#but it is so calm it makes it look like the cave extends downwards

[mitsdriveswhere]

The Mirror in Meramec Caverns

[thebonerpit]

suck it and see [FIC]

suck it and see

Rom Howney, 2749 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

Robert invites Tom over for dinner. Has his gag reflex improved? (Not me writing a sequel to this fic almost a year later...)

Five months later, and Tom is wondering what the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

After “The Call”, as he’s been referring to it, Robert has been nothing but sweet and courteous and respectful. Once the post-orgasm adrenaline faded, Tom hasn’t been able to drum up the courage to talk about what happened between them and Robert never brings it up explicitly either. It’s been months of brief text threads during quiet moments, the odd video of Robert’s cats or a photo of the sunset, and Tom getting embarrassingly hard whenever Robert says something remotely flirty. Nothing at all that suggests it might ever happen again. That is, until Tom mentions he’s going to be in L.A. for a week.

“Come see me. I’ll make you dinner.”

“YOU’LL make me dinner? Or your private chef will make me dinner?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me you little shit. Tuesday work for you?”

It doesn’t, but Tom rearranges his entire schedule to get there.

The black jeans he’s chosen are practically painted on, but in an effort to appear completely casual and unbothered he throws on a soft pastel pink hoodie and a baseball cap. No need to mention how long he takes in the shower beforehand. No need at all.

The Uber drops him off and he notes that there are no other cars to be seen, and very few lights on in the house. He didn’t even consider that they might actually be alone and now that it’s hitting him he kind of feels like throwing up. Before he can scope out the best bush to heave into, the door opens.

“I know my front yard is pretty amazing but are you going to stand out here all night?”

Oddly enough, seeing him in person, leaning against the door frame with a dish towel in one hand, Robert Downey Jr. in the flesh, actually calms him down. His brain reroutes from panic to excitement and he rushes forward to give him a tight hug, which Robert gladly returns.

“Good to see you,” he says quietly, almost directly into Tom’s ear. The closeness makes him shiver slightly but he manages to cover it with another tight squeeze before rocking back on his heels.

“Same, boss,” he says with a broad smile. Robert cocks his head and smiles back fondly before patting his cheek and stepping back into the foyer.

“Come on, it’s almost ready.”

“Are you really cooking for me?”

“Of course,” he says, like he’s offended Tom is even asking.

It smells incredible, whatever it is, and Tom removes his hat, happily perches on a bar stool, and accepts the beer Robert hands him. They chat amiably while Robert cooks, and soon Tom forgets why he was ever nervous in the first place. It’s just like how it was on set, or backstage at some industry event, joking and laughing and catching each other up on their respective lives. One of the cats jumps up and kneads at Tom’s lap for a while before padding away to search for its own dinner.

Domestic, Tom thinks briefly, before shooing that horrible thought away.

Dinner is pasta with homemade sauce and Tom devours it.

Robert raises an eyebrow as he slurps up his last noodle and Tom sheepishly hides behind his napkin as he tries to wipe off the spattering of red sauce on his cheek.

“S’really good,” he mutters, and Robert just laughs.

He helps him clean up, despite Robert’s protests. He sets the last pot on the rack to dry and turns to see Robert staring at him, a contemplative expression on his gorgeous face.

“What? More pasta sauce?” Tom asks, swiping at the corner of his lips with one thumb.

“Nah. Just looking.”

“Oh. Ok?”

Robert smirks and saunters over and Tom feels his back hit the fridge. Trapped. Nowhere to go.

“This is cute,” Robert says, tugging at the string of Tom’s hoodie. “Suits you.”

“Uh. Thanks,” Tom replies dumbly, unable to look away from Robert’s mouth. He barely catches the way Robert’s eyes flick up to his own before he looks away and exhales softly. It’s a sound of resignation, and Tom’s heart speeds up to a panicked flutter. As soon as Robert starts to back away, he snakes his arm out and grasps on to his wrist. It shocks them both and they can’t do anything but stare at each other for a moment before Tom finally caves and lets himself think with his dick.

He opens his mouth, extends his tongue slightly, and waits.

Robert’s eyes are dark, the gorgeous honey-brown devoured by his pupils, and Tom sees him swallow. He does his best to encourage him, to beg without saying a word, but when Robert still hesitates, he slowly drags his hand up to hover between them. Then he lets go of Robert’s wrist. It’s on him now, and he looks very much aware of this fact.

“You sure?” he finally rasps out. Always the gentleman, even when Tom doesn’t want him to be. He nods and sticks out his tongue even more, his eyes almost crossing at he stares at Robert’s thick fingers just inches away from his mouth.

“Have you been thinking about this?” he asks. Tom nods again and shivers as those fingers run the length of his jaw. “Yeah. Me too.”

Without warning he pushes two fingers into Tom’s mouth, dragging them across his tongue and settling them just past the second knuckle. Tom whines and starts to close his lips around them but Robert’s other hand darts up quickly to grab his chin.

“Ah-ah,” he tuts. “Did I say you could do that?”

The blood that rushes immediately downwards nearly makes Tom pass out.

Robert pets his tongue until Tom’s mouth overflows with saliva and it starts dripping down his chin and on to his hoodie.

“Such a messy boy,” Robert says. Tom gurgles out a moan which makes Robert tighten his grip on his jaw. “On your knees.”

Tom drops so fast he feels his knees crack against the marble tile. It hurts but he doesn’t even care. All he can feel is his dick hard against the zipper of his jeans and Robert’s fingers dragging through his hair.

“So pretty,” he murmurs as he lets his fingers slip out of Tom’s mouth.

Tom tries to lean in, close the distance between his mouth and the growing bulge in Robert’s jeans, but he feels those fingers tighten in his hair. He glances up and sees Robert staring down at him with an expression not dissimilar to the one he had months ago on their video call.

“If you want to stop, all you have to do is say the word.” Robert’s voice is quiet but steady. “Or pinch me really hard if your mouth is… otherwise occupied.”

Tom shudders at the implications of that.

“I need to hear you say you understand.”

“I do! I… I understand. Want this, want you, everything… anything you want,” Tom says, tripping over his words in his haste to reassure him because he thinks if Robert stops now he might actually cry.

Robert exhales sharply through his nose. “Jesus… fucking… alright. Ok. Get up, follow me.”

Tom scrambles up off the floor and follows Robert as he leads him through into what looks like a den. It’s dimly lit, thick curtains pulled closed on the windows, and the walls are lined with bookshelves. Robert pulls him down on to a plush couch and takes his jaw in his hand again, licking his lips before diving in for a searing kiss, and Tom allows himself to be devoured. He suddenly realizes that this is actually their first kiss, but before he can dwell on it too long Robert pulls back and, as gently as possible, pushes him down to the floor between his knees.

“I hope you’ve been practicing more,” Robert says as he undoes his jeans. “Show me what you can do.”

As soon as the fabric of Robert’s boxers is out of the way, Tom doesn’t hesitate. He’s been waiting for this for months and the sight of that gorgeous cock in front of him makes his mouth water. He takes the head in his mouth without preamble and the low groan that Robert lets out spurs him on to take even more. It’s a bit messy, saliva already dripping out the sides of his mouth, but if the noises Robert is making are any indication, he’s doing a pretty damn good job regardless. He feels those thick fingers curl back into his hair and only has a moment to steel himself before Robert’s hips snap up and he chokes, eyes watering immediately as the thick cock tries to force its way down his throat. He tries to relax but it doesn’t work and he has to pull away, coughing and wiping at his chin.

“S-sorry, let me… I can—”

“Shh, no, you were doing well. I shouldn’t have… couldn’t help myself.”

Fuck, he sounds wrecked already. Pride bubbles up in Tom’s stomach and he dares to look up and offer a small smile, batting his eyelashes just a little.

“Want to keep going,” he says, “please?”

Robert bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before shifting on the couch.

“Come up here, let me… here, just like this.” He pulls Tom up like he weighs nothing, arranges him on the couch so he’s laying on his back with his head hanging off the edge.

“It’s easier like this, sweet thing,” Robert says as he stands over him. “Opens your throat up. Do you trust me?”

“God, yes,” Tom breathes out. He knows he should behave and wait for instructions but he can’t help surging up to lick at the base of Robert’s cock, hanging heavy over his face. It makes him shudder and Tom feels a drop of precome fall on his cheek.

He sees Robert shudder and gets a gentle slap across his face as a reward.

“Brat,” he rasps out before shoving his cock down Tom’s throat.

The angle is so strange and Tom’s eyes widen with panic before he realizes that yeah, it actually is easier like this? Once you get used to the whole upside-down part. He trusts Robert to hold his head as he relaxes his muscles, letting his throat go slack and just accepting every thick inch he gets.

There’s a bitten-out curse as Tom feels his nose press against Robert’s balls.

“Give me—fuck, your hand,” Robert says. He obeys, immediately, and Robert brings it up to wrap around Tom’s own throat. “Can you feel it?”

Tom nearly shoots off right then and there as Robert moves and oh my fucking god yes he can feel it. The thick line of Robert’s cock is stretching his throat out and he gurgles out a moan around it which makes it twitch against his hand.

“Such a pretty little cocksucker,” he grunts. Tom bucks his hips into the air, desperate for friction, Robert’s dirty words turning him on more than he could have ever imagined.

“Look at you… you want to touch yourself, hm?”

Tom can’t answer so he just whines and wiggles his hips again which causes Robert to grunt and jerk forward which in turn causes Tom to choke and gag again. Robert immediately pulls out and pets the side of Tom’s head while he inhales shakily, catching his breath.

“Ok?” he asks, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s swollen bottom lip.

“Yeah… ok.” Tom is shocked by the sound of his own voice, raw and scratchy and thick. Thank fucking god he doesn’t have to work for the next little while. “More?”

Robert chuckles and leans down to kiss along the side of his neck. “Want to see you come with my dick down your throat. Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck… fuck, yeah, yeah I can do that.” He scrabbles at the buttons and zippers on his jeans and shoves them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. His hoodie is already a mess, covered in his own spit, but he pulls it up his chest anyway. If this also happens to show off his cut abs and pink nipples, well, it’s just a bonus. He hears Robert groan softly and then suddenly his field of vision is eclipsed by a furred stomach as Robert leans over him to kiss at his chest, his hipbones, and fuck, Robert’s mouth is on his dick.

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, digging his nails into the fabric of the couch as an incredibly skilled tongue laves up and down his erection. He can feel the bristle of Robert’s beard on his thighs and it sends electric shivers through his body.

“Tastes so good,” Robert murmurs, licking up one side and then sucking on the head briefly before letting Tom’s cock fall back against his stomach with a loud slap. Tom whimpers – actually whimpers – as Robert pushes himself back upright and he can see the cocky smirk on his face even from this strange angle.

“There, made it nice and wet for you. Go on sweetheart, show me how pretty you look when you come, hm?”

Tom doesn’t have time to answer as Robert slides his cock back into his throat. The sensation of that alone makes his eyes roll back in his head but now that he has permission to touch himself, he doesn’t hesitate. The slickness from Robert’s saliva eases the way for his own hand as he jerks himself off quickly, no patience for finesse or teasing, just pure need racing through his veins. He gets close embarrassingly fast, partly thanks to the steady stream of filth that Robert is muttering above him.

“That’s it, just like that baby, so fucking pretty aren’t you? You like having a nice fat dick down your throat, hm? Yeah, I know you do, look at you, just made for it, fuck, yeah, keep touching yourself, keep jerking that pretty cock sweetheart, make a mess of yourself for me, come on, come on, let me see you…”

It’s relentless and Tom can’t get enough. He doesn’t want it to end, quite frankly, but he’s teetering right on the edge and when Robert simultaneously shoves himself as deep as he can go and squeezes a hand around his throat he jerks violently and comes all over himself. It’s the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had and his body feels like it will never stop convulsing. It’s only when he finally relaxes enough to try to catch his breath that he realizes that he can’t actually breathe at all. Robert is still buried deep in his throat, grinding his hips against his face like Tom is just a warm, wet hole to be used. It sends a brief flutter of panic through him, but it also makes his spent cock twitch against his stomach. Robert is grunting and Tom feels drops of sweat landing on his chest, mixing with the cooling puddles of come. He must be close. He has to be. He needs to be or Tom is going to actually pass out.

He’s just about to raise his hand to pinch Robert’s thigh when he feels a rush of warmth slide down his throat. It’s so deep he can’t even taste it until Robert pulls out and lets the rest drip all over his mouth and face. As Tom gasps for breath Robert maneuvers him into a sitting position and rubs at his back, soothing him as he coughs and sniffles and wipes at the absolute mess on his face with his ruined hoodie. When he finally settles a bit he can hear Robert murmuring to him.

“Such a good boy… such a good boy, sweetheart, you did so well, that’s it, deep breaths…”

Tom sniffles again and blinks up at Robert’s face. He smiles softly.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Feeling ok?”

Tom nods. His throat is killing him but he doesn’t want to make Robert feel bad about it. Plus, he asked for it and he doesn’t know if it makes him a little fucked up in the head for liking it.

“I… I want…”

“Shh, don’t try to talk now. Let me get you some water. You…” Robert pauses. He leans in and kisses Tom’s forehead almost chastely. “You were incredible. Just sit. Let me take care of you.”

Tom smiles again and nestles into the crook of Robert’s neck, sated and content.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 42)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 Vivi POV 6 Vivi POV 7

Part 43: here

...

(ARTHUR POV)

“Maybe, if you’d been even half of what he was, you wouldn’t have been possessed so damn easily. I mean, this kid put up more of a fight, and he’s pretty much a walking collection of neurosis,” the demon taunts.

“I said shut up!”

The demon, and by default, Arthur, narrows their eyes. Micky’s sudden appearance has thrown a wrench into its plans, drawing its full and undivided attention. Irritation curls around Arthur, replacing the previous sensations of smug satisfaction and amusement. The emotion is unpleasant, making Arthur’s mind crawl but it’s better than the sadistic joy he had been forced to endure as it was stabbing Lewis. For the first time since that disastrous meeting in the hospital’s car-park, Arthur finds himself completely free of surveillance. The demon’s attention is focused solely on Micky and the gun. The shift is so sudden and is Arthur so panicked, that he almost doesn’t recognise the opportunity. 

Luckily-the only luck he’s had in a long while-he does recognise his opening. His one chance to make things right. 

A desperate calm settles over him. Lightning flashes, illuminating the faint blue and purple of Vivi and Lewis’s clothes. Mystery glows ever brighter, casting a red tint on the concrete around him. Everything else is darker shades of grey, fading into black.

In his new state of calm, Arthur can envision how the next few seconds would play out. Micky would shoot. The demon would dodge.  Even now, he can feel how his body is tensing, preparing to duck to the side. The demon is hyper-focus on the gun, watching Micky’s every muscle twitch. To dodge, the demon would have to already be moving even before the gun went off. It would need precise control and a split-second warning just before the shot. After the gun fired, Vivi would run forward to ‘save’ him, putting herself in danger. Then, Mystery would be forced to transform and save her. In the commotion, the demon would make their escape. 

“Did you even go back to bury him, or did you just leave him there? What happened to all the ritual, funeral nonsense to send his soul on its merry way? How disrespectful.” The demon’s voice is full of malice, coloured with amusement, aiming to both harm and insult. 

The gun clicks in Micky’s hand. Already, Arthur can feel himself tensing, preparing to move fast.

“Stop!” Vivi lurches upright and Mystery blocks her from jumping between them. “If you shoot, you’ll kill Arthur!”

 This is okay. Arthur has already accepted that he might never see his friends again. The demon would run, take him away, and they would be safe. Mystery would pass along his apology and it would be fine. The only one to really suffer would be him and he thinks he can live with that. Is that true though? 

“That fucking brat sent us to our deaths. He’s just as guilty.”

It wasn’t just him that would suffer was it? This thing would keep on killing. It would use his body to kill other people and maybe, one day, it would go after Lewis or Vivi again. The creature wanted Arthur specifically and he is aware enough to know that the demon has got some sort of plan involving his messed-up soul. 

The body snatcher sniggers, “I’m sure Dan would be very unimpressed with how you're threatening this poor innocent human. I mean, if he weren’t a shish-kebab at the bottom of a cave.” 

Micky yells, loud, animalistic, full of pain and rage. Arthur feels a pang of empathy for the man who had had the misfortune of running into him and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Darrel.

In that fraction of a second before the gun goes off, his body, under the direction of the demon, lunches to the right.  Everything slows, time crawling by. Arthur can already see Mystery leaping, his dog form rapidly expanding. Vivi is also running towards him, face white with fear. 

His way out was suddenly blindingly clear.

With all his remaining will power, throws himself to the left. He slams into the mental barrier separating him from his body. Similar to when he’d first tried this in the van, the demon falters ever so briefly, its attention refocusing onto him and away from Micky. For a fraction of a second, in between heartbeats, the demon’s movements slow. Unlike when he had tried this before, there is no time for the demon to react.

 “ARTHUR!”

 The shout rings in his ears alongside the loud CRACK of a shotgun discharging. 

A sudden weight smacks him in the chest and he stumbles back. This time, Arthur’s sense of fear is mixed in with his own cold vindication. In a moment of role reversal, it is Arthur feeling spiteful and the demon experiencing surprise. 

“You little shit,” He feels himself spit the words out, angry, even as new wetness clogs his throat and the metallic taste of blood floods his mouth. Time accelerates again. Arthur hits the pavement and doesn’t even care that his head cracks on the hard surface. All bodily sensation is fuzzy now. Any pain one would expect to feel after getting shot is dulled. Surprise quickly turns to anger. The demon is almost brittle with furry, its full attention bearing down on him from all angles, pressing in. Suffocating. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit…Bleeding…that’s a lot of blood. Need to control the bleeding.” Arthur focuses on Vivi’s face which materialises above him. For the first time since his possession, Arthur managers to move of his own violation, taking a hash breath. The process is an immense struggle and he’s not sure if it’s because of the demon or blood loss. 

“Vi…” His tong feels heavy and foreign, the words he tries to say are garbled by the blood coming up through his throat. He doesn’t get more than a syllable out before the control is wrestled away. 

‘You think this is over?’ The voice echoes in his head, low and threatening.

“Shh. Don’t speak. Everything will be okay. I don’t think its hit anything important. Just lie still.” Her expression is a mix of horror and worry. Regret quickly roles over his vindication because the last thing he wants is for Vivi to have to watch her friend bleed out and die.

His vision blurs. A purple outline appears alongside Vivi. It’s Lewis, equally, if not more panic-stricken. He can feel to demon’s attention re-centre, staring Lewis right in the eye. 

 “What’s…up. You…goin…watch him die …with me?” The demon jerks, trying to grab a hold of Lewis’s bear unprotected hands.  

‘You can’t have Lewis.’ 

Arthur slams his full mental weight into malicious presence, pushing it to one side, cutting it off mid-sentence. As his body weakens so does its control. They’re both weak now. 

‘Sharing is caring.’ Is sneered. A wave of malicious intent  chips away at his control, paralysing rational thought with uncontained fear.  Arthur feels his hand lift under the demon’s renewed power, reaching weakly for Lewis, beckoning. 

“Lew…is.” Arthur tries to speak and warn his friend off.  

 ‘Don’t do it.’ He can’t get the words out, his control failing. It is like being back in the cave, unable to stop the unimaginably terrible from happening. His vision distorts, made worse by the night around them. He can barely see the conflict waring across his friend’s face.   His arm is numb. He and Lewis are standing on a ledge overlooking a steep drop…green is pooling at the edges of his vision. It doesn’t matter that they are both weak, the demon’s got him beat in the willpower department. Too many past mistakes occupy his thoughts, distracting him. 

Lewis’s hand hovers then closes around his, drawing his focus. The hand is warm almost comforting.

NO.

He claws at the demon, ripping and tearing at anything he can reach, trying to drag it down with him. A patronising laugh bounces around and there is the sensation of something rushing to escape. Arthur scratches and grasps but it is hard to hold onto something that hardly exists. The result is an exercise in futility like he’s trying to dig his nails into loose shale. 

‘Nice try but you’re a few centuries too inexperienced to hold me down.’ The demon slips away, leaving him to sink downwards, alone. ‘Try not to die while I’m out would you. I would hate for all this drama to be for nothing,’ Arthur can still feel the echo of rage and malevolence underlining its final amused jab as it fades from his consciousness. The demon is angry. He knows it is going to do its level best to hurt Lewis. There is nothing he can do to stop it. And, suddenly, Arthur is alone in his own mind.

“Why?” He coughs, wishing he could shake an answer out of Lewis. ‘Why did you do that Lewis?’ The last he sees of Lewis is a green discolouration creeping up the other’s arm. Lewis stumbles away, swallowed by the night. 

Vivi’s shocked face fades to nothing a second later. Then there is only darkness. No demon, just himself and all his mistakes.  No snarky running commentary on how screwed up and pathetic he was. No weird dissonance as he experienced two sets of emotional responses. He is just Arthur existing alone. He should feel relieved. This should be a triumph. 

It's not...

.

It’s dark and he’s falling, slamming into a stone spike. Two sets of memories blur together, becoming one extended nightmare. Two failed timelines are laid before him in a spread of damning evidence against his very existence.

Lewis is dead…then alive, grinning, eyes flashing bright green as he looks down on him, “Once in a millennia chance and you managed to screw it up.” There is fire rising around him, growing increasingly not, framing Lewis’s human visage. “This is your fault.”

 He coughs, gripping the spike piercing up through his chest. 

“How many can say they’ve had a second chance? None. That’s how many?” Lewis growls and the flames become unbearably hot till even the air itself hurts. “Face it. I just wasn’t that important to you.” Arthur should just stop trying to fight and let the fire burn away all that was left of him. 

It’s what he deserves. 

“So that’s it.”  The female voice cuts through the crackle of the fire, “You’re just going to give up?" 

The stone around him shifts, colours mutating from purple and green to a gleaming, blue-tinted ice. Gone is the stone spike, the cliff, and the cave, to be replaced by an empty snow-filled field. He is no longer in pain. He is kneeling, half-buried in snow, surrounded be an empty silver-grey landscape. 

“What about your promise to answer my questions. You’re going to leave everyone behind wondering what the heck happened?” Lewis and his fire disappear, replaced with cold air and a familiar voice. He squints up at the blurry Vivi-shaped outline but can’t make out her face. The word around him is too blindingly bright to make out any details.

“I can’t…” he pleads, “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“So what. That’s never stopped you before.”

He drops his gaze, ignoring the the rustle of fabric as a person knelt in front of him.

“We all make mistakes.”  Her voice is soft.

“I don’t know what to do?”  

If there’s one thing the demon has taught him it was that things could always get worse.

“It’ll be okay Arthur. Just explain what happened. I’ll understand.”

He looks up, desperately searching for the face of a familiar older Vivi. 

“I miss you.”  He doesn’t care that he is angsting over what was probably a figment of his imagination. The shadow of a Vivi he’d left behind in a future that would never happen. 

“Silly, I never left.”

The white space above him splinters, shattering like glass, falling on him like flakes of snow.

.

.

.

His next breath is heavy like he is struggling against some immense weight.  It is nothing like being on the cliff, struggling to breathe against the heat and having it cut with frigid cold, this is real. The sensation of forcing his lungs to expand and take in the dry air is almost too real. A dull ache settles over him and he can’t tell if it is coming from his body or somewhere deep in his chest. Everything feels floaty and unreal and he struggles to pull together a coherent thought. Arthur wills his eyes to open, almost afraid to try and have this illusion of control snatched away. 

Light eclipses the dark. The imprint of spikes, fire and ice, fade into a nightmare. He stares up at a familiar off-white ceiling. A pattern of square panels, broken by two overhead lights, one of which is switched off, meaning the room in only half lit. The faint smell of anaesthetic and bleach lingers in the air. Absently, he recognises the hospital ceiling. The dejavu is painful.  

Slowly, almost too afraid to try, he turns his head, scanning for his arm. There is a needle disappearing into his skin just above his wrist which is connected to a machine beeping a faint rhythmic pattern. It is his flesh and blood arm. This is his original arm, meaning this is the other timeline. The one he had just royally screwed up. His fingers twitch when he wills them to move, jerking inwards to grasp at nothing. This is the timeline where his Uncle is dead, and Lewis is probably off somewhere killing people under the demon’s control. An unbearable sadness descends upon him. He takes solace in the melancholy, welcoming it, wrapping it around himself like a familiar blanket. Maybe, if he waited long enough, the demon would return, and he would be able to save Lewis. Arthur doubts it, he has nothing of value to trade aside from himself and Lewis is ten times more valuable than him. It was pointless. Maybe he hadn’t learnt his lesson about wanting things. Maybe he will just lie here forever, wasting away.

 Maybe that didn’t sound so bad.

“Arthur.” The surprised voice cuts into him, slicing apart his thoughts.

He blinks, twitching to glance to the side, focus shifting  past the empty hospital chair placed next to his bed and towards the doorway. Vivi. She is standing in the entrance. Her clothes are wrinkled, speckled with dirt, and she has smudges across her face that look a bit like wood ash. Her eyes are wild with open surprise. 

Her surprise becomes relief, mixed with conflicting joy and apprehension. 

“You’re awake.” She speaks slowly, voice halting. 

“V…” His throat is far too dry to speak so the word comes out as a wheeze. 

Whatever misgivings had Vivi frozen in the doorway, they don’t hold her for long and she is across the room in a flash of blue. The next thing he knows her weight is resting across his shoulder and chest, gripping onto him. There is a brief flash of purely physical pain as she bumps the wad of bandages he only just notices are covering the upper half of his torso, wrapping his collar bone. Her face is awkwardly pressed against his opposite shoulder.

When his vision blurs, he panics, momentarily thinking he was losing his control. However, he quickly recognises it as a different sort of loss of control. A normal loss of control. There is water pooling in his eyes, running down his face. He’s crying, making breathing hard. 

“You idiot.” Vivi’s voice is unsteady now, full of hurt, “You colossal idiot.”

“I'm…sor…” He swallows, coughing out the apology “…ry”  He doesn’t know what exactly he’s apologising for but he’s made so many mistakes that it’s the only thing he can think to say. 

“I thought you were going to die.”

Sluggishly, Arthur tries to raise a hand, the one without a needle sticking into it, to hold onto the fabric of her jacket. His muscles feel a bit like jelly, spasming occasionally, as his mind re-associates mental commands with movement. He realises with a pang of grief that she is wearing Lewis’s jacket. What happened to Lewis?  He tries to speak, to explain, to ask questions, but his throat is still too dry. After attempting this a few more times he gives up and allows himself the small comfort of being able to hug Vivi again. 

..

NOTE: Happy Holidays!! Have an update as a gift :) Hope everyone is safe and wish you all good luck transitioning into the new year. Thank you for another years worth of support of this fic, it means a lot. 

Part 43: here

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - March 3rd

This day and the night of the 3rd-4th cover the bulk of the remaining war between Saruman and Rohan, with the Battle of Helm’s Deep occurring in the night. The forces of the Rohirrim defending the Fords of Isen (led by Erkenbrand, Grimbold, and Elfhelm) have been scattered or slain by the assault of Saruman’s vast armies (well oven ten thousand individuals) the previous night, while Théoden is riding towards the Fords with reinforcements of about a thousand men. So Théoden is vastly outnumbered.

This is extremely long; I apologize. But it did help me get the events of the battle arranged properly in my head for the first time.

At dawn the Rohirrim led by Théoden continue their ride west, followed by a storm out of the east. Legolas can see as far as Isengard, and tells Gandalf what he sees:

I can see a darkness. There are shapes moving in it, great shapes far away upon the bank of the river; but what they are I cannot tell. It is not mist or cloud that defeats my eyes: there is a veiling shadow that some power lays upon the land, and it marches slowly down stream. It is as if the twilight under endless trees were flowing downwards from the hills.

From this Gandalf knows that the Ents have attacked Isengard, though he does not say this to anyone else.

In the afternoon the storm overtakes the Rohirrim. Just after sunset, a rider, Ceorl, meets them; he is from Grimbold’s forces and brings news of the defeat at the Fords, and that Erkenbrand has drawn off what men he can towards Helm’s Deep. Gandalf looks north to Isengard, and advises Théoden to ride for Helm’s Deep, not for the Fords; then he rides away at a gallop.

Here is the layout of Helm’s Deep. There is a coombe (a valley running up between the mountains, making a rough triangle pointing at the mountains), called the Deeping-Coomb. From the mountain-facing point of this valley, there is a gorge winding into the mountains, called Helm’s Deep; behind the gorge, winding under the mountains, are the caves of Aglarond. At the gorge’s mouth, called Helm’s Gate, there is a heel of rock jutting out from the cliff, with walls and a tower (the Hornburg, built by Gondor in the days of its strength); there is also a wall, running from the heel of rock to the other side of the gorge, fully blocking off the entrance to the gorge. This wall, the Deeping Wall, is 20 feet high, with a tall parapet and clefts allowing archers to shoot, and is wide enough for four men to walk abreast. In the wall there is a culvert letting out the Deeping-Stream. There is a stair from the wall to the Hornburg, and three more stairs from it down into the Deep.

Helm’s Dike, a trench and rampart, provides an additional level of defence further out, running from the cliff-walls on either side of the coombe’s point. It is two furlongs (400m, or a quarter-mile) from Helm’s Gate, about a mile long, and there is a wide breech in it to let the Deeping-stream out. A narrow causeway runs out from the Hornburg out to the midpoint of the dike, and crosses the Deeping-stream; where the causeway meets the Hornburg, there is the great gate.

The Rohirrim find wolf-riders already in the coombe when they reach it. Their westward scouts have found many slain men and scattered companies, do not know where Erkenbrand is, and report a large force of Saruman’s troops marching from the Fords to Helm’s Deep. Many have seen Gandalf riding to and fro, but have no idea what he is up to. As they ride into the coombe, they find few foes, and those they do see flee before they can be captured or killed. The Rohirrim can see and hear a large army pursuing them, and burning homesteads in the valley.

When they reach Helm’s Dike, they learn that there are about a thousand men at Helm’s deep, those left by Erkenbrand and those who retreated from the Fords and came to the Deep; but many are old man or boys. Théoden’s army has another thousand, making two thousand total. There are also refugees from the Westfold (in the caves of Aglarond). Théoden’s forces enter Helm’s Deep via the causeway in single file, dismounted.

Eómer organizes the defense. Théoden, the men of his household, and many of the men of Westfolf are stationed in the Hornburg, while the bulk of the forces - including Eoómer, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli - are placed on the Deeping Wall.

Around midnight, Saruman’s forces overrun Helm’s Dike, and the rearguard of Rohirrim escapes to the Deep. At the same time, the storm out of the east hits, with thunder, lightning, and rain. The enemy attacks the Deeping Wall and the causeway, are pushed back several times, but then manage to get up the causeway and reach the gate from the causeway into the Hornburg with battering-rams. Eómer and Aragorn in a flash of lightning see the gate’s danger.

Running like fire, they sped along the wall, and up the steps, and passed into the outer court upon the Rock [Hornburg]. As they ran they gathered a handful of stouts swordsmen. There was a small postern-door that opened at an angle of the burg-wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet it. On that side a narrow path ran round toward the great gate, between the wall and the sheer brink of the rock. Together Éomer and Aragorn spring through the door, their men close behind. The two swords flashed from the sheath as one...Dismayed the rammers let fall the trees and turned to fight; but the wall of their shields was broken as by a lightning-stroke, and they were swept away, hewn down, or cast over the Rock into the stony stream below.

However, the gate is badly damaged, and the most that can be done is to barricade it from within the Hornburg. Éomer is tripped and nearly killed by orcs who were pretending to be dead, but is rescued by Gimli, who had followed the sortie. The storm has now largely passed and the moon is shining.

The assault continues, both against the gate and - with ropes and ladders - against the Deeping Wall. Orcs creep into the Deep through the culvert and attack within the Deep at a moment when the attack on the wall is strongest; Gimli jumps down into the Deep to fight them, and some of the defenders of the Hornburg hear him and join him, killing the orcs. Gimli helps them block up the culvert. However, the enemy uses some some explosives developed by Saruman to blow the culvert open again, and flood into the Deep, while pushing a fresh assault against the wall at the same time. The Deep is taken and the defenders of the wall are swept away, either back to the caves (Gimli, Éomer) or to the Hornburg (Aragorn and Legolas, who defend the stairs up to the Hornburg until everyone else has retreated).

Aragorn brings news of the events to Théoden in the tower of the Hornburg. Théoden plans to ride out at dawn against the enemy, and Aragorn commits to ride with him. Until then, Aragorn, Legolas, and the other defenders continue to repel attacks on the outer wall of the Hornburg. At dawn Saruman’s forces break the great gate of the Hornburg with blasting fire, but at that moment the horn of Helm Hammerhand is sounded and Théoden and his men ride out, with Aragorn, sweeping over the causeway and all the way to Helm’s Dike; and forces that retreated to the caves push out into the Deep, driving back the enemy, reinforced by all the Rohirrim remaining in the Hornburg.

And they see in the sunlight that all the Deeping-coomb is filled with trees, with open ground only extending 400m (a quarter-mile) from the dike; and Saruman’s army is packed within that area. Then Erkenbrand and his men - a thousand infantry - with Gandalf, arrive on the ridge on one side of the coomb, and charge Saruman’s army. The orcs flee into the trees and are destroyed; the remaining men in Saruman’s army surrender.

Ugh, I still need to cover events elsewhere. Okay, as briefly as possible:

Gandalf spent the night 1) riding to Isengard to get Treebeard to send the Huorns south to Helm’s Deep; 2) finding Erkenbrand; 3) sending some of Grimbold’s men to join Erkenbrand, and others to bury the Rohirrim who fell at the Second Battle of the Fords; and 4) sending Elfhelm and his men to Edoras to reinforce its defences.

As for the Ents: in the early morning of the 3rd Treebeard calms them down from their destruction of Isengard and tell them his plan to flood Isengard to deal with Saruman’s fires. They spend the day on this work, damming and diverting the Isen. Gandalf arrives some time after dusk (shocking Merry and Pippin, who thought he was dead), has a hurried conversation with Treebeard, and rides off again; Treebeard sends the Huorns south. Around midnight the Ents flood Isengard.

Frodo and Sam continue their journey to Mordor, across dry slopes of mud.

For two more nights [the 2nd-3rd and 3rd-4th] they struggled on through the weary pathless land. The air, as it seemed to them, grew harsh, and filled with a bitter reek that caught their breath and parched their mouths.

[sxfterhearts]

22. [4:22 pm]

“That’s all for today, good job everyone on your midsemester exams, and don’t forget to submit your assignments by midnight on Saturday.” Loud rustles echoed around the room as impatient students began to pack up their things and leave. “See you next week, class.”

Even before you dismissed your tutorial class, nearly three-quarters of the room was already vacated. As the last few students got up and bid you goodbye, a few of them stayed back to ask you questions about the midsemester exam you just reviewed. Being an experienced tutor for this unit, you listened intently to every single one of their questions and worries, providing them with answers to the best of your knowledge. It was common for you to get held back for nearly fifteen to twenty minutes because the unit you tutored was known to be difficult yet essential for all students from your major. You remembered taking this unit yourself two years ago and all the grief it had caused you, hence you fully empathised with your students.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar blonde-haired boy leaning against a table and browsing casually on his phone as you placed all of the midsemester exams back into the cardboard box, along with your stationary and other tutorial material. He was the last student left. “Bambam,” you called the boy. “How can I help you?”

“What are you doing after this, Y/N?”

You tried your best to resist the strong urge to roll your eyes. Bambam had been over the moon when he found out that you, his former class president from high school, was assigned to tutor his class for the entire semester. Ever since high school, he had made countless futile attempts to get closer to you. Most girls back then would have been flattered by the vice president of the student council’s undivided attention – he was always trailing around you like a lost puppy, offering to help you with tasks that you were fully capable of handling, or leaving you small gifts like chocolate and miniature wooden figures from his Woodwork class.

Undeterred, you never caved to his advances, for many reasons. For one, the two of you were polar opposites. The only similarity that you shared was that you were both teachers’ pets who sat on the student council. Anything beyond that, such as your personalities (you were the studious, quiet type; he was popular, smart and sporty) and your interests (you loved escaping to the library and reading; he practically lived on the basketball courts) were miles apart. Secondly, you absolutely loathed all the attention he gave you. You disliked his grand gestures that quickly became the talk of the school. There was so much unnecessary gossip surrounding you due to Bambam’s actions and you hated it when people talked behind your back. Some girls even started sending you anonymous threats on social media for being the apple of Bambam’s eye and for rejecting his heart. It was just too much for you and you decided that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Things were much more different now, of course. Most people mature when they enter university and thankfully the students who used to harass you either studied elsewhere or lost interest in the situation completely. You had enjoyed your peace and quiet without him in your first year when Bambam had decided to take a gap year, but he had since returned from his worldly travels. You rarely came in contact with him in your second year as you had completed a year of studies abroad, but this year, by some twisted stroke of luck, you had been assigned as his tutor.

He was the same old Bambam, always so persistent, but a bit more mature in his approach. He would ask you the same question every other week, about your schedule, and whether you were free to ‘catch up’, but he knew how to stop and wish you a good day once you rejected him. You always gave him the same answer, a polite “No, thank you,”, before parting ways with him. That is, until last week.

It was the week of midsemester exams. Due to the exam timetable, the exam of the unit you tutored fell on a Monday, four days before the exam that you had to sit which was on the Friday. Normally, this would be an ideal timetable, however another one of the tutors came down with a serious case of the flu and the professor assigned you to mark her load of papers by Friday. By Wednesday afternoon, you were marking papers in an abandoned corner of the cafeteria, running on a lack of sleep and an astronomical amount of caffeine in your bloodstream. When Bambam walked up to you and sat across you, spouting his usual questions, you just lost it. “No! I have nearly two hundred papers to grade and a difficult exam to study for. No, I am not free, so leave me alone!” You yelled at him, nearly on the brink of tears.

Bambam was clearly taken aback by your outburst, of course. You were soft-spoken and demure, never one to raise your voice in a public place. He could see the resemblance between the woman before him, struggling to hold back the tears, and the girl he saw hiding in an abandoned classroom three years ago, bawling her eyes out as she crouched amongst a sea of books and papers. He remembered that you never really dealt with academic stress very well.

On the surface level, Bambam seemed the stereotypical rich boy on campus, shooting hoops with the boys every day while playing with a different girl every night. It wasn’t true, though. There’s more than meets the eye.

You learned that when he had respectfully asked whether he could stay with you, and if he could bring you somewhere to take your mind off things. Suddenly exhausted, you finally gave in to him, watching him tidy up your things and place them into your bag. You figured it was about time you took a break from this madness anyways. He led you towards the footpath by the riverside across the road from your university campus. The two of you walked in silence, with nothing but the sound of waves crashing against the bay filling your ears. He took you to the far side of the bay which you rarely frequented and sat on the bench facing the river. There were many more yachts docked nearby, their periodic swaying therapeutic to watch, and the occasional dog would pass by, wagging its tail in greeting. Being in nature was calming, and you felt yourself relax in his presence.

“Hello, earth to Y/N.” Bambam waved his palm in front of your face. “Are you alright? You spaced out there for a sec,”

You swung your backpack over your shoulder and picked up the heavy box filled with stacks of paper. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Did you miss my question? I asked you about your plans after class.” The blonde boy reminded, walking side by side as the two of you exited the tutorial room.

You were still somewhat shaken by the flashback you had. It left a deep impression on you, and casted Bambam in a completely different light. “Uh, yeah, sorry.” You readjusted the box in your hands. “I’m just dropping these off at the professor’s desk.”

“Wait, did you just give me a proper answer?” Bambam wondered aloud, clearly taken aback by your less-than-usual response. I’m making progress, he thought. “Can I come with? I was hoping you’d be free after that too, I wanted to take you out for a coffee.”

“Why?”

“Well, see, I wanted to talk to you about last week. You know, when-” He was interrupted by your soft wince as you readjusted the box once more. “Do you want me to carry it?”

You shook your head adamantly. “It’s not heavy.” You shot him a pointed look. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Bambam stifled a laughter at your determined expression. “Yeah, I have no doubt about that.” He quickly stole the box out of your arms and cut you off before you could protest. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to act so strong all the time. Let others help you once in a while, no one will think any less of you for sharing your burden.”

“I-”

“Ah, Y/N!” Your professor exclaimed, stumbling upon you on his way to meet a colleague. “Are those the papers?”

You and Bambam bowed in greeting. “Yes, sir.” You answered, taking the box away and handing it to your professor. “One of the students had their marks calculated wrongly, I’ve already sent you an email with his student number and the new score. I’m really sorry for the mistake, sir, I promise-”

“That’s fantastic, Y/N. Always so efficient and meticulous. There’s really no need to be sorry! As humans, we are bound to make mistakes. What’s important is how we fix them and how learn from them. Thank you for your hard work, Y/N. You’ve done a good job.”

You turned your gaze downwards, slightly shy due to his kind words. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” You replied softly.

“And who is this young man, Y/N? Are you getting him to do all your dirty work? I saw him carrying the box earlier. It is heavy, though, if I do say so myself.” The professor extended his hand in a handshake, to which Bambam responded with a bright smile on his face.

“My name’s Bambam, sir. I’m doing your unit too, and Y/N is my tutor.”

The professor’s eyebrows quirked up in interest. “Oh? Is this something I should be worried about?”

“Sir, what does that mean?” You asked hurriedly.

He laughed boisterously in response, his half-moon glasses nearly falling off the tip of his nose as he did so. “I’m just joking, you two. Tell me, Bambam, how is it like being tutored by your girlfriend?”

“What-” You shrieked.

Bambam denied hastily. “Girlfriend? She’s not-”

“Sir, this is a misunderstanding, he’s not-” The two of you were gesturing and shaking your heads in unison, denying the professor’s words profusely.

“Ah, young love.” The professor readjusted his glasses as a knowing smile graced his lips. “Listen, son, I’ve known this young lady for two years now and I can assure you that she’s one of the good ones. Treat her well, she’s hard to find and hard to keep.”

Bambam flushed pink at his words. “You can say that again, sir.” His eyes met yours as he flashed you a bashful smile. Little did the professor know that he had been chasing you for the past six years, since the first day of high school.

(And little did you know that, indeed, opposites do attract. Seems like the blonde boy had a soft side that he kept hidden under that goofy exterior of his.)

(Of course, a few months down the road and a dozen coffee dates later, he would ask you to be his girlfriend.)

(And you agreed.)

[thetravelerwrites]

The Purple Hoarder (Dragon)

Rating: General Relationship: Female Human/Female Dragon Additional Tags: Exophilia, Dragon, Japanese Dragon Content Warning: Disease, Illness Words: 3202

A 3000 word commission for @alittlespicygay​, the first place reward for the 2000 follower giveaway! A village at the base of the mountain has been stricken with a mysterious disease, the only cure of which is an illusive flower known as the Dragon's Tear. Finding it was easy, actually obtaining it would be a bit more complicated... Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

To say that hiking in the nearby mountains is ill-advised was an understatement: most people who did so never came back. Only desperate people with a death wish were crazy enough to traverse the wilds of the forest, but you were plenty desperate.

A strange illness had overtaken your town, and you, as one of the last healthy people left, had been tasked with going into the mountains to find a rare flower called the Dragon’s Tear, which was supposedly the cure. The quest was made all the more difficult since you’d never actually seen one. In fact, no one had. There were drawings of it, but no one had seen the flower in over two hundred years.

Having packed and bid farewell to the few who could still stand to see you off, you started your long trek into the woods at the base of the mountain.

Two days had brought nothing but blisters on your feet and a sore back from sleeping on the ground. You really had no idea where to go, only a vague idea of what you were looking for. As you sat on the third morning, eating dried fruit for breakfast and staring at the peak of the mountain above you through the canopy of the trees, you suddenly had the intense feeling as though you were going to have to go up. Way up.

So you did. You had to find something that resembled a pathway, as most of the stones were jagged and broken, but after several hours of scrapes and scratches, grunting and heaving, you made it to a ledge to rest, gulping for breath.

As you sat there, trying not to die from lack of oxygen, you felt something brush softly against the back of your hand: a purple petal with black veins and a white base, fresh, perfect, and unwithered. You sat up suddenly, shock driving the exhaustion from your body. That was a Dragon’s Tear petal!

Where! Where had it come from? Scrambling up and grabbing your bag roughly, you tried to find the source of the petal.

After searching, you found a strangely hidden mouth of a cave, cleverly concealed behind a wall of jagged stone. If one was looking from any direction but down at it from above, they’d never have seen it. Petals were drifting out of the opening one or two at a time.

You made your way carefully inside, taking off your shoes so that you didn’t make any sound as your feet glided gently across the floor. It was dark in the cavern, naturally, but there were points of light through the rocks that gave you direction without having to light a torch.

Creeping slowly, you saw more petals peppered here and there on the ground, moving to and fro from the odd wind that permeated throughout the tunnelway. But the petals weren’t what you needed; while the petals had some components needed to treat the sick, the more potent medicine was in the stem of the flower. The petals of one flower might treat one person, but the stem could cure twenty.

As you slowly got closer into the cave, you heard a rumbling sound that continuously grew louder as you went farther in. You began to feel trepidatious, but you didn’t falter in your steps.

The tunnel of the cave opened up into a larger cavern. Light from a small hole in the center of the roof poured in, adding a small amount of light to the cave, just enough to see. You gasped. All around you, covering the floor, the walls, and the ceiling in the purple healing flowers, just growing from the stone. You could take as many as you wanted and cure an entire country. Once the village was healed, you could sell the rest and be rich beyond your dreams. Your mind reeled with possibilities.

As you reached down to pluck one up, you heard the rumble again. Looking up, you saw a dark purple mass, huge, black, and curled around itself, lying in the the middle of the sea of flowers. The way it was laying made it difficult to determine what manner of creature it was, but the way its body rose and fell with the rumbling said it was clearly asleep. Whatever it was, it was big enough to injure you should it wake, so you carefully backed away, bending to snatch a handful of the flowers.

As you did so, your canteen fell out of your bag, falling past the flowers and clattering loudly to the floor.

“Fuck!” You hissed, grabbing it up and pulling out a dagger, looking at the figure as it moved and stretched, shaking out its dark fur. It was long, from it’s neck to its body to its tail. Its limbs were relatively short, however. There were a pair of long horns on its head and it had whiskers that extended past its mouth and downward, like a mustache. It appeared to be a dragon of some kind, though it had no wings.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my home?” The creature said in a distinctly feminine tone, blowing warm breath against you as she spoke. For having been woken by an intruder, she was awfully calm, though you assumed if you could eat your intruders, you wouldn’t be all that perturbed, either.

“I…” You gulped a little but raised the knife in your hand in a way you hoped was menacing. “I’ve come for the flowers. A sickness has taken the village at the base of the mountain. None have died yet, but hundreds are sick and not recovering. Please. I just need the flowers and I’ll never bother you again.”

She snorted out of her nostrils, and your hair was blown back by the wind. “You come in here, threaten me with a toothpick, and make demands? How bold of you.” She sat back on her short hind legs and crossed her front ones, like a disappointed aunt. “What will you offer me for the flowers?”

“Offer you?” You asked, confused.

“Well, yes,” She said impatiently. “You wouldn’t steal flowers from your neighbor’s garden, would you?”

“I would if it saved an entire village of people!” You retorted loudly.

She was unswayed. “What will you offer?”

You sighed sharply. “I don’t have any money,” You replied, holding out your hands helplessly.

She snorted again. “I’m not like my scaly cousins. Money doesn’t interest me. What else can you offer?”

“What do you want?” You asked.

She got back down on all fours and came closer. “Do you have a comb or a hairbrush?”

“What?” You said, feeling more confused that you thought possible.

“Well, look at the state of my fur!” She said, turning. Her fur was rather tangled and full of brambles and twigs. “I don’t have the dexterity to to get it out myself. Or a comb.”

“So you want me to groom you?” You asked skeptically.

“Yes,” She said. “You brush my fur, and I’ll let you have one flower.”

“One?!” You shouted. “It’ll take plenty more than that to cure the entire village!”

“Which is why you will return each day to brush my fur. Each day you come and attend to me, and each day, you’ll leave with one flower. When the town is cured, you won’t have to come anymore.”

“It took me three days to get here!”

“I will fly you down the mountain every evening and come back to pick you up every morning.”

“You can fly? How? You don’t have wings.”

You could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I’m magical, dear. So, do we have a deal?”

“Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You grumbled.

“Oh, there’s always a choice,” She said. “Come along, now. It’ll be better in the sun, where you can see what you’re doing. It’s too dark in here.” As she brushed past you toward the exit, she added, “I’m Raun, by the way.”

You resisted the urge to snatch up a few of the flowers while she wasn’t looking and reluctantly followed her out of the cave, petals whispering against the ground as she moved through them.

Out in the sunlight, you could see that she wasn’t all black like she appeared inside: like the flower petals, her fur started black at the base but grew out into a purple hue. The slitted irises of her eyes were also purple, and the blackness of her horns had an iridescent purple sheen. She lay her long body down on the warm stone and looked at you expectantly. With a sigh, you retrieved a comb and hairbrush from your pack.

Thankfully, she was clean and smelled very nice. She said there was a private pool close by where she bathed regularly, and she attributed the pleasant scent of her fur to the flowers she slept in, which had a vaguely honeysuckle-elderflower smell.

The hardest part was removing each tiny bramble and twig individually before you could even start combing out the tangles. By the time you were halfway through plucking, the sun had begun to set.

“Ah,” She said, standing abruptly and dislodging you. She darted into the cave and returned with a single flower, stem included, and gave it to you. She then lowered her neck to the ground. “Time to get you home. Climb on. Hold my horns.”

Not at all trusting this situation, you carefully swung a leg over her and straddled her right behind her head. Wasting no time, she bound forward and took a dive off of the cliff. You screamed as she came up short of the ground and rose sharply, dancing like a ribbon in the wind as she flew, truly flew, over the canopy of trees back toward the village.

She stopped short of the town’s edge and landed gracefully, though you were still feeling sick.

“I’ll return here in the morning, just after dawn. I’ll have breakfast waiting,” She said. “Also, as part of the deal, you tell no one about me. I don’t need a legion of thieves showing up at my doorstep, if you please. Otherwise, I’ll destroy the flowers and move on.”

“I understand,” You said.

“Good.” Without another word, she leapt and took off back toward her cave. You watched in confusion and a little bit of awe.

You went back into the town and present the flower to the council, telling them you could only find one, but that you’d go back out the next day to look for more. They thanked you, immediately instructing the physician to begin the process of distilling a cure.

You didn’t sleep that night, feeling anxious about the next day. Raun had been rather approachable, friendly even, but she was still a dragon. The stories about them weren’t exactly encouraging, especially about what happens to the people who encounter them.

The next morning, you hiked out again into the woods. Raun was waiting for you there in the place she’d sat you down.

“Ready to go?” She asked, sounding chipper.

“I suppose,” You grumbled.

She cocked her head at you. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Goodness. Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, sighing. “Let’s go.”

She shrugged and, after letting you climb on her back, she took off again.

As she landed and allowed you to slip down, you asked, “So, should we get started?”

“No, no! I said I’d have breakfast ready. Are you hungry?”

“It depends,” You said, eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s not raw meat or anything, is it?”

She snorted again. “No, don’t be silly. I’m a vegetarian.” She led you inside the cave, which you couldn’t help but notice had been spruced up a little. There were other flowers and things littered about. There were even two braziers lit, so that there was more light in the cave and you could see better. You imagined she had night vision and didn���t need the extra light, so she must have put them up just for you.

In the center, where she slept, there was a large array of fruit and vegetables laid out on some kind of fur, most likely bear, and flowers put all around the spread. It was actually… really pretty.

“Why…?” Was all you could manage to get out.

“I don’t have guests all that often,” She said, curling her body around the bear fur with breakfast on it and eating an entire watermelon. “I want you to feel welcome.”

“Oh,” You said, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. You picked up a pear, sniffed it, and ate it.

You ate your fill long before she did, and as you waited for her to finish, being full and warm started to make your eyelids droop and your head nod. You blinked, and when you opened your eyes again, you were laying against her fur with her head in your lap, her eyes closed.

“Um…” You reached out and tugged gently on her ear, which was goat-like, and her eyes popped open, her pupils blown wide like a cat in the dark.

“Ah, you’re awake,” She said, lifting her head off of you. “You fell asleep during breakfast. It’s almost lunchtime now.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” You said. “Please, I didn’t mean it, please don’t withhold the flower today! So many people are still sick!”

“I wasn’t going to,” She replied, taken aback. “I”m not heartless, dear.” She stood up and began walking toward the exit. “Would you like to come and help me pick lunch? I have a garden I’ve been tending in a lower part of the mountain.”

“Sure,” You said slowly and followed her outside.

Her “garden” was practically a farm in and of itself; there were rows of vegetables and trees, and fruit dangling from the vine. In addition, there were flowers everywhere. It was a paradise.

“This is beautiful,” You told her.

If a dragon could smile, she certainly was at the moment. “Thank you! It was years in the making.”

You helped her pick a bushel of various fruits and vegetables and had lunch in the middle of her garden. She then flipped on her back and allowed you to begin detangling the fur on her long belly like a placated housecat.

It went on this way for weeks: every morning you left with Raun to brush out her fur and spend a day talking and, over time, enjoying each other’s company, and every evening you returned to the village with a single Dragon’s Tear. Every day, twenty people were cured of the sickness, and life began to return to the town. You were hailed as a hero, though you felt a bit guilty that all you had done to earn the flower was lounge around with a fluffy dragon in a garden.

Six weeks on, you were sitting against her with her tail in your lap, brushing out the fur. Since you had started, her fur had gone from a tangled, brambles mess to sleek, shiny, and gorgeous. You were almost a little jealous.

“There’s only twenty-three people still sick in the village,” You mentioned casually. “You’ll be free of me the day after tomorrow.”

Raun was silent and still, perhaps sleeping. She often did fall asleep when you were brushing. After a few minutes, though, you heard her ask, “Will you visit me?”

“If you like,” You said. “I know I must be a thorn in your side, coming up here and demanding things from you. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You laughed. “So to speak.”

Raun did not laugh. In fact, she was rather quiet from then on.

The day came when you received the last flower, and she let you down in the same glade as always.

“Well,” She said, sitting down so that she was eye level with you. “I’m glad your people are well. This will be goodbye, then?”

“I’m afraid so,” You told her, patting her nose. “I’m sure you’ll be glad without me underfoot.”

“Take care of yourself,” Raun said. “This village is lucky to have someone like you.”

Before you could reply, she turned and ran off, shooting up out of the canopy and away to her home.

The last few people were cured, and the village held a celebration in your honor. The attention made you extremely uncomfortable, and everything reminded you of Raun. The wine was made with elderflower, there was a watermelon carved in the shape of a dragon, there was a spread of food on a bear skin. This feast should include Raun. She was as much responsible for this as you were.

A week passed, and you dreamed of Raun every night. Some dreams were good, some weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t put her out of your mind.

Will you visit me?

Well… why not? She didn’t kill you the last time you showed up unannounced, and you imagined her fur must be rather tangled by now. You bounced out of your bed in the early morning hours while the village was still quiet, gathered your things, including a giant, brand new horse brush you’d bought for no reason you could think of, and began your trek up the mountain.

It took less time, since you knew where you were going, but it was still the better part of the day to get there. By the time you’d made it to the well hidden entryway, dusk was falling. Inside, you heard a low moaning, like wind through a tunnel. Curious, you went inside.

It was dark, but there was still enough light that you could see Raun inside, sitting with her front legs tucked in, her head bowed, and bright tears dripping down her face and onto the stone. As it hit, a brand new Dragon’s Tear flower bloom instantly from where her tear fell, fully formed and glowing.

It was then you realized as you looked at the flowers all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Each one was a tear, a real tear. How many had she cried? How long? It had to have been before you came because there were already so many then, but now, every inch was covered in the flowers. She must have been crying for days.

“Raun!” You exclaimed, running forward and throwing your arms around her neck. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

She gasped and put her large paws around you. “You came back! I didn’t think you would!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me to come back?” You asked her, pulling her forward by her whiskers.

“I did!” She said, sniffling, another tear leaking out. It landed on the hem of your skirt, and a flower popped up there. “But I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You said. “I haven’t stopped thinking of you. I should have come back sooner.” You kissed her snout repeatedly. “I brought brushes,” You said, a tear or two in your own eyes. “Could you use some grooming?”

“Always,” She laughed back, nuzzling your neck. “But can we have dinner first?”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[sagoliilynx]

The End of the Beginning (3)

((This is a long one so I will put it under the cut. Also a word of warning, while I edited the graphic stuff out, there is still some obvious indication of self harm. Steer clear if you are worried that it might get to you.))

Once it had been an Au Ra, though it was impossible to tell if it had been Raen or Xaela. At least as far as his knowledge of the race from his home world extended. Here they were called something else, but they still sported the same features that he was used to. Not this thing though, gone was natural skin pigmentation and now flesh looked as if it had been carved from white stone, a statue come to life. The thing’s right arm was malformed, larger and longer than it should have been, and ending with a large clawed hand. It was almost as if the man had started to mutate but that change had been halted. And then there was the eyes, pale orbs devoid of emotion, unblinking as if the thing was a machine with no soul. Maybe it was.

“You better use the crystals or you’ll be dead. Either way it is fun for us!”

Lan was unsure who had spoken, but he still took note of what was said as a plan started to form in his mind. He had little time to consider things though as the monster charged him, that huge set of claws swiping so closely that he felt the air stir in passing.The Miqo’te found himself on the defensive for now, diving and dodging the attacks leveled his way by the much larger and stronger foe.

Someone in the cheering/jeering crowd above tossed down a hand axe and wooden shield, far from ideal equipment, but better than nothing. A dive to the side saw Lan scoop the implements up and ready himself for the next attack, one he met head on now as he took the hit with the shield. The wood seemed to be a meager barrier between him and those vicious talons, but it held and it gave him the chance to counter with a downward swing of the axe, blade biting into flesh at the monster’s shoulder. Of course whatever drove the beast now helped it shrug off the blow, viscous green blood oozing from the wound.

What followed was a flurry of activity as they traded blows, Lan working to avoid as many as he could, while the monster seemed to just take each hit and keep coming forward. It was brutal combat the likes of which Lan had not been a part of in a long time, and deep down part of him thrilled in the life and death struggle with the odds against him. But the tactician’s mind told him that he would falter before this thing did, he would need to end it soon. He had the answer, but implementing that answer was easier said than done.

Lan began to give ground, something that once upon a time his instructors would have screamed at him for, something that would have earned him so many damn flutter kicks as punishment. But those days were long gone, and real warfare had taught him that at times you needed to yield just a bit to gain the advantage. “Force them to hunt me, they will play my game, and play by my rules. I will be close but still untouchable.” That old litany slipped found his lips as his shield was battered and he stepped back a few more fulms, a deadly calm settling over him as the thrill of the battle slipped away. Indeed all emotions started to unravel within his mind, that familiar calm of the inner void engulfing feelings and distractions alike. Supreme focus.

The creature’s massive claw reared back and up to strike another blow on the meager wooden barrier that stood between it and the prey before it. But when it swung it’s arm it struck the top of the side of the pit, a bit of an overhang thanks to the uneven nature of the hole. The lethal hand actually striking a few of the crystals that lined the impromptu arena with a force that saw some of the shards impale the big palm. Color began to drain from the claw, pale aether flowing into the stones. Something that was not unnoticed by Lan. Another piece falling into place even as he launched his counter with a deathly calm that rivaled the monster’s. 

Seizing the opening, Lan hooked a leg with the blade of his axe and pulled even as his own powerful legs drove him forward with his shield leading the way. The monster stayed on his feet despite being staggered by the Seeker it faced. But Lan’s plan was fully realized when his feet left the ground and with surprising agility for someone of his build actually climbed the former Au Ra and kicked off and up. Midair he hurled his shield at the monster, a distraction, and a chance to free his hand before it found purchase one of the larger crystals that lined the hole. Feline grace brought him swinging up above the lip of the pit even though his handhold came loose in his hand. Even in that calm he allowed a sliver of pride to briefly seep through as the gathered cultists  gasped in shock. The Miqo’te was on them before some of them even had time to react, a savage dervish of steel and fist that tore through his enemies. 

Shouts rang out as the shock subsided and Children scrambled to arm themselves and take on that man that had somehow managed to bring so much havoc right into their midsts. But ganging up on a single man was not going to be their only worry as a great claw slammed into the lip of the pit and their other prisoner hauled itself up. Too late did they realize that the acrobatic feat they had witnessed had knocked out more than just one crystal. The strange phenomenon that had held the mutated Drahn weakened enough to let the creature free. And now it butchered them as some fled and others attempted to fight.

Of course the other threat they had to contend with, Lan, was still cutting his way through the few that opposed him. Having acquired a sword to pair with his axe, he did look every bit of a monster himself as blood spattered his skin while he ravaged his enemies. There was a plan behind his attacks though, and it was realized as he came face to face with the Elf that had seemed to be the one in charge, the one that had managed to discover him in the brush. The same Elf that grinned wickedly at him as blade of his own came to hand right before they clashed.

Chaos raged around them but somehow the two men fought undisturbed as if it had been a duel agreed upon. Lan found that this particular enemy was a match for his own skill as a blademaster and theirs was the dance of death only one would survive this encounter. Steel met steel as they clashed with such intensity that blades actually chipped and at times their movements would seem a blur to the outside observer. Bit by bit the Elf started to press the Seeker, and his grin grew as there was an evil flash in his red eyes, he was confident that it was almost over….

Sword came down in an arc that would deal a mortal blow to the last chief of the Free Tribe...hand it connected. Red eyes widened in surprise as Lan used the handle of his axe to block the attack, and those eyes widened more as a shortsword tore through flesh, organs, and bone. Lan buried the blade to the hilt in the Elf’s chest with such force that he felt the crack of the ribs transmitted through his weapon. Victory was at hand as he brought the axe up now, ready for it to deal the final blow. But a hand wreathed in sickly green aether struck like a viper, fingers closing over Lan’s left wrist like one half of some hellish manacles. 

And the sensation shook that inner void, a feeling like a fever accompanied that green energy as it engulfed his hand and begun to creep up his arm. The void collapsed, but that did not signal the end for Lan’s fight as he pulled downward and twisting the still embedded sword, the blade tearing a path through the Elf’s body before finally severing the spine. Like a puppet with its strings cut the Elf finally collapsed dead, vile aether vanishing before his body even hit the ground.

And Lan fled, the leader’s death was not going to go unnoticed even in the chaos of the mutating creature’s rampage. He would not be there to see the monster shifting more and more into a true sineater form, but the cultists would get a front row seat for that change, the last thing many would ever see.

He kept his wits enough to alter his path enough to go to where he had hid before his capture and retrieve his leather bag, the contents of that bag more precious than most anything else he owned. His left arm was starting to go numb as he continued his flight, his sense of direction pointing him toward where his hidden cave would be. Something told him that he needed to get there fast.

“Lan…” 

“Lan…” The voice sounded distant and distorted, like someone trying to call out to him across a malms wide sandstorm.

How long had he been running now? His left arm hung limp at his side, the numbness having creeped upward along it. Why was his flesh darker? It was hard to think, hard to do anything other than run. Something was wrong, very wrong…

“Lan..that is corruption magic...it will spread more until you die.” It was a familiar voice but still so distant.

“Hannah? Where have you been?” As always, it would make him look mad if anyone saw him talking to someone that was not there. Only one other person aside from him had seen the mysterious woman that was able to speak to his mind.

“N..o...t..me...weak co..ion. ...must remove...o..or die….” 

It was harder to hear her now, as if their connection was breaking apart. He staggered over a root as his flight continued and he tried to puzzle out what she was saying. But then clear as day an image flashed in his mind: His arm starting to turn a sickly black, bloated and diseased, and that disease starting to spread to the rest of his body. Another image flashed, the axe he still managed to hold…

He staggered once more, finally stopping to slide down against a large tree. Weary eyes looked at his left arm just as veins of black creeped further upward, almost to his elbow now. In the feverish, exhausted haze he now knew what message Hannah had been trying to convey. Whatever that Elf had used on him was going to spread like a blight through his body, infecting him until he died here on this strange world, not the end he had wanted for himself. Sapphire eyes moved from the corrupted limb to sweep over the axe in his right hand...He either trusted those images and possibly lived, or he ignored them and certainly died. No more battles to fight, no more tribal history to uncover, and hardest of all, utterly alone. Would Anstarra and Nihka miss him? There would be no chance to finally speak with Jancis again as promised….No chance to uncover the secrets of the Free Tribe. Death was not to be feared, but perhaps it was not time for that meeting just yet.

The strap of his bag would make an adequate tourniquet, and his vest could be fashioned into a bandage. He would need a fire too...He stared at the axe for a bit more as the change his life was about to undergo firmly took root in his mind. Would he still be a soldier? 

The sound of someone growling in pain through gritted teeth had been loud enough to travel quite a distance even in the thick forest, and it helped the two hunters find the one that they had been dispatched to locate. The two members of the Night’s Blessed followed the signs and the smell of smoke until they happened upon a small clearing with a smoldering fire. But it was the clearing’s sole inhabitant that they focused on. Slumped over against a tree was a tanned Mystel man with the smell of seared flesh still clinging to him, that smell coming from what was left of his arm. Resting by his right hand was an axe, still bloody from the deed that had been done. “By the Night…” The evidence was clear, and what they could see of the now detached limb made it clear that it had been a matter of survival, and a very painful act. It had to have been awkward to try and wield the axe in such a manner.

The Blessed quickly fashioned a litter and gathered both the unconscious man and the odd metallic book next to him up before setting off. The Guide had sent them to find this guy for whatever reason, and they would deliver the poor bastard, if he survived long enough to get there.

[keemsockjean]

Magic Shop

Genre: fantasy

Ship: Seokjin x reader

Word Count: 1640

The water was calm.

Not a ripple disturbed its midnight surface - not even when the small, rickety rowboat cruised gently across it, powered only by the oars pushing through the water.

The oars didn’t disturb it either.

It only pierced through the surface like needle through cloth, half of it disappearing into the pitch black water without a single ripple to show that anything had even made contact with it.

There was an eerie silence, almost deafening in its intensity, blanketing the darkened cave. Whispers of the wind ruffled my hair, whistling through the hollow cave and creating a haunting melody that raised goosebumps on my skin.

Shivering, I pulled the hood tighter over my head, as if the flimsy piece of clothing would protect me from whatever was lurking out there.

A sudden gust of wind blew the hood off of my head, and I squeaked loudly, the usually quiet sound echoing through the cave. The rocks rumbled slightly, showing its disapproval. I paused until the noise stopped, only then picking up my oar and rowing slowly through the river blindly.

Where was I going?

The boat jerked forwards, the wood making a thumping noise as the front hit something I couldn’t identify in the inky blackness, causing me to let out a slight scream as I fell forwards, hands throwing themselves in front of me to steady myself on the rocking boat.

From my right, light flared, a small flame appearing and illuminating the oil-like water.

My eyes widened, gaze landing on the rock that the rowboat had stumbled upon. Swirling illustrations done in purple ink ran across the sharp point, spiralling downwards and disappearing into the water. Behind it was a flat expanse of sand - almost white in its color and completely smooth.

I made a small noise in the back of my throat, heart jumping in my chest. The lantern flickered, and I turned, wrapping my hand around the handle. The lantern disconnected from the stone wall easily with a quiet snap, the fire burning brighter when I held it.

The breeze made the row boat rock again, so I grabbed the rope, tying it around the sharp point of the rock before carefully stepping down onto the sand. My footsteps did not make a single indent in it. Eyes widening in amazement, I gingerly picked up the ends of my cloak and tiptoed across the sand, which seemed to go on for miles.

I wondered when it would end.

Just as I thought that, a torch flared up on the wall next to me. I jumped, scrambling backwards and colliding with the opposite wall. A sharp rock jabbed me in the spine, and I scowled, cursing it internally. The wind blew through the small tunnel, making the torch’s flame flicker dangerously.

I sped up my pace, holding the lantern out in front of me to illuminate my path.

It was growing gradually lighter, torch after torch flaring up as I passed it, leading me to the end of the tunnel. It caused me to walk faster, almost running as I saw a sliver of light - real light, sunlight! - around the corner. I burst through the end of the tunnel just as my lantern died, smoke rising from its burnt tip.

Gasping, I took in my surroundings, in awe of its magnificence.

A large crack spanning the length of the ceiling exposed the cave to sunlight, casting its beaming rays on the sparkling sand below. The same pitch black water was in the distance, although this time there were waves and foam frothing as it lapped gently against the shore, looking more like obsidian than oil.

But mostly, I was amazed by the ancient building in front of me.

Rather, it didn’t look as old as the stories told. Its crystal surface gleamed, as if newly polished, the sunlight reflecting off of it and creating blue, purple, and pink lights, glimmering as I walked past it. Carved, golden columns rose from the sand, holding up a dome made of the same precious crystal as the rest. A single window rested at the front of the building, protected with shining, gold bars.

This is it, I thought, stepping closer to the window. The space behind it was empty and black, impossible to see in.

The magic shop.

“What is it you want, girl?”

I jumped, dropping the lantern. It fell and shattered on the sand, which did not cushion it, but rather made it easier for it to break. The glass shards lay in the sand for a while before disappearing into more sand, settling into the ground around it. I spun around, seeing a man with a midnight black cloak, hood pulled over his eyes to reveal only the bottom half of his face.

I blinked, and he was gone.

A screeching, grating noise from behind me made me spin back around, only to see the golden bars removed, revealing seven cloaked figures standing in formation behind the window. The one in front smiled, which sent a chill up my spine.

“H-hello,” I stuttered, stepping bravely forward. They seemed amused by my actions, some of them releasing small chuckles. “I-I came here to-”

“Find happiness? Ask for a wish?” The one in the front lifted his head, and for a second I was stunned by the sheer beauty he possessed - from his almond eyes to the gentle slope of his nose and his full lips, eyebrow cocked up in question. “So we’ve heard, little one.”

“I-I…”

His lips curved into a full smile, stunning me into silence again. “Speak.”

“I…” My face flushed in embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to…”

“Look like this?” Another spoke this time: one in the back. He lifted his head, and once again I was surprised at how handsome he looked. One by one, they started to look up, removing their hoods. All of them looked perfect. My eyes scanned over their faces - dimples, feline eyes, cute nose, bright smile-

“Yes…” I said after a pause. “I mean-”

“We know what you mean, Kim Iseul.”

“You know my name?”

“We know many things,” a deep voice spoke up, dark fringe falling into his shockingly blue eyes.

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. I blushed again, ducking my head. Stumbling, I fumbled through my cloak for the necklace I had hurriedly stuffed in my pocket. Grabbing the chain, I placed it onto the counter. The blue crystal on the front gleamed in the light. Their eyes flashed in interest, and I gulped. “I heard that you’ll give us happiness if we exchange something important to us.”

“Ah.” He picked it up, caressing it in his hands. “And why do you want happiness, little one?”

“It’s not for me,” I said. His eyes flickered to mine.

“Then who is it for?”

“My sister,” I whispered. Something in his eyes sparked. His pretty face became sad, lips curving into a small frown.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, setting the locket back onto the counter. “I’m afraid that this is too small of a price.” Lifting his hand, he started to slide the metal grate back into its place, but I grabbed out in desperation, hand connecting with his wrist.

“Wait!”

He froze, eyes widening impossibly. They stayed like that, glassed over, a million emotions flashing over his face at once. Slowly, his head turned to stare into my eyes, and seemingly directly into my soul. I jerked my hand back, and the misty look in his eyes immediately disappeared. Clutching his head, he kneeled over, groaning.

“Seokjin hyung!” one of the cloaked figures called, rushing forwards to grab his arm. The man named Seokjin waved him away, straightening. I stared at him in slight fear, clutching my own hand. There were still tingles shooting up my arm.

“I see,” he said, understanding flashing in his eyes. I, on the other hand, was very confused. He pursed his lips, deep in thought.

“Hyung,” the tallest one warned. Seokjin did not turn his head at his voice. “Don't do things you will regret later.”

“I won’t,” he replied smoothly. Leaning forward eagerly, Seokjin slid the metal grate back open. “I will grant your sister everlasting happiness for one price.”

“Hyung!” The tall one sounded enraged. Seokjin snapped his fingers, and all six of them disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving only the two of us standing face to face.

“What will that be?” I asked breathlessly, voice slightly shaky. Seokjin smiled reassuringly. His hand reached out to rest over my heart, which pulsed under his gentle touch.

“Trade your pain for her joy.”

“I’ll do it,” I said immediately.

“You do not understand,” Seokjin replied. I frowned at him, and he drew back with a mysterious smile. “You contain so much pain, that the only way to obtain it is if we take all of you.”

“All of me?”

“Yes,” he grinned again. “All of you.”

“So…”

“Join us, Kim Iseul,” Seokjin said. He extended a hand. “Join us, and we will grant your sister everlasting happiness.”

“Is that it?” My hand was half extended, fingers hovering over his own.

“That’s it,” he confirmed.

“And my sister will be happy. Forever?” I pushed. He nodded. My eyes flickered behind me towards the obsidian waves, past the white sand and the tempting glory of the ancient structure. I sighed. “And how do we do this?”

“You kiss me,” he said simply, lacing my fingers with his.

“K-kiss?” He looked amused.

“Yes, kiss.” I hesitated. “Come on,” he murmured, leaning closer. I found myself being drawn by his flawless beauty, his almond eyes enticing and entirely too beautiful. As his face neared, I found my eyes fluttering shut, his lips ever so gently brushing mine.

I felt an electric spark rush through my body, causing me to gasp.

Seokjin smiled.

[reyloforcebalance]

Unscarred

My submission for the @two-halves-of-reylo weekly challenge (Week 3: Scars). If you like what you read, there’s more chapters on AO3 under the name “Chridder”: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411395/chapters/30728169.

The smell… the smell was the worst part.

Putrid, like the insides of a jubba left to rot on the hot sands of Jakku, invading her senses, weakening her focus…

Rey breathes in sharply, holding it for a moment before releasing. She can’t allow herself to be distracted.

She walks carefully along the damp, uneven ground, her arm extended and her hand stretched open just an inch from the curved, wet surface of the cave walls. Everything around her is shrouded in darkness, but it does not matter to Rey. Her eyes are closed. Her mind is calm. She relaxes her shoulders and lets her head tilt back slightly, feeling the Force course through her…

She moves carefully. One foot forward, and then the next, with her outstretched hand still hovering an inch from the thick, layered rock of the wall.

It’s close. She can sense it.

She continues forward methodically, one step at a time. She is determined to find it— she cannot fail. If another artifact falls into the hands of the Knights of Ren…

She steps forward. Then again, and again. With each step, her foot sinks slightly into the cave’s muddied floors. The scent of rot lies thick in the air. The cold wind whips through the cave’s winding corridors. But Rey feels none of this. She only feels the Force…and through the Force, she senses it… buried deep in the walls.  

She takes another step, then stops. Her eyes are still closed; her mind still calm.

It’s here.

She adjusts her body to face the wall directly. Her palm tingles as she senses the power of the artifact calling. The wall is hard and thick.

Rey stands, light and unmoving. She senses it all around her, expanding infinitely. The rhythm and hum of life and death, gain and loss, joy and sorrow. She opens herself to the Force, allowing it to flow through her. The artifact reaches out to her through the depths. She hears the faint echoes of screaming in her mind. She channels the Force to tease the artifact towards her, inch by inch. As she does, the screams grow louder, hollow and reverberating.

Closer. Closer. Closer she draws it to her.

Rey snaps back suddenly. The sound of a small avalanche of rocks hitting the cave floor behind her jerks her out of her trance.

Something screeches in the distance. Is it the artifact? Is it just in her mind?

She turns back to the wall, closing her eyes. She hears the screams in her head again. They sound like the screams of children. A chorus of screams, growing louder and louder as the artifact draws nearer.

Suddenly, the artifact bursts through the stone directly into her hand. It is a large crystal, pulsating with a deep red light, cool to the touch. The moment it reaches her fingers, the screams die away.  

For just a moment, everything is still as Rey stares transfixed at the crystal.

Then she hears it. The screeches. And not in the distance.

Rey turns towards the sound, and in an instant her body freezes in fear.

Creatures… she cannot see them well in this darkness, but she can vaguely make out the shape of them as a herd charges towards her at full speed, snarling.  

In one motion, she shoves the crystal in her pouch and takes off in the opposite direction. She jets out of the narrow corridor into a wider expanse of the cave, her heart pounding in her chest. A faint stream of light from high above the cavern’s depths casts shadows on the rocky, uneven earth before her.

“Don’t look back. Don’t look back, Rey,” she thinks to herself. “There is only one way—forward.”

The creatures shriek and snarl behind her. She can hear the heavy, pounding sound of their claws on the ground getting closer, closer…

She runs with every ounce of energy she can muster. She can see it just ahead in the dimly lit cave…

A wall. Tall, as tall as a watchtower, and made of a hard, rock surface unlike the earthy walls below.

They won’t be able to sink their claws into it.

As it draws closer, she focuses. They are right on her heels now. She can feel their hot breath on her skin.

When the moment arrives, it’s as though time slows down around her. She closes her eyes and concentrates on the power of the Force rising in her core.  She bends her legs then propels herself upwards, high… higher than any average humanoid can leap.

But not high enough.

Her right hand catches a slight indention in the wall. She hangs on, swinging precariously above the creatures who jump up, snapping at her feet. They are just out of her reach. She flings her left hand upwards, catching another indention in the wall. As she prepares to pull herself up, all at once, a sharp pain explodes in her thigh and a heavy weight drags her downwards.

Rey lets out an anguished roar and without thinking, immediately releases her left hand and turns an open palm to the beast. A wave of power knocks it back to the ground with a thud. The fang lodged in Rey’s thigh snaps off. 

Quickly, she turns back to the wall, pulling herself upwards with both arms and her right leg. Her left leg dangles like dead weight, throbbing. She tries to ignore the pain until she feels herself crawl over the edge of the wall onto the wet stone above.

She lets out a great exhale and lies flat on her back, panting. She listens to the screeches of the creatures as they slowly die down, die away… She is still in the cave. She can see the faint light of the planet’s suns above her, closer now than before, but still just a small ray of hope towering high in the distance.

The next wall she must climb is ten times higher. And now she’s injured.

Rey carefully sits up to inspect her leg. The fang is still lodged in her thigh, long enough for a sharp end to poke out of each side.

She grabs the base of the fang and pulls. She lets out a guttural groan as it slides slowly out of her. Her leg begins gushing blood. She quickly takes off her jacket and ties it tightly around her wound.

She’s slowed the bleeding for now. But she does not have long. She can feel it. The creature’s fang pierced something vital… she doesn’t know how long she has before she bleeds out on the floor of this cave.

Her head hangs down and her shoulders drop. She lets out a slow sigh and looks upwards. The wall looms high, towering above her. A grim but determined look registers on her face. She knows what she has to do.

She will not be defeated.

Rey drags herself over to the wall, rocks scraping against her bare arms, and begins hoisting herself upright by hooking her hands into small indentions along the surface. She stands on one leg now. She looks briefly down and then up again. The ray of light gleams faintly above.

Very, very carefully, she lets a little of her weight fall to her left leg. She winces and hisses in pain. Quickly, she pulls her body weight off the ground by planting her right leg in the wall and thrusting upwards. Her left leg dangles freely as she begins pulling herself up with her arms and good leg. Slowly, methodically… she cannot misstep.

Her progress is steady. She does not once look down, and yet she can sense that she is just over ten feet off the ground. She keeps her eyes trained on the ray of light whenever she can. She has a much longer way to go.

She continues upward, silently except for her breath and the occasional muted grunt of pain.

She extends her right hand and clasps another indention. She feels it… too late. The sweat of her palms slipping against the smooth surface. She loses her grip and the dead weight of her injured leg pulls her down, causing the other hand to slip.

Rey crashes to the cavern floor with a violent crack. She howls in pain, turning carefully to her right. Tears are streaming down her face as she drags her broken body back to the wall. When she gets there, she turns and lets her back rest against it. She unwraps her pouch from her waist and lays it to the side. Her injured leg is throbbing and stretched out before her. Her good leg is bent, with her forehead resting gently on it.

She still feels the blood slowly seeping from her wound. Now her whole body is aching from the fall. Exhaustion overtakes her, energy completely spent. Then the realization hits her, and when it does, she can barely breathe.

She is going to die here… right here… bleeding out in this cold, dark place, utterly alone… this is how her story will end.

She leans forward, breathing heavily… and lets out a sob. She tries to take a deep breath, but another sob escapes. Finally, she gives in as sobs violently wrack her body.

Her body collapses on the cave floor, and she crawls forward, still shaking. She places her palms on the earth and presses upwards, pulling herself to her knees with her weight on the right. Facing the earth, she rests her forearms on the damp ground and releases her forehead to rest between them, as if she’s in prayer.

Then, without warning, she feels it. Creeping in like an unwelcome memory…

“No,” she whispers softly, shaking her head.  

The feeling grows stronger. Rey squeezes her eyes shut, trying to concentrate… to block him out…

“No… please. Not now, No!”

Suddenly, her eyes snap open as soft sobs escape her. With her forehead still pressed to the ground, she leans into her forearms, trembling. She senses his presence.

She does not look up, so she cannot see him, his dark figure standing tall and staring silently over her shivering form.

Her breathing shallow and labored, she says quietly but firmly, “Go. Away.”

Seconds pass… She tries to compose herself, to steady her breathing, to calm her shaking body. The cave is eerily silent. She still feels him watching her.

“GO AWAY!” She sobs loudly, tears streaming down her face. She can’t bring herself to look up at him.

“Please… please…  just go away.”

She begins to slowly crawl backwards away from him towards the wall. He still watches her. Silently.

She stops and lets out a gasp, falling to her side. Her breathing is uneven. She can’t seem to get enough oxygen. For a moment, she hears nothing but the sound of her sharp, short inhales. Then, she hears the click of his boots on the cavern floor walking towards her.

He stops right next to her, just at the wall. He pauses, then he slowly kneels down and sits next to her, resting back on the cave.

Rey stares at the ground, focusing on the sound of her own breath… and his. She’s unsure what to do. She can’t seem to make herself move. She still can’t look at him.

She feels his hand reach out… tentatively… then rest on her shoulder. He grips her skin softly, slipping his other hand underneath the crook of her arm on the opposite side and pulls her towards him.

His feet are planted on either side of her, legs bent, as he brings her body into his chest. They’ve never done more than touch fingertips through their Force bond. She didn’t even know this was possible…

She feels the warmth of his body envelop her as his arms wrap tightly but gently around her, pressing the right side of her body firmly against his. Her head rests in the middle of his chest, tucked just under his chin. He cradles the back of her head with his hand.

She curls into him and, once again, lets herself sob, trembling against him, tears flowing damp on his black uniform. As he squeezes her tightly, her trembles gradually die down. She rests against him, surrendering completely, and stops thinking about anything else except for this feeling of tenderness and belonging. She wants to hang on to this moment for as long as she can. 

Eventually, her tears stop and her breathing begins to steady. She still rests her body on his chest, and rolls her forehead towards the center. His arms are still wrapped around her. They feel each other breathing softly, soon in synchronicity.

Though their Force bond, he can feel her pain… her despair… her fear of failure… of death. He also feels how at peace she is in his arms, content to melt into him, to escape into his warm body and deep breathing.

She can feel his conflict… that gnawing paranoia and lack of resolution raging just beneath the skin… his regret… his longing. She feels how much he wants this, how desperate he is for tenderness, for intimate human connection.

He holds her close and she lets him… for how long, neither of them know.

Her eyes are closed. She doesn’t feel the pain in her leg anymore… only the comfort of his warmth.

“Where are you?” His deep voice intones quietly.

In an instant, Rey snaps back to reality. She jerks away from him suddenly, scooting her body back away from his. Finally, she brings herself to look him in the eye.

This has always been dangerous for her. Since the first time he removed his helmet in the interrogation room on Starkiller Base, she’s had difficulty looking past the humanity brimming in his eyes… his irresolution… his… instinct for compassion? How can that be?

He gazes at her steadily, unblinking. Sitting upright with his legs still spread wide, he scoots his lower back to the wall and leans forwards with an elbow resting on his knee. His gaze intensifies. He repeats his question.

“Where are you?” His tone is soft but firm.

“I’m sure you’d love to know,” she says defiantly, staring intently back at him.

For a moment, her mind wonders to the crystal in her pouch. It’s only a few feet away from him. She quickly tries to regain control over her thoughts. Their Force bond… If she knows it, he’ll know it… Or maybe it doesn’t matter? If this artifact is truly so powerful, can’t he sense that it’s here, this precious thing he and his Knights are so intent on finding?

If he knows the artifact is here, he doesn’t let on.

He never breaks eye contact. He leans forward a bit more, placing a hand under her elbow and another at her waist, pulling her back towards him. Her body presses against him. He brings his lips close to her ear. Her heart is pounding. So is his.

“You know I would come for you.” His breath tickles her skin. 

“I know,” she answers in a whisper.

She still feels his hot breath on her neck. Her emotions well up and wash over her. A few more drops of tears escape her. She looks up, locking eyes with him briefly, then looks away, shaking her head. She’s done asking this man the question “Why?”

She begins scooting away from him again, but again he reaches out and pulls her closer. He brings her body back to his chest and turns her right side downwards. Then, he takes a hand under her left knee and gently bends her thigh towards his chest.

Rey winces a little in pain. She places a hand on his chest to steady herself and looks up at him with uncertainty.

He removes the thick black glove from his right hand and places it carefully next to him. He extends his hand towards the wound on her leg and stretches his fingers apart, hovering lightly.  

He stares intently… not at her, but at her wound. As the Force flows through him, she feels it flow through her. It’s as though, through the Force bond, she amplifies his powers and he amplifies hers.

At first, she feels nothing. Then… something.

The tissues in her leg. She feels them re-forming… mending… healing…

He still stares intently at her wound, his hand hovering above it, rebuilding her body.

Finally, once she feels whole, he brings his hand back and reaches for his glove. Rey sits up and stares at him silently as he puts it back on. He looks up at her. Their eyes lock. She stares inquisitively into those deep, black wells… and immediately she feels what he feels in that moment. He is vulnerable now. He can’t hide it. Not from her.

He doesn’t have to say it. Neither does she. They feel it together through the Force bond.

“Don’t be afraid. I feel it too,” the memory of his voice echoes in the back of her mind.

Their eyes linger on one another.

She blinks. Or maybe he does. Either way, in a moment he is gone, just as quickly as he appeared.

Rey stares blankly at the cave wall. All is silent except for the sound of her breath. For a few minutes, she sits on the damp floor in silence, staring into darkness.

Then, she slowly rises and stands straight, facing the wall. She stoops over to grab her pouch, briefly opening it to be sure the crystal is still there.

It is.

She wraps the strap around her waist and plants her feet firmly. She draws her shoulders back and down. She gazes up at the ray of light streaming onto her face from above. Once again, she begins the climb.

It goes much more quickly this time. Rey reaches out to an indention in the wall with one hand, then the other hand, then a foot, then the other foot…

She ascends swiftly, drawing nearer and nearer to the light. As she climbs, a thousand questions race through her head…

The Force can be used to heal?

Has it ever been done before?

Could Master Skywalker do it?

Could she do it?

Can the Force be used to stop death itself?

She moves upwards with strength and purpose. As she mulls over these questions, she finds no settled answers. Only more questions.

Rey grips the top of the cave wall and pulls herself up into the sunlight. Relieved, she lies flat on her back, her face turned up towards the sky. She closes her eyes, and breathes a sigh. She takes a moment to feel how good it is to be alive. To be whole.

 She sits up to inspect the hole in the left side of her threadbare pants where the creature bit her. She feels the skin where her wound once was—it’s smooth and unscarred.

Then she stands up and begins striding confidently onwards, taking in her surroundings, remembering where she landed the Falcon.

As she walks, the questions still reverberate in her mind. There is only one thing she knows for certain.

Healing…  that’s not an ability that derives from the Dark Side of the Force. The Dark Side draws from emotions like anger, pain, aggression, and hatred. What Ben did… that was done out of love.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Ghosts of War: Chapter 5

Summary: The 50s and 60s pass by in a blur. A very murderous blur. Along the way, though, you and the Soldier get closer. He’s a distraction and you know you shouldn’t let yourself develop any sort of feelings for him, but that proves impossible as the years and missions together go by.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language (always), torture (mental and physical), blood, violence, death, nudity, sexual themes, dub-con(?)*

Word Count: ~4,041

A/N: *Dub-con is on there because they’re not technically themselves? They’re brainwashed? They both consent but... yeah. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry on this one, guys.

Masterlist // Book One

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

They marched you and the Soldier to the cryofreeze pods. You entered yours without a hassle. There wasn’t much point to making a big stink about the whole thing. They’d just beat you. You took each needle they jabbed into you without so much as a sharp intake of breath.

You only regretted not putting up a fight for about four seconds: when you looked out across the room and saw the Soldier in the other pod, staring straight at you. His hand reached out to you but was stopped by the metal wall and thick glass. You raised your fist to bang on the door but it was too late. Liquid nitrogen flooded the tiny pods at the same time and the last thing you saw before nothingness engulfed you was the Soldier, a faint dusting of ice already coating his handsome face. 

No matter what Hydra had decided earlier, they made use of you and the Soldier. You were too valuable to leave in storage.

Most missions lasted a few days at most, and the majority of that time was spent traveling. You needn’t ever worry about studying your target, learning their habits and schedules; everything was done by the time they woke you and the Asset up from cryofreeze. You were handed a folder with all the pertinent information, then dispatched with clear orders. You and the Soldier completed them. Then you went back to base, wherever it happened to be. Shortly after your arrival they put you back in the chairs, and your minds were wiped. Then back into cryo.

This cycle repeated itself more times than even you knew. 

You killed at least dozens of people in the name of the motherland and Hydra. Their faces would come back to you randomly, their features contorted in fear and terror in your mind’s eye.

It annoyed you. You wished the wiping would clear them away so you could focus on your mission.

“Your mind is wandering.”

Your gaze snapped to the Soldier, who was walking beside you down the busy French street. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing a finely tailored dark navy suit. Black leather gloves hid his hands and shiny black oxfords flashed out from under the hem of his pants as he glided gracefully down the sidewalk. A blue-and-white polka dot tie was tired securely around his neck. You knew that underneath all of that fabric he was outfitted with enough firepower to level the block.

Your outfit was almost infuriatingly simple, with little to no room to hide weapons. The fashion of the time and place you were in- 1956, France- meant tiny waists and simple and tight-fitting dresses. The eggshell suit-dress top was nearly suffocating in its tight stiffness, but the billowing black skirt, at least, meant you were able to hide twin pistols using thigh holsters. Luckily, long gloves were fashionable for this time period, meaning that you didn’t draw any weird looks by wearing gloves that extended past the cuff of your jacket’s sleeves. Long, thick tights meant that no one was able to see your metal legs. The black and white heels they’d put you in, though, made you want to shoot someone. The glasses they gave you hid the faint glow of your eyes.

“I’m focused,” you murmured stubbornly, giving a polite smile to a couple of passersby. The men nearly slowed down, looking as though they wanted to talk to you, but one look from the Soldier and they scurried hurriedly away, eager to be anywhere but there.

Now that they were out of earshot, the Soldier talked in a normal volume. “No, you’re not,” he said, side-eyeing you with a knowing look that made you want to punch him.

You glared at him and began to pick up your pace, your heels clicking dangerously on the sidewalk. “Leave me alone, Soldier. Focus on the mission,” you snarled under your breath, knowing he could hear it.

He didn’t leave you alone, though, and you should almost have expected him to grab you by the arm and drag you into an alley as you passed it. You were so startled that not even a yelp of surprise left your lips by the sudden action.

You yanked your arm from his grasp, only succeeding because he hadn’t grabbed you with his left hand. You immediately tensed up, glaring up at him obstinately.

It was a mistake. Immediately your head started hurting, your vision starting to swim as you took in those steel blue eyes and that chocolate hair. You looked away immediately, gaze trained at a spot on the uneven cobblestone street as you fought to calm your mind. His shoes appeared in your field of vision and you nearly looked up again, head twitching before you gazed downward with renewed resolve.

You could feel his gaze on you. It was so heavy it felt like a physical thing, weighing you down. You’d had enough, though. You were wasting time; you had a mission to complete.

You turned on your heel and began walking out of the alleyway, but you only made it a half step before his hand once again closed around your upper arm. You were about to bark out a nasty rebuke when he pushed you gently but forcefully against the nearby brick wall. He stepped in front of you and placed his hands on either side of your shoulders. He was so close you were sure you couldn’t wiggle out of his grasp before he’d just catch you again, even with your speed.

This close, you had very little choice but to look up at him. His frosty blue eyes were searching your face, brow furrowed as he regarded you. “Why won’t you look at me?” he murmured, eyes widening slightly as though he was as shocked by his words as you were.

“What?” you spat, taken completely off guard by his line of questioning.

His jaw set stubbornly. “We’ve been on this mission for a week already. You haven’t looked at me for more than ten seconds since the third day. Why?” he asked, voice low but just unsteady enough to show how upset he was under that cold demeanor.

You swore in your head. Of course he noticed you’d been avoiding him. He wasn’t an idiot and was almost scarily observant, always picking up the tells and ticks of your target before you did.

You winced at the question, moving to look away from those piercing eyes, but his right hand came up and cupped your chin, stopping the movement. You tried to look away but he held you firmly in place. With nowhere else to look but into those stunning blue eyes, you felt something inside you cave.

“Because it hurts,” you murmured, surprising yourself by how anguished you sounded. A frown creased his brow and you both froze as some pedestrians passed by the alley you were in, laughing loudly and babbling happily in French. The sound was grating on your ears and made your skin crawl.

His voice drew you back to the present. “I don’t understand.” His brow was creased in confusion as he stared down at you.

You wanted to be anywhere else. This close, he was making your head hurt. It felt like it was trying to fry itself. Those baby blue eyes were setting you on edge and you felt twitchy, like a caged animal. You tried to shove him forcefully away from you, but he didn’t budge. Your stare turned hard.

“We have a mission. You’re wasting our time. Move.”

He simply shook his head. “Explain.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off before you could get a word in edgewise.

“Just explain, and I’ll let you go. Please.” He said the last word so softly you almost didn’t hear it, even this close. It was so full of emotion that your glare softened to a confused stare as you regarded the Soldier.

Eventually, you relented. It took a moment to collect your thoughts but he seemed to realize you weren’t going to try to run, so his hand dropped back down to his side, although the metal one stayed planted firmly on the wall near your head.

When you finally spoke, the words felt foreign and sticky in your mouth, like they didn’t belong there... like you had no place saying them.

“When I look at you... it hurts. My head. My chest. My heart beats faster and I can’t think straight. My stomach feels like it’s twisting itself into knots. I want to stop looking at you- make the pain stop- but I can’t tear my eyes from you. So I don’t look. I never start so I don’t have to stop. It only started a few days out of the pod. I don’t know what’s happening,” you whispered, wide-eyed, as you stared up at him. What you were telling him could land you in the chair for even longer than normal. He was a distraction for you when you were like this. They’d blend your brain so you could be more efficient in your work of bettering the world. You had important work to do- you knew that- but you hated the chair. Hated how hard it made it to think. Telling him these things... you should have been afraid, but for some reason you weren’t.

As though he could read your thoughts, his hand came back up and gently brushed a piece of your hair that had fallen forward behind your ear. His thumb ghosted over your cheek and you nearly shuddered at the simple contact. “I won’t tell them,” he murmured.

Your breathing picked up as you studied his face, looking for any signs of deception. He was as trained in you in manipulating people, but you couldn’t spot any tell that said he was playing you. Still, you didn’t understand. You were distracted. Inefficient. It could jeopardize the mission. Your work was too important to be hindered. By all accounts, he should turn you in to your handlers.

“Why?” The question was simple but your heart raced as it spun with his possible answers. Each conclusion seemed less likely than the next and your anxiety only heightened by the second.

His expression softened so slightly that you would have missed it if you hadn’t spent so much time around him and had also been trained to study people’s behavior. Slowly- slow enough for you to pull away- he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.

The contact soothed your frayed nerves immediately and you nearly sunk forward into his arms. True, the two of you had laid together in your cell before. You remembered that sometimes. Occasionally you remembered sleeping next to each other in his sniper’s nest or in a rundown motel or on the forest floor in thin sleeping bags... but you didn’t remember anything like this.

This close, you could see the flecks of green and darker blue in his eyes. His metal hand fell to your hip and the fingers of his right hand carded lightly through your hair.

“Because I feel it, too,” he breathed.

United States of America - Dallas, Texas - November 21, 1963

“Skirts this short should be illegal.”

The Soldier paused his survey of possible sniper’s perches to glance back at you. If you weren’t mistaken, he nearly cracked a smile. Either way, it was clear when he spoke that he was amused.

“You look good. And you’re blending in.”

You glared at him, though you stood a little straighter and unconsciously puffed your chest out slightly with pride at his comment. “The slightest breeze will ensure every person within a ten block radius gets a peek at my underwear thanks to this miniskirt,” you said angrily, practically hissing the word “miniskirt.”

At that, the Soldier’s face darkened. He glanced at the rapidly retreating sun with a scowl. “We can get you other clothes.”

You tilted your slightly as you regarded him. “Does the thought of other people seeing my underwear bother you?”

He ignored your question and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly as he walked towards you.

You fell into step beside him, fighting back a smirk that tried to work its way onto your face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The only response you got was a puff of smoke that was quickly carried away by the fall breeze.

You were tinkering away on your legs when he returned. Apparently your comment had annoyed him more than you’d thought because he wordlessly dropped a longer- but still fashionable- skirt into your lap.

You held it up and knew immediately you’d be more comfortable in it. Even with the long boots that completely covered the metal of your legs and a good portion of your thighs, you’d felt much too exposed wearing that tiny scrap of fabric that they called a skirt.

You set it back down on the table and weren’t too surprised to see the Soldier had vacated the room. As quiet as he was, though, you had a knack of being able to find him without too much trouble.

Sure enough, you located him a moment later in the bedroom.

What you hadn’t been expecting, though, was him to be in the state of undress that he was.

You could hear the water running in the background, but you were too enthralled by the sight in front of you to pay it any mind.

He was facing away from you in naught but his briefs and those left little to the imagination. He was all thick muscle and exposed, enticing skin. His hair was so long now that the tips touched his shoulders. The lights weren’t on in the room, but you didn’t need them to see; the moonlight cast an unearthly glow onto him, making him look like a creature out of a fairy tale. His metal arm glinted in the night, scattering moonlight every direction.

“Are you going to stand there and watch or are you going to join me?” he asked quietly, finally glancing over his shoulder at you, light blue eyes bright in the darkness.

You froze guiltily at being caught, trapped in your indecision. Your mind was screaming a hundred different things at you at once, but almost without realizing it you were walking forward towards him. He turned slowly as you approached and you were graced with the wonderful view of his muscular chest and chiseled jaw. The very sight quieted some of the thoughts that were rioting in your head at your actions.

Before you knew it you were directly in front of him, gaze trapped by those beautiful eyes. Slowly, your hand came up and you felt his breath hitch as you lightly traced the lines of hard muscle on his chest and abs. His hands came up and cupped your face, drawing your attention from the soft, scarred skin of his stomach. He leaned down slowly and gave you plenty of time to pull away, but you stood on your toes, surprising the both of you by closing the gap between you.

At first, your lips met gently. The simple contact created a universe of feeling inside of you, one you hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever. You half expected memories to come rushing back, but the only thing you felt was the wild beating of your own heart and the way his soft lips felt against yours. Your lips danced together tentatively for a moment before you both broke apart with a gasp, staring at one another wide-eyed with shock. Then, something within the both of you changed.

As always, the two of you worked together as a perfect team. Your lips crushed together as his hands worked on the buttons of your shirt and you unhooked and unzipped the back of your skirt. It fell in a pool around your feet and was joined a moment later by the button-up shirt.

His lips moved away from yours and he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, making you let out small noises of surprise and lust when he nipped at all the right places before soothing them with a lick or a kiss. He seemed to know all your most sensitive spots and played at them as though he knew them by muscle memory.

With a twitch of his fingers your bra came undone and it, too, fell to the ground. He leaned back to regard you for a moment and you shifted nervously under his scrutiny. Your body was covered with scars and gold metal wiring was embedded in your skin between your fingertips and the power cells on your back. You weren’t whole or beautiful. You were a weapon.

But he was looking at you like you put the stars in the sky.

“Мой Мир.“ My World. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened at him, surprised. He smiled at that. Honest to god smiled. It was a tiny, crooked thing that could almost be a grimace if it weren’t for the light dancing in his eyes. He closed the distance between you again and ran his hands gently down your sides. You shivered at the opposite temperatures of his hands. The cool metal soothed your burning skin and his flesh hand made it feel electric with anticipation. He hooked a finger in either side of your underwear and you watched with baited breath as he slowly tugged them down over your thighs and down your legs. You let out a shaky gasp as he trailed kisses up your legs. You could barely feel the feather-light pressure on the metal parts, but it only served to ramp up the anticipation as he neared your skin. He didn’t even flinch at the angry scarred tissue where the metal fused to flesh, giving it just as much attention as he did the smooth skin above it. He kissed all the way back up, mouth ignoring where you needed it most, although he did stop long enough to lavish your breasts with attention. Eventually, though, his mouth found yours again and your lips crashed together in a frenzied kiss. Your hands trailed down his muscled torso until they found the hem of his briefs and you broke the kiss, watching his eyes as you slowly worked them down over his almost unfairly thick thighs and down the rest of his legs. Your fingertips drew mindless patterns into his skin as you stood back up slowly, placing the occasional kiss to his various scars as you went.

“моя звезда.” My Star.

You watched as a hundred emotions flickered through his face in a moment. You barely had time to brace yourself before his lips were back on yours, his arms going around your waist. You snaked your arms around his neck and nearly moaned into the kiss when you felt him pressed up against your stomach, hard as a rock. He tapped the back of your thigh and gave it a gentle tug upwards. It was enough of a hint. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. He let out a hiss of pleasure as the cold metal met his skin and you smirked into the kiss. Without even looking he walked the both of you into the now-steaming bathroom.

The two of you slept together a lot, that was true. You’d never slept naked together before, though. You laid as you normally did, with you pulled into his chest... but the skin-on-skin contact made the entire thing more visceral and real and you wanted the moment to last forever.

It seemed he, too, was hesitant to sleep. For hours the two of you laid there, each absently touching the other in some sensual way, whether it be running your fingers through the other’s hair, tracing nonsensical patterns into their skin, or placing kisses to the other’s faces and chests.

It was only once the two of you were too exhausted to move in the wee hours of the morning that you finally did sleep.

United States of America - Dallas, Texas - November 22, 1963

The two of you moved silently through the streets mere hours after you’d fallen asleep. You weren’t trying to blend in for reconnaissance anymore. You were both in your combat gear and thanks to early hour, it was still dark enough that people didn’t see you as you passed between buildings. You were ghosts.

You arrived at the sniper’s perch and the Soldier set up his rifle. The two of you had customized it and you’d be surprised if there was a more accurate sniper rifle in the entire world. Combined with the Soldier’s skills, he could take down a target from almost two miles away.

The two of you sat there for hours, hidden from wandering eyes, waiting. The catwalk of a water tower he’d decided to perch on was on top of a mostly abandoned building, a little over a mile away from where the target would be. He had a clear shot but only for a moment. If he missed it, he wouldn’t get another one.

But the Soldier never missed.

Bored, you eyed the Soldier as he laid there, sniper rifle in-hand, making the final adjustments to his sights and angles. You’d calculated everything for him in an instant. It was one of the gifts you’d developed in your time working with him. You sat down on top of his butt with an annoyed huff.

“Soldier,” he growled quietly, not bothering to glance over his shoulder at you, though he was clearly irked by your actions.

“Who’s ‘Soldier’? Not me,” you said dismissively, voice nearly monotone but somehow still playful. You didn’t see it, but he rolled his eyes before he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Do you have to sit there?” he asked, sounding not quite as annoyed as he should have.

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead keeping an eye out for anyone who might see the two of you. No witnesses would be allowed to see you and live. “It’s well cushioned,” was the only explanation you gave.

The Soldier studied you for a moment longer before turning back to his gun, a long sigh leaving his lips as he moved. “Fine.”

You bit back a smirk as you watched your surroundings, hawk-like eyes searching out any living soul unfortunate enough to lay eyes on the two of you.

By the time the Soldier fired his shots, you’d killed four people. Most of them had barely registered the two of you before they got a bullet between the eyes, grey matter painting the wall or ground behind them. Some of the shots had been a little trickier to make and you were glad you’d sprung for bringing your own rifle instead of your usual twin pistols.

The second his shots were fired the two of you were moving. He caught the shell casings midair with his metal hand and was already in the process of tearing apart his rifle before the shots hit their mark. With your enhanced vision, you saw the aftermath clearly. They hit the target with brutal accuracy, one going through his throat, the other through his head. You watched as the woman next to him- his wife- screamed and tried to cover him, but it was too late. The second shot had ripped through his skull. The shot nearly took out the man in front of him, too.

Not a minute later the two of you were making your way to the extraction point just a few miles away. The city was in an uproar and radios and TVs in storefronts blasted the news.

“There was a shooting at the President’s motorcade in Dallas, Texas. Witnesses say he’s been shot in the head. He’s being taken to Parkland Memorial Hospital. We have no word yet if the President has survived or not.”

All the stations were playing something similar and by the time the two of you were on the plane back to base, the reports had changed.

“President John F. Kennedy has been declared dead.”

Next Chapter

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[sherrybaby14]

Welcome to My Cage

Summary:  You got lost in the woods, and found yourself in a very unexpected place: Hell.  

Warnings:  Dub-con (hazy head, hypnosis), smut, virgin reader, Plot? What plot? PORN

Rated: E

Characters: Lucifer x Reader

A/N:  The is for Angelina’s 2k gif challenge.  @atc74 Here is my gif: 

It is also heavily inspired by Missio’s Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea (I listened to it on repeat while I wrote this).  

Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323 @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan-is-god @kellyn1604 @roschelesworld @taintedgenre @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @purplemuse89 @blondesouthsquad @buckyscrystalqueen @kawaiirepublic @captainemwinchester 

                Clouds rumbled. You looked up in time to see them cover the moon, plunging the forest further into darkness.  A stick snapped and your head whipped towards the noise. Everyone told you the Devil’s Waterfall was an easy hike, with a breathtaking end.  You stuck close to the creek, but never arrived at a waterfall and the only thing taking your breath away was the fear of being eaten by a mountain lion.  

               Turning around again might get you more lost.  Of course, you’d given up on the hike hours ago and headed back towards your car, or at least you thought you had, but it was like the creek split into threes you never saw coming.  Nothing looked familiar, even more so since the sun disappeared.  

               There were two options. Someone would see your car abandoned on the side of the road and realize a hiker was lost, sending a search party for you, of course, that could take days.  Waiting on people was not your strong suit, but you knew chances of getting out of the forest tonight were slim to none when the sun rose you would get a better sense of direction and might end up rescuing yourself.  

                Thunder roared and a raindrop hit your head.  At least the weather would keep the wildlife away. Your eyes darted towards the cave in the wall of the cavern to your left.  It looked ancient, with a spider web visible as lightning lit up the sky. It wasn’t a den, and it would keep you dry for the night.  

                Heavy feet walked over the rocks into the hillside. You wiped the web away stepping inside right as the rain picked up, giant drops exploded on the forest ground, the wind picked up blowing them inside your cave, forcing you to step further inside.  

                CRASH! CRACK!  You squealed and fell backward, landing on your rear as your ears rung. A bolt of lightning almost hit your feet.  Another bought gave you some light to see the scorched rock in front of you, almost as if the bolt went sideways and was reaching for you.  

                Your heart was pounding as you scrambled backward, away from the vicious storm raging outside.  There was a heat coming from your behind you, more of a warmth. The sensation made you run your hands over your body, trying to double check you weren’t struck by the lightning.

                Before your hands made it to your feet a strange humming sound filled your ears.  You glanced behind you, expecting to see blackness, but instead, there was a soft red light. It was far off in the distance, much deeper than you thought the cave went, and more of a haze than a light.  It was faint enough you would have missed it if you’d blinked.  

                You turned over and stood up in the same motion, your eyes locked on the red hue.  It was dangerous and stupid to walk further into the hillside, but there wasn’t time to process these thoughts before you stepped forward, progressing further into the darkness.  

                The humming grew louder as the red haze became brighter.  You wanted to call out, but your voice caught in your throat.  A sensation washed over you, making your footsteps pause, the voice in your head screaming to retreat, but the anxiety it caused washed away when the humming increased.  Your eyelids went heavy as your feet carried on.  

                The cave sloped downward, replacing the red glow with a light visible at the bottom of the path.  It was impossible to tell if you’d walked for five minutes or five hours, the sound of the rain and thunder long vanished.  At the bottom of the incline, the cave straightened out again, almost as if it went into a room.  It was not apparent the red light was from fire.  

               The humming voice turned into singing, the melody lulling your body onwards.  A few more steps and you would enter the room at the bottom.  Your heart tightened as a light sweat broke out on your brow, you should turn around and run for the exit, pray that a mountain lion eats you rather than face what was in front of you, but the voice grew louder and the thoughts were knocked from your head.  

               A dull calmness settled over you as you reached the bottom.  It was a room, but the walls were made out of the same rock as the cave.  Torches lined the place, giving it a sacrificial glow. In the center of it all was a giant cage, the bars black flecked with red.  If that wasn’t enough to frighten you, the man behind them should have been more than enough.  

                “I knew you’d hear my call.” The blond gave you a wink and a sly smile, his blue eyes looking dangerous enough for the devil himself.

                The wave of fear returned and you turned to run.

                “Ahh.” You gasped and covered your mouth.  The path you walked down was replaced by another stone wall.  

                “Don’t be afraid.”  The man’s voice was too cool for the warm room.  

                You ignored him and ran forward, pressing your hands to the wall.  He started to sing again, this time the lyrics too clear to ignore.

                “Welcome to my cage little lover. Time to rearrange with you baby. Still, don’t know your name Miss Honey. Let’s go up in flames pretty lady.”  

                The heaviness returned, like a warm blanket keeping you safe from everything and everyone who would wish you harm.  You started to turn back towards the cage.  

                “That’s it Little One.”  His voice was so comforting.  

                A hand stuck out from between the bars, his palm up, beckoning you to join him.  He didn’t sing but continued to hum the melody.  Your eyes were glued to his hand and slowly you lifted your own as you walked towards him, wanting nothing more than to place your palm against his.  A whimper escaped your lips.  

                “It will be alright.”  He flexed his fingers towards him. “I’ll take care of you.”

                You could no longer tell if the whimper was because there was no escape or because you needed to feel his skin against yours.   You ignored the shake in your hand as you dipped your finger into his.  The contact felt hotter than the lightning strike.  

                Instincts made you pull your hand away, but he gripped down hard, causing the heat to shoot down your arm.  Your eyes went wide as you tried to tug out of his iron grip. You looked up at him, desperate for an answer as to what was happening.  

                The flames made his skin look bright red, his blue eyes glowing with a hint of evil as a sinister grin spread across his face.  Whatever trance you were in broke and you almost your mouth as the blood-curdling scream broke free.  

                As quickly as a blink you found yourself in a whole new place.  Now it was a room, with a tall ceiling, complete with a night sky painted on it.  The walls were black, but had white torches hanging, illuminating the room with white fire.  

                Your scream stopped as you took in your new surroundings.  The only thing in the room was a bed, right in the center.  It was nothing fancy but had black satin sheets turned down.  You got the feeling it wasn’t meant for sleeping.

                Your leg stuck out when you took a step forward. Your hiking clothes and pack were gone. You had on a long sating negligée, black of course, that had a cut up to your thigh.  It had thin straps and was backless, looking down you could tell it was the only thing that covered your body now.  

                Bringing one of your hands up to your head confirmed the dingy outdoor hairstyle was gone.  Your locks were perfectly styled and pined away from your face.  Blinking several times let you know your eyelashes were extended, and you had a feeling a mirror would show your make-up done much more masterfully than you were capable of doing.  

                  “I told you I’d take care of you.”  The voice sent a shiver down your spine.

                “Where Am I?”  You didn’t want to turn around. “Who are you?”  

                “You’re safe.” He was right behind you. “I have many names, but you can call me Luc.”

                “What do you want from me?” You stepped forward and turned around.

                A wave of lust washed over you.  There was no denying the man was attractive before, but now he stood before you in only a pair of black satin pants.  They hung low on his hips showing off his cut physique.

                “Your help.” He stepped forward, obviously aware the effect he was having on you. “I’ll make it enjoyable for you too.”

                Luc’s hand touched your shoulder and ran up your neck, his eyes dancing over your face as he cupped your cheek.  He started to hum as he bent down, lightly pushing his lips to yours.  There was a warmth, not as intense as when you grabbed his hand, but it took your breath away.  He continued to hum as his lips brushed yours, relaxing you as his arm wrapped around the small of your back.  

                His lips parted, urging yours to do the same. You did not hesitate as you parted your kiss and his tongue dove inside your mouth.  He was warm and inviting. His tongue soft as it prodded against yours, urging participation.  You were far from experienced, but everything felt so good you returned his motions, bringing your hands around his neck in the process.  Luc let out a grunt of approval and pulled you closer against his chest, deepening the kiss in the process.  

                It felt like your feet weren’t on the floor as you kissed him, running one of your hands up the back of his head, then scratching your fingernails down. Your eyes fluttered open and you swore the walls were vibrating.  The image made you break the kiss.  Luc did not let you go and instead dipped his head to your neck, licking the exposed flesh.

                “Luc, where are we?” Your eyes scanned the walls, noticing there was no door. “I swear the walls were vibrating.”  

                “They were.”  He placed light kisses down your shoulder, stopping at the strap. “Because of you.”  

                His finger’s traced the thin material on your shoulder before sliding it down.  Your hand flew up to catch it before your breast was exposed.  You took a step away from him as he stood up, an annoyed look on his face.  

                “I don’t understand…”  Your head felt heavy. Luc started to hum again and your thoughts muddled. “Stop…You’re hypnotizing me.”  

                You held out an arm as you stepped back, wanting to keep your distance from the man.

                “Modern humans always require such an explanation.” He sighed. “You were much easier to control a thousand years ago.”  

                “Humans?” You cried out. “What are you?”

                “I’m an Angel. Wrongfully imprisoned.” His voice sent another calming wave through you, one you didn’t appreciate, but couldn’t fight. “And you, you are a key.”  

                He was right in front of you again.  Your palm flush with his chest, elbow bent.  You looked up into his beautiful blue eyes and felt your resolve start to melt.  

                “I was lucky to find you.” He ran the back of his hand down your cheek. “You are going to get us both out of here.”  

                Luc bent down again and kissed you.  His words didn’t make much sense, but his lips on yours made your heart flutter.  Your eyes began to close as the walls started to slightly vibrate.  

                “Little Lover.” He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. “We’re in my cage.  Your energy is enough to tear down the walls.”  

                He pushed his mouth to yours again and parted his lips.  You let his tongue dip into your mouth once more and a slight moan came out.  The walls almost shook.  

               “Tonight I am going to harness your energy.”  He pulled away and scooped you up in the process. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling like a bride as he walked towards the bed. “And I promise you will enjoy every second of it Honey.”  

                Luc knelt on the bed as he set you down. Your heart flared as he situated himself next to you.  

                “I’ve never….” You started to speak, but he placed a finger to your lips.

                “Shhhhh.”  He leaned over you and started kissing your neck, humming in the process. “Your innocence is what called to me.”  

                “You don’t even know my name.” You arched your neck, wanting to give him more access as your hand reached up and grabbed his strong arm.

                “I know everything about you Little Miss.” His hand reached down to your knee and started to slide up your leg. “By the time tonight is through, I’ll know you better than anyone ever has or will.  I will know your soul.”

                You ran your hand down his arm to his wrist, limply grabbing ahold of it, unsure if you wanted him to stop of not.  As his touch trailed up your thigh you parted your legs.

                “Ah,” Luc nipped at your neck. “Good girl.”  

                His fingers flattened as he pushed his palm against your sex, cupping you in the process. Luc’s mouth kissed up your neck and cheek until his lips found yours.  He started kissing you with passion as two of his fingers ran up your slit. There was lubrication there, causing you to gasp with a sudden awareness of how aroused you were.  

                Luc didn’t stop kissing you as his fingers stopped dragging when they reached the top of your sex, he started rubbing in a circle.  You cried out against his mouth and squeezed down on his wrist.  Your other hand went to the back of his head since it was the only body part you had easy access to. Nobody had ever touched you like this before and you didn’t know how to respond.

                “Just do what feels natural,”  Luc spoke in between kisses as he moved on top of you, before descending down your body.  “I’ll take care of the rest.”

                You shut your eyes and tried to focus on something, but your body felt like it was coming undone.  Luc’s lips kissed down your body, over the flimsy satin nightgown you wished was removed.  His fingers continued to rub in circles, bringing your bundle of nerves alive.  

                Luc’s wrist spun making you whine as he increased the pressure with the movement.  Then you felt wetness against your entrance and your eyes popped open.

                You looked down to see his face between your thighs.  His right hand working against your clit, while his tongue poked at your hole.  His tongue wasn’t overly thick, but as it wiggled inside of you, there was a stretching sensation.  

                “You tasted like honey.” He pulled back and licked his lips. “Try and relax.  Let me inside.”  

                His fingers pressed down harder on your bud and you dropped your head against the pillow.  The ceiling was vibrating and you shut your eyes, not wanting to focus on the surroundings, only what Luc was doing to your body.  

                He started to hum that melody and the tightness in your thighs vanished.  There was still a slight stretch, but his mouth covered your sex as his tongue slid in and out of you.  You let out a moan and Luc responded by picking up speed.  

                The hum from his mouth vibrated through your entire body.  The sensation mixed with his fingers and tongue was too much and soon you found yourself coming undone, withering beneath him.  

                “AHHHH!!!” You arched your back as the explosion came from your core.  

                Luc kept lapping between your folds and you made unintelligible noises and you wiggled.  Your body trying to still itself as you caught your breath.  Between the sounds of Luc licking your juices and your moans you swore you heard a cracking.  

                You opened your eyes and noticed there was a line separating the walls.  The white light faltering for the red glow in that part of the room.  Before you could comprehend Luc’s hands were on your hips, lifting you up.  You gave him what assistance you could as the black negligee slid over your head.  Luc moved between your legs and looked down at you.

                “You look like my Princess.” He licked his lips. “I want to taste every bit of you.”  

                One of his hands slid up your chest, cupping your breast in the process.  Your breath caught at the touch, but he kept moving until his fingers were half on your neck, half on your face.  He pushed his hand down as his mouth pressed to yours.  

                You weren’t eager to taste yourself but didn’t put up a fight as his tongue worked against yours.  The movement of his mouth distracted you from any other thoughts as you returned his kiss, feeling another haze coming over you.  

                That trance was broken as you felt pressure between your legs.  You pulled your head back at to the side, then looked down.  Luc was nude between your legs, the tip of his cock ready to dive into your pussy.

                “Wait.” You gripped his arms. “I’m not…”

               “Shhh.” Luc hummed and kissed your lips. “Relax and let me inside.”

         ��      He jutted his hips forward.  There was a pain as he broke through you.  You cried out and wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing tight.  

                “It will only hurt for a moment.”  Luc pushed in further.  

                Tears stung your eyes as you were stretched further than you thought possible.  Your thighs shook, unsure how much you could take.  Luc leaned forward, putting more weight on you.  He kissed your neck and pulled back so his eyes were right about yours, nose to nose.

                “Trust me.” He placed a kiss. “You need to relax. I will make you feel better than you thought possible. Let me in.”

                You took a deep breath and nodded, willing your muscles to relax.  

                “Good girl.” Luc kissed your forehead as he sunk inside you. “Very good girl.”

                The previous orgasm left you wet enough, but he was so large there was no doubting the feeling of fullness as you struggled to accommodate his girth, even with relaxing.  You bit back the tears from the sting and hoped he would bottom out soon.

                “You’re doing so good Honey.”  He peppered you with kisses. “Soon the hard part will be over. I’ll make you feel so good.”

                You nodded as he pushed forward again, filling you to the hilt.  When he was seated deep inside of you he stayed still, letting your body adjust to him. The entire time he kissed your face and praised you.  

               “Only a special woman can take me all the way.” He kissed. “You truly are blessed.”

                Soon the ache between your legs dulled and you found yourself moving your hips around his cock, curious what it would feel like when he began.  Sensing you were ready Luc pulled out slightly before pushing back inside.  

                The small sensation made you moan, especially when his pelvis brushed your over sensitive clit.

                “See.” He kissed your neck. “I told you. I’ll make you feel amazing.  Just do what feels natural.”  

                Luc straightened out, so his chest was in front of your eyes.  He continued to rock in and out of you, stretching you in the process.  You let out a moan as your hands trailed down his back, stopping at his ass you gripped his muscular cheeks and squeezed as he drove back inside of you.  

                He let out a grunt, interpreting your gesture as a suggestion to speed up.  Soon he was thrusting into you and grinding against your clit with every pump.  Again you were a withering mess underneath him, as you rocked your hips, greedy for the blooming orgasm.  

                “Are you going to cum?” He arched his shoulders and looked down at you.

                The ceiling behind him was crumbling away, but you didn’t pay any attention as you nodded.  Moving your hips with his thrusts and moaning.  Luc’s hand went back to your neck. He spread his fingers so two were on your cheek and he put his mouth to yours.  

                The orgasm ripped through you, spreading to your fingers and toes, making you curl and uncurl them with the sensation.  You went to kiss Luc, but his lips were still on yours. The orgasm had distracted you too much to pay attention, but now you noticed a heat from his hand and a slight burning sensation from your throat.  

                You tried to scream, feeling like the life was being sucked out of you.  Then Luc closed his mouth and pulled his lips off of yours.  He arched his neck back and let out an inhuman screech.  You wanted to scream too, losing any concept of what was happening, but then you felt him erupt inside of you, his white cream coating your walls, filling you up.  

                His juices re-awoke the orgasm and the tingles of pleasure returned to your body.  It was too much to handle.  Your head lulled to the side and you saw there was no bed.  You were on the rocky floor.  The last thing you saw before the darkness took hold was the black iron bars melting away.

 ~~~  

                A dull headache became more intense.  You let out a groan as you opened your eyes.  

                “Oh God Y/N.”  Your roommate jumped up from the chair. “You’re awake.  You had us terrified.”  

                “Where am I?”  You looked around the room and recognized a hospital.  

                “No more hiking alone.”  Your roommate hit the call button. “You were missing for eighteen hours.  Some hikers found you passed out next to the creek.  You hit your head on a rock.  You had a concussion. You could have died.”  

                “What about Luc?” Memories of the beautiful blonde man between your legs were on the forefront of your mind.

                “Luc?” Your roommate raised an eyebrow. “You were alone.”  

                “I wasn’t in a cave? The storm came on, I had to get shelter.”  

                “What storm?”  She looked worried. “It was a clear night.  The Doctor better get in here.”

                “It felt so real.”  You realized it must have been a dream.  

                Your body shook when the memory of Luc on top of you flashed before your eyes, the way he felt buried deep inside made you bite your lip and curl your toes.  Before you accidentally let a moan slip the door to your room opened up.  

                A middle-aged woman walked in wearing a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck.  

                “You’re awake.”  She pulled out a penlight and walked forward to check your eyes. “That was one nasty spill you took.  You’re lucky a wild animal didn’t find you first all the way out there.”

                The door to your room was left open. On the outside was a large mirror, now giving you the perfect view of your reflection. You ignored the doctor and turned your head to the side.  There was a perfect handprint on your neck and cheek.  You traced your fingers over the outline of where Luc’s fingers had been, holding you lovingly as he took something from deep inside you.

                “It’s a first-degree burn mark.”  The doctor put the penlight away. “Should clear up within a week.  We’re guessing you landed near an old fire pit, maybe one of the rocks was still warm.”

                To anyone else, the markings look random, but they made your heart race. It was real.  

                “We will keep you overnight for observations, but looks like no concussion.”  She stood up straight. “No more solo hiking okay? It’s not safe.”

                “Thank you, Doctor.” Your roommate added. “I’ll make sure she sticks to that.”

                “One other thing.” The Doctor turned. “There’s some FBI agents here.  They want to ask you some questions.”

                “What does the FBI want with you?” Your roommate glared.

                “Huh?” You were still studying the mark on your face.

                “If you’re up to it, I will send them in, or else I can lie and hold them off a little longer.” The Doctor didn’t look concerned. “I guess there have been some disappearances lately.  I told them this wasn’t a kidnapping, but they want to question you anyway.”

                “Lie. Please.”  You gulped.  Was it a kidnapping? Would anyone believe you if you told the truth?

               What was the truth?  You couldn’t even answer that as another yawn escaped your body. You felt very weak again.  

                “Rest. Don’t worry about anything Y/N.” Your roommate went to the Doctor. “I’ll talk to the FBI, get them to leave.”

                You nodded and rolled on your side as the door shut. The mark on your face started to tingle as an arm wrapped around your middle.

                “I told you I’d keep you safe Little Lover.”  A phantom placed a kiss on your cheek and you smiled as sleep took hold, no longer concerned with reality.  

   Welcome to my cage little lover Time to rearrange with you baby Still don't know your name miss honey Let's go up in flames pretty lady

[thecompletebookworm]

Where the Sea Takes You

A very happy @maydaymenagerie to the incredible @findingtallahassee, who is an absolute saint and was far too willing to put up with me.  

This is very loosely based on the Adaro, a little bit of Solomon Islands' mythology.  Basically I've made the Adaro more humanoid, allowed them to be any gender, and veered away from the definition where it is just the evil part of a person's soul that is trapped on Earth terrorizing others while the rest of them can pass on.  Takes place post 3A, and ignores the Dark One Vault mythology. 

Available on AO3 as well.  

This was a stupid idea, an absolutely crazy stupid idea.  She skirted around the edge of the water, being careful not to touch it just yet.   Though to be fair, Belle had already tried most of the less out there ideas and her heart was aching. 

She hadn't stayed too long with the other Storybrooke residents once she was back. If she was going to feel all alone, she might as well feel alone where she felt at home.  

Not that it was anyone's fault. The Charmings had an entire kingdom to run and their daughter's absence to grieve.  She'd been happy to see Robin again, to play with the little boy who had been saved by a deal made what felt like ages ago.  Still, even as she helped with finding blankets and sorting through other supplies, Belle felt empty.  Sure she was helping people, and maybe she was being selfish, but right now the only person she wanted to help was her True Love.  

She refused to believe he was dead.   Even though that was probably the safest assumption, with his dagger through his chest.  But Rumplestiltskin had disappeared in a blinding flash of light.  His lifeless body hadn't hit the ground.  She hadn't cradled it to her chest, her tears soaking into his suit that only in death could look unkempt, as his lifeless eyes stared up at her.  While those images had haunted her nightmares, they were not reality.  Only his dagger had clattered to the ground.  

The others didn't quite see it that way.  She didn't need her pitying looks.  Her true love was out there and she was going to do everything in her power to find him.  

Belle had scoured the Charming's library and then the Dark Castle's.  While never one to shy away from research, there was something troubling about especially difficult about hunting down a way to find Rumple with no clues.  She could write a better book about the Dark Ones than any of the ones she found, although that was probably by design.  She could practically hear Rumple's voice in her head, muttering about wanting to know the monster's weaknesses.  

Like she needed a book to do that.  Experience had taught her well.  While technically Dark Ones do not need sleep, they should not be left working magic for longer than 15 hours at a time if you want a sociable Dark One.  Provide cookies at teatime for a smile.  Warm patches of sunlight were irresistible when grouchy.  

Although looking back, maybe she just knew what made Rumplestiltskin tick, not the dark one specifically.  

Belle's foot grazed the water and she jerked it back.  She was not going to summon the creature before she was ready, or at least until she had taken the precautions so that she knew she was summoning the right creature.  

Belle had found the first mention of the creature when she'd translated some of the ancient Fairy texts.  These waters were haunted by fearsome beasts, the Adaro, if she'd read it correctly.  At first Belle had dismissed the creatures as just another name for merfolk, but after talking it over with Ariel she decided a little more research was necessary.  Ariel had never heard of any merperson with a shark's dorsal fin or a sword extending from their forehead. And the line proclaiming, the Adaro to be affected by the darkest of magic and forced into serving penance, seemed to fit too perfectly.  

Her heart had swelled with hope when she had finally found a ship willing to take her to an island in the heart of Adaro territory, but Belle had tried to not let her hope get the better of her.   The Adaro were by no means her first theory, failing the intervention of fate, they were her last.   She had traveled to countless forests and enough ominous caves to know that just because something worked on paper, there was no guarantee that it would lead her to her True Love.    

Belle shuddered in the cool ocean breeze, more from anticipation than anything else really. She moved a few steps further in land to avoid the tide as she pulled the final ingredients to summon the Adaro from her satchel.  A lock of her hair, a handkerchief she'd just happened to have in her pocket when they left Storybrooke, a tiny square of leather from her favorite pair of his pants and their chipped cup.  Nervously smoothing out the handkerchief one last time, Belle kicked off her shoes and approached the water, her feet sinking into the wet sand.  

She closed her eyes and stepped forward.   As her toes touched the water, Belle drew forth her last memory of Rumplestiltskin.  

"I love you, Belle. You made me stronger."   She echoed his last words to herself.  

Belle kept walking forward into the sea, the water rising higher and higher up her legs.  While she stumbled over a rock on the seabed, she did not open her eyes.  When the water reached her chest, she began to drop the items one by one, visualizing Rumplestiltskin as she did so.  

The Handkerchief floated for a second before it sank in the murky water, practically glowing under the light of the moon.  She thought of when he first found her again and they were headed back from the well in his car.  She had started crying silent tears.  This world was new and overwhelming but Rumplestiltskin was somehow there with her.   He couldn't very well dry her tears while driving but he had pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.   He'd held her hand the whole ride home, which she now knew from experience, was not the safest idea.  But Rumplestiltskin had been a better driver than her and when they made it home in one piece, he had clutched her to his chest and promised he was never going anywhere.  

Belle bit her lip, trying to keep herself on the task at hand.  As soon as she got him back, Belle was going to keep him to that promise.  

The leather fragment was next.  He had always looked so good in those pants.  She had thought she was coming down with something the first time she saw him in them.  Her heart rate had sped and she felt clammy.  Looking back it was almost silly how much worried she'd been, but to be fair it was the first real taste of attraction.  And she certainly was heartsick in the end.  

Her hair, the hair of a lover, was one of the strongest summoners.  It was why many deemed this ritual too difficult or risky.  The Adaro were supposed to be the most fearsome of men and women in their pasts.  Finding a love, or even someone they cared about was supposed to be the most difficult step.   But in their case, it had been the simplest ingredient.  

Belle turned the chipped cup over in her hand, running her hand carefully over the fractured edge.  She had been so worried upon her arrival at the Dark Castle, but even when he was pretending to be indifferent, Rumplestiltskin had known exactly what to say to calm her down.  

She finally opened her eyes, the cup still clutched in her right hand.  It was hard to see, but she thought she might see some movement in the distance.   As the movement drew closer, she saw not one, but nearly half a dozen dorsal fins sticking out of the black water.    Belle stood her ground despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to run.  The sea captain had laughed at her; called it a suicide mission claimed her gold was just as good as any, but still refused to take payment for the return voyage.  Belle understood now.  The mere presence of a human, especially one alone and desperate on a moonlit night, would be enough to draw attention to herself, just not necessarily the attention she wanted.  

Still the creatures stopped several body lengths away from her.  They were close enough that she could see the sharp swordlike point extending from the tips of their heads, but not close enough to make out their faces.

Belle clutched the cup tighter to her chest.  Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.  

"I'm looking for Rumplestiltskin."  

She wasn't sure if they understood her.  Still one swam closer to her and Belle's heart picked up.  "Rumple," she allowed herself to whisper.  

But as it grew closer she could tell it was not.  The women, if you could call this Adaro a woman, had long dark brown hair that seemed matted against the small grey scales of her skin.  It's twisted expression allowed Belle to see the large fangs bared menacingly at her, head tilted downward so she could strike Belle's chest.  

This had been a fool's errand, and now it was going to be all over.  Belle squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for impact.  A part of her hoped that she had been thoroughly wrong and just in denial about Rumple's death. Because if he was actually dead, she'd merely be joining him, instead of leaving him cursed and lost somewhere by himself.  She heard what she could only describe as a snarl and knew that one way or another she was about to find out.  Hopefully, it would be a quick death, a painless one.  

But the blow she expected never came.  Belle opened her eyes a sliver to see exactly what was taking so long.  

Another Adaro had joined the first.  They were fighting, heavy tails thrashing around the shallow water, heads turning this way and that to use their swords.  

It was with a whine that the black haired Adaro conceded, fleeing back into the small circle.  With its opponent gone, Belle was able to get a closer look at her savior.  

His hair was shaggy and brown, the ends curling from the salt water.  He peered at her with deep brown eyes that she would recognize anywhere.  

"Rumple!" she wanted to throw her arms around the creature that was also her husband, but he shrunk back from her.  

He didn't remember, couldn't remember in this form.  Still she had hope.  He was closer than he'd been in months, even if he didn't recognize her.  Belle dipped the chipped cup in the water, filling it to the brim before dumping it over her outstretched hand.  

His eyes seemed to light up at the cup, although it might just be because it was something new and unfamiliar.   He offered her his own scaled hand and did not pull away when she clasped it.  

Staring with determination at their interwoven fingers, Belle dipped their cup into the water once again and poured it over them.  She felt his grip tighten for a second, before he pulled away.   As soon as his hand left hers, she wanted to scream.  They were so close.  He couldn't leave now.  

But soon Belle felt him nuzzling up against her side, almost as if he couldn't get enough of her.  

This time she was the one to pull away and a small smile broke out at his whining.  But she had only pulled him off his position plastered at her side so she could face him.  

"I don't know exactly what is going to happen Rumple.  I know before you needed your curse to find your son, and he needs help finding his.  But please,” Belle bit her lip. "I don't even know if you can understand me, but let my kiss you.  Let me at least break this one.  Come back to me Rumple."  

She leaned forward and although he didn't pull away, it wasn't exactly the great reunion kiss she'd been hoping for. He was stiff as a board at first, his webbed fingers plastered to his side.  But even as she watched, as the grey scales melted into flesh, he grew bolder, pulling her closer and running his fingers through her hair.  Belle could feel the tears running down her face, but she didn't stop kissing him, didn't pull away until she absolutely had to.  

Gasping for air, she could only stare at her love and try to enjoy the feeling of all the places where his very human body was pressed up against hers.  

"You saved me."  His face was so full of awe she almost giggled.  

"Of course I did.  I couldn't very well live my happily ever after without you."  

He pulled her in close once again, running his hands down her body, affirming that she was here, that she was real.  He could feel her shivering and placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her out of the water.  

"And that's exactly what we're going to do, just as soon as we get you into something dry."  

Belle gave him a slightly disapproving look.  Her soaked white chemise was nothing compared to the fact that his transformation had left him completely naked.  "I thought you didn't believe villains got happy endings."  

Rumplestiltskin gave a dark chuckle at that.  "Let's just say I'm not about to stand in the way of the happy ending of the bravest hero I've ever known, and if she just so happens to be in love with a beast-"

"Madly, madly in love with the beast" Her cheeky grin betrayed the fact that just this once she wasn't going to argue with him over calling himself a beast.

"If she just so happens to be madly in love with a beast, I see no reason to deprive her."   Rumplestiltskin kissed her, nearly making her fall onto the sandy shore with the force, but catching her.  

"Good.  Because my happy ending only works if your get yours too."  

"Anything for you sweetheart."  

[black-strike-otp]

part 11

also known as part boy howdy we’re finally getting somewhere again!

There was a stench in the air all but too recognizable. The air was musky; with a lingering smell of death and rust, mingled with a tinge of what could only be foul energon. It was dark; lights barely penetrated the darkness. Thankfully, most ‘modern’ Cybertronians optics had a high visual resolution so it wasn’t too difficult, and they could keep up with Novastrike so long as she didn’t outpace them.

Unlike her comrades, she could pick up on the things their far duller senses could not. Sure, they could smell the carcasses but not like she could; where it left a taste in her mouth that made her choke each time she absolutely had to ventilate fresher air into her core to keep functional. Metal groaned as the tunnel they walked in shifted; an unused passage with an unstable support and pedes scrapping along and wadding through small puddles of bad energon.

Novastrike tried not to quiver at every groan, every whisper that echoed. Her audios were strained, painfully. Even the tumbling gears of her team in her joints and bodies were a grinding note and her spark, a fluttering song in her helm.

Someone picked up the pace slightly, walking just behind Novastrike to the right. She swiveled a single audio towards them and lowered her range slightly; not wanting to be deafened by the noise.

“You holding up okay, Nova? You seem pretty tense,” Silvercore asked softly.

“I’m fine,” she rasped.

Silvercore smiled faintly. “Stinks to Pit down here, huh?”

Nova emitted a growl in her throat as a sign of agreement.

A voice, much deeper than Silvercore’s, butt in. “Novastrike, are we getting close to an exit from this passage? I think we could all use a break before continuing on.”

Novastrike inhaled sharply; gagging as rot swirled within her systems and dust and particles of rust clinged upon her. She shivered slightly, responding: “No signs of light ahead, and no clean air coming from anywhere nearby.”

“Drat,” the mech grumbled. “Keep onward, then, everyone.”

Novastrike glanced up towards Silvercore, catching his sympathetic smile. She offered a small one back for a moment before looking forward again so she could keep her focus on their surroundings.

They skirted along areas where the tunnel caved in and trailed the branch off passages with caution to see if there were any nearby exits to this underground prison. There was no luck to be had; the one exit where Novastrike could smell traces of cleaner air was largely caved in and it was a risk to try seeing if they could displace it enough to get it without risking a collapse in the tunnel. It was an absolutely dreadful experience.

Strange vibrations hummed in the air and Novastrike flicked her audios, trying to understand the odd frequency.

“Hear something?” Silvercore asked.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Nova quietly answered. “It’s kind of hard to make out.”

“You think we’re in danger?” Another bot questioned.

“I don’t know,” Novastrike stressed. “It’s hard to make out. It’s a weird sound, I’ve never heard it before. It sounds close for a moment, then far away.”

“Maybe the paranoid femme’s just hearing things,” someone grumbled.

Another added their own two cents: “Could it just be settling, or vibrations from above causing a strange acoustic sound? Maybe there’s fighting going on above us?”

“No no no,” Novastrike growled, bounding over some crumbled up metal; probably a body, and landing on the other side. “It sounds like... It sounds like...”

Her ears zeroed in on the sound, and Novastrike turned her helm slightly to a nearby hold just a few yards ahead, entering into the tunnel from the right. It clearly wasn’t designed as part of the structure; the metal was shredded and pulled apart like something had forced its way in.

“What?” somebot demanded impatiently, stepping gingerly over the body. “It sounds like what?”

“Wings,” Novastrike said faintly. “Like... really big cyberfly or buzz fly wings.”

“Wings?” snickered a bot. “You’re picking up signs of bugs down here? Of course there’s bugs down here, look at it! It’s pooling with energon, oil-”

“Hush,” snapped another bot.

“What, I was just-”

“Be quiet mech!” snarled a femme, jutting out a digit towards the fractured hole in the wall.

Something was moving behind the hole. Shadows moving; and the quickest flash of a yellow-orange light.

“Do we go back?” whimpered the pesky mech.

“Where to?” demanded another quietly. “The closest exit is probably the one we came in on, and that was at least a jours walk through muck and over metal.”

“We could blast our way out-”

“SHHHH!”

The yellowish orange light appeared again, and this time seemed to be looking out of the hole.

“Walk. Slowly.” hissed a mech.

The buzzing sound seemed to increase tenfold. Novastrike’s ears flattened against her helm, wincing as she pressed her servos over them. It seems she wasn’t the only one to hear it this time- half the group jumped with a start.

“It’s Insecticons!” cried out a hysterical mech, running carelessly forward. “Run- run for your lives!”

The hole in the wall suddenly caved inward; a large figure trying to press its way through. It couldn’t quit fit and raged against the tattered edges of the metal with its claw-like fists; digging the mandibles extending from its maw into the metal.

Frightened cries escaped the group, and then like spooked prey-driven antelope, they ran forward in a wild heard. The one’s darting by closest to the wall squealed loudly as the monstrosity reached through with its enormous arms, taking a swip at them.

“Novastrike, how many are there?”

“I don’t know- I don’t know I can’t tell there’s too much noise!” Novastrike yelled, panting as she catapulted herself a crumbled section of the wall. She fell straight into a horrible pile of coagulated jello’d energon and slipped. She slid, tripping and falling onto the ground. It barely registered to her, she was up and on her pedes so quickly she didn’t even lose pace with the others.

The wall to the right side of the scattered group suddenly began to warp inward. Bodies slammed against the metal, as if trailing the group.

“A rough estimate, Novastrike,” cried out a voice. “Please!”

Straining her ears, Novastrike darted over a rusted over body. “Uh- I don’t know. It- It almost sounds like there’s a hive on the other side of the tunnel!”

“A hive?!” 

Steam ruptured forth from an overhead pipe.

“Light! Light! I can see light, I can see-!”

With a resounding stream of fragmented metal exploding outward and daggering into the team, a massive gaping hole appeared just before the group.

The closest mech to the hold tried darting around while reaching for his blaster. Those ahead continued running, as those behind the hole came to a stop, wide-eyed as a servo shot out and pulled the mech straight through to the other side of the hole.

A low, furious growling came from the walls.

“Wait- wait come back!” Silvercore cried out to the remaining team. “Come back and help us! Cowards!”

It was too late. The other rogues were already scrambling out of the tunnel, crawling up over the rubble of a collapsed section of ceiling and out to safety.

With an eerie calmness, a helm slowly began to slip out of the darkness. Locked within its jaws, the neck of the mech it had pulled within its chamber. Its sharp, jagged teeth and strong mandibles snapped downward; tearing into the struggling mech’s throat like paper and ripping his helm off.

“Primus,” a femme faintly whispered. Whether her statement was in horror, or a prayer was questionable, but both equally qualified in the situation.

The Insecticon lapped at the dripping energon from its face and began to slide a leg out through the hole.

“Go,” a mech hissed. “Go go go go go go- go now! Go now- quickly!”

Someone reached out to try pulling the mech back but he ran forward blindly. The Insecticon tried squeezing its limbs through the hole; a claw scrapping the mech’s armor as he ran by. With a tremendous amount of luck on his side however, he managed to make it by and run for the collapsed ceiling for escape.

Silvercore turned his helm slightly to the wall beside them, and everyone slowly followed his lead. It sounded like claws were pressing on the wall just to their right, and the humming of furious wings were beginning to grow louder and louder.

“Oh Primus, we’re going to die,” a femme half-sobbed.

“Maybe,” Silvercore agreed, staring at the Insecticon shoving its body through the hole. “But maybe not- weapons ready, everyone. Lets rush it; maybe if we can knock it back we can at least slip by like the others did.”

A queasy feeling caused the energon in Novastrike’s tanks to froth and bubble with unease. She reached to her side, pulling out her plasma pistols with hesitancy.

“On my mark,” Silvercore stated loudly. “Ready-”

The Insecticon shrieked; slamming its body into the hole and causing the edges to buckle inward.

“-NOW!”

With a battlecry worthy of the most hardened veterans of war, the group surged forward as a unit. The Insecticon lashed out with its arm, catching two by the side and sending them into the wall. Blasters went off at close range; the smell of ozone and energon wafting through the air. The creature cried out in pain and fury; its claws raking into anyone close enough as they all began stumbling around the creature.

Metal groaned and suddenly, an enormous panel of metal supporting the wall gave way. The Insecticon tumbled out and onto the ground; giving the last of the group a moment to leap over him.

Only to look back and see the Insecticons beginning to flood in the tunnel behind them.

“RUN! Just run!”

Novastrike’s audios were ringing. She couldn’t tell who was screaming orders, but they were orders she could definitely, definitely follow.

Stumbling after each other, the party of rogues began climbing up the steep incline towards salvation.

Someone screamed just behind Novastrike as she bounded up from rock from rock. She looked back, pistol in servo, and quickly looked forward again, her spine tingling.

She couldn’t save the femme. In the few nanokliks it took to look back, already a group of Insecticons were tearing her limbs from her chassis, and digging their pointed digits into her throat as they dragged her into the darkness.

Slipping over the jagged metal, Novastrike jumped up and to the top crust of holy Cybertron above; hearing the buzz of wings fly just inches from her helm as some of the Insecticons began to take flight.

Her helm whipped around, spotting what few remaining members of her group on the edge of the slope. They were already getting to their pedes or transforming into their alt-modes, taking off wildly in any direction.

Novastrike spotted Silvercore, huffing and puffing as he collapsed at the edge of the ravine.

Buffeted by the wind coming off the wings of the Insecticons soaring above, she pulled her pistols up and made a beeline for her comrade. Even as she approached, her tanks churned with sickness. Energon was steadily oozing out of one of his legs; missing a section of it from the knee-joint down as it’d been torn off from the furious and starving Insecticon.

She skidded on her knees to a stop just by his helm.

“Novastrike,” Silvercore muttered faintly, looking up to her. “Nova, you have to run.”

“No I can’t, I can’t I won’t leave you here! Please Silver, please get up!”

“Nova,” he strained, gently reaching out to place a digit against her face. “Go, please. Take care of yourself. You’ve been a great friend. But I-”

An Insecticon suddenly transformed mid-air, slamming down upon Silvercore’s backstrut. There was an audible cracking and screaming of metal as his back caved in and he gasped, energon jutting out of him and into the air in streams.

“No!” Novastrike cried out furiously, tears dancing in her vision. Pulling up her shaky servos, she fired her plasma pistols at the Insecticon’s face.

It barely winced as the corrosive liquid began eating at the side of its helm. The beast turned its helm towards her.

“Run... Nova,” Silver gasped softly.

She took a step back. Her legs felt heavy.

Drool began to piddle out of the Insecticon’s jaws, and it let out a bellowing roar.

Novastrike’s optics flashed a dark blue, and she looked down to Silvercore. Her spark sank; deeper and deeper, it felt like her very soul was falling into the hear of Cybertron itself.

A plain, colorless grey began to fall over Silvercore’s form as his optics flashed and grew dark.

The Insecticon took a swipe at her and Novastrike transformed as she jumped back. She spun on her heels, tears clouding her vision as she lowered her body to the ground and took off as fast as her pedes could take her.

In the skies above, a cloud of black was beginning to spread across Cybertron; their wings humming loudly.

~

Energon splattered onto Blackout’s chassis as he slammed the Autobot’s helm into the nearest wall. His face warped inwards, and the side of his helm caved where Blackout’s digits were slowly threatening to collapse the armor inward. The mech made a gargling, pained cry; something along the lines of a plea as Blackout whipped the mech’s body around to use as a counter shield to the Autobot’s comrades attack.

Instantly, the mech’s chassis was riddled with scolding hot wounds of plasma and energon blasters. He made a choking sound; energon bubbling up and out of his mouth. Blackout snapped the mech forcibly backwards, placing a knee into his backstrut. His spine snapped and he crumbled forward as Blackout moved to toss him aside; his digits applying the last bit of his strength and crushing the mech’s helm into a bloody ball of wasted scrap metal.

A mech gave a hollow scream and came running headlong at Blackout. Flanking from the sides, more Autobot’s came running at him; weapons drawn.

Blackout grinned. He liked a challenge.

Not but a few buildings away, a small femme was busy throwing down with Autobot’s herself. With half of her crew evacuating the area with stolen goods, she was baiting the Autobot’s away from their escape.

Infuriated, the Autobots fired wildly after Novastrike. She’d zip off to the right, and then zip off to the left. Dodging and rolling out of the way of their fire; nimble on her pedes. With keen reflexes, she leaped neatly onto a rafter overhead and leaping down upon one of the mechs, who screeched wildly. He reached up as if to rip her off but was too slow. With a grin far too adorable for someone being so malicious, she pressed her legs to him and launched off; firing off a barrage of stun rounds into the mech’s torso and legs.

He fell back limply into the dirt, barely twitching. Another stepped over to him as Novastrike bounded easily past another Autobot to check on the mech. “He’s not offline,” he stated, “They’re stun rounds. Keep following her, you fragging moron!”

“Excuse me~” Novastrike chimed, hurdling over a mech’s blade as he took a wild swing at her. He grunted with annoyance as she dashed between his legs, glancing around himself only to get an unpleasant shot in a very unfortunate place.

He fell on his knees with a crippling scream, followed by, “I can’t feel my-”

Novastrike was too busy laughing over the mech’s misfortune, vaulting over a broken down airship and jumping up on top of a nearby building to hear the rest. Oh Primus, perhaps she was being a little too cruel today, but the look on his faceplate was worth it.

She went to leap from the building and on another whena blaster went off; striking the edge of the building and sending Novastrike hurtling off her and tumbling down the lane.

She popped up to see an Autobot standing feet from her. He looked down, grimacing as he went to aim his rifle at her.

“Whoopsies~” Novastrike stated with a quirky grin, flipping back just as the mech’s rifle went off. Debris and smoke momentarily blurred the air in front of the small femme, and she darted off to the left.

Blackout noticed a white figure approaching him and snarled faintly. Small and fast was a lethal dose against his frame. He went to take a step back, his optics trying to focus on the obscure vision running by.

An Autobot launched at Blackout and he instantly reacted, reaching up and snatching the mech by the wrist. They glowered at each other, optics glaring.

Just as Blackout went to snap the mech’s arm back, the mech’s legs began to wobble and he started to go limp in his grasp.

Novastrike bounded by Blackout, glancing up at him just as he looked down at her. Both of them had surprise momentarily lighten up their faces.

“Good to see you’re still functioning,” Novastrike teased, diving behind Blackout to fire at a mech coming in from behind.

“It takes a lot more than Autobots to take me out,” Blackout responded, growling as he raised his cannon to take out an Autobot sniper setting up upon one of the buildings.

The small femme came sliding from between Blackout’s legs and fired at an Autobot coming in from the left as Blackout took up one on the right. Another came bolting out from a building wildly as another leapt down from a presumed hiding place on top of a broken down vehicle of some sort with a screech.

Blackout turned to the one that was falling towards him, countering with a blow to the mech’s cranium as he the mech landed before him and fired a glancing shot to his side. He went to try elbowing the one coming up from his other side, and was surprised when Novastrike pivoted, jumped up part of the way onto his shoulder and tackled the mech coming straight at him. She managed to fire off a few near-blinding close shots as the mech struggled, and Blackout blew out his legs from beneath him. As Novastrike rolled away from the mech, Blackout took another two shots at the mech’s chassis for good measure.

In the blink of an optic, Nova shifted into her alt-form and streaked towards Blackout. He tensed as she jumped up, hitting his shoulders neatly, and leapt over his head to fall onto a crafty camouflaged femme sneaking around the nearby vehicle. Her fangs and claws gripped the femme’s shoulder and the counter-balanced weight knocked her off balance.

Blackout fired at the femme, and then fired at the mech who came charging out towards her and Novastrike. His energon blaster went off; barely missing the small feline as she bounded for cover.

The pair turned back simultaneously as an explosive cannon blast went off behind them. Scorponok had already surfaced, and was wrestling to the assailant to the ground; his barbed tail dug deep into the mech’s back.

Blackout turned a swift gaze to Novastrike, her optics still on the bug. She slowly brought her gaze towards him, looking between the enormous aft and his cannon, pointed squarely at her.

She breathed out slowly, expectedly. Blackout slowly raised his cannon towards the sky as it morphed back into a servo, allowing a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Impressive work, femme. You’ve gotten a lot better at this since I last saw you.”

Novastrike snorted, shaking her helm. The armor of her form seemed to depressurize slightly, flexing, and then she shifted back into bipedal.

Giving a sweep of her servo, Novastrike made a gestured to the wounded and offline Autobots surrounding them. “You didn’t need to kill them,” she said softly. “My stun rounds would have been fine.”

Blackout shrugged. “You take too long. This is more effective.”

She glanced away slightly, staring at the splatters of energon on the ground.

A delighted chirpping sound escaped the scorpion Cybertronian, and he began to scuttle over, coated in dirt and energon.

Blackout reached down as he approached, patting the bug on the helm. “Well done, Scorponok.”

He gave a shrill metallic click and looked over at Novastrike. She offered a faint smile as she noticed him staring. With a metallic chatter, he scurried over and reached out with his drills, giving them a slow and playful spin as he jabbed them playfully in her direction.

She didn’t so much as flinch.

“You’re looking well, Scorponok,” she said warmly.

The bug clicked in response. His drill stopped spinning and he prodded Nova’s side gently with one of his prongs coming off his drills. She gave the smallest giggle, reaching out to place a servo gently against him.

Blackout made a peculiar clicking sound of his own, and Scorponok looked back at him. He gave a disappointed chirp and glanced back at Nova. She tilted her helm slightly, as if confused, and watched as the scorpion scurried over to his partner. He climbed with a very surprising amount of care and grace; clearly from many years of practice, upon Blackout’s backside and docked beneath the mech’s bladed as he furled them out.

“Not going to shoot me, then?” Novastrike boldly asked, placing her stun guns away and her servos behind her back. “What was this of ‘next time’ I heard?”

“You’re a factionless rogue now,” Blackout sniffed. “Why waste the ammunition?”

“Ouch. Or are you just saying that because I saved your aft?”

Blackout narrowed his optics slightly. “I could have taken them all out myself.”

“Are you always this touchy?”

“I’m stating a fact.”

Novastrike flicked her servo in the air with a twitch of her wrist. “Yeah yeah- I know, big and bad Blackout, has this crazy reputation, big guns, very terrifying. Still, I did help.”

“Help I didn’t ask for,” Blackout replied.

“Would you have rather had the bullet holes and smoldering armor?”

Blackout tilted his helm to the side thoughtfully. “Over your obnoxious chatter- perhaps.”

Novastrike placed a servo over her chassis. “Sir, I am offended.”

“Never claimed to be nice.”

“Heh,” Novastrike laughed softly. “Well, guess I’m that one-in-a-billion who can give you that title.”

Blackout raised an optic ridge, crouching slightly to pick up a weapon from the ground from one of the Autobots and inspect it. “What’s that?”

“You, being nice,” Novastrike murmured, watching for his reaction.

Satan felt a strange stirring in his spark. His face remained empty as he turned to her. In fact, if anything, his constant resting bitch face offered a very unimpressed disagreement.

“I probably wouldn’t be online without your assistance, anyway-”

“We don’t speak of that.”

“Right- sorry.”

Blackout tested the weight of the gun and turned it over, glancing it over a moment. He went to subspace it, turning fully to the small femme. Her ears were slightly droopy from his remark. Frag it all, he nearly, maybe, just a little felt... guilty for his snappiness.

“You better be going,” Blackout warned her. “I’ll need to comm this in, and I’d rather not have you- or any of your rogue acquaintances, in my way or coming to look for you. I can only play nice so long.”

Novastrike absolutely beamed; grinning wide as her spark did a little flip. “So, you’re saying you are nice, somewhere in that deep dark black hole you call a spark?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled flatly, keeping himself from grinning at her own stupidity and even more ridiculous smile.

“Oh, yes sir,” she answered, nodding as she placed a salute upon her brow.

Blackout rolled his optics. “Go, before I decide it’s better I see what happens when I step on you- do you blow up into a bunch of rainbow confetti or explode into a glitter bomb?”

“Awww,” Nova piped up. “You know me so well, and my soft, feminine, fuzzy ways.”

A groan escaped the Big Jerk and he placed a servo over his faceplate. He dragged it down, raising a digit as if to comment something smart and found that there was no sign of the femme before him.

He glanced around.

Frag, stealthy and fast.

He chuckled faintly, placing a digit to his helm to activate his comm and call in his report.

Striding through the now deserted and mostly offline sector once filled with Autobots, Novastrike had a cheeky grin plastered to her face as she went to ping her allies about being picked up. They seemed delighted to hear from her- if not concerned about how ‘giddy’ apparently she sounded on the line.

How can one not sound giddy after a fight? Her adrenaline was pumping, obviously.

~

“All units, please return to formation around the Nemesis as we enter the space bridge portal.” Megatron announced over the Decepticon comm channels

Blackout gripped the the nearby console as the Nemesis pitched forward; the Ark firing upon their side and causing the vessel to jolt. The majority of the Decepticons in the ship’s helm were unprepared and fell down or at the very least, went stumbling into each other. Fire broke out in one a lower sector of the ship, and someone was calling for aid over the channel.

Blackout looked towards Megatron, who had faltered, but stood tall and proud at the front. At the angle he was from his Lord, he could see the madness creeping in the edges of Megatron’s vision, and his crazed grin as they entered the portal.

Blackout glanced at one of the viewing screens that showed the interior and exterior of the Nemesis. He spotted the pluming flames, and behind them, could see the shape of Cybertron’s surface; their home, as it began to fade behind them.

Of all the thoughts to cross his processor, he hoped Novastrike escaped their damned home.

~

The Rising Star was spinning wildly out of control. Mechs and femmes were trying to assess the damage to the spaceship; running to and fro wildly. Some bots were sobbing incoherently. The doors were opening and closing as frantic individuals came spewing information randomly.

There had never been a greater sense of chaos. Caught in the middle of the Autobots and Decepticons trying to leave the planet, a few vessels of rogue factionless had stolen, built, and hijacked their own ships in a final attempted at getting off their dying planet. Overrun with Insecticons, with little to no energon, the decimated Cybertron could take no more of their war.

Novastrike stood alone, her servo pressed to a window on one of the sides of the ship. Her optics sparkled brightly. She felt transfixed. Despite the screaming, the yelling, the sense of madness and impending doom, she felt at peace.

“You were right Silver, the view is great from up here,” Novastrike murmured, looking at their defiled home planet and them up; up to see the stars shining like she’d never seen them before.

“You would have loved this,” she whispered hoarsely, placing a servo over her spark. A smile wavered on her faceplate, and she lifted her other servo to wipe at the blurry liquid invading her vision of the magnificent sight.

Oh, what a grand adventure it would be. And she’d take the memory of her friend with her always among the stars, like he was still there.

[voidfirenate]

Wolf or Phoenix (part 4: Final)

Damn it all the hell, it hurts. She won't let go, not that he was surprised.. Nate remembered the first day he’d woken up an she was there. ‘You're mine, Mortal. I followed you in hell, now we are one in the world of the living.’ Even as she said that then, she still ate at him. . . Only stopping when she realized his body would die without him. It was the fail safe in the spell Draco had given Granger nearly a decade ago. Nate watched like a third wheel in a play as his body writhed in pain as the concoction wasn't just burning him on the outside but Ahemait on the inside. A purifying potion, his brain told him. . . Why? He didnt know shit about this stuff. Magic, aetherical manipulation on this scale always made no sense to him but now he knew. However just as the question unrolled in his brain, it was answered. ‘Because you’re now the one absorbing Ahemait.’ Crying out louder, Nate faced the ceiling screaming at the top of his lungs as the black aether that’d resided inside of him for so long was destroyed and reconstructed into his own aether. His wounds along his arm began to slowly close as a new power spread from his chest out. Soon the pain was energy like the time he been with Raiden. His cry soon turned into chuckling as he became drunk on the very thing remaking him from the inside. The ropes holding him were burned off as he slowly stood up.His hair had grown out long, reverting to its original color while white streaks poked out from different places but mostly toward the front of his his head. The man in the room instantly went for the sword at his side, but Nate knew. Dont know how, but he did. In mere seconds he was across the room with a hand gripped tight on the man's throat. Halone stepped back watching, a smile curving her features under the metal. “Welcome back, Nald.” She said before stepping back so as not to become the next target. Instead she’d wait for him to calm before she’d take him back to Draco, fading into the shadows. The man pulled at Nate’s iron grip without success while his air ways were crushed. . . at least until a arrow flew at them looking to pierce Nate. Dropping the man, the half breed bounced back while alight violets searched the dark recesses of the cave for his new attacker. “You wanna fight, Wolf? Fight me. Fight and die by my hand. . . for my sister you took from me.” A young girl, no older than thirteen years old, stepped out a used bow in hand. Even through the high, Nate knew her in minutes. It was hard to forget really. . . Long sliver hair, draped down fine elezen feature that were saddly marred by an ugly scar across her left cheek. A scar he’d given her three years ago. “Migam.” He spoke in a rough, regretful manner while stepping back from her. “Oh so you remember me? Good, I want you to know the name of your slayer!” She threw down the bow to the ground to grab a bottle of red liquid from her side. His eyes widened as he felt the vial pulsate, singing to his very core helping him recognize it. Dragons Blood. “Migam no!” Only it was too late, the girl took the whole vial in one go while Nate watched in horror. Raiden’s warning ringing in his mind, ‘The vengeance consumes your heart, and eventually your whole being. The monster it makes you into, that's all that remains.’ Shite! He thought, as his aether flared filling him like it hadn't done in years making him feel so much stronger. . . Yet. . He was still powerless to stop the child's transformation into an abnormally large snow white aevis, one of his nightmares. Like her sister had been long ago, when Nate killed her for Heresy under the order of House Dzemael. He winced as the unwanted memory remind him of the frightened ten year old rushing him and him reacting from battle high. . . His short knife slicing her face. . . It was later he realized she was a kid and let her go. Seems the decision was coming back to bite him as the aevis roared at him then charged. Nate had no weapon. No armor. No means to stop a rampaging dragon hell bent on killing him so what did he do? Well he ran. His legs carried him quicker than they’d ever had, reaching the mouth of the cave in moments. The rush of northern air hit him hard but the cold didn't touch him like normal. . Instead a heat emanating off him in waves, sending the falling water hissing as it kissed his caramel skin. Interesting.. He thought but didn't have time to dally on this little fact as the roar was closure at his back. Tsking, Nate lept from the mouth of the cave just as the beast erupted from the entrance. Snow flew around him in a flurry, while his heels dug into the ground to stop himself from tumbling. His heels hit the thick frozen water, a loud exploded around him following him the more he ran. Looked that was no hiding it would seem, continuing to run as the dragons heavy steps followed close on him. “Migam! Please you need to calm yourself!” He whipped around to face her only to see she’d vanished. How the hel- His thought was cut off as a tail smashed into his side sending him flying across the landscape. The impact hurt and he could feel his bone snap at the attack, only the pain was miniscule. . Seems his little boost was helping him for the time being. Recovering mid air, the man skid across the ground as he tried to stop himself and face the beast. Damn it… The hells was he going to do? He didnt know how to cure a rampaging beast. . but He did know someone who might. Inhaling as the Aevis rolled its shoulders, like a cat does before pouncing its prey. Her eyes were tiny wild orbs while her jaw lowered to the ground with saliva falling over sharp rows of teeth. Nate bit on his bottom lip as he thought on how to do, his eyes scanned the landscape for a way to distract the her so he could escape… Grinning as he spotted a large frozen lake. “Works for me… Migam! You wanna kill me? Then come and get me!” He yelled before running at her. This obvious confused the beast cause how many times does one prey rush their predator. Stupid prey apparently as he was within snapping distance when he vaulted over her Dhalmel size bodying. Hitting the ground behind her with a hiss before he ran for the lake just off the cliff. Her confusion didn't last long as within second she was charging after him reinvigorated pace, but Nate was faster still. The snow not hindering him as his steps were light enough to not get stuck in its white depths. His long legs carried him to the edge, Migam’s jaws coming on him as he dove off the side for the solid surface of the lake. She tried to halt herself but the momentum along with her weight had the beast following him over. Inhaling as he knew just what to do, hand extending forward sending flames bursting forth from his palms to melt a hyur sized hole for him to fall into. Diving under the surface, he propelled himself a little then more as the dragon hit the water adding to the force spurring him downward. While Migam fought to get back up for air, Nate let himself sink while pulling on his power as vibrant reds and golds made a cocoon around him. Seems it was time to go home, he thought as he erupted infront of the house. A bubble of water bursting out with him, creating a steaming wet mess by the archway. Violets dragged up to look at the company house, a grin spreading as he’d never been so glad to see this place than he was in that moment....

[breath0ftheglacian]

A Man Of No Consequence, chapter 13

A Man Of No Consequence - Ardyn x fem Reader (NSFW) COMPLETE. All chapters may contain spoilers!

CH 1: Into The Lion’s Mouth CH 2: Famous Seafood CH 3: The Covenant CH 4: Blind Spot CH 5: The Revelation CH 6: In The Lap of The Gods CH 7: Across the Seas CH 8: In The Lap of The Gods, Revisited CH 9: Callings CH 10: Hand of a King, Heart of a King CH 11: Into the Dark CH 12: Breath Of The Glacian CH 13: Redemption CH 14: Cure for Insomnia CH 15: A Gentleman’s Agreement

Chapter 13: Redemption

Soon enough, you're robbed of the serenity of being nothing, and you're being pulled down, sucked through the vacuum with incredible force. You panic, desperately trying to regain control over your body – where is my body?

Gasping for air as you free fall in the blackness, with the speed of light, all you hear is a dizzying cacophony of noises; people, cars, magitek engines, the sea, the Hydraean screaming, your own breath, your own thoughts. You attempt to cry for help, but can't make a sound. Repeatedly trying to open your eyes, all you see is pitch black darkness, until suddenly, when it all feels too much to take, you realize the speed is slowing down, and you notice you're only gently floating downwards.

A little further, and finally it feels like your feet touch upon solid ground. Grateful at the sensation, you stretch out your arms to test if they're still there. Your hands find each other in the darkness, and you sigh from relief.

“That's me!” you exclaim in pure joy as you hear the breath escape your lungs.

“I'm here!” your own voice has never sounded so sweet, so reassuring.

But where am I?

Trying the ground in front, you take a few steps. Satisfied that it will carry you, carefully you step forward, trying to discover where you've ended up. A distant sound, reminding that of a crowd cheering catches your ear and you try to figure the direction it's coming from. The noises grow gradually louder and you pick up speed and walk towards them faster, running now as you look around to see something, anything to guide you away from the darkness.

Out of nowhere, you feel a touch on your arm, a small hand pulling your forward.

The words echo through the blackness, bouncing off invisible walls, a hundred times repeated:

“Look, there he is!”

Lifting your gaze, the sun hits you like a swift punch, out of nowhere, forcing you to avert your eyes. You're surrounded by people, everybody shoving each other, trying to get closer to the passing tall figure that is causing all the excitement. Squinting, you peer up, trying to get confirmation to the creeping suspicion.

Ardyn.

Pushing your way through the crowd, you try to catch up with the black chocobo that's carrying him forward through the sea of admirers. You manage to squeeze into the front, ramming through small openings between people, earning many annoyed comments as you pass. Catching up with the bird, you extend out your arm, grasping the hem of the coat that is loosely hanging on his shoulders. Turning to look back, his eyes meet yours, greeting you with a warm smile.

He reaches down, and you grab his hand, pressing your lips firmly on the backside of his palm, as you look up at his smiling eyes.

“My king...”

His thumb brushes your wrist gently.

“Do not enter the palace,” you whisper under your breath, exaggerating the words as you say them, hoping he will read your lips. “It's dangerous.”

He looks around, at the people climbing over each other to get closer to him, cheering, calling his name, then leans down, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“See me in the temple.” His warm breath tickles your skin as the low whisper escapes his lips.

Feeling yourself pulled back violently, you fall behind as a woman rushes in front of you, clinging onto Ardyn's arm.

“Did you see that?” she yells at the onlookers, “Please! Grant me a blessing too, oh darling healer!”

With a grin, he plants a grand kiss on her temple, and the woman falls dramatically backwards, into the crowd, loudly sighing in ecstasy.

Several others take heed and surround the chocobo in hopes of receiving a blessing of their own, as the poor bird tries to push through the people to the best of it's abilities.

Shaking your head, you pull your scarf over your head, looking around to make sure nobody paid too much attention to you.

An elderly woman pats your shoulder. “Lucky girl!” she says with a wink, her mouth erupting in a wide grin exposing her toothless mouth.

Lucky girl...

The words echo in the surrounding space as if inside a cave, and you notice all the commotion around you has come to a stop, the people frozen in their expressions of blind enthusiasm, the elderly lady smiling at you eerily.

The vision fades, into darkness, and as quickly as it disappeared, you feel yourself catapulted into another one, opening your eyes and realizing you're somewhere different.

In front of you, a low altar covered in dozens of red candles, gently flickering in the warm evening air, with a small bowl, a dagger and a glass of wine laid in front.

“I can't believe he let you go. Is he really that much of a fool?” You recognize the voice behind you, and turning around, meet the familiar golden gaze. He looks slightly younger, more vibrant, his skin smooth, his dark chestnut-coloured hair reaching all the way to his shoulders. The same tall man, yet his aura completely different; the same burning gaze, with the little mole under his left eye, yet more hunger for life in his eyes, more curiosity, more emotion.

“He does not rule over me,” the words come from your lips.

“You're brave to defy him. Very foolish, but brave nonetheless.” Lifting his arm, his hand brushes your hair from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see long, curly black locks falling past your shoulders.

“Did you make sure it's safe?”

“I don't care,” you declare. “I don't care anymore. I can't stand him. I despise him. He thinks morality is blindly following orders. He does not understand true conviction, nor passion.” Your breathing grows heavy. You're angry, bitter, yet looking into his eyes calms you strangely.

“My love, we're playing a dangerous game here...” “I can't stay away from you. Please don't even try to tell me!” Hearing yourself plead like that, the situation is starting to present itself clearer. The robust burning in your chest is not mere lust, it's a wild love, a love that literally brings you down to your knees, as you wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him, running your hands up his sides.

“My darling, I can't pretend anymore. I adore you. He's not half the man you are. My love...” you lift his tunic and kiss his stomach, feverishly, the skin soft and salty, deliciously sinful.

Grabbing your face between his palms, he kneels down in front of you, looking deep into your eyes.

“You're reckless,” he sighs. His breathing is heavy like yours, as he holds you still, studying your face.  “Either you speak the truth, or you have bewitched me. You make a man go insane, but I can't stay away from you. Gods know I tried...”

“My love,” you start but he stops you, holding you firmer, as if demanding an explanation, a reason for this madness.

“You may well be the end of me... so promise me, promise me now that you will not abandon me in the darkness, like you have abandoned your king.”

“He is not my king,” you respond with determination. “My heart, my loyalty, my life – they're yours.”

His hands travel down to your throat and you close your eyes, wilfully surrendering control, yearning to be weak under his command.

“If death comes by your hand, there is no sweeter way to pass,” you whisper. The words come from deep within your soul, yet he responds with laughter.

Opening your eyes, you see him chuckling, shaking his head. You can't help but smirk back at him, and his hands release their grip around your throat. Slipping under the shoulders of your robe, he pulls it down gently, revealing your bare body as the crimson-colored robe falls to the floor. You notice the tattooed markings traveling down between your breasts and your abdomen as he traces his middle and index fingers all the way to your navel.

Lifting your gaze, your eyes lock for only a brief moment, before lips crash against your neck; teeth gently biting the sensitive skin, tongue licking up, pushing hard against your jugular vein, demanding your very life force, tickling playfully, then biting again.

You moan his name as  you want to allow the arousal to spread all over, but soon you feel yourself drifting upwards, looking down at the scene unraveling in front of your eyes, being pulled further from your body.

The darkness wraps all around you once more, this time lifting you through the emptiness, up, up, faster and faster, until you're spat out into a vast room. Looking around, you see dozens of people, looking at you; some with a stern expression, some with pity in their eyes.

A young woman with long black hair seems to be crying. Her upset bothers you, and you attempt to smile at her in reassurance, but a sharp pain instantly shoots through your throat, and you end up coughing uncontrollably, having to spit down on the floor.

Blood.

“I ask you once more,” a voice calls from above, and you attempt to raise your head. Realizing you've been shackled with your hands over your head, movement is limited and strenuous.

“Have you practiced witchcraft, taken part in the forbidden rites of worship of the Infernian, or made ungodly pacts with the daemons?”

You let out a resonating laugh, coming from the pits of your belly, ending in another coughing fit.

“The only ungodly pact I made was with your so-called king,” you finally reply, noticing your undeniable exhaustion as you speak. “He knew what I was when he took my hand in marriage, a union I had no say in. A union I regret with every fibre of my being.”

“Stop! Please stop!” the young woman interrupts you, jumping up and earning the attention of the entire room. “Can't you see she's delirious? She needs water and rest! Any confession coming from her now can't be taken seriously!”

You shake your head at her, but her eyes burn with strong resolve. You must stop her, protect her at any cost.

“Right as my dear sister may be regarding my physical state, let it be made clear to the jury...” you take a deep breath and turn to spit out another blood-stained dribble. “I have taken part in the worship of Ifrit, the misunderstood divinity, wilfully and joyfully, and I will state my loyalty to him, and the Lucian healer of the scourge – “ your words cause shocked gasps and murmur across the court “ – until the day the true king sits upon the throne again.”

The chatter in the room grows louder, and the voice from above calls for silence aggressively, several times, until the court finally calms down.

“In that case, it is my duty to give you the same sentence as we have given the false prophet – to be executed within the next fortnight. The execution method for practicing forbidden magic and witchcraft is to be burned at the stake, and the ashes to be scattered inside the Rock of Ravatogh.”

The words do not shock you, but the young woman leaps up in her seat once more, loudly protesting and trying to climb across the front row, ending up violently restrained by the guards in the courtroom.

You close your eyes, only for a moment, but upon opening them the room has vanished, and you're greeted with the darkness again, floating in the stillness and silence, deprived of all sensation, a calm, pleasant nothingness. You take in a deep breath of the void, and let out a sigh of relief.

Somewhere far behind you, you hear steps, coming a long way, slowly approaching. You try to turn around, but all movement is nonexistent, you can't tell left from right. The steps grow closer, then stop at a short distance. The  sound of shackles clinking echoes through the darkness, then a small, tired, familiar voice;

“How many times yet do you intend to execute me?”

“We are looking into other options.”

“Is there no purpose I could serve you alive?”

“No.”

A moment of silence, and your heart cries out, aching for some solace, some closure. You attempt to move, to find the voices one more time, but in vain.

“The ashes...” “We have scattered them in the summit.”

The conversation seems to be happening all around you, the voices bleeding into each other.

                 “People will remember the good I did...”      “People are feeble. They will forget.”          “Have I not served them? Have I not served you?”

“Pathetic...”                                                                                     “How long will you keep me here?”                                                             “Until you forget, too.”             “Forget...               what?” “Who

                 you                      are.”

You're cold, all of a sudden and all over, so cold your whole body shivers, abruptly, shaking yourself awake. Jumping up, you gasp for air like a drowning swimmer just barely reaching the surface. A deep breath – another one, you draw the air into your lungs, greedily, urgently. As the oxygen floods back into your body, you start warming up rapidly, your palms and soles of your feet burning, a welcome if a slightly uncomfortable feeling.

You look around: tall, dark marble walls surround you, the room empty apart from the broad bed you were lying on. Examining yourself, you notice you're wearing a dark silk robe, your skin appearing particularly pale against the shiny fabric.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes in the hollow chamber. Carefully you lift yourself up to legs that feel shaky and weak under your weight. Taking support from the wall, you make your way to the chamber exit, and peek out into the corridor that extends both ways, shiny marble walls that seem vaguely familiar.

Continuing to lean on the wall, you wobble out into the corridor, deciding to go left after a little consideration. The walls are cold against your burning palms, the floor smooth and cool under your bare feet, and you take great pleasure in the sensations. As you reach the end of the corridor, lifting your gaze you see him, standing in front of you looking truly surprised, baffled, concerned.

“You're awake.”

The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and your legs give in, making you fall forward. He catches you in his arms as you clutch the back of his tunic, desperately clinging to him, seeking out the amber gaze that alone can offer you salvation.

“My king...”

[hidden-found-known-blog]

The Untitled Story of dragons, ice, dark gods and much more. Chapter I

An explosion travelled the underground fast as an arrow while the girl sprinted through the trembling floor.

-How do people fight boredom? –Alia asked out loud as she moved her legs as fast as she could. The ascending noise at the cave was starting to bother her. She wanted to get out of there. Still, she was smiling.

She suddenly fell on her ass as a piece of stone dropped right in front of her, just stitches away from her feet. She got up immediately and restart the race –Do they tear buildings down for fun? Or make holes as big as a house? Because if they don’t, I don’t think they could have more fun than we do.

The ground trembled behind her, more than it already was, making a new rain of dust drop from the ceiling of the cave. Alia could hear the heavy steps getting close to her. She turned her back stopping for a moment, and tried to see the creature that was following her in the faint light. She couldn’t find her, but she kept her smile.

She was about to start running again when the wall at her left exploded. She was suddenly thrown through the air for a dozen meters. She watched with slight conscience of fear as her body approached the stone wall. The girl protected her head when she hit the ground. When she felt she wasn’t moving, she lifted her head, and found the other wall of the cave standing harshly a meter away from her. Far away enough, she thought.

-See? –she yelled again as she stood up –How could they possibly find such adrenaline? It’s just…

Shut up and RUN! –suddenly sounded all over her mind. She looked back and finally saw Nagline running towards her with her powerful limbs. She admired the view and turned back moving again. The cavern was becoming wider, so she supposed they were close to the entrance. She laughed wildly, knowing she was going to make it once again.

Then she heard a roar behind her, and she felt Nagline’s claw tight around her, as she opened her wings, and started to move faster in the air, avoiding the falling stones. Alia covered her eyes to protect them from the dust, but she still felt the sun hit her when they finally ascended through the cave’s opening into the cold world above.

She looked down then, and saw the entrance they had just passed, getting more far away every second. Dust came out through the hole and fell on the snow. She found it beautiful, how such a white thing could get dirty so easily and still be gorgeous. She screamed with joy as they headed down the ice beach. Nagline slowed down when she was near the water, but instead of stopping on the ice, she flew ten meters into the water, and opened her claw.

Alia fell heavily into the frozen water, and immediately swam up and gasped for air. She put the water off her eyes, to see Nagline land on the beach. She beat her wings a couple of times, throwing little water drops into the air.

-You dropped me on purpose –she yelled at her as she reached for the beach. She watched the dragon lick her claws, swallowing the remnants of water.

Did I? –she answered with a grin. Not that a dragon could make grins successfully, but she knew that's what she wanted to do.

-Yes –she came out of the water, draining her wet hair –Now I’ll have to walk naked for a day.

Or you could just make another t-shirt.

-Bah –she murmured as she walked through the ice. –Who needs two t-shirts? Not that anyone is going to see me, anyway.

I see you –said Nagline while she followed the girl towards the ruined cave –If you were like me, I would understand you would want to show your body, but with that you have? –she added, kicking her with her snout. Alia smiled and kicked her back with all her body, though she knew she couldn’t move her if she didn’t want to.

The girl covered her nose with her hand as they got closer to the upbringing dust. She couldn’t really see where she was going for a couple of seconds until Nagline unfolded her wings again, and with some strong beats scattered the dirty fog away. Alia thanked the skies that the dragon wasn’t yet small as a puppy.

She kneeled in front of the opening and took a careful look. A few hours before she had looked inside that exact same place, and have seen an outstanding huge cavern with granite ceilings and amazingly polished walls. Now the black stone had dropped from the natural roofs and covered the ground creating an irregular pile of debris.

Nagline introduced her snout into the cave and Alia leaned on the dragon to look up inside the stone formation with her friend.

All the way up to the air room she thought frowning a bit. The cave had entirely collapsed from 30 of the 40 meters up of floors it had. She didn’t even know how they could have ran fast enough to get to the descending corridors and reach the exit on time before it was almost blocked like it was at the moment.

-We made quite a mess this time –she said standing up again.

You did –the ground creaked as the dragon moved.

-Hey it wasn’t entirely my fault! –Alia said paying more attention to her ragged wet clothes than to the conversation she was having.

I didn’t touch that oxygen bubble –Nagline answered without losing that insufferable calm that she had when she was acting like a mom.

-You didn’t alert me either.

Well I thought after fifteen years I had put some common sense inside that mind of yours.

-You must try harder with that –the girl murmured as she finally decided not to take off his pants. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t get ill for wearing soaking clothes, because she didn’t understand the concept of “cold” (she thought people did though), but because she was planning to still have an active end of day and maybe the water against her skin would make her feel better.

She looked around frowning due to the sun’s force and thought: Furthermore, in this place it’s difficult not to get wet somehow. She climbed through a tiny snow hill to make sure the disaster of the day had not caused any unexpected catastrophe. But her surroundings were all the same as always: snow, ice and water, all in different shapes, until you could just see the ocean reaching far away.

The unending whiteness all around her made her dizzy sometimes. She wished something would grow or live in the “cold” surface besides of her and Nagline. But again, wishing wasn’t going to make anything  happen.

Nagline breathed against the pile of snow she was standing on top of, making it start to melt. Alia got down with a step of her bare feet and asked the dragon:

-Still feeling like a trip to the black stone?

The green bluish dragon sort of grinned again at her.

More like a race to the black stone.

-Ah, not again… –complained Alia.

I’ve won one hundred and eighty seven times, and you’ve won 3, all of them when I was a hatchling, but I don’t know why I never get bored. I’m always hoping you’ll win sometime –Alia rolled her eyes with the teasing of her friend.

-Don’t take merit off my three times, I was such a hatchling as you.

Which is a statement that you’ve grown worse…

-Shut it! –she responded, as she threw a little ball of snow to her friend’s head. Then she grabbed her sword from her back, and with the help of a heavy kick, broke the ice next to where the dragon was standing. She jumped back as the ground creaked like an old tree complaining of the wind, and Nagline’s tail sank into the water.

Alia started to run towards the black stone, which she could barely see from the distance. She knew she had just gained a few second over Nagline, but that didn’t make her feel worse. Anyway, the dragon needed to get wet that day too.

She heard the beast roar behind her, and new she must have destroyed a good amount of ice-snow floor on her way back to the ground. That didn’t bother her though, she knew it would all be refrozen by the morning.

The air surrounding her started to throb, and she counted the seconds till the dragon appeared above her. Then with the help of her sword again, she boosted herself up, and extending her arms, grabbed Nagline’s left hind limb. Her body swinged dangerously in the air, but she hold on tight and lifted herself up through her leg. She had some practice doing this.

Alia reached the back of the winged lizard, and crawled through her spine. Her body was tough with the scales, but it still casted some hot.

Nagline suddenly flew downwards, contorting* to start a loop. Alia knew better than to scream a complaint, for she knew that the dragon didn’t mind if she ended up in the air for a while. Instead, she boosted herself forwards and tightened her arms and legs around Nagline’s neck, using the piece of made up rope she always carried with her as a handle between her hands under the animal’s strong body.

While the dragon showed off her flying abilities, she stood there internally cursing her friend, but enjoying the view from that different perspective. She loved flying more than anything. If she could steal Nagline’s wings for herself, she would have done it a long time ago.

When the flight went back to normal, Alia screamed:

-Are you done? –the only answer she got was a piece of smoke coming out of Nagline’s nostrils.

They slowly descending in circles when they reached the North side of the island. There no mountains existed, just a plain snow extension, and in its middle, a fountain. Alia jumped out of Nagline and walked without hesitation towards it. She had stopped trying to understand the strange things of the island a long time ago. She only knew which ones were useful, and which ones were just to stare at. Well, she knew about most of them. Some like the west granite cave had unexpectedly turned out to pertain to the “just to stare at” group, but she had learned the hard way.

She reached the black fountain and kneeled in front of it. The dark column grew from the ground like a tree, with its branches barely visible under the snow. It headed up creating a spiral for a few meters, but Alia wasn’t interested on its height. She wanted the dense material that flowed out of a tiny hole in the polished black structure. The liquid, though it was so dense she could barely call it that, dropped to the floor and mixed with the fountain branches again, creating a never ending loop.

Alia took her knife out of its case, which had the same look as the fountain, and introduced the opening through the liquid flow. The case wasn’t enormous, but she would do just fine with what she could carry there.

She stood up when she finished. The sky was already making itself orange. At that time of the year, they had at most half an hour of light left. Alia walked with Nagline at a slow pace towards the center of the island, where the high peaks were, to retrieve the sword the girl had left nailed to the ground when she had jumped towards the dragon.

Then she climbed to her back again, and let Nagline carry both of them to the highest mountain top. She called it the view maker, not difficult to understand why.

The snow covered area on the top of the mountain, fitted Nagline less every year that passed by, for she kept growing and growing. Still, Alia huddled against her warm side, and enjoyed the landscape beneath her.

She watched the endless ocean extending in all directions, and wondered once again how far away would the closest island be. She sighed and told herself again that one day she would find out.

She looked at the sky as the sun disappeared, and with the last light of the day, opened her mouth and sent a bit of air into the world, which immediately condensed due to the temperature difference and ascended towards the starred sky. Alia knew exactly how many lights there were in the sky: five thousand three hundred and fifty one. And it wouldn’t be long till the fifty second was up there.

All light extinguished in a few seconds, only the glowing stars creating a strange aura. They stayed up there for a few more moments in silence. Until Nagline straightened herself and said:

I won the race, so I choose dinner.

Alia chocked but didn’t argue. She loved every piece of food anyway.

Both figures headed down the peak, saying goodbye to the day, and going into the underground.