks of green and gold.

Foxy set down their pack and pulled out a flask, taking a long drink before wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. “Get comfortable,” they said, glancing at the team. “We’re safe here, for now.”

Soap sidled up next to Foxy, ever curious. “So, Foxy, if you’ve been out here this long, you must have a story. What’s kept you here?”

Foxy’s gaze flicked to Soap, a flash of hesitation crossing their features. “Not much to tell,” they replied curtly. “Surviving is all there is to it.”

“Come on,” Soap pressed, flashing his easy smile. “We’re all out here for a reason. None of us would’ve lasted if we didn’t have one.”

Foxy’s gaze grew distant, their stance subtly guarded. “Another time, maybe,” they murmured, gently but firmly deflecting. Soap respected the boundary with a nod, though the curiosity in his eyes remained.

They settled into a comfortable silence, each member of the team adjusting to the newfound companionship. Price watched Foxy carefully, noting the way they held themselves—a confidence tempered by caution, the mark of someone who’d long walked alone.

After a while, Ghost’s voice broke the silence, low and steady. “What exactly are we up against here?”

Foxy’s gaze shifted, and for the first time, Price caught a flicker of something unguarded—a mixture of worry and resolve. “The rogues don’t play games,” they said. “They want control of this territory, and they’re ruthless. It doesn’t matter if you’re a hybrid or human; they’ll use you or kill you if it benefits them.”

Price’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts flaring. “And you’ve been handling them alone?”

Foxy shrugged, brushing off the concern. “Someone has to. They don’t care about anything but power, and they don’t belong here. That’s reason enough for me.”

There was a silence, heavy with respect, as each member of the team absorbed the reality of Foxy’s situation. Price gave a nod. “We’ll handle them together,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Foxy looked at him, a spark of defiance in their eyes, as if challenging him to mean it. But seeing his steady gaze, their shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of their lips. “Guess you might be good for something after all.”

As they trekked on, Foxy’s demeanor softened just enough for them to offer guidance, pointing out landmarks and hidden dangers with the ease of someone who had mapped these woods in their soul. Soap, ever eager, matched his pace with Foxy’s, peppering them with questions about everything from forest survival to the best way to navigate a rogue ambush.

The sun was beginning to sink low when they stopped by a small grove, and Foxy knelt by a patch of vibrant green underbrush, plucking a handful of small berries. “These can help if you’re injured,” they explained, crushing a few into a paste. “Stops the bleeding, at least.”

Soap looked at the mixture with interest. “You’ve got some tricks up your sleeve, huh?”

Foxy shrugged, a faint smile playing on their lips. “Only what I’ve needed to learn to survive.” They looked away, glancing at Soap’s hands, which bore old scars of their own, evidence of battles won and lost. “When you’re out here long enough, you pick things up.”

Gaz, quiet as ever, nodded. “We’re still here for a reason.”

Foxy’s smile grew, just a bit more genuine. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

As dusk fell, they set up camp again, each member settling into familiar routines. Foxy found themselves next to Ghost, who had been watching them from the corner of his eye all day.

“You’re still not sure about us, are you?” Ghost asked, his voice soft but direct.

Foxy looked at him, their gaze wary. “Trust isn’t something I give easily.”

“Nor do we,” Ghost replied, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “But it’s worth trying.”

Foxy held his gaze for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Maybe.”

When the fire crackled to life, casting a warm glow around the group, Price lifted his mug in a silent toast. “To the pack,” he said simply, his voice warm with solidarity.

Foxy’s expression softened, and they raised their own mug. “To the pack,” they echoed, the words carrying a weight that felt more honest than anything they’d said before.

The firelight danced between them, each shadow cast by the flames a reminder of the trust and companionship growing between them. And for the first time, Foxy allowed themselves to hope—just a bit—that even the fiercest of lone souls might find a place to belong.

——

End of Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b.) - part one

previous part | series masterlist | next part

soundtrack: bewitched - laufeypairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!readersynopsis: you and Bradley find a secret garden and get acquainted... or maybe you already have?warnings: language, tension, fluff, angst but hypothetical?? idk, bradley is a dreamboat but what else is newnotes: the saga continues! i had a whole outline planned out, but then as i wrote it, it turned into a beast of its own and honestly, im just an employee here 🤷‍♀️ happy reading, and please let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks! i would love love loveeee to hear it from you <3

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

“Are we even allowed in here?” 

You and Bradley turn a corner from the club area into a narrow hallway. There’s a door that leads outside, thanks to the little glass pane, you can see a little terrace situation outside. Bradley tries the doorknob… and it opens.

“I mean, there’s no sign that says we can’t…” Bradley shrugs, offering his hand to guide you in.

Like Alice in Wonderland, you step into a formal English garden in the heart of this complex of townhouses-turned-clubhouse. In the middle of the bricks and noises of the city, there are beds of roses and manicured hedges and ravines over a stone arch. It’s small, but very intentional even with the mosses growing on the edges of the fountain in the middle. A Dionysus statue sits atop the fountain, as if pouring wine instead of water. A nice touch to celebrate festivities.

“Wow. This is straight out of the old movies we talked about.” You marvel at your surroundings. “Like… The Sound of Music or something.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, exactly.”

Bradley starts humming My Favorite Things as you stroll your separate ways around the garden, marveling at the evergreen shrubs and colorful perennials. You eventually meet each other again right in front of the Dionysus statue. It feels like a sign from the universe for him, so he asks,

“May I have this dance?"

He can't be real, can he? "Like a 'dance' dance?"

"Absolutely." He says it with such conviction that it's easy to forget that the deafening, thumping electronic music from the club is completely shut out from your little pocket of a park. And the only semblance of music you can hear is the rustling of leaves, the trickling of water, and the fluttering memories of Bradley's velvety tone.

So you take his hand. He pulls you in and leads you into a slow dance. You were expecting to just sway, this is surreal enough as it is, but as you dance around the fountain, you slowly notice… the slow and simple rhythm, the unmistakable one-two-three, one-two-three count… This is a waltz step.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try my best.” In a swift movement, he twirls you away and reels you back in with a spin. He just prays to God or whoever is listening that you can’t actually feel his racing heart as he holds your back flush against his chest.

(You can’t. You’re too busy calming your own.)

“So… you and your friends celebrating the success at Wembley?”

His voice tickles the back of your neck, and this sudden closeness is too much for you to bear. You strategically turn around so you’re facing him again. “Oh, no. This is just my night off. I still have… three shows left here.”

“So how long will you be in town for?”

“Another week.”

“And after that…?”

“Paris.”

“Right…” he nods. “And home is in… Los Angeles?”

The question catches you off-guard for some reason. You know he’s probably just asking where you live, but something about the way he asks it makes it sound like he’s asking about… ‘home’ home. “Technically, yes.”

He makes a face. That’s a strange answer… “What do you mean, technically? I’m sure you must have at least one home base somewhere, right?”

“I do, yeah.” You smile sheepishly.  “LA is my home base. But… it’s not like I have any emotional attachment to the city or anything.”

“Where’s that, then, if not LA?”

You give it a good thought… but you got nothing. “I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.” Maybe it’s the romance of the setting—although his warm hazel eyes play a crucial role too— it makes you feel more inclined to be more honest than you usually do.

Bradley smiles. He’s so fascinated by you, but at the same time, he has an inkling that he might need to solve a few puzzles himself before you let him in. And he would gladly take his time to get there.

At the same time, slow-dancing to a hummed classic with this man away from a modern-day nightclub… It makes you wonder what kind of person he is. “And you? You’re an American in London. Where’s home for you?”

“Well, I think Virginia will always be home, but this place has really grown on me. I’ve been here for most of my adult life, and this city, the team, the people… I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Virginia, huh?” you smirk—imagining him growing up near the water, a sunkissed teenage boy shooting the shit with his friends.

“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”

It’s only at this moment that Bradley is so much like this garden. Seemingly out of place, frozen in time while the world moves all too fast around it. But at the same time, perfectly placed, a calm in the eye of the storm. Just for this little pocket of a park.

Just for you.

“Are you normally this… Southern gentlemanly? With the suit and the sweet disposition and the waltz…”

“Honestly? Not really.” He admits bashfully. “But, I don’t know. I feel like I’m in another era with you right now.”

“Oh?”

Bradley doesn’t elaborate right away. Instead, he asks you, "Do you believe in past lives?"

Your face lights up, and he knows he just asked the right question. "I don’t know. Do you?”

"A little…" he nods, thoughtful. "Maybe not in a religious sense where you die, you get judged, and then come back as a... worm or whatever. But.. I kinda like the idea that... no one is ever really a stranger, you know? That our paths have crossed at some point."

"And you're saying we've met before?"

"Oh, yeah." Again with the conviction, this motherfucker. 

“Really?” You step away from him, entering a more cerebral dance than the one that you just swayed into. Your fingers barely touch the surface of the water on the fountain, and ripples it over as you walk by. "Where do you suppose we have met before?" 

He looks up at the sky, moving clouds and all, pondering his answer. "I was thinking the 40’s and 50's—you know, the Golden Age. But I think it's a little earlier than that, don't you think?" 

"Like... the Roaring Twenties?"

“Yes!”

His enthusiasm amuses and fascinates you endlessly, and you never needed much to fuel your active imagination anyway. "I like that. I can see you as... a former pilot who fought in World War I. And then went on to become a poet. Or a pianist."

"I think I'm better off as a pianist.” He’s not very good with words—he’s much better plunking the ivories to get the party going.

"Fair, fair. A jazz… pianist, maybe?"

"Ooh, interesting." Bradley smiles, picturing it in his head. "And what would you be?”

"I don't know. You tell me." You lean back against the stone arch, looking at him expectantly. His answer will determine how he sees you and thus, how you feel about him. And you want him desperately to have a good answer.

"I wanna say... the starlet, or the mysterious singer—" 

"Oh, come on. Even in my past life, I'm still a singer? Can't I be something else?” You groan in protest.

He chuckles, settling right across from you. "Okay, okay..." he looks at you deeply, pensively for a moment. "You're one of those socialites, who drank martinis and danced the Charleston until morning."

"Makes sense. I do love martini... and the Charleston." 

"Right? You'd be one of those girls who rebelled against daddy dearest and partied all night, maybe broke a few hearts along the way."

"Including yours?"

“I don't know. You tell me."

Now it's your turn to pause and take a good look at him. You try to picture it; how boisterous and bright he must be, getting the party going by playing ragtime or samba. And you try to picture toying with his feelings; those irresistible hazel eyes watching you longingly across the room as you give some random man time of day for no other reason but to spark his jealousy... 

"Nah. I think yours is the only one I didn't break. Not on purpose, at least,” you conclude definitively. The thought of leaning over the piano, sipping on cocktails while he croons out some love ditty—or sitting on his lap while he teaches you a Christmas tune at a holiday party seems way more appealing.

"What do you mean?”

"Well, you said so yourself about daddy dearest. He wanted me to marry one of his business associates, an heir to a shipping company or something.” You cheekily stroll past him, down the little path towards the fountain again.

Bradley smiles knowingly, just a step behind you. "Ah. And I'm just a lowly little pianist. What chance did we have, huh?"

You halt your steps and turn around to face him, a mischievous smirk on your face. "Would you have fought for me?"

To your surprise, he meets your gaze with a soft, unwavering look. "Without a doubt. I would have stood up to your father and told him that we were meant to be together, come hell or high water."

The phrase echoes in your head. Come hell or high water. It’s so loud, it sends you reeling and you had to sit down on the edge of the fountain. Suddenly the image of a screaming match flashes so clearly in your mind. Bradley's hand gripping years for dear life. The shallow sobs under the suffocating constrict of your dress. The tears blurring the sight of him leaving…

“But it didn't work, did it…”

He doesn't hear a question in your words —it sounds like a statement. And Bradley, ever the hopeless romantic, wants to say no. Of course it worked out, it had to. Maybe you ran away with him and lived a life of simple means. But it wouldn't have mattered, because it would've been full of music and dancing and love.

But the heartbreak in your eyes is so palpable, so...real. For a moment, it felt like the two of you actually lived it. You were just retracing the forgotten steps now. 

"No.” He shakes his head softly, sitting next to you. "We tried. We fought, but... we lost.” 

You know that, but it hurts to hear it anyway. Still, you can't help but continue the story. "I think I ended up marrying the businessman, do the right thing for my family. And let you go... play your music in Paris or something. Chase your dreams."

The life he imagined. Of simple means and abundant music... just no you. "I would have written so many songs about you..." he chuckles wistfully. As painful as it would've been to keep picking at old wounds, at least he would still have you in his life.

"I think I would've found your record eventually,” You pipe up, partly in self-consolation. Sure, it might be a stretch, but you're way beyond caring. You needed a piece of him, too. "And I would put it on every time I missed you. Which was every night."

The night is so still, even the leaves seem to give you a moment of privacy. Your little fingers barely touch on the edge of the bench as you sit and grieve for a tragic love story that never happened. 

Eventually, though, you take a deep breath and break the silence. "Fuck. I could write a whole album based on that."

Bradley laughs at your sudden interruption, glad that you snapped him out of his reverie and brought him back to reality. "Yeah? I would be happy to help you brainstorm." 

You throw him a look. It feels weird to return to this point of acquaintance after feeling like you’ve gone through lifetimes with him. But you’re glad to start anew in this life. "Is that your roundabout way of saying you wanna keep seeing me?"

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"I don't know. I don’t do maybe’s. You should ask me for real.”

Holy fuck. He closes his eyes for a moment as his heart skips. You always seem to keep him on his toes, do you? "Alright. Can I see you again? Maybe take you out to dinner?" 

"I would like that. Does tomorrow night work for you?" 

"Perfect." he beams at you. Fuck playing it cool, he just won himself a date with you.

"We should swap numbers so we can figure out the details.” You reach into your purse to grab your phone. And then, something dawns on you, making you smirk devilishly at him, "You wanna put your number in, or would you rather give me that friendship bracelet I heard you made for me?"

Bradley stops dead in his tracks. Of course that public declaration was gonna bite him in the ass. He was doing so well, dancing and talking and making an actual connection with you...gosh, he must've looked stupid right now. "You knew about that?" He grimaces.

"Of course. I have eyes and ears everywhere, " you sling coyly, letting him punch his numbers into your phone with great embarrassment. "That, and Natasha might have sent me a post on Instagram.” 

He sighs in defeat as he hands your phone back. "Goddamn it, Natasha…"

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

i will carry you always

fandom: The Lord of the Rings

pairing: Elrond Peredhel x Reader

summary: Elrond joins your patrol group for a day. Unfortunately, danger befalls you when you find yourself injured and stuck in a ravine. Elrond must decide whether to wait for help to arrive, or take you back to Rivendell himself.

tags/warnings: injury, blood, hurt/comfort, healing, angst

word count: 2596

a/n: I realized after writing this that Elrond can like. heal people. so just ignore the fact that he doesn't do that.

Daily patrol is one of your favorite tasks as a member of Rivendell’s guard. The tranquility of the forest, the gentle bubbling of the Bruinen in the distance, it all served to set you at ease. You felt at home outside the borders of Rivendell – well, at least within the protection of Vilya. Outside that, you were more on edge.

Today’s patrol wasn’t meant to be anything special. You’re buckling the last straps of your light armor when Lord Elrond approaches your group. This in itself was not uncommon; Elrond often comes to wish the patrols luck on their journeys. But he, too, is clad in armor, which is strange.

Your patrol captain, a kindly elf by the name of Estedir, nods to Elrond respectfully. “My lord,” he begins, “how can we assist you?”

Elrond bows his own head, a display of humility not often shown by other elves. “I heard your patrol was uneven, Estedir. If it pleases you, I might join your company.”

Estedir’s eyebrows raise slightly and your own heart picks up its pace. Your own partner is the reason your group is uneven, having injured himself during yesterday’s patrol. You expected to be lumped into a group of three, but Elrond’s presence might change that.

“Of course, my lord,” Estedir permits. “If you’re ready?” He gestures to the gates as your fellow patrol members begin to mount their horses.

“Lead on,” Elrond smiles.

You mount your own horse, a beautiful Arabian named Mereneth, keeping Rivendell’s lord in the corner of your eye. As you follow your patrol out of the gates, Elrond takes up the rear, just behind you. You suddenly feel self-conscious, wondering about your riding form and your armor… Did you polish it enough? What if you look sloppy in front of him?

Before your thoughts can race out of control, Estedir stops the patrol on the border of Vilya’s protection. You figure Elrond must be actively wielding Vilya to keep its protection around Rivendell rather than himself – otherwise, the border would be traveling with you.

Estedir turns to face the group. “Pairs, everyone. Standard routes. Report back here in two hours.” His eyes meet yours for a moment before glancing behind you. “My lord Elrond, if you wouldn’t mind accompanying Y/N.”

“It would be my honor,” Elrond’s smooth voice responds, and you cringe slightly. If you weren’t on edge already, you certainly are now.

You have nothing against the elven lord – quite the opposite, actually. You find him rather attractive, and for that reason keep your distance. He has too many responsibilities and is too important to waste time on a simple member of the guard.

Elrond rides up beside you, his own horse dwarfing yours and making you feel small. “My lord,” you greet in a quiet voice.

“Y/N, yes?” he confirms and you nod. “Lead the way then.” His smile is gentle and kind, just like everyone says.

You begin to steer away from the quickly dissipating patrol, heading into a thick patch of forest. The dense canopy filters the sunlight in a beautiful mosaic, casting a serene golden glow upon the forest floor. You breathe in the earthy scent of moss, exhaling the tension that you realize you’re holding.

Elrond keeps stride beside you, weaving through the tree trunks with ease. You’re afraid to strike up conversation, unsure if he wants to patrol in quiet or not. Your usual partner is chatty – you honestly sometimes wish he would shut up.

Before you can make up your mind, Elrond makes the decision for you. “I used to patrol these woods. I have missed it.”

You hum, trying to come up with an adequate response. Suddenly everything you have to say sounds silly. “It is beautiful,” tumbles out of your mouth. A good enough response, you suppose.

“Beautiful, yet deceiving. Past the protection of Vilya, these parts are dangerous.” He turns slightly to look at you and you meet his eyes.

“My usual patrol partner had an unfortunate accident here yesterday. I’m familiar with the dangers.” The words come out a little snappier than you meant, and you hope you haven’t offended.

Elrond chuckles, a beautiful sound. “I’m sure, my lady.” The title sends a chill through you. “You are far more experienced in this area than I.”

“I’m hardly a lady, my lord. Nor deserving of such a title.” A fierce blush races up your cheeks.

The two of you go silent for a while, just the sounds of birdsong and hoofsteps filling your ears. You keep an eye out for any signs of orcs or other creatures that might pose a threat. So far, the journey has been as peaceful as usual. You’re even almost becoming comfortable with Elrond’s presence beside you. You decide to steal a glance at the elf lord. He looks at peace here in the forest, just like how you feel. You admire the light that plays upon his features, highlighting the timeless wisdom and grace that seems to radiate from him.

Whilst you’re not paying attention, Mereneth stumbles. Her hoof catches on something and she startles. For a moment you’re disoriented as you’re tossed from the saddle. Then the breath is stolen from your lungs as you impact with a rock wall, tumbling into darkness. The sensation of rocks and branches scraping against your skin goes unnoticed as you struggle to gain your bearings. Finally, the world stops moving around you and you come to a jarring halt on hard, rocky ground.

The pain hits you immediately. First your head, a deep, aching throb that emanates from your forehead. Then, a sharp stabbing pain in your thigh. You blink rapidly and stare up. You’ve fallen into a deep ravine with high, steep walls. Your ears ring, the sounds of the forest muffled.

You can just barely make out the sound of Elrond shouting, although it sounds far away and echoey. You attempt to move, but agony forces you still again. Your vision swims, a haze of red filling your right eye as blood trickles from your forehead.

“Elrond…” you mumble, the name barely a whisper on your lips.

“I’m coming, hold on!” Elrond shouts. You can hear him scrabbling down the rocks, his steps small but sure as he finds footholds along the walls. Finally, he enters your vision, his face a blur of panic and concern.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” his voice is urgent, but there’s an undercurrent of calm through it, and you suddenly remember that he’s not just a lord, but a healer.

“Hurts,” you manage to grit out, pain and confusion filling the word.

“I know, I know.” Elrond’s eyes sweep across your crumpled body, stopping on your leg. His breath hitches for a moment and there’s enough clarity in your mind to know the look on his face is nothing good.

“What… What is it?”

Elrond meets your cloudy gaze again. “Your leg is bleeding heavily. I need to stop it, but it’s going to hurt.”

A droplet of something wet flows down your cheek, but you’re not sure if it’s blood or tears. “Alright,” you ground out.

Elrond places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You must stay awake, do you understand? I know it will hurt, but you have to stay awake.”

You nod, stopping when a fresh burst of pain flashes through your head.

“Try not to move too much,” Elrond says as he rips a piece of his tunic off.

You stare up at the forest canopy, seeming so far away now. Then there’s a searing pain in your leg as Elrond fastens the cloth around your leg. You cry out loudly, body tensing and vision blurring.

“Stay with me, Y/N,” Elrond urges, tightening the makeshift tourniquet. “I’m almost done.”

The pain in your leg has localized into a tight, aching sensation, but it hurts no less. It’s just more concentrated now. Elrond continues to murmur reassuring words, pulling you back from the brink of unconsciousness.

“There,” he finally says, leaning back onto his heels. “Now let me see that head wound.” He crouches closer to your face, his hand resting on your unbloodied cheek. He gently moves your head, turning to get a clearer view of it. “Mostly superficial,” he murmurs, “but you likely have a concussion. Head wounds always bleed excessively.” He rips off another piece of his tunic and presses it against your forehead. You hiss and attempt to pull away. Elrond tuts, a small smile curving his lips. The expression doesn’t reach the rest of his face though. “Still, now.”

“How are we going to get back?” you ask, your voice still weak and trembling.

Elrond’s jaw tightens and he refuses to meet your eyes. “The patrol should notice our absence and send a search party. It shouldn’t be long now.” He glances up at the sky, noting the darkening of the forest. He doesn’t say it but you both know – it is imperative to get you back as soon as possible before you bleed out or lose your leg.

“Mereneth?” you breathe the name out slowly. At Elrond’s confused look, you clarify, “My horse.”

“Ah. She’s waiting at the top of the ravine, along with my own, Arahael. Her hoof caught in some brambles, which is what set her off. She’s fine.”

“Good,” you sigh. The encroaching darkness sets off your circadian rhythm, and a heavy wave of tiredness suddenly overcomes you. Your eyelids droop despite your best efforts.

Elrond shakes you gently. “You have to stay awake, melethel. It is unsafe to sleep with your injuries.”

You flutter your eyes open again, meeting his eyes. His eyebrows are deeply furrowed, concern splayed across his features. “It’s so hard,” you murmur. “I’m so tired.”

“Tell me about yourself,” Elrond says, moving the cloth on your forehead to clean up the blood across your face. “Do you have family?”

You smile. The world around you feels hazy, almost like you’re floating, but you can indulge in this conversation. “A brother. Lennor. He works in your library.”

Elrond nods. “Yes, I know him. Lennor is a wonderful friend. He helps me often. I did not know you were related.”

“Only by adoption,” you explain. “My parents sailed to the Undying Lands shortly after my birth. Lennor’s father took me in.” A new kind of pain strikes your heart, a pang of longing. While you love Lennor and your adoptive father, a piece of you wishes you’d known your real parents.

“Do you and your brother share any traits?”

You scoff, grimacing as the movement jostles your leg. “We’re practically opposites. Lennor is always stuck in his books. While I can see the value in it, I find no enjoyment in reading. I feel most fulfilled in the guard.”

“You seem adept at it,” Elrond praises you. “I must admit, Lennor’s devotion to his texts surpasses even my own. I would make the same choice as you.”

This stuns you. “You would rather be a guard? Over Lord of Rivendell?”

“Well, not exactly. Being the protector of Rivendell grants me freedom to do as I wish, within some limits. But if all I had was my texts and politics, if I had no chance to do things such as this… then yes, I would give it up.” Elrond smiles at you. “Does this surprise you?”

You think for a moment. “I suppose I don’t know you well enough to be surprised. I always imagined you were… further away.”

Elrond chuckles lightly. “Such is the curse of my position. Many don’t see me as just like you, as a member of the Eldar. They think I am above them somehow. But I am similar in more ways than you know.”

Silence grows between the two of you. By now, night has almost completely fallen. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots.

“You called me melethel,” a delirious smile forms on your lips. “I like that.”

“Yes?” Elrond responds, his hand rubbing small circles on your shoulder. “Then I shall continue to use it for you, melethel.”

You hum in response, feeling too weak to form words. The world falls into a haze around you again as your eyelids droop closed.

“Y/N?” Elrond’s voice grows louder as he repeats your name. “Stay with me, melethel.”

“Sleepy,” you grumble, the danger of the situation not registering.

Elrond is quiet for a moment. “I have to carry you out, Y/N. It is unsafe for us to stay here, I worry… We need to get you treated as soon as possible.”

You hum again, barely comprehending his words.

Elrond’s hands move to cradle you gently, being careful not to disturb you too much. He worries about internal injury, something he has missed, but he knows that time is of the essence.

As he picks you up off the ground, your eyes fly open with a cry of pain.

Elrond tightens his grip, whispering, “I know, I know. Just hold on. I’ll get you out of here.”

He works his way down the ravine, spotting an area where the wall slopes gently enough for him to climb. He begins to work his way up, stopping every time you cry out to reassure you. The climb is arduous, each step a struggle.

Finally, after numerous stops and a few close calls, Elrond emerges from the ravine with you still secure in his arms. He carefully settles you onto the back of Arahael before reaching for Mereneth’s reins. He ties the two horses together before mounting Arahael behind you. One hand holds onto the reins, the other around your chest to keep you steady.

Elrond does not hold back as he commands Arahael forward as fast as he can. He feels you drooping in his arm, and he continues to murmur assurances. “Almost there, melethel. Hold on.”

The journey back to Rivendell seems endless, the night seeming darker than usual to Elrond’s half-elven eyes. Elrond feels the protection of Vilya wrap around them once again, and you slump back into his chest. He knows you’ve fallen unconscious, and he spurs Arahael on faster.

Just as the gates come into sight, a small group rushes out to meet the two of you. Elrond recognizes Estedir, your patrol captain.

Arahael has hardly stopped before Elrond dismounts and gently pulls you down. He shouts to Estedir, “She’s gravely injured; help me get her to the healing halls.”

…

You wake to the sensation of sunlight on your cheek, the warmth filling you with life. A dull pain aches through your leg and head, but other than that you feel worlds better than you did before. You open your eyes to see the soft light of morning filtering through the windows of the healing halls. You turn your head to see Elrond seated beside you, his expression a mix of relief and joy.

Elrond leans in, one of his hands reaching for yours. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Achy,” you answer honestly. “But better.”

The elven lord hands you a tall glass. “Drink,” he commands.

You sip slowly, the water tinged with a medicinal taste. “Thank you,” you reply once you finish. Both of you understand that your gratitude is not just for the water.

“I am sorry you had to endure such pain, melethel,” Elrond murmurs.

You squeeze his hand. “It is no matter. What matters is that I am safe, and you are here.”

Elrond smiles at you, his eyes filled with affection. “Rest, now. Recover. I will be here when you wake.”

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 52

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————-

Saturday, February 13th; 5:00 PM - Hotel

When I challenged Lucy, I expected many things, but certainly not for her to let loose like she did. She’s usually so calm that she caught me completely off guard. Let’s just say I won’t be making the mistake of challenging her again, especially when it comes to vehicles. I’ve never felt so awful during a ride. The jolts along the way were so intense that I stumbled when I finally - finally - got back on solid ground. Lucy chuckled and grabbed my shoulders.

“Easy, babe. Are you okay?”

“Oh, misery…”

Nausea hit me, but I closed my eyes to push it away. I couldn’t even be mad at her for making fun of me because the scene must have been hilarious. I had been teasing her all afternoon about it, so I guess I deserved it. Lucy didn’t say anything, though. She waited for a moment for me to catch my breath before helping me take off my helmet. That gesture did me a world of good. I could finally take the breath of fresh air I’d been missing. I looked up at Lucy, who had a sly smile behind her helmet. Unlike me, she stayed on the snowmobile, waiting for Beth to return with the receptionist to open the hangar. I would have stayed on it too, but I was just too weak. I playfully hit her arm and replied:

“You’re making fun of me! That’s really mean,” I pouted.

“Sorry, baby, but you gave me free rein, remember?” she defended herself. “I expected you to handle some thrills if you were going to provoke me.”

“I can handle it!” I protested. “You were the one zigzagging the whole way down!”

“You’re exaggerating,” she teased. “Just admit you can’t handle anything.”

“That’s not true.”

Lucy laughed when I turned my head away and crossed my arms. I’m the first to love a good thrill, but this time, it was really too much for me. Between the speed, the turns, and the sheer drops… I thought we’d end up in the ravine more than once. I snapped out of my thoughts when Lucy brushed a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.

“I’m really sorry. I tend to lose myself when I’m driving,” she confessed with a small smile.

How could I be mad at her when she looked at me like that? I understood well that she loves all kinds of vehicles. Just look at her garage with her Audi and her motorcycle. I doubt the snowmobile is the only other thing she knows how to drive.

“No more snowmobiles for the week, huh?” she teased.

“I didn’t say that,” I mumbled, relaxing my arms.

“Then I’m saying it. I don’t want you getting sick because of me.”

“That’s not it. You just surprised me.”

“We’ll see. There are plenty of other activities here anyway. We’ll have other things to do.”

“Hmm… I’ll wait for you inside,” I said as I saw Beth return and the girls waiting for me.

They were clearly mocking me, laughing and pointing fingers. After all, I spent most of the return trip screaming and clinging desperately to Lucy.

“I’ll be quick,” Lucy said, catching my attention. “See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

She winked at me before revving the snowmobile’s engine. I smiled and shook my head as I watched her leave. I really need to remember that she loves anything with a motor. It would make a great gift one day. I didn’t linger and walked toward Alexia and Mapi, who had moved closer to the entrance. They teased me all the way inside, even though I had just managed to calm down. I’d like to see them in my place! They didn’t seem to realize how awful it was. The warmth of the lobby made me sigh with relief. It enveloped me immediately. I took off my gloves and jacket, which had started to feel cumbersome. I’m not used to wearing so many clothes. Since we spent the whole afternoon wandering around the village, I didn’t have much choice. We started with a café, then wandered around some souvenir shops and admired the architecture. It was a good day. We had a lot of fun, but I’m glad to be back. The cold was starting to freeze me, and truth be told, I’m exhausted from all the walking.

“Everything went well?” the young receptionist asked us as we arrived.

“Yeah, we had a blast,” Mapi replied. “Especially the return trip, right, Ona?” she giggled, nudging me.

“Ha, ha, ha!” I rolled my eyes.

This story is going to follow me for a long time, it seems. I had told Lucy she didn’t know how to let loose. She sure proved me wrong. She knows exactly how to do it. She even agreed to race the others on the way back. We won, arriving at least two full minutes ahead. No wonder I ended up in this state. The girls continued chatting with the young receptionist, recounting our day. He glanced at me a few times, while I kept an eye out for my girlfriend. He should have realized I’m taken by the way Lucy asserted herself last night. I had never seen her like that before. Speaking of her, I smiled when I saw her coming in with Jenni, laughing together. She stopped to smile at me when she noticed me.

“Did you finish putting everything away?” I asked when they reached us.

“Yeah. We’ve got some time before dinner, so I thought we could go for a swim.”

My eyes lit up, and I nodded immediately. She smiled, understanding. I had mentioned it this morning, but she wasn’t keen on going tonight. Either I was wrong, or she just wants to make me happy. If it’s the latter, I can only thank her. Given how sore my muscles are and my recent emotional rollercoaster, it’s exactly what I need to relax. I hope the pool is heated, though. I’m not a fan of cold water.

“Oh yes! Great idea,” Mapi chimed in.

“We didn’t say you were invited,” Lucy replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t need an invitation. As far as I know, the pool is open to all hotel guests,” she retorted proudly.

I groaned quietly and rolled my eyes at Lucy, who stood in front of me. What’s her problem today? Is she going to keep this up much longer, keeping me away from Lucy? Everyone understood that we wanted to spend time together during this trip, except her. That was the first thing I told Alexia back at school, and she wasn’t bothered at all. She intended to do the same with Jenni since they didn’t see each other much. I glanced at her, who seemed to be smirking discreetly. As if that wasn’t enough, Mapi started calling out to Ingrid and the others who had just walked in, announcing that we’d all meet at the pool in fifteen minutes. Lucy chuckled and finally put her arm around my shoulders.

“Well, I guess we’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” Jenni smiled.

I let Lucy guide me, completely frustrated with my best friend for ruining such a promising plan. I exploded as soon as the elevator doors closed on us.

“How dare she invite everyone? Didn’t she get that we wanted to be alone? Why aren’t you reacting? Doesn’t this bother you at all?” I ranted.

“Relax,” she said calmly.

“Relax?! How can you be so calm? We were already apart all afternoon because of her! I really wanted that moment alone to end the day…” I complained.

Lucy chuckled and pulled me closer to her. I sighed and snuggled into her. I don’t understand Mapi on this one. It was like she was doing it on purpose. She already dragged Alexia and me around all afternoon at every opportunity. It felt more like an afternoon with friends than with couples. It was great because the girls were finally getting to know each other face-to-face, which made me happy. I’m the first to want them to get along, and it looks like we’re off to a good start with all the laughter we shared this afternoon. However, all I’m dreaming of now is being in my girlfriend’s arms.

“Who said we’d stay with them?”

“Well, you heard her,” I mumbled. “She invited everyone!”

"I reserved a private jacuzzi for us, baby."

"What... a jacuzzi?" I repeated, a mix of confusion and excitement in my voice.

"Mmhmm," she smiled. "Jenni and Alexia teased me because they knew about it. I booked it this morning after you mentioned wanting one. Mapi won't find us if we head down before everyone else."

"Oh my God! You're amazing. What are you waiting for then? Let's not waste any time!"

She laughed as I pulled her towards the door of our room. I've never gotten ready so quickly. I put on my swimsuit and followed Lucy’s lead, slipping on a pair of flip-flops and the robe the hotel provided. We each grabbed a towel before heading back down to the basement. There, I discovered a spa and pool area I hadn’t seen before. We walked through the glass door, and I was thrilled not to see anyone from our group. We weren’t alone, of course, but there was no one we knew.

"It’s beautiful," I whispered.

The hotel had made sure the place felt incredibly relaxing, at least that’s how it felt to me. There were sounds of nature playing softly in the background. The floors and walls were covered in smooth stone, and I could even feel a slight warmth beneath my feet. I had no doubt the floor was heated, contributing to the cozy atmosphere of the hallway. I was almost tempted to touch the ground with my bare foot to check, but Lucy pulled me out of my thoughts before I could.

"Follow me," she murmured.

I took her hand as she led me down the long corridor. We stopped in front of a window overlooking the pool. It was surrounded by large windows that opened onto an outdoor terrace, now slowly being covered by snow. The staff member had warned us this morning that it would start snowing in the evening, and he was right. We had planned to go out into the city tonight, but I suppose those plans might change.

"Are you coming?" she whispered. "The jacuzzi is a little further."

"Do you know this place by heart?" I giggled.

"Let’s just say I’ve had the chance to explore it before."

It’s true, she had been here before. I wondered who she had been with... But before I could think further, she led me to a room a bit farther from the pool. A staff member warmly greeted us in front of this wooden door.

"Hello. One of you must be Lucy Bronze?"

"In the flesh," my girlfriend replied, showing our room key.

The young woman nodded kindly, I guess the key was proof of her identity.

"Great," she smiled. "Here’s your private room. There’s a button inside if you need anything."

"Thank you very much."

"Have a wonderful evening."

The woman discreetly disappeared after opening the door. I was the first to step into the room, which was just as soothing and cozy... We were welcomed by dimmed lights, creating an almost sensual ambiance. Lucy closed the door behind us as I walked toward the jacuzzi, which was partially sunk into the floor, emitting soft, changing colors. I smiled as Lucy gently pulled the robe off my shoulders. I untied the knot at the front to let her slide it off completely. When I turned around, I saw that hers was already hanging on a hook on the wall, and mine quickly joined it on the other. I took off my flip-flops and dipped my foot into the steaming hot water, suppressing a moan that almost escaped. I could already tell I was going to enjoy this moment if we had it all to ourselves.

"Do you think anyone will join us?"

"No. No one will know where we are."

"Yes. But you said Jenni and Ale know."

"True, but even though they know, they won’t know which door we’re behind. There are other rooms like this one," she explained. "I doubt they’ll go around opening all of them, and I don’t think they’ll tell the others."

I smiled and nodded. She really does think of everything. If there’s anyone I trust with keeping things discreet, it’s Alexia and Jenni. They must understand how precious privacy is. Besides, the jacuzzi is way too small. It could only fit one other couple at most.

"Who knows. Mapi might try. We should probably lock the door to be sure."

"Ingrid won’t let her," she reassured me. "So, are you going to get in, or are you just going to keep dipping your toes?" she teased.

I bit my lip as I felt her hands settle on my bare hips. I pulled my foot out to remove my other flip-flop, then decided to slip into the water with her support. The hot water immediately relaxed my muscles. I let myself fall heavily onto one of the seats. Lucy chuckled lightly as she got in beside me. Her goddess-like body disappeared beneath the water as she sat down, sighing in satisfaction as she stretched out her arms and leaned her head back. I smiled as I watched her. Finally, we were alone, in a completely unexpected setting. A moment passed before she broke the silence.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her words were barely a whisper. How could she know I was deep in thought when her eyes were still closed? A smile appeared on her lips as she lowered her head to meet my confused expression.

"You’re too quiet not to be thinking," she explained.

I tried to hide my blush by turning my head away. It’s disconcerting how well she knows me.

"Am I making you blush?" she teased.

"Idiot," I laughed, playfully hitting her arm.

I took a deep breath before straddling her in a sudden burst of confidence. I needed to feel her bare skin against mine. Her body tensed for a moment, clearly not expecting that. I’ve been pushing her away too much lately. She gently placed her hands on my waist, caressing me with her thumbs.

"Hey," she murmured.

"Hey..."

I buried my face in her neck, trying to hide. Bad idea, as the waves from the bubbles splashed onto my face. I groaned, wiping away the water. Lucy chuckled, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me closer. There wasn’t a mirror to see myself, but I could imagine my makeup must have run. I should have taken it off in our room like I had planned. I ran my fingers under my eyes, trying to remove what I could. I placed my hands on her shoulders, unsure where else to put them. We gazed at each other for a moment before she leaned in to kiss me softly. I closed my eyes, savoring this gesture that had been rare today. We had been together without really being together, so I missed her lips. The girls were wrong when they said I was addicted to Lucy a month ago. I was just starting to become so, and it’s been growing day by day since we’ve been together. I can’t deny it anymore. She’s become my new addiction, one I can’t do without. It’s much better than what I used to take. As if reading my mind, she gently teased my lips with her tongue, deepening the kiss. I granted her access, letting her take full control so she could convey all her passion. We regrettably parted when we ran out of breath. She smiled softly, letting one hand trace along the back of my neck. I was glad I had thought to tie my hair back earlier. Her touch sent a shiver through me from head to toe. The quiet made me realize that the music from the hallway had followed us here.

"Did you enjoy the day?"

"Yeah... It was really fun."

"Sorry for shaking you up a bit too much on the way back. I hope you’ve recovered."

"It was just... unexpected. I didn’t know you could be so... I don’t even know how to say it."

"So playful? So fun, or maybe so willing to accept a challenge?"

"Yeah. All of that, I suppose," I giggled. "I mean, you’re usually so serious. It’s almost like you scold me when I have too much fun."

"Hey, I’ve never lectured you about that."

"Yes, you have," I chuckled. "When I used to go to parties."

"That was different," she sighed. "Parties don’t mean ‘fun’ for everyone. They were dangerous, and I was worried about you. If I was harsh about it, it was because we were rarely on the same page."

"I’m sorry for bringing it up again..."

"No, you were right to mention it. We might as well clear the air."

"Well... in that case, I admit you were right. It was dangerous for me... And it’s cute that you cared about me."

Her expression softened as I spoke. She probably thought I was going to argue with her again, but I couldn’t do that. She was absolutely right. I was just a lost kid before I met her. I had nothing left to lose, so I was throwing my life away. That’s not the case anymore. I have her. She means everything to me. She smiled back, tightening her hold around me.

"I’ll always worry about you..."

"You’re really too sweet," I murmured, nuzzling into her neck.

I've never been someone who liked expressing my feelings. Yet, everything is different with Lucy. I intend to show her that she's the one and only, over and over again. I'd be willing to do a lot for those beautiful eyes of hers, especially after everything she's done for me. She makes me strong.

"Hey...?" I murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Can we talk about next week?" I asked nervously, playing with the elastic of her swimsuit.

"What do you want to talk about? What we can do with your brother?"

"No... Actually, I’ve changed my mind. But only if you agree, of course."

She looked at me curiously. I didn’t want to share my thoughts too late, so she’d have time to consider them. I wasn’t sure if she’d like the change, but I hoped deep down that she would accept it.

"What do you mean by 'changed your mind'? You don’t want your brother to come anymore?"

"No, I mean... actually, I’d prefer if we went back to Barcelona, rather than having him come here," I said, biting my lip.

She looked at me for a moment before taking a deep breath, her fingers gently tracing patterns on my back. She seemed to be considering my request, which was already a good sign. Finally, she smiled and tilted her head slightly.

"What’s going through your mind that makes you want that?" she asked with her adorable smile. "I thought you didn’t like going back home anymore."

I shrugged thoughtfully. The only weekend she had accompanied me was amazing. If we went back, it would be slightly different with my mother and Marcus there, but I didn’t doubt that it would still be great. My thoughts were interrupted when she surprised me with a kiss on the nose. I smiled at her shyly.

"Don’t be afraid to talk to me, Ona," she encouraged.

I took a deep breath and nodded. If there’s one thing I don’t feel anymore when confiding in her, it’s embarrassment—depending on the topic, of course. We’ve reached a point where I have nothing left to hide from her anyway. She knows everything about me, and yet she’s still here, as she’s always told me.

"I feel like my mom really likes you," I began. "It’s like, for once, I made the right decision for her... I think that... Actually, I’m sure that you’re the person who could help rebuild the bond between us."

"You’ve always wanted to reconcile with her, haven’t you?"

"I-I don’t really know, to be honest..."

"And if you explain to me what happened between you two? I know it’s been tense, but you never told me why."

"I couldn’t even tell you when it started," I sighed.

"I thought it was since you moved to Barcelona ?"

"No, it was long before that..."

"Really? I thought she was just absent when you were in Portugal ?"

"That was the problem. She wasn’t there, and my dad was. We became very close. Sometimes, I wonder if it was because of me that they separated."

"Why would they? You know, you were young, and kids often don’t understand adults' decisions at the time."

"I overheard them one night. I might have been a kid, but I understood the gist of their conversation. It was just a few weeks before they told me about their separation..."

I hate thinking back to that night. My parents never knew I had woken up and overheard them behind the door. Their conversation upset me for a long time. Lucy tightened her hold on me, reminding me of her presence and unwavering support.

"What were they saying?" she gently encouraged me to continue.

"They were arguing about me. I... I was really the center of their dispute. My mom was never around, and my dad let me do whatever I wanted when he got back from his missions because he was so happy to see me."

"I see... They disagreed on how to raise you, if I understand correctly."

"My dad always defended me. I was his little girl, after all. My mom thought he spoiled me too much..."

"And did he?"

"No. When we were alone and I messed up, he didn’t hesitate to be fair and give me advice afterward. It was a bit like with you when we first met, but my mom didn’t know that. I still don’t understand why my dad didn’t defend himself that night. He could have, but he didn’t even try to stop her when she talked about her job offer in Miami. It was like everything was already over between them."

"Sweetheart, you have no reason to feel guilty about this. Like I said before, your parents probably had their own issues that you weren’t aware of. It’s possible they no longer had feelings for each other, and you were the reason they stayed together as long as they did. That happens a lot in married couples."

"Maybe you’re right," I murmured. "In any case, going home after what happened with Feli was the only time I felt like I had my mom’s attention. I noticed how worried she was about me, but I couldn’t trust her. It was... I don’t know. There was so much history. I couldn’t just let her back into my life with a snap of my fingers, no matter what I had gone through and how much support I needed."

"That’s normal... You were never close, and she hurt you a lot. But she’s still your mom. You have every right to want to reconcile with her. From what I understand, all you ever really wanted was her attention, right?"

I sighed and cuddled up to Lucy, nodding. She was right, as always. There was a long time when I wanted to make her proud of me by becoming the daughter she wanted me to be. She wanted me to succeed like her. But starting our new life together, I quickly realized we didn’t know each other and had no affection for one another. She didn’t even know my food preferences. My motivation crumbled when I discovered Marcus’s identity at twelve years old. I was devastated that she could replace my dad. It felt like betrayal to me. I completely shut down. The only things that saved me were Sophia’s presence, who had just come into my life, and my stays with my dad. He was the first to tell me I should accept this new relationship. I’ve always wondered about his reaction. Did he know? Was that why my mom wanted to leave? After all, my mom was from Barcelona, just like Marcus. They must have known each other before. And he was in the military before joining the Police. For all I know, my dad might have known him too. He was always very friendly with him, the few times they met.

"What are you thinking about now?"

I looked up at Lucy. It seemed like she hadn’t missed a single thought of mine the entire time.

"It doesn’t matter," I murmured. "So, about my idea to go home?"

She looked at me for a moment, as if she was hesitating to say something. After thinking it over, she finally spoke.

"I’d love for us to go back to Barcelona next week, but I’ve already got something planned... An appointment, actually."

"Oh?"

"Do you remember what I told your mom about your future?"

"About the possibility of continuing my studies?"

"Yeah. The gallery director wants to meet you. I didn’t want to tell you so I could surprise you... But anyway... I managed to get you an appointment with him next Tuesday."

"Oh..."

"Yeah, 'oh'," she repeated, giggling.

"Is that why you insisted on hosting Joan only at the end of the week?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "But if you really want to go, we can. It just means canceling an appointment that you might not be able to reschedule. Otherwise, we could go at the end of the week instead of bringing Joan, but there's no guarantee."

"And why not?"

"Well... who’s to say this man wouldn’t want to see you again?"

"You think he’d want to see me again?"

"Who knows," she smiled. "If you make a good impression, he probably would."

"You’re right... And what if it doesn’t go well? There’s a good chance of that, right? Why would he be interested in a kid like me? I mean, I’m in a private school for troubled youth. If he finds out, I’m doomed."

"Hey, relax. Seriously, do you hear yourself?" she chuckled. "Troubled youth, really? »

- "Well, it's true! I had addiction problems. If I hadn't met you, who knows how I might have ended up."

- "See, that's exactly why I wanted to tell you at the last moment. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have said anything until the meeting, just to avoid you panicking."

- "I’m not panicking," I pouted.

- "Yes, you are," she smiled. "You lack confidence, so you doubt everything. He knows where you are. If he didn’t want to meet you, you wouldn’t have gotten an appointment, trust me."

- "Really? I’m surprised. You told him!? You were in contact with him?"

- "I was in contact with him, and yes, I had to tell him. He wouldn’t waste his time if he wasn’t interested in you, baby, I assure you. It’s a big gallery, which is even more interesting for you."

- "Do you really think I have a chance...? I never considered enrolling in a higher school before today. In fact, I wanted to do the complete opposite of what my mother had planned for me."

She sighed heavily, running her hand along my neck. I bit my lip, thinking I probably shouldn’t have brought it up again. A small smile formed on her lips as she tilted her head.

- "Your mother always wanted the best for you. You’ll understand that one day when you have your own children. If she pushed you into medicine like her, it’s because she thought it was a safe career since she succeeded."

I was about to respond, but she stopped me by placing a finger on my lips.

- "I’m not saying she was right. I believe a parent shouldn’t force their child to do something they don’t want to. She should have advised and supported you, but certainly not forced you. It’s your life. Everyone has the right to live their dreams, even if it means they might fall on their face afterward. Remember that when you become a mother."

- "When that happens, you’ll be by my side to remind me."

- "I hope so," she smiled.

- "In any case, my father understood that. He did exactly what you just said. I think his death and my leaving home opened my mother’s eyes. She became different toward me after the incident with Feli. For the first time, she wanted to take care of me... It was so strange."

- "And you let her?"

- "I... Yes and no... I was in a bad state when I returned, Luce," I admitted to her. "I isolated myself most of the time. The only people I allowed into my room were my mother, Mapi, Joan, and Sophia. I didn’t even sleep at night. The only time I could sleep was when Mapi slept with me, and even then. She would come to see me every day and spend hours in my room because, for a long time, neither Marcus, Sam, nor any other person could get within five meters of me..."

Lucy, who usually hides her emotions so well, couldn’t do so at that moment. I wished she didn’t know about this, but if we were going to spend our lives together, she had a right to know what kind of person she was agreeing to live with.

- "I went through real trauma," I continued. "It took me three months to leave my room. Six months to accept the presence of an other person in the same room as me. The first one I was able to talk to was Sam, which is why our friendship became even stronger than before."

Once again, I could see the surprise in her eyes. No one outside the people who were around me at home knew about this. It was a real ordeal I had to overcome when I returned. Seeing where I am now, I wonder how I managed it in just one year. I still struggle to trust people, even though it’s much better now. I can see how pained Lucy is. She tries to speak, but I cut her off, continuing my monologue. If I don’t do it now, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to say it again.

- "My mother wanted me to see someone, but I categorically refused. She granted me that, but in return, she forced me to go to rehab for six months, allowing me to come home every day. She wanted me to be in contact with people who had gone through similar stories, or even worse."

- "That was actually a good idea..." she murmured. "Did it help?"

- "I resisted the idea for a long time, but yes. Deep down, being in contact with others helped me open up again in a way. I managed to find my humanity, even though I remained cautious about everything."

- "You hid it very well. I mean, I pushed you so hard when we met. I saw you as a bold girl, though I quickly understood that you had a painful past... But even now, I didn’t think you were so deeply affected by it."

- "You were a woman, and I knew what I was getting into when I came to Camp Wiegman. I expected to meet someone like you, and I was prepared to resist you at all costs," I admitted to her.

- "Did your mother never force you to press charges against Feli?"

I bit my lip, lowering my head. Of course, she wanted me to press charges. However, I was too mentally and physically affected to do it. I stayed honest and nodded.

- "Yes... She built a case with lots of evidence, but I never had the courage to go through with it."

I dreaded her reaction to this new information. We had argued about it in Spain. I had even told her I would do it in the heat of the moment. She didn’t respond, but everything was clear from her expression.

- "Lucy..." I said apprehensively.

- "No, don’t talk to me like that. What’s holding you back, Ona? Really, I don’t understand you. You have everything you need to get revenge for all the harm she’s done to you, and you do nothing. So what? What are your reasons this time? Don’t tell me you still care for her or anything like that after everything you’ve just told me. You’re terrified of her ! I’ve seen it with my own eyes, countless times."

What was supposed to be a relaxed moment had turned into a nightmare. I wanted to flee, but she held me too firmly around the waist for me to slip off her lap. I hate arguing, but that’s what’s going to happen again if I don’t find a coherent answer. What can I possibly say to her? I’ve been living like this for more than a year and a half. I sighed, playing with a strand of her hair.

- "I... I don’t care about taking her to court, Luce. No matter how much she deserves it, all that matters to me is that this whole story ends."

With the utmost gentleness, she slid her fingers under my chin to lift my head. My tear-filled eyes met her emerald jewels. Surprisingly, there was no trace of anger in them.

- "Taking her to court is how you’ll close this chapter. She won’t stop until you do, believe me. He needs to understand that he means nothing to you anymore and that you’re capable of moving on."

And I know she’s right. Feli has been bolder than I expected since I left her. I didn’t expect her to keep harassing me again and again. Would she be capable of coming back ten years later if I don’t take action? A shiver ran down my spine. Yes, I think she would, unfortunately. As if Lucy knew what I was thinking, she pulled me closer to her.

- "Hey... You’re not alone anymore, remember?"

- "Would you do it with me...?"

My question seemed to surprise her, judging by her expression and the time it took her to respond.

- "Of course, baby. I’ve been by your side from the beginning, and that won’t ever change. You’ll have my support in everything you decide to do... within reason," she added with amusement.

- "Thank you..." I murmured. "We’ll review the case when we get back to Spain then if that’s okay with you."

- "Alright. We’ll go back soon."

- "You really want to?"

- "If the only thing that can make you happy is for me to go home with you, then I’ll do it."

- "I don’t want to impose it on you..."

- "Ona," she chuckled. "You’re not imposing anything on me. I’d love to learn more about your family."

- "Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?"

- "Why would it? We’re building our life together now, and our families are part of that. You’ll meet mine one day too."

I blushed at the thought of her wanting to introduce me to her parents. That would mean going back to Portugal. It would be a good opportunity to return after all this time. Maybe I’ll ask her then if we could take a detour to Lisbon to see my grandfather. I doubt she’d have a problem with that. I smiled just thinking about it. My grandfather is going to love her, just like my father would have.

- "Actually, I was planning to tell them about you after the trip."

- "Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Mm-hmm. I usually visit them in the summer, but it won’t be possible this year because of the gym. I was thinking of going in April and taking you with me... if you’re okay with that.

My heart races. I can't refuse, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't panicking. Having her meet my family is one thing, but meeting hers is entirely different.

"O-OK... We need to get to know each other outside, after all," I replied, making her smile.

"I wasn't asking for an answer right now," she teased. "Just think about it, OK?"

"I won’t have time to think about it with school."

"There you go again," she sighed.

"What? I still have three months left!"

"You're exaggerating," she teased. "You’ve got two and a half left. That’s half of the five months you've already completed."

"Seen that way..."

"They’re going to be tough because you need to prepare for your exam, but I’ll help you study."

"Hum..."

Too much information was shared in just a few seconds. The thought of what lies ahead makes me a bit depressed. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and rest my head there, keeping my face away from the splashes. I sigh with contentment, enjoying the closeness of our bodies. It's been so long since I've had this kind of intimacy with someone. I could stay here, with her, forever. I close my eyes and nestle my head a little deeper into my arms.

"Are you someone who celebrates month anniversaries?" I asked spontaneously, making Lucy laugh.

"Really, babe?"

"It’s an important question, I think," I said, reluctantly pulling back to see her face. "Not everyone celebrates that kind of thing."

"Well, I suppose, yes," she finally replied. "I'm a bit of a romantic at heart. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering. It's been ten days since we got together."

"And you? Do you want to celebrate our first month?"

"Of course! I’d love to plan something if that’s okay with you."

"And why should you do all the planning? I could just as easily do it."

"No," I shook my head. "I want to show you how grateful I am and how much..."

I stopped for a moment. I'm not ready to say it yet, no matter how intense my feelings are. She smiled and kissed my forehead.

"I know. And I'm not going to stop you if you want to plan a special evening for just the two of us. Just know that I’m not someone who likes overly fancy things."

"I’ll find something you'll like, then."

"A simple dinner or a movie is enough for me," she suggested. "All that matters is that we spend the evening together."

"You’ll see what it will be," I teased.

"Hmm... I’m already looking forward to it," she murmured against my lips.

I closed the distance to kiss her. I could do this all day. I'm not a natural romantic, as she might wish I were, but I'm willing to learn if that's what it takes. I want to be romantic for her if she likes that. She deserves all the love in the world, and I intend to give it to her. I pressed closer to her and closed my eyes. I love her, I’m sure of it. She knows it, and I’ll tell her when the time is right. I just hope she feels the same... I suppose she does; otherwise, she wouldn't have changed her mind about our relationship. She knows how broken I am inside, and giving me false hope would hurt more than anything. Lucy isn’t that kind of person, and that's why I love her. She’s fair, gentle, and caring. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better person to share my life with.

[magicalbats]

Tell Me You're Mine (Scar x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,321

Warnings: afab!reader, rimming (female receiving), cunnilingus, facesitting, simulated sex through clothes, cum in pants (male), spit, implied/innate femdom, pathetic sub boy behavior, stalking

A/N: Literally was not going to be able to move on until I got this out of my system lol I promise no one fully understands just how crazy he's made me!! I see the way he looks at us and I just!! Ugh!!

⭐

Your terminal beeps, signaling an incoming call. 

Thankfully it doesn't cause you to startle the same way it had the first few dozen times it started making noises at you and you reach back to press the button on the side with a newly practiced, casual motion. It might have surprised you, how little thought you actually give the strange device and its near constant presence at your back now that you’ve grown accustomed to it but, well. Your contacts list was awfully short, wasn’t it? 

The projection of Chixsia’s photo ID blinks into existence before your face like a real life magician's trick, the hologram faint and irresolute against the harsh backdrop of craggy mountains and lifeless dead trees. In truth you don’t understand this technology much more than you understand anything else about this world. But just as with every other unfamiliar thing here you’ve taken it in stride and adapted to it. At the very least, you were just glad you no longer had to wrestle with the instinctive reflex to reach up and try to swat the holo icon away like it was nothing more than an incessant gnat. That had quickly proven a rather embarrassing reaction on your part. 

“Rover!” 

“Hey, Chixsia. Did you need something?” 

“No, nothing in particular. I just wanted to check in with you and see how things were going!” 

You’re not so sure you believe that and at your doubtful hum she breaks embarrassingly fast. 

“Okay, okay. It’s just that we haven’t seen you since yesterday afternoon when we were trying to figure out that puzzle box the magistrate left for you. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure everything was alright, that’s all.”

Warmed by her sincere concern, you feel your mouth start to tug into a slow smile. “I’m fine, but thank you for thinking of me. You and Yangyang have certainly made me feel welcomed.” 

“Well, of course. That’s kind of our job, isn’t it?” She lets out a bright, tittering laugh on the other side of the line, and you lift your brow in question. 

“Is it really?” 

Whatever she says next is lost under the creeping howl of wind that rushes through the ravine you’re standing in. The uneven cut of rocks and boulders long gouged by the elements in such an inhospitable environment amplifies the acoustic reverberation and almost seems to make it echo in the space between your ears. Wincing, you drop to a defensive crouch on the ground and peer around you in search of any Tacet Discords that may have taken notice of your position. Much to your relief though, the coast still looked to be clear. 

You, paranoid? Maybe so, but it was in part what had kept you alive this long. If you were a little on edge it was for a good reason. Huanglong had certainly given you more than enough incentive to stay on your guard in just the short amount of time since you’d woken up here and you weren’t inclined to start throwing caution to the wayside just yet. 

“Woah, what is that?” Chixsia’s voice rings out over the connection, the hologram weakly flashing when the signal falters. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” 

“No.” Yes, she had, but you weren’t about to tell her that. “It was just the wind. Nothing to be concerned about, promise.” 

A single beat of surprised silence passes over the connection. “Where are you that has wind like that?” 

“I’m up in the mountains. I decided to take on a commission since I had the free time anyway, and the money was good.” 

The little white lie comes out smooth and natural, thanks in no small part to all the rehearsing you’d done on the way up here. You still feel a distant pang of guilt at having to deceive Chixsia of all people but it couldn’t be helped. If she knew the truth behind your solo trek out into the wilderness there was a very real possibility she might take that as her cue to rally the troops for a search and rescue party, and you couldn’t have that. Not yet. 

“Huh? But why would you do that? If you’d needed money you should have just said something! I’m sure the magistrates office would have been happy to provide for your living expenses while you’re here.” 

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t see it through the audio-only call. “I don’t want to burden anyone more than necessary or freeload, and Jinzhou has already done so much for me. Besides … isn’t there a saying about how idle hands make for troubled minds, or something like that?” 

She offers a brief sound of consideration in response, mulling that over. “I’m not sure if that’s exactly how it goes but I get what you mean. Still, are you sure everything’s alright? You seemed a bit distracted when we went our separate ways yesterday. You’d tell us if you needed help, wouldn’t you?” 

“Of course I would.” This white lie isn’t so small and it comes out with more difficulty as a result. But you’re quick to mask it under the guise of being predisposed, and you’re not quiet about it as you climb to your feet before spinning around in a slow circle to survey your surroundings. You make sure to tread carelessly while you do it so that the sound of your footsteps might reach her all the way back in the city. “Not to rush you, Chixsia, but did you need anything else? I have to go.” 

“No, no. That was all. If you’re sure everything’s okay then … I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” 

The note of disappointment in her voice is unmistakable, and it makes you smile again even when you try very hard not to. “Relax. You have my word that there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got everything under control over here. And hey, the next time we go out for lunch it’ll be my treat. How’s that sound?” 

To your relief, she perks up immediately. “It sounds like a deal! You’d better not forget you said that, Rover! I’ll hold you to it!” 

“I will, I will. Bye for now, Chixsia.” 

The line drops mere seconds after her enthusiastic parting and you let your shoulders slump once the holo ID blinks out. That should at least take care of your alibi, so there was that. You can’t help but wish it had been just about anyone other than the guileless junior officer though, because she seemed much too naive and trusting to pull one over on in good conscience. Oh well. Necessary evils and all that. 

Breathing out a terse huff through your nose, you crane your head back to look up at the craggy side of the ridge and squint against the low setting sun. Still no signs of, well. Anything at all. Even the last Tacet Discord you’d run into had been miles back and was now long forgotten. But that’s not what you were out here for. If Chixsia or anyone else had pressed the matter you would have readily used the excuse that it was just part of the job you’d taken on and you were hunting down some monster or another. You were relatively certain that they would have believed that story without much fuss, especially when this world seemed to have more than its fair share of them. It was at least commonplace enough not to draw suspicion.

But you were hoping to lure out a demon of a completely different breed, and you were certain no one would believe you were serious about it even if you did tell them. They’d think you’d gone crazy, hit your head somewhere along the way and were now suffering the debilitating consequences. For all the sense this foolhardy plan of yours made, hell, maybe you did take a too hard hit to the noggin at some point. That seemed about as likely as anything else. 

You knew you weren’t imagining the feeling of being watched though. That unmistakable sensation of eyes on you, tracking your every move, has followed you everywhere you go in Jinzhou since the first moment you came to. Strolling along the busy streets or wandering into the quieter residential neighborhoods, passing through one of the bustling markets or making your way out to the militant outpost at the edge of the city. It doesn’t matter where you go, that feeling always remains. 

The one and only place it seemed to fade to a distant afterthought, you’ve noticed, was inside the City Hall building, but you couldn’t exactly hole yourself up there for the rest of your life. It just wasn’t feasible, for starters, and you weren’t entirely sure yet if you could place all of your trust in them anyway. It’s hardly any wonder then that with no other choice and the time to spare while you awaited the magistrates return, you’d finally decided to take matters into your own hands. 

“Let’s see now. If I were a shameless stalker, I wonder where I'd hide.” You murmur under your breath as you turn, examining the way you’d come for any hint of another person trailing you from behind. In all honesty you already knew the identity of at least one of the culprits but you didn’t want to jump to pointing the finger at him without sufficient evidence first. He probably didn’t deserve that leeway but you were still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in this. 

Not because he’d given you any reason to believe he wasn’t that kind of person, but because you’d long had the sense that there were at least two separate individuals keeping tabs on you, if not more. One was almost imperceptible and easily ignored save the periodic chill in the air that seemed to suggest their interest in you was less than innocent or friendly. 

The other was Scar. 

All red hot and static charged, his laser focused attention was hard to miss even when he was doing the utmost to conceal himself and his heated stare. But once he’d revealed himself to you out in that desolate, abandoned village you’d been able to easily discern him from the other on multiple occasions now. He was still following you, yes, but so was that icier, less obvious presence. Hiking out into the unwelcoming mountain range hadn’t dissuaded either of them but neither had they made their move yet. Curious. Were the two conflicting forces perhaps acting to repel one another and keeping them both mutually at bay? 

Turning that over in your head, you complete one last full circuit survey of the surroundings in hopes of spotting at least some hint of another presence in the ravine with you. An out of place shadow on the ground, a clatter of misplaced rocks or perhaps even a tuft of haphazard hair its owner doesn’t conceal himself fast enough to hide. At this point you would have been happy with anything at all if it just reassured you that you weren’t going crazy. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” 

Nothing. There wasn’t a damn thing that looked like it didn’t belong or warranted any amount of doubt. In truth the area almost seemed completely void of life save your own and the occasional bird you could make out far in the distance when they flew by overhead. 

So not even that troublesome man wanted to show himself, huh? What a predicament this was turning into. You’d thought for sure he at least would have jumped at the chance as soon as you were alone and hopefully draw the other out of hiding in the process. 

Oh well. You still had plan B to fall back on. 

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

The sun is dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in a bright ultraviolet glare by the time you reach the river at the far end of the ravine. It’s situated in a natural alcove cut out of the rock face by the constant buffeting of elements; wind and rain, and the freezing snow of winter which had left myriad cracks and uneven dips littered across the ground. The rising jut of the ridgeline made for a relatively fortified spot to set up camp for the night where it would be difficult for anyone or anything to sneak up on you and catch you unawares. After doing a preliminary inspection to ensure there weren’t any wolf or bear dens you’d be encroaching on, you deem it to be as safe as it was likely going to get. 

While you work to get settled in, unburdening yourself of your supplies pack and erecting a small campfire to hopefully cook a fresh fish or two on later, you remain keenly aware of the eyes that still linger on you. Even all the way out here you couldn’t escape them and for the moment at least you weren’t quite sure which party they belonged to. Was it only Scar who had followed you all this way or had both of them taken the bait? 

Hopefully you would find out soon enough. 

The minutes crawl by, quiet and uneventful, save the hopeful crackle of the kindling catching on dry wood. 

Finally deciding that you were satisfied with the modest flame you’ve managed to build up, you make a casual show of finding your feet and stretching your arms high over your head. You weren’t overly confident in your own acting abilities but if Scar really was somewhere out there watching you from a distance then believability probably didn’t matter much. Frankly you were just surprised he’d shown even this much self restraint. 

Turning away from the makeshift camp with a small rag in hand, you shuffle over to the edge of the riverbank where you relieve yourself of your sword and then your terminal. Your shoes and utility straps quickly follow, then your tunic dress. The last thing to go are your bottoms, leaving you standing there completely nude. Your nipples stand up in stiff, achingly hard points against the cool mountain air as you take a first tentative step into the water. It’s cold but not freezing, and you merely let out a soft hiss when you force yourself to wade further out into the slow moving stream despite its unwelcoming chill. 

Was this a stupid, reckless and irresponsible plan? Undoubtedly. There was no telling what dangers you were inviting by doing this but it was the only option you could think of that might be too tempting for your voyeurs to resist. If they wouldn’t come out of hiding when you were armed and ready for them, then perhaps the vulnerability of your nakedness would do the trick. 

Fighting back the clatter of your teeth, you slowly sink down to submerge yourself up to your waist. A bit of awkward shifting soon locates a relatively smooth rock for you to perch on, and you try to relax into the crisp water as you set in to wash your body clean. This at least isn’t wholly feigned. Your skin was sticky with clammy sweat after the long trek so you were glad for a bath even if nothing more productive than that came of it. 

The following stretch of moments is still and serenely picturesque, save the distant cries of a lone raven and the periodic sound of splashing while you wash. It would have been rather nice if only it was just a little bit warmer. You wanted nothing more than to rush through it and hurry back to the fire as quickly as possible, but you force your hands to work at a deliberately sedate pace so that you might give whoever was watching you plenty of time to work up the courage to act. Honestly you hadn’t thought Scar of all people would need that kind of consideration but … 

At last, a soft yet sudden clatter of displaced rocks sounds from somewhere just behind you and jars you from your thoughts. It takes a great deal of effort to stamp down the urge to turn and look, but you do your best to pretend as if you hadn’t noticed it while you scrub the rag down the length of your thigh. This was a delicate situation. If you reacted too soon you ran the risk of spooking them and scaring them away. But if you reacted too late after they were already right on top of you then there was a very real chance they might succeed in overpowering you. Clearly you’d just need to trust that your instincts would see you through this and hope for the best. 

So you wait, counting off each individual second in your head until the next sound reaches your ears, a little closer this time. Pebbles disturbed on the ground, you think, and nothing more to indicate what it might be. The thought that it could be a Tacet Discord crosses your mind and almost makes you spin around to check but you refrain, too determined to get to the bottom of this stalking situation to give in. You just sorely hoped this foolish gamble of yours paid off. 

But the longer it goes on the less likely it seems that it might be Scar watching on from the shadows. He hadn’t seemed the cautious type anyway, but he certainly wouldn’t have had any reason for such reticence after already showing himself to you as boldly as he had once before. 

It must have been the other one then, you decide. But why were they still lingering back there instead of taking advantage of the ample opportunity you’d practically handed them? You couldn’t make sense of it. 

Then you finally hear it. The unmistakable thump of footsteps. Heavy boots that tread the ground on long, confident strides and steadily approach the riverbank at an unhurried, almost casual pace. That realization makes your instincts go absolutely haywire as anticipatory jitters settle low in your gut and set you to vibrate. Somehow there was a certain familiarity in that canter, defying all logic and reason, but you’d thought — 

“Oh, Rover ~” 

Every single hair on your body immediately stands on end to accompany the chill that races down your spine. Heart rate quickening, you carefully twist around to look behind you as calmly as you can manage it. Instinctively you wanted to lunge for your sword where it was resting only a few feet away and take comfort in its grounding weight in your hands. Logically, however, you knew that any sudden movements had the potential to escalate the situation far beyond your control so you try your best to stay level headed. 

And sure enough, it is indeed Scar making his way across the barren ground towards you. In the flesh and just as arrogant as he’d been back in that ramshackle village, you’re more than just a bit chagrined to find. Except he’s not alone. And it’s not the mysterious woman who’d shown up to retrieve him after his Elysium broke. 

Breath catching in your chest, you stare wide eyed at the person hanging motionless from where Scar’s holding onto the back of their jacket. Based on the build you think it’s a man and the toes of his shoes drag bonelessly against the ground behind him, arms hanging just as limp in the front. Either dead or knocked out cold. For his sake, you sorely hoped Scar had shown him some amount of mercy and it wasn’t the former. 

Your body is so tense, the muscles locked up in preparation for a fight, that it almost hurts as you shift further around to face him and his onward approach head on. It doesn’t seem to bother Scar one little bit though, his lack of concern obvious when he merely grins down at you in response. Undeterred and utterly shameless. 

Stepping right up to the edge of the bank, he finally saunters to a stop and carelessly tosses his burden down at his feet. You track the unknown man with your eyes, but he doesn’t stir even when one of his arms flops out to land half in the chilly water. Like a puppet that’s had its strings cut. 

You quickly snap your attention back up at the Overseer, fearlessly looking into that leering face of his. “Who is that? And what did you do to him?” 

“What, not even a friendly hello first? How very cruel you are, Rover, but that’s alright. We have plenty of time to properly greet one another in due time. And as for your question … if you’ll recall our last conversation he’s exactly what I warned you about when we first met. I told you there were multiple factions fighting over you and vying for your attention didn’t I, my dear?” Tipping his head to one side, Scar peers down at you consideringly. He may have been smiling but the glint in his mismatched eyes seemed to suggest that he wasn’t particularly amused right now. How curious. 

“You should listen to me next time.” He goes on.  “I’m not in the habit of speaking so idly that my warnings can go unheeded. I only speak the truth. At least when it comes to you, anyway. I meant everything I said before.” 

“That doesn’t tell me anything, Scar. Who is this person?” 

He gives his head a slow shake, laughing low under his breath. “Yet another inconsequential insect, that’s all. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about. They’re always buzzing around you like flies, aren’t they? Well, you won’t have to concern yourself with this one again. I already took care of him for you.” 

Realizing that this wasn’t getting you anywhere, you take a deep, calming breath in through your nose and let it out from your mouth. You’d just have to attack this from a different angle. “Is he dead? Can you at least answer that?” 

“Not yet he isn’t ~” 

Alright, well. You didn’t very much like that sing-song tone coming from him. “That’s good to hear, but why did you attack him?” 

Cooing softly, mockingly, Scar draws his brows up in an affected, put upon look of feigned pity. “Isn’t it obvious? I was willing to play nice up until this one here decided to enjoy the little show you were putting on a bit too much, that’s all. Oh, but don’t fret over the likes of him. You needn’t concern yourself with such trivialities. He’s just a peeping Tom. A pervert. He only got what he deserved.” 

You pin him with a doubtful look at that, frowning. “What does that make you then? Something tells me you didn’t mind the show much either.” 

“Me?” A surprised guffaw bursts out of him, his body language abruptly shifting towards restlessness as he brings a hand up and places it emphatically over his heart. “You wound me, Rover. Really, you do. I’d never sink to such lows. I’m not without my pride, and you’d do well not to forget that. If you’re going to come to me it’ll be willingly and without any tricks. No deceit. That’s what I promised you the first time, isn’t it? A fair and honest exchange?”  

Pausing, Scar takes a moment to drag his heated gaze over the curve of your bare shoulders and neck, and the spot where your arms are loosely crossed in front of your breasts. It’s more to protect them from the chill than from his attention when it was clearly already much too late for that but it seems to delight him all the same. His grin widens, stretching across his face in eager slow motion to settle into a look of giddy anticipation, unnerving you deeply, before he goes on. 

“I don’t need to stoop to that kind of spineless behavior. I wasn’t the one fisting my damned cock from the shadows while you touched yourself out in the open for all to see. If it was my attention you wanted you’ve got it. But I’m not about to sit by while someone else gets off thinking about putting their hands on you. Either you’ll have me or you’ll have no one. I hope that’s clear enough for you, little lamb.” 

You’re more than just a bit blindsided by that declaration and you simply stare up at him in bewildered silence for a long stretch, mouth slightly agape. Of course this doesn’t come as a complete surprise though. You’d gotten the sense that Scar was a truly exhausting individual from your first short encounter with him but it was clear now that you hadn’t understood the full scope of it. He’d already decided that you were his (or would it have been more accurate to say that he was yours?) without stopping long enough to consider your choice in the matter. And it was starting to look like he just might be the most jealous prone man you'll ever meet in this lifetime or the next, considering the unconscious person he’s thrown at your proverbial doorstep with all the pomp and ceremony of a wild cat gifting its favorite human with a fresh kill. The entire thing was completely absurd. 

It was also perilous and indescribably risky, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t turn it back around in your favor though. You had to at least try.  

“I won’t say I’m flattered but I can understand where you’re coming from. It’s hard watching someone else covet what you also want, isn’t it?” You say, trying for reasonable diplomacy. “But does that mean no one else is watching us right now? Were you and him the only ones following me?” 

He issues a sharp bark of laughter in response. “Hah! You really are something else, aren’t you? I practically rip my heart out and give it to you on a silver platter but you’re still more concerned about everyone else than you are with me. Ahh, and yet they call me the cruel and twisted one, don’t they?” 

At Scar’s dramatic, over exaggerated sigh, you shoot him a wry look. It’s an effort not to grudgingly smile at his antics but you manage to refrain, somehow. The very last thing you needed was to encourage him any further. “Just answer the question, Scar. I might be inclined to be a bit more welcoming if you do.” 

Chuckling, he drops the act entirely now and lifts his arms up to indicate the side of the mountain as a whole, like a ringmaster directing his stage. “That’s right, Rover. It’s just you and me now. There was someone else but I’m afraid they ran off to hide elsewhere once I made my move. They don’t like the Fractsidus very much, you see, and they’d rather not have to deal with me if they can help it.” 

Turning his attention downward, he reaches out to nudge at the unconscious man’s ribs with the toe of his boot. Still, the unknown individual doesn’t so much as groan in response even when Scar pulls back and gives him a solid kick that makes you wince, and it worries you more than just a little bit. You were going to have to do something to distract Scar and lead him away before he followed through on his unspoken promise of finishing the job he’d started. It was the right thing to do even if that man had been stalking you right along with everyone else. 

“If you want my opinion that was probably a smart move on their part. And with them out of the picture that just left this pathetic little rat to deal with.” His laughter rising in pitch, Scar delivers another mean kick to the man, half rolling him over onto his side from the force. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? How many people have been keeping tabs on you?” 

A distant note of surprise curls through you. So he knew then. There was no reason to hide it or beat around the bush in that case. “Do you know who the others are? Can you tell me which faction they belong to, or at least this one?” You ask, indicating the man with a nudge of your chin. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t get ahead of yourself, now. I’m more than happy to continue our game, especially when you’re like this …” Sedately turning towards you again, dull gray and red eyes pointedly drop to indicate the swell of your breasts. He must like what he sees because his smirk takes on a sharper, more predatory edge. 

And you almost catch yourself scoffing, very tempted to remind him that he’d just implied he wasn’t a pervert only a moment ago, but then his gaze travels back up to your face. The way he looks at you, pupils blown wide and soft with an emotion you can’t quite place, as if you’d personally hung the moon and the stars in the night sky, kills the thought before you even get the chance to give it voice.

“But an equal exchange is not so one-sided.” He continues, his tone warm with something not unlike reverence now. “You’re smart, Rover. I’m sure you understand that any healthy relationship involves some amount of give and take, don’t you? That’s what I want from you more than anything else. Just a fair chance.”

You hesitate at the sly purr that creeps into his voice at the tail end and the strange feeling it ignites low in your gut. He certainly knew how to appeal to your emotions — or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it the natural inclinations of your flesh and blood body. There was no denying a strange sort of chemistry brewing just beneath the surface no matter how much you wanted to reject it but you had to keep your head on straight. Scar was much too dangerous for you to throw caution aside, particularly when you were naked and unarmed. You didn’t stand a chance in hell against him like this. 

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m not sure if I have anything I can give you. What do you want in return that you would consider a fair trade?” 

“You.” He insists, putting so much emphasis on just that one single word you almost believe him. “We want you. Always you, my dear. Nothing more and nothing less. You’re the goal, the prize. The much sought after trophy everyone wants for themselves. They need you for their own objectives, their own ends, but I merely want to stand at your side, together. I can give you anything you could ever want or dream of having if you’d just pick me.” 

Frowning, you give your head a slow, solemn shake. “But how can I possibly trust you? There’s so much I just don’t know yet and … what Yangyang said didn’t exactly paint a flattering picture. You have to understand how things look from my perspective.” 

As if someone had flipped a light switch, he sobers at the drop of a coin. Where only just a short moment ago he’d been looking at you with fervent, almost fanatical intention he now draws in on himself and effectively shutters his expression from your watchful gaze. It would have been incredibly disconcerting had you not already seen the contrast of his hot and cold temperament first hand, how wildly he swung from one extreme to the next and without any discernible rhyme or reason dictating it along the way. 

You half expect him to launch himself at you in retaliation, to force you into submission and take you by force, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that there was a whole lot you could’ve done about it when you were so woefully defenseless. But then, to your mounting surprise, he merely draws a slow inhale that makes his chest visibly expand before speaking, perfectly calm and reasonable again. 

“I suppose that’s fair. Disappointing, yes, but it doesn’t come as a great surprise. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get to you in time before they did and you’ve had all those annoying little birds chittering away in your ear ever since you woke up. It’s no wonder you hesitate to trust me. I don’t blame you for that, little lamb, but at least give me a chance to show you just how sincere I really am before you start making any final decisions. That’s all I ask.”

Your stomach plummets into the ground as you look up at him in real surprise, blinking owlishly. Give him a chance? When that extended olive branch might cost you not only your life but your very soul? Surely he was joking. “I'm not sure I understand … didn’t I give you plenty of time to plead your case back in Qichi village?”

“This is different. It’s just the two of us here now, which means no more pesky interruptions from your nosy little friends or mine. We can talk for hours if we want, or even until the sun rises.” 

Thoughts momentarily drifting to that mysterious Fractsidus woman who’d shown up to retrieve him, you wonder if Scar is really as alone as he was making himself out to be. You’re not so sure you trust it. But when you don't respond he just silently holds out his hand to you in offering, a simple enough gesture that stops your quizzical pondering in its tracks. 

You don’t jump to take his outstretched fingers though, and for good reason. Instead you warily eye the sharp red claws that form on the fingertips of his gloved suit, the considerable size of his palm and the undeniable power he clearly wields, lurking just below the surface. You knew too well that readily falling right into the clutches of the enemy like this might be the very last mistake you ever make, but … this would work as a sufficient distraction to get him away from that unconscious man, wouldn’t it? And you were tempted, oh so very tempted for much less charitable reasons too. There was a sick sort of curiosity simmering like a pot left to stew on low heat in the back of your mind. 

But could you really justify this? Could you rationalize it and make peace with it later on when you were lying in bed at night, awake with only your own thoughts for company? 

Seeing your obvious uncertainty, Scar’s expression pinches slightly at the corners. “Let’s just forget about everything else for a moment. All the different factions and sides, the players and the pawns. Your role in all of this and mine as well. I’m offering myself to you with transparency and honesty, Rover. Give me a chance. I’ll say please, if that’s what you want.” 

“And how am I supposed to know that this isn’t a trap? Surely you must realize I’m at a sore disadvantage right now.” You grumble, indicating your naked breasts with a pointed shrug of your shoulders and Scar outright laughs, the low rumble in his voice belying the excited surge of fast pumping adrenaline he must feel. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? You won’t know until you find out for yourself. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” He gives his fingers a coaxing wriggle, inviting you to accept his offer. “Come on. You look cold sitting there all alone. I can help you warm up and I’ll even promise to be on my best behavior if you just try to meet me in the middle. I don’t think you’ll regret it ~” 

“Your best behavior, huh?” You drolly echo him, hardly believing that such a thing even existed. He seemed the type who was nothing but trouble through and through. You’d be far more surprised if it turned out that he actually did have the capacity to be agreeable than the reverse but, well. You were starting to prune. It was definitely time to get out of the water and you’d much rather do so peacefully than have to fight him tooth and nail while you were cold and stripped bare. 

Somehow you didn’t envision that turning out very well. 

Sighing, you finally relent and shift forward so you can push up onto your knees. It’s hard to fight the feeling that you were making some horrible, monumentally egregious mistake as you reach up to take his offered hand which securely closes around yours like an iron shackle. He could seriously hurt you or even kill you easily enough now that he had you in his hold like this. You knew that perfectly well and you brace yourself for the pin to drop but then, to your growing astonishment, Scar merely tugs you to your feet with a truly unexpected amount of gentleness. 

Honestly you hadn’t thought him capable of such care, but he shows you none of that now familiar manic glee or the thirst for destruction you’d glimpsed once before as he pulls you towards him. His eyes remain locked on your face, unreadable beyond the soft note of satisfaction that creeps into them when he takes half a step back so he can guide you up onto the bank with him. The ground is hard and chilly under your feet yet you hardly notice it at all, so highly tuned in to the man standing before you that you don’t even give it more than a passing thought. 

The sun has almost completely set, you abruptly realize as the two of you come to a halt, the last few lingering remnants of day quickly fading under the encroaching gloom of twilight. Shadows play at his face, further highlighting the intensity behind his eyes when he looks at you, plain and unguarded. There’s something else shining in them too. A silent, wordless plea or perhaps an oath. 

It was almost as foolish as your plan to lure your stalkers out of hiding using your own body as bait, and yet you felt strangely inclined to trust him at his word. Scar would behave himself as long as you gave him the chance he seemed to want so bad, of that you were sure. He’d even said as much to you before, back in that village, hadn’t he? That he wasn’t going to make you hate him just yet. And you didn’t. Not really. You were understandably cautious of him and his motives, and the power you suspected he’d only shown you a very small fraction of, but he hadn’t given you a real reason to consider him your enemy. Perhaps he would in due time, when this tentative and shaky truce between you and him reached its breaking point, but for now at least it couldn’t hurt to hear him out again. 

Could it? 

“There.” He says, pinning you with a pleased little smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Thank you.” 

“There’s no need for formalities between us, Rover. Don’t thank me. Just accept me and what I can give you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him in warning, you make a halfhearted attempt to tug your hand from his and it really doesn’t come as much of a shock when he refuses to let you go. But in the spirit of playing nice you quickly give up without a fuss, simply resigning yourself to the fact that he was going to continue to hold on until he was good and ready to release you. If such a time ever even came. “You know I can’t blindly do that. You haven’t given me a good reason to trust you yet.” 

“Ooh, are you getting impatient with me, darling? I told you I’d show you my sincerity, didn’t I?” Taking another backwards step, he slowly pulls you further away from the river and you complacently allow it because … you’re actually not sure why you do it.

For all intents and purposes you should have been wrenching away from him and the suggestion of heat you can feel even through his glove. You should have been lurching for your sword, or at least your clothes, but you don’t do any of that. Instead, you shuffle after him and tip your head back to look up at his face, searching for any signs that might indicate his next move. Scar was far too unpredictable to even guess at his thoughts, his inner workings and motives a complete and total mystery to you even now, but his actions were a slightly different story. 

Although still sporadic and off kilter, you can see the intent in his body language before he does it and you instinctively brace when his opposite hand reaches out for you. All he does is touch you with it though, the gesture somehow halting and possessive at the same time when he carefully palms over your bare hip. Like he was testing the waters, you realize, but he was a bit too eager to truly be cautious about it. 

Looking really quite pleased when you neither slap at him or squawk in indignation, he lets his hand settle into place with a vague squeeze to the plushy curve. That implausible heat coming off of him immediately settles into the skin and starts to warm you from the inside out, just like he’d promised he would, and you suck in a shuddering breath of relief. It felt good after the chill of the river. 

“You’re so soft, Rover. I like that.” 

Perfectly casual about it, you drop your attention down the front of him to regard the black zipper on his suit. “And you look rather hard where I’m standing.” You murmur, earning another low chuckle from him. 

“Mmm, is that so? And do you like it?” 

Steeling your courage and resolve, you bring your gaze back up to his. “Scar, this is … I’m willing to talk to you but I think this might be a step too far. I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head, puppy-like both in the gesture itself and in the way he seems to be hanging off your every word with that sappy expression plastered across his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think you were the instigator here and he the hapless victim being coerced. It was so ass backwards it bordered on laughable. 

“Aw, come on. What do you mean? I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. Should I prostrate myself at your feet and swear a solemn oath to make you believe me?” 

“It’s not exactly that, just … we’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? Or something like that, at least.” 

A quick laugh huffs out of him to accompany the slow shake of his head. “That’s certainly what they want you to think, isn’t it?” 

You lift your brows in question but he decides to forgo a proper answer and silently drags his palm up along your side to cradle around your waist instead. Static electricity rushes along the path his hand took and you almost find yourself swaying unsteadily on your feet at the sheer magnitude of that electrical current. You were starting to understand now. What made this truly dangerous wasn’t just the opposing sides and their ideals, the life or death battle you might someday have to face off against him in or even anything as grand as the fate of this world. It was so harrowing because the chemistry was very much there and it was real. He knew it too. Had likely known it long before he’d actually appeared before you in that abandoned village. The only real question was; would it be enough to truly sway you? 

You’re not quite ready to give up the ghost just yet, you decide, and yet you don’t fight it when he finally releases your hand so he can slide his other palm around your middle as well. He simply holds you in place like that for a drawn out moment, peering down at you with an expression just short of dopey, like he was committing every inch of you to memory. The complexion of your skin, the size and shape of your breasts and the tightly coiled peaks standing up on them. Any blemishes, beauty marks or scars are laid bare before him and yet nothing seems to give him pause or dissuade his interest. And you’re suddenly acutely aware that that’s exactly what it is too. Real, genuine, vibrating interest in you. It was — very close to being overwhelming, having someone look at you like that. 

But then he leans in, bending at the waist so he can close the gap between your height and his, and you’re so sure he’s about to kiss you that you turn your face away to deter him. But all he does is chuckle at the reaction, smoothly tucking his nose in behind your ear where he proceeds to take a deep, savory inhale to taste the scent of you without missing a beat. A sensitive shudder works up your spine and you almost whimper at the sudden, potent flood of molten heat that sweeps through you in a rush. This was really bad. 

“Just relax, Rover.” He drawls, warm breath tickling along the side of your neck. “I won’t force myself on you like some kind of animal or try to make you take responsibility for what you do to me. Ahh, and you do drive me crazy, make no mistake about that. But that’s not your burden to bear, is it? I know it’s not your fault.” 

“Of course it’s not. I never intentionally tried to lead you on so there’s nothing to take responsibility for.” You just barely manage to whisper, struggling to stay grounded in reality when every fiber of your being wanted to give itself over to the temptation he offered. It was crazy and stupid, and so incredibly ill-advised, but with each passing second you were finding it harder and harder to keep up the pretense. More than anything you wanted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit he was holding out to you in humble supplication, a placating offering as much as it was a consecrated sacrifice. 

No, you didn’t just want it. You needed to devour it, every last morsel and crumb until there was nothing left except the smoldering, charred ash of that which had once been. It felt like you were going mad and having him in such terribly close proximity like this was not helping your resolve in the slightest. 

“Hah. Well said, my dear. You certainly are sharp.” Straightening up so he can look you in the face, Scar lets his mouth stretch into a victorious, slashing grin when he sees the way you shudder at the loss of his body heat, mistaking it for something it’s not. “Ooh, but don’t be nervous. I’m a man of my word, you know. You’re safe with me. Much safer than you are with those useless Jinzhou dogs. You can trust me, Rover. I only want to show you exactly where my loyalties lie, that’s all. You’ll let me do that much, won’t you?” 

You send him a slow look of confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re even talking about. What do you mean by that?” You really don’t understand half of the things that come out of his mouth. He was loyal to Fractsidus, wasn’t he? 

But Scar once again chooses not to provide you with a proper explanation, which you probably should have been accustomed to by now. You were beginning to suspect that this was all too commonplace for him and you almost struggle against it when he uses his hold on your waist to gently nudge you into turning around. The way he tauntingly coos at you under his breath is shamefully persuasive though and you soon give in, spinning in place like an obedient if not begrudging little thing until you’ve fully turned your back on him. 

It was an exceedingly foolish decision to make. He could have easily grabbed you around the throat and squeezed until your airway was crushed, or even snap your neck with very little effort to show for it. You should have known better. You did know better. 

Yet neither of those things happen. 

Instead of ending you right then and there, you feel Scar shift behind you and bend close. The ends of his hair brush against the nape of your neck just so, seconds before he places a brief, lingering kiss to the jut of your shoulder. You startle at the contact but he doesn’t seem to pay it any mind other than a short lived, savory laugh at your expense. 

Following the gently sloping line of your shoulder, he gradually makes his way up to the base of your neck one lingering peck at a time, then higher still to ghost over your quickened pulse. Through it all his hands remain stationary around your waist, neither demanding reciprocatory attention from you nor roaming about to explore your body any further than what he could touch with his mouth. He just holds you in place, cradling you there against him. It’s not exactly what you would have expected from someone like him, someone who seemed perfectly content to just take whatever he wanted without remorse; and you have to suck in a slow, faltering breath to steady yourself when he works his way back, starting to kiss a hot path down the curve of your spine now.

Mouthing at the center line of your body, Scar hunches even closer so he can continue down between your shoulderblades, charting a steady and unhurried path towards your waist. You aren’t entirely sure what to make of it but quickly decide that you don’t hate what he’s doing enough to put a stop to it. His hands did feel good on your skin, and so did his coarse lips. Perhaps you were too easily swayed but that was a problem for you to sort out and unpack another day. You certainly didn’t have the time or the brain power for it right now. 

Especially not when, without so much as a word of warning or an explanation to go with it, you feel him drop to his knees behind you. It’s unmistakable, from the distinct sound of his long coat hitting the ground to the way his denser frame goes from looming right behind you one moment to being about level with your hips the next. The suddenness of it makes your heart lodge itself in your throat, and you let out a small squeak of surprise as you half twist around to look back at him. 

“H - hey, what do you think you’re doing?” 

As expected, you find him peering up at you from where he’s knelt in the dirt with those big, soft eyes he only ever seems to make at you. It was as absurd as it was disconcerting, and you absolutely hate the way it causes your resolve to weaken even more. He looked good down there, you’re more than just a bit horrified to realize. Almost too good for you to keep pretending like you didn’t want to continue on in this manner with him. 

“Hush, Rover. You want proof, don’t you? You want a reason to trust me? Then let me give you one.” 

“I don’t really see how - -“

You cut yourself off with a sharp, harried gasp when his hands abruptly start to move. First they slide forward to tauntingly rake down your front, leaving the faintest sting of scratch marks across your stomach before dragging back around to possessively paw over the curve of your hips. He pauses there to give you a tight squeeze, nails sinking into flesh but not quite breaking the skin yet. The threat of it is there though. That silent promise that he could easily tear into you if he really wanted to sobers you slightly, but he doesn’t do it. Instead he just eases up his hold on you enough to palm over your thighs, down and then straight up the backs of them until his splayed fingers finally press into the underside of your ass. 

Heat immediately rushes into your face when understanding dawns but he doesn’t grant you enough time to protest before he’s cupping both cheeks to knead and lift the weight of them. You shuffle your feet, embarrassed, but even trying to angle yourself away from him does very little to deter Scar from his goal. He just pinches your backside in a tighter hold, letting out an appreciative, rumbling sigh as he slowly spreads your ass open to expose you to his voracious and hungry gaze. 

You suddenly feel extremely lightheaded. And not only because of the first waft of cool air against your most private of areas but also the innate knowledge that he was looking at you completely uninterrupted like this. The pudgy seam of your cunt, the tight pucker of your asshole. All was laid bare when Scar was holding you spread open like that and the fact his face was only mere inches away didn’t help the self conscious siren that goes off in the back of your mind either. Your one and only consolation in such a deeply humiliating situation is that you were fresh out of a bath and as clean as one could possibly get when they were washing up in a river, which you certainly hoped was clean enough given the circumstances. 

“You … I thought you said you weren’t a pervert earlier?” 

He offers up a soft laugh at that, his warm breath once again fanning across your skin, except this time it suggestively tickles over  … 

“Oh, but I didn’t say that now did I, darling? I merely told you that I wouldn’t tolerate any other perverts getting off because of you. I never claimed to be a virtuous saint myself.” 

The suggestion of that alone is downright comedic but you can’t quite find the wherewithal to laugh about it right now. Not when you were focusing the vast majority of your energy on simply staying upright and balanced while also doing your best to keep your legs pressed together at the same time, hoping to preserve at least some of your remaining dignity. 

But it was an awkward and uncertain stance to take, and it leaves you swaying almost dizzily on your feet even as you reach back to blindly swat at his head. You’re well aware that you really ought to have been shoving him away, kicking and swinging at him in a flurry of righteous indignation. Unfortunately your heart just really wasn’t in it though. Your lack of conviction didn’t make it any less embarrassing, being spread and ogled like that, but there wasn't much you could do about it when your body starts to respond in kind. You were getting excited. Damn him. 

In the end all you succeed in doing is fruitlessly smacking at the side of his head, yet he still lets out a rumbling sound of encouragement in response. Like he wouldn’t have minded it much if you’d put more intent behind it, and you just quietly seethe through your teeth in response. 

Fumbling to get your hand up again, you mercilessly shove it into his hair and close a tight first at the root so you can yank his head back, putting at least some space between you and him. Twisting around at the same time, you pin Scar with an incredulous, flustered look. “Are you serious? This is the big ace up your sleeve? There’s no way you actually think that’s going to work!”  

Noising a brief, decidedly unbothered sound of agreement, Scar makes a show of licking his lips before tipping his neck back to nudge into your fist. That tawdry motion just further exposes the jagged Tacet Mark carved across his throat and draws your attention to it even when you try to ignore its exigent pull. The picture he paints kneeling there on the ground is lurid and provocative, off putting and yet tantalizing in the worst possible way. Inviting, almost. 

And it works. God help you but it achieves exactly what it was likely meant to, and a warm pulse starts up between your legs with a slow, anticipatory clench. He was sick, no doubt about that, but so were you for humoring him like this in as much as you have. 

“You’re right. I don’t actually think this is going to sway you over to our side or even make for a very convincing argument when all is said and done. I might be crazy but I’m not stupid.”

At your bewildered look, he chuckles a low sound under his breath. 

“I already said it once before, didn’t I? You’re smart, Rover, and I’m well aware just how smart you really are. If something as simple as this was actually enough to convince you then I wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to talk to you up to this point, now would I?” He goes on, imploringly tipping his head to the side and half dragging your hand along with it where you were still gripping onto his hair. “Just believe me for once, won’t you? I really meant it when I said to put everything else aside for the moment. This is just about you and me right now. Forget about sides and factions, and all their troublesome rules. None of that matters here as far as I’m concerned. I only wish to show you that I’ve been nothing if not sincere this whole time and perhaps even earn myself a sliver of your trust while I’m at it.”

You swallow hard when his fingers idly dig into you with a palpitating squeeze, sharp nails threatening to cut and render flesh. He doesn’t do it though. Whether that’s because he knew doing so wouldn’t earn him any favors in your book or because he simply wouldn’t do it to you, it’s impossible to say. But the fact he refrains, regardless of the reason why, goes a long way in assuring you that this wasn’t going to end in a bloody showdown. And if it would get him to stop holding your cheeks open any quicker then you were willing to go along with it. 

“Fine. I’m listening.” 

A gravelly, almost animalistic sound rises from him at your acquiescence and you watch in something not unlike fascination as his expression shifts, discarding that big eyed puppy dog look in favor of something much more rapacious. Eyes sharpening with an edge of that familiar manic glee, Scar roves his attention back down to regard the shameful spread of your body. His hands adjust, loosening and then tightening in a better grip around the meat of your ass so he can give it an appreciative, taunting jostle. You whimper softly in the back of your throat and tip forward on your toes, trying to stamp down the urge to start squirming. It was very hard not to do when he was staring at you like that, with only a short few inches separating his nose from your vulnerable groin. 

But you don’t pull away or move to stop it as he leans in to deliver a soft, fleeting peck to the meat of one cheek before turning his head so he can do the same to the other. There’s a note of unmistakable reverence in the way he kisses your body, like you were communion and holy relic all wrapped into one. It might have been flattering, it may have even gone to your head and inflated your ego under better circumstances. But better circumstances would not have found you stark naked out in the wilderness with a man who was supposed to be your enemy prostrating himself at your feet like an altar. You’re deeply frazzled by the whole thing, not having expected this particular outcome when you’d decided to take his extended hand. 

That flustered, jittery nerves feeling only grows stronger when he pecks his way up to the starting seam of your backside, kissing at the top and then slowly working his way down that naturally formed line. You realize what he’s aiming for perhaps a little too late and you suck in a sharp breath of surprise as his lips press into the tight pucker of your hole. Startled goosebumps erupt all over your skin to accompany the soft mewl you involuntarily let out, rocking unsteadily on your feet, but he seems not to pay it any mind. 

Just lingering there with his mouth pressed right up against your asshole, Scar issues a quiet groan that seems to reverberate and echo through you a million times over. Your own excitement quickly starts to climb, the sensation of eager slick forming at the proper entrance of your cunt prompting you to cautiously inch your legs apart in hopes of inviting him to direct his attention lower. 

But of course that doesn’t work. Scar was the farthest thing from cooperative even when he was putting on a show and insisting he was a good boy — would be a good boy for you if only you’d give him the chance. It was laughable in retrospect and you probably should have seen this coming considering who you were dealing with. Yet you just hiss like a spitting, incensed cat, neither trying to swat him away or extricate yourself from his hold when he purses his lips, kissing at your hole before opening his mouth wide and then sealing it over your entrance. 

The first meaty wet swipe of his tongue flicking out over the wrinkled pucker in a broad swipe makes you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Trembling from your head straight down to your toes, your hand comes up to press over your mouth and silence the truly embarrassing sounds that were trying to crawl their way out of your constricting throat. To be looked at there was already bad enough, but being licked was somehow even worse. And the fact he does it without shame or even any remorse only seems to highlight your own pinpoint self-conscious reaction. 

You shift to the side, hoping to dissuade him, and he just follows you. Presses his face more firmly into the space between your cheeks and delivers a wet, smacking slurp to your ass before pulling back a fraction of an inch. Letting out a heady sound that falters at the tail end and peters out into a hungry moan of pleasure, Scar quickly shoves his mouth up against you again and he’s right back at it. His surprisingly supple lips eagerly locate that tight pucker so he can kiss it deeply, encouraging your body to respond. 

And it does, with truly startling results. Not only was your cunt starting to weep in sympathetic pleasure, becoming soft and sticky for him, but your hole also begins to puff up under the periodic suction he applies to it. The feeling is a strange one, not exactly pleasurable in the strictest sense, but there’s no denying the effect it has on you when the physical proof was so obvious and stark. 

Choking on a half strangled noise, you twist your upper body around and reach back to snag another fistful of his hair. You were torn between either shoving him away or pulling him further in against you, but you finally settle on gritting out a soft, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing that …” 

He pulls back at the sound of your voice, not the halfhearted tug you give to his hair, and he laughs a thick, deeply masculine sound into the scant space. “And yet you’re happily letting me do it, Rover! Funny how that works, isn’t it?” 

A fresh flood of heat spills into your face but you couldn’t exactly deny it or say it wasn’t the truth. You were allowing this to happen. It didn’t really matter if it was vaguely mortifying, having someone lick you in such a personal and private spot, because you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Even you were a bit surprised at your own lack of protest but fine, if that was how he wanted to play this game then so be it. 

Decisively, you shove your discomfort and uncertainty aside. Quickly readjust your hold on Scar’s haphazard shock of hair, get a better grip on it and then pull him back up against you again. That he allows it, simply rocking forward on his knees to let you guide him straight back into the cradle of your backside surprises you slightly, but in reality it probably shouldn’t have. He was quite clearly a shameless, unapologetic heathen of the worst kind, and if this went on for much longer there seemed a high probability that he was going to start rubbing off on you too. He already was, in a way. 

Because you find yourself arching your back and jutting your ass up a bit higher, pushing into him. It’s supposed to be petty and maybe just a little bit mean but he only laughs out another half smothered sound before tipping his head so he can seal his lips over your asshole more securely than before. His tongue mercilessly lashes out to lap across the dip in the center and coat you in an obscene amount of drool that slowly drips down and off his chin. But if he’s at all concerned about how messily he’s eating you out he certainly doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it as far as you can tell, and you soon find that you’re choking on a sharp inhale when he directs his tongue to the middle of your slackening pucker. 

Poking, prodding and teasing at it, he takes a moment to just taunt you with the suggestion before at last pressing the fleshy wet tip into you. Your body rejects it at first, clenching tight to keep him out, but the loosened state of the muscle quickly gives way when he worms his tongue right into the vulnerable center to just dip inside the rim. The sensation rips an undignified squeal out of you, every single hair follicle suddenly standing on end as you rock forward with such a powerful jolt that you almost tip yourself off balance. 

Scar is quick, however, and he unlatches his clawed fingers from the death grip he’s had on your cheeks in favor of reaching up to anchor around your waist instead. You’re not entirely sure if his intention had been to steady you or to stop you from escaping, but you still breathe out a terse sigh of relief anyway. 

His hold on you quickly proves more of a curse than a blessing though, and that relief promptly morphs into mute horror when he uses your love handles to yank you back against him. You almost stumble and fall, blindly reaching down to latch onto his blocky wrists, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He just keeps tugging on your hips until he’s got you effectively straddling his face, all but sitting on him now. That just leaves you desperately trying to find some semblance of balance in such an awkward, bow legged position and you almost don’t succeed. 

“Hold on! Y - you don’t need to do that, I’m not going anywhere!” 

His response is completely muffled to the point of being unintelligible, effectively lost under the weight of your ass (forcibly) settling on top of his mouth. Your face feels hot enough to catch fire as you unsteadily glance down at where his hands are squeezing deep gouges into the meat around your middle and your wide splayed legs. Your toes just barely manage to touch the ground and find some semblance of stability like this, bare feet bracketing his pelvis and effectively drawing your attention to the demanding tent behind his front zipper. The sight of it makes your eyes go big and round, and very nearly stops you in your tracks. If you’d thought he looked hard before, he was downright galvanized now. You almost couldn’t believe it. 

Scar was really enjoying this that much? 

He shifts underneath you then, ripping you from your gobsmacked thoughts when he rolls his tongue up against your hole and begins to prod at its center again. Seething, you give a weak little jerk in an attempt to dislodge yourself from his grasp but it’s no use. He’s horribly sturdy under you, even with the majority of your weight balancing on his nose, and you quickly realize that you have no chance of getting yourself free at this point. Damn him. 

“Seriously,” You groan, impatiently sucking on your teeth. “If you’re so determined to do this then … at least lick more towards the front while you’re down there.” 

His responding chuckle jostles you slightly but you don’t find anything about this particularly funny. Not when you were effectively trapped in a balancing act and just the briefest loss of focus seemed like it would send you sprawling out on the ground, and probably take him right along with you. Scar may have been unexpectedly strong given his lithe, largely compact frame but he was hardly in any position to catch you when he himself was bent back at an angle meant to accommodate your height. He wasn’t that much bigger than you, in truth. It was in part what had made fighting him before not seem like such an insurmountable feat when you’d already fought monsters that were at least double his size many times before. 

But he doesn’t seem like he’s only a little bit taller than you and only a little bit wider when he somewhat roughly manhandles you further back until you can feel his coarse lips brushing just over the seam of your cunt. You outright gasp at the sensation of sticky slick smearing against his chin and his mouth, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him any more than the spit had. And now that he’s found a pocket of empty space between your thighs, he laughs. Low and seedy, thickened with something dark that you dare not name, the sound of it sending a reverb of excited tremors racing through your system. 

“Ooooh, little lamb,” He chortles, seemingly torn between moaning in pleasure or cackling in delight. “All you had to do was ask! I told you, didn’t I? I’m doing this for you. Everything has always been for you! If you want this sweet little pussy of yours ate then that is exactly what you’ll get!” 

The intensity in his voice, the strength of conviction in that declaration, makes something uneasy curl inside of you. You’d almost forgotten he was crazy. A maniac and a twisted sadist, according to Yangyang, and of which you had no doubt. Your guard had been lowered far too much, you quickly decide — but when you try to dismount from him, in earnest this time, Scar merely tightens his hold around your waist. It’s easy enough for him to keep you in place when you couldn’t quite find enough traction to kick off from the ground, and all you can do is let out a low, keening mewl as he tugs you down to close that hair's breadth gap between his mouth and your cunt. 

All at once his lips are suddenly on you, kissing and nipping at sensitive skin while his tongue intermittently lashes out to taste you. He’s more like a starved beast than a man in that moment as he laps up slick and eager juices with a hungry voracity, pressing so deeply into you that you’re not quite certain how he isn't suffocating himself like this. You’re hardly in any position to worry about that right now though, your heart hammering out a wild rhythm against your ribcage as you precariously teeter there and viciously dig your nails into his forearms in a desperate bid to keep yourself upright. You aren’t sure what kind of material his suit is made out of but all it does is softly creak under the force of your grip and you never break the skin below no matter how hard you try.

But Scar doesn’t even seem to feel it at all, much too preoccupied with working his mouth further up your cunt so he can locate the delicate pleasure button nestled within. And his tongue is like a maddened serpent, aggressively spearing through soft, satiny creases and folds until he at last knocks against the spot that makes you involuntarily jolt. You freeze on top of him, startled at the intense sensation that zaps through you all at once, and he huffs out a victorious breath against your pussy. 

Tongue curling out and up, he presses it flat over the apex of your slit and almost leisurely undulates the wet muscle to massage at that hypersensitive spot. Your breath snags, making you sway in a dizzy, lightheaded swoon. It nearly catches you off guard how good it actually feels. All warm and sticky, soft and yet the pressure is applied firmly enough to make your thighs quake around his head. The building pressure in your loins abruptly doubles and then triples, eagerly gushing yet more arousal to coat his face. It wasn’t just pleasurable, it was downright exquisite. 

“Ohh! That’s … oooh, Scar! Right there!”

He hums a faint sound of acknowledgment, the resulting pulse running through your cunt to make the nerve endings tingle. You don’t have to see his expression to know he’s quite pleased to hear you moaning his name like that. In fact you’re certain he’s very smug about it, the bastard. He probably thinks he’s won, that his gambit had actually worked and you would be persuaded by his poor excuse for charm. If you’d had the oxygen for it, you would have laughed. 

Unfortunately he’s a little too good at eating you out and the ministrations of his tongue effectively rob you of the ability to breathe. It’s hard just to think.  All you can do is softly wheeze, struggling to keep your weight centered in the middle, but that too has its own drawbacks as well. 

Perched over his mouth like this there’s very little wriggle room for you to lift up and give yourself any reprieve from what he’s doing. Gravity just forces you down and the need for stability keeps you still, which leaves your pussy resting flush with his tongue. There was no escaping it even if you’d wanted to, and your hips give a tiny, restless nudge to grind against him when the internal pressure rapidly swells. 

Luckily he takes that as his cue to stop fooling around and he sets in to attack your clit in earnest now. His tongue curls back to zero in on it, swirling the fleshy nub with tight, narrow circles to knock it from all sides before flattening the wet muscle. The way he proceeds to grind into that receptive bundle of nerves sends intense, shuddering shockwaves throughout your body and you awkwardly arch to jut your tits up into the air. Scar’s hold on you doesn’t so much as falter no matter how hard you shake though, which is a relief as much as it is a horrifying thought in the back of your cotton stuffed mind. You were more certain than ever now that he’d taken it easy on you back when you’d fought in his Elysium dimension. 

It was obvious that he hadn’t really wanted to hurt you back there when he so clearly could have but then … why? Why did he want you so much that he was even willing to go this far? 

“Nnghhn, please Scar … I don’t know how much longer I can stay like this! Just — put me down!”  

He issues a faint growl in response, one that you think is meant to tell you to forget about it. But then, to your reeling surprise, his hands carefully push you forward a step so that you can slide off his face and settle more squarely on your feet. A trembling sigh of relief shudders out of you even as his palms drag back over your hips to squeeze the meat of your backside and spread you open again. Whimpering at the rush of cool air that comes in to waft over your cunt and emphasize just how much of a sticky mess he’s made of you, you gratefully sink down to kneel on the ground and settle between his spread knees. 

The muscles in your thighs are very grateful for the break and it doesn’t come as much of a shock when he simply follows after you, huffing a gruff sound as his hands descend upon your ass. His vibrating, almost jittery excitement is nearly palpable, almost perfectly mirroring yours, and you don’t protest when he roughly pushes you forward to elevate your lower half, angling your cunt right up at him. 

“Fuck, just look at that pretty pussy. You’re perfect, Rover. I want to lay the whole world at your feet, entire kingdoms and dynasties reduced to ash, but even that wouldn’t be enough. You deserve to have it all. Everything you could ever want, anything at all, and only I can give it to you. I’m the one you should choose!” 

“What I really want right now is for you to shut up.” You murmur, rocking back into him with a pointed nudge. “Be quiet and finish what you started, Scar.” 

“Oooho, and it would be my pleasure.” He snickers, the undeniable amusement in his voice commingling with something much darker, more primal. It sounds like the husk of a death rattle, almost, but you don’t get the chance to linger on that thought. 

He’s bending close again to put his mouth on the fleshy seam of your body but this time you don’t have gravity working against you, forcing you to stay still and complacent. Moaning softly, you arch your back to better present your cunt to him and he takes a quick, appreciative swipe along your slit in response. Then he’s tonguing you open, working messy folds and creases apart so he can slip inside pudgy lips and find that thrumming nerve cluster again. You outright choke when he knocks it, pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing as stars erupt across your vision. 

Your fingers dig into the ground underneath you as you allow yourself to stiffly relax into the blinding onslaught of sensation that comes with him eating you out from the back. He’s just as enthusiastic and borderline aggressive about it as he’d been when you were all but sitting on his face. You were starting to realize now that this was just his default setting and he didn’t seem to know anything else or how to tone it down. It was something you’d likely have to work with him on, if you decided to humor this absurdity beyond just this one unexpected encounter. 

And given how talented he was with his mouth, you were feeling oddly inclined to keep this shaky truce going. 

“Ohh! God, you’re a messy eater …” 

Laughing a brief sound, Scar seals his lips over your pulsing clit and gives it a surprisingly gentle suck, almost as if in way of an apology. You didn’t believe that for one second though. He didn’t seem the type who was ever sorry about much of anything, but certainly not something like this. 

Seething through your teeth, you stiffly lower your front closer to the ground so you can nudge your cunt further into his mouth, encouraging him to keep going. And he does, but not without giving your clit one last savory, lip smacking slurp. You sensitively jerk at the sound, internally wincing, but he’s already unlatching himself so he can press his tongue into that meaty little nub and trace nonsensical patterns over it, dragging it back and forth, back and forth. Up and then down. 

Your thighs quickly start to shake when the bubbling pressure in your loins rapidly swells with his ministrations, edging so close to the precipice that you can all but taste it in the back of your tongue. Mewling as quietly as you can manage, you numbly reach up with one hand to cup your own breast in a blind fumble. The gesture was perfunctory at best when you were already inching dangerously close to release but your fingers still distractedly tweak over the nipple anyway. It’s stiff and aching, and the idle stimulation just rushes straight to your gushing cunt. You were so close. 

“Ooohhnnghh … keep going. Just like that.”

Shaking his head almost like a wet, mangy stray, Scar nuzzles further into you and settles somehow even deeper into your pussy. He opens his mouth wide, the drag of his rough lips against you making you shudder seconds before he presses his tongue flush to your slit and drags it straight up through your labia. Following the naturally formed crease, he dips right over your entrance and then higher still to take another sticky lap at your asshole. Your breath catches at the sensation, eyes staring wide and unseeing at the spot where your unoccupied hand is splayed out on the ground. He doesn’t pause long enough for you to tell him to knock it off though, and all you can do is let out a startled groan when he rudely shoves his tongue into your ass so he can fuck you with it. 

Your teeth clench tightly at the static shock that rushes through you, absolutely hating the way the muscles in your lower half weakly pulse in response to the intrusion. His hands, so big and warm, possessively groping at your backside prove equally distracting, especially when he pinches and spreads you open again, making it even easier for his tongue to spear past the loosened ring. You’d never felt anything like it before, had never imagined it would feel this good, and you finally let out a hiccuping sob of frustration when the first real warning tremor makes you seize. 

“Scar, please!” 

Groaning a wild, animalistic sound, the Fractisdus Overseer pulls back and slides his squirming tongue from your hole. He pauses just long enough to deliver one more smacking peck to the loosened and puffed up rim before kissing his way back down your cunt, nosing at you as he goes. 

It was hard to reject the idea that he was very much like a dog after all, albeit an aggressive and untamed one; but a dog nonetheless when he was so shameless about the whole thing. Clearly it didn’t matter which part of your body it was or how much of a mess he made in the process. Like some deep seeded, primal urge was spurring him on, he operated with one goal and one goal only in mind, and that seemed to be the simple need to get as close to you as he physically could. Almost like he was scenting you, or perhaps coating himself in your smell. Both seemed equally likely. 

But if that really was his goal then it was certainly working. There was so much accumulated slick and spit coating your pussy that when he presses into you again a soft, wet squelch rings through the air. Your toes instinctively curl as if in preparation, as if you were bracing yourself for something much bigger to nudge at your entrance and push in, but all that slots against you is Scar’s nose while his mouth settles back over your clit. He licks you with broad, steady strokes of the muscle for a moment but quickly switches gears to flicking it back and forth, battering at that fleshy little nub with a single mindedness that almost makes you go cross eyed. The pleasure is so immediate and so intense that you give a violent jerk, hand falling away from your breast to smack against the ground and gouge your nails into the cool earth. It’s suddenly ten times harder to draw a full breath than it was only a moment ago and, hips juddering, you rear back on his face with a wounded, faltering bleat of pleasure. 

And the chord snaps, just like that. It’s so sudden that it catches you unawares and you lurch, letting out a series of half stifled yet frantic gasps as the spasms of release hit you full force. But he keeps you pressed right up against him no matter how much you buck or twist, his hold on your hips downright painful now. Sharp fingertips dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, hard enough to draw little pinpricks of blood. The distant nick of inhuman claws slowly sinking into flesh serves as a constant reminder of just how dangerous this was for you, a tiny distant voice in the back of your head saying ‘I told you so’, and yet you can’t quite find it in you to care very much about that right now. 

Not when you were soaring on a high so exquisitely satisfying it makes the backs of your eyes sting with sensitive tears. Luridly moaning now, you quake through the rest of your orgasm and savor the blinding starbursts that shoot off inside you in quick, pulsating succession. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably against his face, practically drowning him with arousal, but Scar just keeps lapping at you throughout the height of your pleasure until you finally start to come down from it an extended beat later, piece by excruciating piece. 

It’s only when your breathy groans start to take on a dire, vaguely frazzled edge does he at last pull away with a thick growl of his own. You feel him lean back then, giving you some much needed space, and you gratefully blow out a spent exhale of relief even as he starts to busy himself with using both hands to knead at your upturned ass. If it kept him content for the time being then you were fine with it. You desperately needed a chance to ground and reorient before dealing with him any further. 

Which you would. Very soon, once you got your breathing back under control. 

Honestly you hadn’t expected him to be good at that at all, let alone that good. 

“Oh, Rover,” He sighs out, almost dreamy and punchdrunk, the sound of his rough hewn voice drawing you out of your reverie. “I do hope you enjoyed that half as much as I did but I’d be happy to give you an encore if you’re still not quite satisfied yet. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever it is you want ~”

“Tch. I bet you’d like that.” 

“I would.” Scar readily agrees, giving your ass a slow, anticipatory pinch, and you volley right back with a low scoff in return. 

Gathering yourself together, you carefully push up and twist to glance back at him with what you hope is an unamused look. Somehow you’re not the least bit surprised to find his lips and cheeks damp with a vague sheen you can just make out under the moonlight, bits of hair sticking to his forehead where he’d gotten a little too messy with it. He looked like a wet dream come to life, if you were being honest, but no way in hell were you about to tell him that.

“You sure are confident. Who’s to say I even liked the first round enough to go another with you? Maybe once was enough.” 

“Aww, don’t say that. I know it’s not true, for starters. I have the evidence to prove that all over my face, don’t I?” He lets his mouth curl into a lazy but no less smug smirk, very much looking like a mischievous feline who’s eaten one too many canary’s. “Besides, you were certainly moaning my name in the most deliciously sweet voice only a few minutes ago. You don’t have to be shy with me, little lamb. Enjoying it isn’t a bad thing and it also doesn’t make you any less fierce in my eyes.” 

“What do you want me to say to that? Should I thank you for it?” 

A short lived laugh makes his shoulders rise and then fall. “No, not at all. That’s not what I want to hear right now.” 

“Then what do you expect from me?” 

“I want you to say you’ll be mine.” 

The candid way he says it surprises you a great deal and you quickly shrug off your own satiated afterglow to look at him. Really look at him this time. It was still the same man you’d met in that abandoned village, still the same person who’d forcibly separated you from Yangyang before hand feeding you clues through a dark tale of sacrificial sheep and shepherds. His eyes had lost that sharp, manic tinged edge though and he was now intently watching you with a noticeable fondness reflected in his expression. It softened his whole face and made him look nearly boyish. Unassuming, in a way. 

You’d almost forgotten your earlier revelation, that he seemed truly interested in you and not necessarily what you were. Granted you hadn’t quite figured what that was yet but … 

“Why do you want me so bad, Scar? There must be a reason.” 

He gives his head a slow shake, trying to stifle a fresh peel of laughter. “There are many reasons to want you, Rover. Don’t underestimate or sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re the one we’ve been waiting for. I’ve been certain of it since the moment you woke up here. More importantly though, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re one I’ve been waiting for. Can’t you feel it too?” 

You send him a quizzical frown but it’s obvious he isn’t going to elaborate any further than that. It’s clear in the way he just tips his head to the side, peering over at you with a sense of peace bred from reverence, or something close to it. Almost like … it was almost like being in close proximity with you had a calming effect that helped chase away at least some of the madness for a time. He didn’t look crazy to you in that moment. If anything you almost got the sense that he was so painfully sincere that it bordered on fanatical, as if you could do no wrong in his eyes and there was no low he wouldn’t sink to if you asked it of him. 

Perhaps his demonstration had accomplished what it was meant to then, because you believed him. Against your better judgment and common sense, you were now certain that he at least fully believed what he was saying so you had no choice but to believe it too. He probably didn’t deserve your pity if even only half of the things you’d heard were true and yet … 

Finally letting out a slow breath through your nose, you lift your hand and reach back to gently touch his shoulder. At your careful push, he leans further back, letting his hands fall from your ass to rest in his lap instead. You’re not entirely sure why you do it but, swallowing down your nerves, you go up on your knees so that you can kneel between the spread of his legs and then lean into him. 

Scar blinks at you, clearly surprised, but he doesn’t pull away or protest when you get right up in his face. He just tips his mouth towards you, those mismatched eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity that probably would have stopped a lesser person in their tracks. You’re decidedly lacking in self preservation tonight though because it doesn’t even give you pause, and you simply press your mouth to his in a lingering, featherlight kiss. 

A sudden puff of air escapes him in a rush at the contact, even for as brief as it is, and sends a static jolt through the both of you. Your pussy gives a muted, distant flutter of interest at the soft whimper he noises, sounding so needy and tender that it almost shatters your resolve. But you manage to cling to it somehow, determined only to get him back for the mess he’s made of you and nothing more. It was probably a bad idea to get any more tangled up with him than you already were. 

No, it was definitely a bad idea. Possibly even the worst one you’d ever flirted with. 

But that knowledge doesn’t stop you from following through on this impulsive decision, and you soon disengage from him so you can shuffle further back into the space between his legs. A quick glance over your shoulder shows him just as hard as he’d been the last time you’d looked, the strain of his erection making the black zipper protrude from the rest of his slate-gray bodysuit and rumple the curious fabric in the most fascinating of ways. You could feel more than just a passing interest solidifying in the back of your mind and you were awfully tempted to throw caution aside, to pull on that ridiculous zip and find out exactly what was hidden inside. 

Instead you rear back, lift your ass and then plop it down right on top of that aggressive tent, and he outright chokes as if you’d just sucker punched him. One clawed hand comes up to take bruising hold of your already sore hip, the other braced against the ground to steady himself. A truly unnatural snarl rises in his chest to make him sound like some sort of half crazed beast, but he doesn’t try to shove you off or question what you’re doing. He doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it now that it’s (quite literally) fallen right into his lap; his breath coming a little quicker as he turns his attention downward to take in the sight of you sitting atop his cock with wide, borderline fanatical eyes. 

Stiff and halting, Scar experimentally rolls his pelvis up into you, and the demanding nudge of him between your legs nearly makes your mouth drop open in a heated groan. Right there. He was right where you needed him the most, pressed up tight against your entrance to tease the suggestion of real penetration. You badly wanted it, you’re more than just a bit ashamed to realize. Your pussy felt terribly empty and in need of a good stretching, of which you were certain he not only could provide but would be happy to. The only thing standing between you and that particular end to this foolhardy encounter was the thin layer of his suit but it would have been oh so very easy for you to simply unzip it and claim your prize for yourself. 

You probably would have even given in had the situation been just a little bit different, if the context of danger wasn't an ever present threat under the surface of every encounter with him. But you’re on a self appointed mission and you merely grind your cunt down to drag over his straining erection, gasping softly when he digs right up into your sensitized clit in the process. Gods, this was so very risky. 

“Rover.” 

“Shut up.” You snap, not even bothering to hide your irritation with him, with this whole ordeal as you start to gingerly move. Whether by virtue of his smooth bodysuit or the obscenely wet quality of your cunt, you find yourself easily gliding over that flexing bulge with a sinfully smooth motion that begets an equally easy rhythm. This was much too simple, too comfortable, for someone who was supposed to be your enemy. “You said you would do whatever I wanted, didn’t you? Well, I want you to stop talking. Think you can handle that?” 

Scar lets out a strained, largely distracted laugh, his attention clearly focused on the meaty press of your pussy lips where they drag over the firm outline of him. “My, my, I had no idea needing to get fucked would make you so short tempered! Although I am flattered you want to use me for your own pleasure in this way, I think I should probably remind you that I can do a much better job of … seeing to your needs if you’d let me take it out first.”

Huffing, you ignore him and bring your hands down to brace against his taut thighs, aiming to giving yourself better leverage. It works, you’re quite relieved to find, and the motion of your hips becomes a bit more sure, less tentative. The quiet moan that escapes from him reaches your ears a moment later, the sound rushing straight down to your cunt. This clearly had the potential to backfire in the worst possible way if it went on for too long. You already felt much too tempted to simply reach down and fish his cock out, angle it up at your entrance and sink down on him straight to the base. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction or another reason to be so smug and cocky about everything. 

And given the way his narrow hips quickly start to shudder and tense up underneath you, you’re relatively certain that it won’t. He was either unaccustomed to such physical exchanges, of having a hot, damp pussy dragging right over his cock, so close to skin on skin contact it was borderline torture for both of you, or he was embarrasibgly weak to being on the receiving end of your attention specifically. It may have even been some deadly combination of the two working in tandem with each other. 

But you had to give him credit where it was due and in this at least Scar certainly deserved the reward you were giving him. No matter how much he sensitively twitches or groans, still so vocal even when he wasn’t talking, he does not try to press the matter any further or coerce you into it, nor does he resort to simply forcing you into doing things his way. He just grips you so tight it hurts while he needily thrusts his pelvis up from the ground to meet your stilted motion and maintain the rhythm, which went a very long way in earning him a few points in his favor. Evidently he could be rather obedient when he wanted and you quite liked that side of him, you had to admit. Maybe even liked it a little too much, if the deluge of fresh slick oozing out of you was any indication. 

“Nnghn … if you keep doing that - -“

“I know.” You cut him off, heart rate quickening to match the increasingly eager way you grind against him. “This is payback for what you did to me. Just — finish and get it over with.”

“Hah! Oooh, you really are just full of surprises, aren’t you? Who knew such a precious little lamb could be so petty.” He drawls, trying for confident and unbothered, but there’s no missing the jittery quality of his voice. Like it was taking the vast majority of his self control to keep him in check. 

You feel pretty proud of yourself for that, even when he gives your hip a too tight squeeze before digging his nails in and spreading that cheek from the other so he can look at your asshole while you ride him. Pleasurable shockwaves slam through you at the sharp yet short lived sting from his fingers, your head rapidly turning muddled again when his heavy, masculine groans drop another octave. You knew your hole was still wet with spit after his feast, puffy and darkened from all the attention he’d given it, and that knowledge has you shuddering almost as much as his responding moan does. 

You hadn’t thought you’d get off on something like that quite so much but it seemed Scar was rather adept at teaching you things about yourself. It was ridiculous. 

“Ooughn, damn. You really know how to get revenge, Rover. I must admit I’m … ahhn, I’m impressed.” The threadbare quality of his voice, the way it falters and fades out despite his best effort to keep it steady, makes it glaringly obvious as to what effect this was having on him. His excitement was so palpable you think you could probably reach out and touch it if you really wanted to, if you dared. It was foolish, it was stupid, it was just asking for more trouble from him but — 

That temptation ultimately proves far too great and your pulse stutters an eager beat under the skin as you twist to look back at him. Hungrily, you take in the disarray of his hair and the unexpectedly sincere flush that colors his cheekbones, his pinched brows. He suddenly looked more like a helpless, overly sensitive young man in the prime of his life than the heartless maniac Yangyang had made him out to be. Even the impulsive and sporadic side of him you were now accustomed to dealing with was nowhere in sight. Scar was completely at your mercy like this. He either wouldn’t or couldn’t take the upper hand and flip the script on you even though you were quite certain he could if he really wanted to. 

Was this the loyalty he spoke of? Was it the reason he looked at you, only you, as he did, like you were some sort of ideal come to life or a golden idol he would worship until his dying breath? You weren’t sure if there was much of a difference in his mind and even less sure what you thought about that, but it made you feel decidedly powerful. Inflated with the the knowledge that he seemed to hold you in such high esteem. Like you were the physical embodiment of his deliverance. 

Like you could save him. 

Slowing the motion of your hips to a sedate, leisurely crawl, you allow yourself to just barely nudge your pussy against his rock hard cock in favor of focusing your attention on more interesting matters. You feel emboldened unlike ever before as you reach back to lightly touch fingertips to his neck and lightly tease the skin there. Scar groans in response as if it felt indescribably good to be touched like that before tipping his head back to expose the jagged line across his throat. At the same time his pelvis rolls up into you, a needy whimper slipping out of him, and the significance is clear. Despite his pushiness, he was actually rather submissive when you started reciprocating. How fascinating. 

“Nghnn, Rover -!” 

His desperate gasp spurns you on and you reach higher up to thread your fingers through the back of his hair, closing a tight fist at the root. When you tug at it he quietly seethes but acquiesces without so much as a hint of resistance, obediently straightening up until he’s hunched right up against your back. His big, wet eyes immediately zero in on your mouth and, whining softly, he starts to lean in as if to kiss you while his arms snake around your waist, tightly clutching you in his lap. You put a quick stop to it though, yanking his neck back to halt his forward momentum, and the pull on his scalp draws another whimpering moan out of him. It was clear he was right on the edge of release, close to begging for it by the looks of it, but you had something else in mind for him. 

“Open your mouth.” You intone, tugging on that surprisingly soft hair again to make sure he was paying attention. 

Perfectly docile now, Scar’s lips part and stretch wide to show you a pink tongue and pretty white teeth. He’s watching you intently, almost trancelike in the way he stares into your face from only a scant hair's breadth away. It was clear that he was eagerly awaiting your next command and he issues a breathy, keening sound when you deign to grace him with a small smile. 

“Good boy. Now stick out your tongue.” 

This he also does without question, unfurling it from his mouth to pant at the air like, well. A dog. You might have found it pathetic had you not seen him in action before, had you not already gotten a brief glimpse of what he was capable of. Instead it’s resoundingly gratifying, having this powerful man at your mercy and knowing he was completely wrapped around your finger like this. You can hardly contain your own excitement as you lean in close to him. 

And spit into his mouth. Straight towards the back of his throat, and he positively quakes in response when the wad of saliva hits its mark. 

Mismatched eyes rolling skyward, Scar stiffly twitches underneath you as his cock flexes, pressing almost aggressively up into your cunt with a trembling pulse. The distantly vague sensation of something warm and damp makes itself known between your legs in a slow oozing rush that seeps up into you, and your chest practically caves in with the realization that he’d cum. Just like that. And what’s more, it seemed to be a rather powerful orgasm for as little stimulation you’d provided, given the way he roughly shakes through it, his teeth clenched tight and seething. 

It’s over much too fast, far quicker than yours had been, and he practically deflates against you with a haggard, wounded little sound only a short moment later. Slowly, you let up your hold on his hair and he gratefully ducks his face into the crook of your shoulder, letting out a territorial, rumbling growl even as he nuzzles into you. 

“Don’t get comfortable now,” You murmur. Bringing your hands down, you carefully push at his arms where they’re still locked around your middle but of course he doesn’t so much as budge, and you give a soft click of your tongue. “I still haven’t decided if I trust you or not yet. As far as I see it we’re still on opposing sides.” 

He issues a quiet, halfhearted laugh against your skin, his shoulders hunching around your slighter frame. “Ahh, so cruel, even now. Don’t tell me that didn’t earn me even a bit of consideration?” 

You think about that for a brief moment before deciding that the truth couldn’t hurt. Certainly not after everything that just happened between you and him. “You’re cute, Scar. I’ll give you that. But important decisions can’t be made so lightly. There’s more to trusting someone than physical attraction.” 

“I know, I know.” Sighing heavily, he gives you one last affectionate nudge with his nose before sitting up and letting his hold on you loosen, arms falling away to grant you your freedom. It surprises you more than anything else that’s happened out here on this desolate stretch of mountain, which was quite a feat, considering, but you weren’t about to question it. 

Shifting forward, you gingerly push up off him and climb to your feet. You can’t quite stop yourself from peeking over your shoulder though, and a fresh buzz of arousal tears through you at the sight of Scar kneeling there, big dopey eyes staring up at you, while a very noticeable wet stain bleeds into the front of his suit. It was impossible to tell how much of that was actually from him and how much of it was where your messy cunt had settled, but you quickly glance away before curiosity can get the better of you. Once was already more than enough for one night. 

“Are you going to keep following me?” 

“But of course. You are the one we want, after all.” He snickers low under his breath, like his heart wasn’t really in it at the moment. “This may not be what you want to hear, but my interest in you stretches well beyond just a single tryst. I could have you ten, a hundred or even a thousand times and I’d still want you all to myself, little lamb.” 

Frowning, you hesitantly turn to look down at him again. “But why? You still haven’t explained that yet.” 

“Oh, Rover, my darling. Do I really need to explain it? You’re you. That’s more than enough for me.” 

It’s clear you’re not going to get a straight answer out of him, probably never would, and you roll your eyes at him in annoyance. “Alright. I probably should have expected that response, I guess. Is there anything else you need? Thanks to you I need to have another bath and then take care of … wait. Where did that guy go?” 

Humming softly, Scar casually follows your line of sight over to the riverbank. The very unoccupied riverbank where only your small pile of possessions was, thankfully, still sitting right where you’d left them. 

“Hmm, looks like he got away while we were focused on other, far more important things. No need to be concerned though. I don’t think he’ll be volunteering to keep tabs on you again anytime soon.” 

Stomach plummeting into the ground, your hands fly up to clutch your suddenly very hot face. This couldn’t be happening. You’d intended to distract Scar to keep him from killing that unknown man so you could still follow through on your initial plan of questioning him when he woke up but instead he’d distracted you. Dammit! This entire trek out into the wilderness was a complete waste of time and energy, and you were right back where you’d started. Square one with no results to show for it. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of what he was going to tell his comrades about you and the Fractsidus Overseer. Double damn! 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[hiding-in-the-vault]

The cave au ^-^

CAVE AU.

This AU that I've kept in the back of my mind came purely from wanting to put the blorbos in cool low-lit atmospheres. The general idea behind the plot came from me deciding that because of the fantastical nature of the source material, I can really do whatever the heck i want. So I decided that the ground is growing!

Yeah, the surface is growing upwards, eating up whatever is built on it. For example, Tommy's little hill house doesn't get pushed higher up the hill; the ceiling stays where it is, but the ground below it grows around-- eventually the hill is much higher than the roof, eventually dirt and stone begins to consume, and eventually its gone.

It grows too fast for them to rebuild. Lakes are risen and walls crumble, causing massive floods. Ravines form and cave in on themselves, lava pools turn into volcanoes, all in the span of a few days. (magic™) It's sudden and violent and confusing, and there is no time to ask How or Why.

I compare it in my mind to how strangely and quickly mushrooms grow, which have always freaked me out lol

The prison fares much better and Sam holds out the longest, but eventually it too begins to get overwhelmed. Certain walls near the cell begin to bow in and the elder guardian system gets affected and suddenly it's a real security concern. He'll just build a new one underground : )

With how the ground is growing, the caverns below remain in-tact. They get much bigger, and expand much deeper than before. But the people above aren't the only ones having to adapt.

As I said in my last post about it, everyone travels primarily in one big sectioned group, at least until they find a relatively safe area to settle. The plan is to recreate some sort of hub as they had before, and people will be able to venture out from there if they wish. That includes Dream being forced along with the prison guards. But it does Not include Techno, Phil, and Niki. (Ranboo sticks with the big group- power in numbers!)

They go underground as well, but they do so separately, deciding tensions are bound to get high and wanting no part of it. But even as they enter the caverns from wildly different areas, Techno still catches wind of Dream being pulled along with the others, and starts working on a plan to give him a chance to escape.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 9

MASTAPOST

Byleth trembled as the Guard gathered in the barracks later that night. He had been found floating belly up near the top floor after having sounded the alarm.

It wasn’t his fault! T-there was a s-s-SIREN. Right there! In front of him! It looked thin and waspish and starving, and he was sure it was gonna maul him to death right then and there. Did you see the teeth on that thing?! Byleth shuddered. His hand went to cover his gills. Imagine being chomped on the neck by that stuff. The stuff of nightmares.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he wasn’t the only one terrified. Well, that was a little misleading. Byleth stood at attention in line with his fellow guardspeople, awaiting dismissal. The debrief was long and agonising, hearing details about how the siren lurked around unnoticed for hours, but most of his comrades were just irritated, or even disappointed. He glanced to the right, where Ableth was nursing his wounds from trying to tackle the little demon, and he wasn’t even fazed! Like, holy shit. If the siren got that close to him, he’d probably shit his pants right on the spot!

No, the one who was terrified was apparently the local administrator, currently having a ‘conversation’ (more like a shouting match) with their commanding officer out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot.

“It was a child! A baby! Do you even begin, begin to comprehend how bad this makes you, and by extension, me, look?! King Arthur will have our heads! Our heads!”

Their commander audibly sighed (which was a big yikes, considering how patient the guy was even on a bad day). “I understand your concerns, administrator, but this guard have done the best they can. The siren child was armed with weaponry the likes of which we have never seen before, and the raids have been tireless besides.”

“Blah blah blah blah do you even hear yourself? Maybe if you had trained these grunts better they wouldn’t have been out-matched by a toddler!” Byleth took offence to that. He’d like to see the office suit face up against that monster!

“Only one man was hurt, and he’ll be disciplined for his recklessness. The child did not set out to attack anyone, he was only stealing supplies, and fled when resistance appeared. It’s the same story as ever.”

“It sounds like your guards are as incompetent as ever!”

“The sirens have no way to access such advance weaponry. Do you understand what this means? If we don’t speak up, what will we do when a proper war band appears, each bearing these weapons? How many towns will they have razed before your dead spirit will be ready to admit the consequences of this cowardice?”

The administrator sputtered. The ridiculous loss of composure, and the raucous laughter of Byleth’s friends helped sooth the abject terror of a hundred more sirens appearing out of the ravines. By Poseidon spare them!

Line breakening~~

With the adrenaline running low, Damian ran on fumes as he twisted through the ravine, tracing back his fin-strokes to the cave where he’d left Phantom. Against all odds, he found it, and almost cried in relief. Throwing his newly acquired loot to the floor, Damian let his body drop like a cold iron, and passed out.

Danny felt pain. Like, all over. Everything hurt. Normally he’d be able to heal any injuries he got while siren fighting, and what a blessing that was. He wasn’t sure just how dense his parents could be, but he didn’t want to test it. The aching agony all over his body reminded him just how little he ate that morning, and man was he regretting it. Stupid Skulker and his stupid hunting dog dolphins. His stupid hunting doglphins. And stupid Damian for making him come close.

Well, that was a little harsh. He couldn’t blame the kid for believing the dolphin propaganda. They had a tight grip on the world, man.

The smell of blood prickled his nose. Danny shot up, fully awake. “Damian where ar-”

There the kid was, collapsed against the rocky floor of their makeshift hideout. Beside him, bags and satchels spilled out with food, bandages and weapons?! Guilt rocked up Danny’s body. Did Damian go hunting for food while he was unconscious? The kid’s tiny body was littered in bruises, and raw patches where the scales barely healed over. His sail was bent at an awkward angle too. Where the hell did he go?! Where did he get weapons?

No wait. Danny came closer and sniffed the loot closely. You had to be kidding him. There were Atlanteans nearby?! Part of Danny very much doubted the idea that the Atlanteans, probably the number 2 siren haters in the world aside from his parents, would just hand Damian a gift basket if he asked them to. So he stole from them?

Jazz would call this catasrophising, but she wasn’t around, so Danny felt pretty justified in panicking a little. Like, what was he thinking?! The Atlanteans would’ve skewered him without a second thought.

A small whimper caught his attention. Danny’s mental disaster train screeched to a halt. Damian was shivering, violently. Oh right. It was like, midnight or something in a deep ocean ravine. The kid was probably freezing. And if he wasn’t healing, that meant he was low on nutrients, and even lower on body heat.

Right, needed to care for the kid. Crap. He was planning on staying near the surface for most of the trip. A blanket was big and cumbersome and he didn’t have much storage space on him.

But goddammit if he let the kid freeze to death on his behalf. Resigning himself to a fate of being bitten once Damian woke up, Danny picked up the tiny, fragile guppy, and tucked him underneath his fins. As Danny began to eat his fill, he wondered just what kind of person he was going to be swimming across two oceans with, to be brave enough to go out singularly into the unknown…

Damian awoke to the sound of chewing, and gentle purring. He missed Alfred the cat. Poor kitty. He probably missed Damian too. It’s ok, Damian can make it up to him. He’ll give the little kitty all the pets and grooming he could ask for.

A weight settled on his hair, and- oh… oh that was so good. He didn’t know Alfred could pet him too. Maybe this was one of the good endings to his life, one where he’d spend life as a kitten, without a care in the world. That would be so nice, just being there and safe and warm. The hand stroked and straightened his hair, and it snaked down to where his ears were and scratched them. It was pure heaven. Damian thought that such a place would be forever closed off to him, but maybe the world had decided to be kind…?

“Woah, you’re actually lowkey super adorable like this.” Alfred said. Why did Alfred the cat sound like a pasty-faced teenage boy? He’d always imagined him like the real Alfred: prim, proper, distinguished.

“You sound strange, Alfred.” Damian mumbled. The hand scratched his ear again, and Damian’s purring intensified. “Please return to your proper voice at once.”

“Dude, I have no idea who that is.”

Nonsense. Damian had named his cat after a very distinguished man, and let him know it every time he saw him. How could he not know his own name?

“That is preposterous. You are Alfred the cat, my esteemed pet and loyal member of the family.”

Aflred the cat snorted. He snorted. “Oh my god that is so gold. I’m going to hold this over you literally until you grow old and wrinkly.”

Damian felt… offended. That was so mean! Why would Alfred the cat say such a thing, to him, Damian, his owner and friend! Damian always made sure to treat his pets with the care and respect they deserved, and this is what he got!?

“B-bad kitty. You will be disciplined.”

And Alfred the cat just kept laughing! Alright, the air of relaxation evaporated as Damian started getting annoyed. He opened his eyes, ready to teach his wayward cat some manners when-

The last 24 hours caught up again. Before him was not Alfred the cat, as he had thought, but Phantom completely healthy again, lying on his back, laughing his heart out. Almost literally, too. Damian watched as Phantom’s still beating heart, and water-filled lungs bounced and jiggled inside his chest cavity with each half-choked laugh. It was mesmerizing, and kind of nauseating.

Suddenly Damian couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, just an overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Phantom!” He cried out, voice almost cracking. Phantom tackled him into a hug, and Damian only put up a token resistance. It just felt so… right. “You are… You have recovered from your injuries.”

“It’s Danny, actually.” Phantom, er- Danny, said, voice soft, quiet. Almost vulnerable… “Danny Phantom. Most people just know the Phantom part.”

Danny… Daniel…. “I was foolish. I should not have ignored your warnings. Forgive me, Daniel.”

“Hey now, don’t you start picking up the Fruitloop’s habits. It’s never Daniel. Just Danny. Daniel’s a randomass human name, but Danny’s mine.”

“It does not change the fact that it sounds like a nickname. I… I do not do nicknames.” Damian said. Normally he paraded this fact as a matter of pride. With Richard, Drake, even Kent. Now, with Daniel encompassing his body in warmth, he felt strangely small.

“And I don’t do self-deprecation. So what about a deal? I’ll forgive you, if you promise to call me Danny.” The older boy said, voice leaving no room for argument. And yet, the playful tone underneath it gave Damian something akin to comfort. The way Richard did in the early days, despite Damian’s barbs and open threats.

“Very well, D-Danny.” Damian forced out. The name felt alien on his tongue. “This is a privilege few can boast to.”

Daniel- no, Danny, chuckled again. “You sound like a kid saying a swear for the first time and they’re really scared of being caught.”

“I am not a child.” He was never allowed to be.

“You are crazy though. And reckless. And that’s coming from me!”

Ah, so Danny figured it out. “You noticed the smell of Atlantean.”

“What were you thinking? They hate sirens. With a capital H.”

“I will not apologise for my actions in there. You needed food. It was my own poor judgement that got you injured, so it was my responsibility to rectify that.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “I’m really trying to channel that ‘angry because I’m worried about you’ energy that my sister does, but you’re making it really difficult. Now I just feel bad.”

“They posed no threat to me. It was an easy operation.” Damian said. Danny sighed again.

“What am I gonna do with you? Outside of taking you home, that is.”

“For one, you could unhand me.” Damian’s words were hollow, even to him.

“And let you freeze to death? No chance. Now come on. The sun’s about to rise, and you need your breakfast.”

“Have you eaten enough yourself?” It would not do to let this foolish teenager hurt himself for Damian’s sake again.

“Dude, I’m like triple your size and age right now. It’s my job to be worrying over you.” Damian harrumphed.

It felt nice to be cared for again.

LINE BREAK BABY

Bruce hung up the phone. Dick was about ready to riot, and the others were on a wire-thin line too. It was one of the most exhausting calls he’d done in his life, but it had to be done. He wasn’t going to leave his family in the dark, not after Jason.

It wasn’t just he who had potentially lost a son, however. In his hours of maddened searching, he’d glossed over the fact that the son of local siren hunters, the Drs Fenton, had also gone missing. Tim was already on the case, sifting through thousands of hours of CCTV footage to analyse the kid’s behaviour of the course of the last six weeks. Two unrelated boys going missing at the same time. And one boy had been displaying suspicious behaviour for months before hand. Something was up.

And so Bruce straightened his tie. He refused to wear any form of black. Not now, not yet, while there was still hope to be clung to. His trip to Fentonworks was in part to share condolences, and in part to investigate. Wherever Damian was, the clues lay somewhere surrounding Daniel Fenton.

He just hoped Damian had to be ok. If this hope died, Bruce felt like he might die with it.

[paintpaintpaintman]

I love this little guy

Hmmmm what's some Goat lore I haven't dropped...

They did not die from the blade. They were on their way to the blade, but had a little slip up involving a loud noise and being a fainting goat next to a ledge while being escorted. The guards had to traverse down the ravine to obtain the very broken body- less work on their end!

The end goal was to burn the body, as it was more respectful than to let the last of their kind rot. Leshy was insistent on this, as a woman of Order. She was not keen in barbaric actions.

When the body was kept aside while the fire was being built, it was then that Narinder resurrected the Goat, who then simply snuck away from the scene as they are not confrontational and really did not want to risk another painful death. Because ofexposeduntil the demise of Shamura, nobody knew what had become of the body. The most popular speculation was that a hungry creature carted it away to be eaten.

[eustasscapitankid]

Underneath the Battle

Eustass Kid x Reader | Gender Neutral

Kikitober 2024: Day 2 - Back to Back Tags: Mature, Enemies/Rivals to Lovers, Battle, Swearing Summary: Somehow you always find yourself in battle. That's not the problem. The problem is somehow you always end up in the same fights as Kid. An obnoxious fuck. You're always at each others throats...at least he knows how to fight. Especially now that you've found yourself in a battle with seemingly endless enemies and separated from both your crews. Word Count: 1,088

Yet again you’ve found yourself in the midst of battle. You don’t mind it. In fact, it’s actually quite exhilarating. The thrill of risking your life, the dance between people—the chance to utilize your abilities without worrying about the consequences...but there he is. Again.

Somehow, no matter where you are, you always find yourself battling next to him. This obnoxious, red-haired fuck. You don’t even usually see him before you’re in the thick of it. Then suddenly, you’re back to back. Every. Fucking. Time. How is that even possible? Like...statistically? In the whole vast ocean—in all of the islands that comprise the Grand Line and all of the people in battle—how is it that you seem to always end up fighting side by side with the same man?

You bitched to your crew about it—He pisses you off. He’s so fucking loud. And stubborn. They just laughed at you. Normally they’d point out that you were exactly the same but...not while one this subject. Failing miserably to hold back laughter, hands tight to their mouths trying to stifle back snickers. Each of them refused to elaborate. Instead urging you to ignore him, and insisting it was but a coincidence that it kept happening. They were lying. Truthfully, while they couldn’t explain being in the same place at the same time as his crew so often, they knew exactly why you both found each other in battle. It’s kind of hard not to notice the two people charging into quite literally the middle of the battlefield like they were searching the sea of a crowd for a mosh pit. It’s even harder not to notice it when it happens repeatedly.

You always fought. Loudly. Which...they were actually grateful for. Hearing the ear-splitting noises that was you two having a row (somehow always impossibly more raucous than the battle around them) they could forget about you. Not in a bad way or anything. It’s just that you two fought so well, so in sync, they never had to worry about you. Kid’s crew felt the same. Even Killer let his guard down once he heard the inevitable, instantaneous racket that was you finding each other on the battlefield.

This time, they were particularly appreciative of the ruckus finally erupting in the midst of fighting. Enemies seemingly crawled from nowhere, appearing like apparitions before them. It felt as if each felled body was replaced by five more. Turning their attention to the task at hand, they left you and Kid to your own devices. The bodies pile up as the wall of enemies thickens exponentially—truly cutting you off from the rest of your allies. You do your best to hold your ground, and for the most part you’re successful...but you find yourselves backed—literally—into an unfortunate position against the edge of a steep drop overlooking a ravine.

Kid—a wicked grin on his face—laughs, “Looks like they saved the best for us.”

“At least they’re smart enough to keep the real threats together,” you smirk, fending off a larger opponent.

Cold metal makes contact with flesh, knocking back a tall gentlemen into several people behind him. “Is that a compliment I hear—?” the snide remark is left unfinished, suddenly lunging toward you.

The ring of metal against metal fills your ears. Managing to take down the enemy you were grappling with, you turn your head. A stout man gazes up at the larger frame of the man you fought beside, now pulling a knife out of the crevices of his arm and striking the man with his own blade before glancing at you. There is a flash of something in Kid’s eyes that you’re not used to. What was that…?

“Pay attention, idiot! Trying to get yourself killed? If someone’s going to kill you it’s going to be me.”

You roll your eyes, “You always say that—fuck! Watch out!”

You crash into him, tackling him to the ground with such force that you roll away from him as you land. Stopping just shy of the edge, you quickly regain your composure. Both of you quickly getting to your feet. Kid is immediately roped back into altercation. As you step forward, aiming to reunite so you can continue fighting at each other’s backs you hear an ear-piercing noise.

BOOM!

What was that? Wait...is the ground...shaking?

Your feet give way as the ground beneath you crumbles, sending you careening toward the ravine below. Still grappling with several husky men, his head turns sharply toward the noise—just in time to see you disappear over the edge.

“Oi! You—”

Not a single thought crosses his mind as he forces the three men back and takes the opportunity to dash to the edge where you fell. Without hesitation he follows, diving after you before he can even register what he’s doing. Tumbling down the ravine, bracing yourself, you prepare to crash into rubble at the bottom. Instead you feel something cold, as your caught before crashing to the ground coming to a halt. Your slow decent is followed by a large thud. Coughing up dirt, you look up in time to see Kid making contact with the debris beside you. For a heartbeat, there’s a silence as you lock eyes, face inches apart.

Your eyes widen in confusion as you register what it mean for him to be next to you. What it meant to be feeling the cool of metal cradling you instead of the warm dirt. “Kid…? Did you just..save me?”

He huffs, “Don’t flatter yourself. The battle is thick and we’re cornered. I just can’t afford to lose a good fighter.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t care if I died.”

“Tch. I told you. If someone kills your obnoxious ass it’s going to be me,” he retorts nonchalantly, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone. His golden eyes narrow into an unreadable expression. His gaze lingers. Though it seems to be lacking it’s usual vehemence.

Why is my heart pounding?

The look that finds its way into your eyes is not lost on him.

You’re snapped back to reality as the roar of enemies approaches. Cornered in a narrow space, and further cut off from the rest of battle you both scramble to your feet.

The air crackles with energy as kid smirks, turning to the encroaching force, “Try to keep up.”

You share a nod, and in perfect sync charge back into the fight, side by side.