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inkformyblood · 3 years

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back to their intended journey

Day 01 @bobadinweek Prompt: Identity & Fighting Warnings: None

Din wakes in an instant, slipping between the dark depths of sleep to the blade-bright sunshine of a Tatooine morning, his hand already unfurling across the bed towards—

Something.

The pang of loss cuts at his chest, his dream barely remembered in tattered fragments that fall away as he stands. Din rises onto his toes reflexively, the harsh calluses on his feet not protecting him from the chilled floor, and he moves to the door that joins his room to Grogu’s.

He hadn’t known how to ask Boba for a space for his child. The words remained locked behind his teeth after the thought swirled into existence as the Jedi mentioned Grogu returning as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

As if Din hadn’t torn out his soul when his ad’ika left to go and train with the Jedi.

It had been Boba who had listened as Din broke himself on the shattered rocks of his own grief and pain again and again. It had been Boba who had recognised his description of the Jedi — a rolling peal of laughter startling out of him and stopping Din’s tortured cycle in its tracks. It had been Boba who had found Din’s son once more and pressed the communicator into his hands without a second word and stepped out of the room.

But Boba had known, his gaze piercing through Din’s armour like it was nothing when Din had settled to stand by his side, resting his hip against the arm of the throne to take the pressure off of his bad leg. Boba had stretched up, hooking his curled finger beneath Din’s helmet — just brushing against the exposed skin as Din gasped, soundless but felt — and grinned, a slow, languid expression that suited Boba.

“Got you an upgrade, Mando,” Boba said, releasing him and Din had swayed, suddenly adrift in a violent sea of emotions all demanding to be felt. “Some extra space for when your ad stays. Should be ready by tonight, and I’ve picked up some things already. You can change whatever you want.”

Then he had gestured for the next supplicant to step forwards as if it was that simple. Din remained at his side and ghosted his fingers across Boba’s shoulder, tapping against the jut of his spine at the nape of his neck in silent thanks and been treated to that slow delighted grin once more.

Din shakes off the hazy veil of memories and steps closer to the door but pauses, his hand outstretched towards the controls. The slow, easy, familiar voice wasn’t just from his memories as he began to be able to make out words from the melodic hum.

“—all about the balance, bero’ika.”

Din tips his head to one side, missing the clarity of sound filtered through his helmet, but without it, the rumble of Boba’s voice shudders through him. Heat blooms in his cheeks, as powerful as the midday sun, and it tears the air from his lungs. Silence reigns inside his head and echoes through his chest before he hears Boba speak again.

“Feel like helping me rule again? It’s looking like we’ve got a busy day ahead of us, but your buir can sleep for a while longer.”

Boba’s use of ‘we’ catches Din in the soft spaces between his ribs. Even before, at his covert, as one of the Beroyas, he was alone, separated from the others, but Boba welcomed him without hesitation. It was a debt he couldn’t put into words, and he knew the other man would insist that he didn’t need to carry that obligation.

Din forces his thoughts back into line, presses the stray whisper of “mhi ba'juri verde,” back into the shadows, and stretches out for the door controls.

He catches himself, frozen by the sudden realisation that his helmet is still resting on the stand next to his bed. Din knew he had broken his Creed and would break it again a thousand times over for Grogu, but Boba hadn’t commented on it or judged him for returning to the familiar comfort of his helmet. The choice was fully in Din’s hands.

He wants to.

The feeling isn’t as much of a surprise now, curling across his shoulders like a contented lothcat rather than the first cold drowning terror of realisation.

The words bubble in his throat before he catches them behind the cage of his teeth. Not yet. He can’t take that final step.

“Boba?”

“Yeah?”

Din sighs, a barely-there exhale. “Could you— could you close your eyes?”

“Already done.” Boba’s reply is swift, a warm thread of something Din didn’t dare name winding through his words. It softened the edges of them like a rock worn smooth by the endless passage of time, and Din taps the controls without a moment’s more hesitation.

Grogu shrieks when he sees him, his hands extending to reach for him like a grasping vine, and Boba sways with the movement, one hand cupping the wriggling child’s back to keep him secure. Din’s mouth dries, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as he steps forward to cradle Grogu.

As he does so, his hands brush against Boba’s arms — bare and roped with heavy scars, his natural golden skin burnt pale in coiling patches — and his fingers brush the curve of Boba’s belly. His torso is bare, his skin warm and burning, and a shiver runs down Din’s spine as the brush of contact burns away a chill he hadn’t been aware that he was carrying.

Boba’s eyes flicker behind trembling lids, his head tipping as he tries to track Din’s movement — his hunting instincts carved into his bones — but they remain firmly closed. This close, Din could track the slight rise and fall of Boba’s shoulders, unhurried and unconcerned, and watch the soft smile as it curls across his face.

“Good sleep?”

“Yeah.” Din’s voice cracks as he answers, and he ducks his head to nudge his nose across the curve of Grogu’s skull, the child tipping back in his arms to coo up at him.

“Good.” Boba claps his hands together, the sound a dull thunk compared to the ringing proclamation when he was in his armour. “More Mandalorians arrived last night. We’re going to have a busy day, ne’alor.”

⁂

Din keeps his gaze high as the ocean unfurls beneath him, sunlight reflecting off beskar in every colour imaginable and casting shards of rainbows across the walls. Boba mentioned his childhood infrequently, but Din remembers his description of the predatory fish that would swarm just off of the landing bays on Kamino well — the rows of flashing spines on their backs that would suddenly spark into life as they descended on the meat Boba would throw into the water.

A cold chill worms down his spine as he shifts and heads turn with him — some bare and the want is splashed across their faces, a light flickering in their eyes while some had kept their helmets on and swayed with him like distorted shadows.

They want a ruler, but Din is only a man.

So, he keeps his gaze high and sways as he stands, the dull ache in his knee radiating up into his hip. Before they started to arrive, drawn by the darksaber like lightning bugs in the dead of night, he would perch on the curved arm of Boba’s throne and feel Boba’s shoulder brush against the small of his back as the other man moved.

He doesn’t dare show such weakness now.

There is a brace built into his armour — yet another favour that Boba performed for him as if it was nothing — and Din leans into it, hearing the faint clicks as it curls around the twisted muscle and bone. He feels Boba’s eyes on him, a brush similar to the slide of his fingers across Din’s vambrace some evenings, a silent question and a reminder contained within that small gesture before Boba turns back to his court, cutting off the man babbling in front of him with a wave of his hand.

Boba’s helmet is resting at the ground by his feet — Grogu sitting next to it with one clawed hand pressed to the metal — so, as the assembled group watches, Boba’s grin curls and sharpens. The man in front of him freezes, his face pale, and Din leans forward despite himself, focusing on the fast pulse of the man’s heart in his throat, waiting for him to run.

“Should have known that a clone would be so disrespectful.”

Din twitches, his gaze shifting although he keeps his face turned towards the supplicant and scans the Mandalorians resting to one side. His eyes fall on one in particular, a tall human man with a shocking crop of pale blonde hair that floats around his face as if suspended in water. His gaze was fixed on Boba, acidic with hatred, and his lip was curling at one corner, revealing a small jewel set into a tooth.

“He’s sitting when his betters are standing.” The sentence isn’t directed at anyone except Boba, the man’s voice pitched too low to carry, but the Mandalorians around him sway as if caught in a breeze, not stepping away or crowding closer, merely waiting and listening.

Rage burns in Din’s stomach, heat rising to his chest where it blooms into a forge. His hand curls into a fist, his knuckles cracking as loud as a blaster shot beneath his beskar, but Boba doesn’t acknowledge it. His gaze remains steady, his head tipping to one side as he continues to speak to the man in front of him, a low growl that normally sends sparks down Din’s spine and kindles the urge to press himself closer and feel the rumble of his words through his chest.

Boba pauses, and Din can sense the air in the room sharpen, an electricity convalescing as if summoning a lightning storm, but the other man merely shrugs, a faint flicker of movement out of the corner of Din’s eye. Grogu chirps, and Din breaks his study of the younger Mandalorian to turn to the child.

Grogu’s ears flicker, and he waves a hand at Din, tiny claws unfurled, before tapping on Boba’s knee. Small chips of paint flake away beneath his touch, and Din lets his thoughts spiral for a moment, settling on the slow drag of a paintbrush over treated beskar, the whispering scratch of a nail before the paint dried and the low hum as they worked. He drags them back, a pang of nostalgic grief blooming alongside the bonfire in his chest.

Boba draws Grogu onto his lap, shifting to settle the child against the curve of his thigh. When he spoke, his voice was low, pitched so only they could hear it. “Oya, ne’ad’ika. Jaster ja’haili.”

Din feels the world slow around him, the intensity of a firefight paling in comparison as he watches the lines around Boba’s eyes soften, sees the other man glance over at him, a single question on his face, a moment of hesitation. They’d never spoken of anything beyond the immediate, Din unable to say and Boba unwilling to push, but the understanding between them is greater than anything either had experienced before.

Din nods once, a single jerk of his head, and knows that he would hunt down storm clouds and pluck the twin suns from the sky to keep Boba grinning like he is.

Grogu claps his hands together, the action a mirror of Boba’s habit, dragging Din back into the present, and the child turns to stare up at them both.

“Nicely done, ad’ika. Next. You all heard the kid.”

A small scoff from the scowling Mandalorian to the side draws Din’s gaze back to him, his shoulders curling in preparation of… something. He could taste the anticipation in the air, thick and coppery, reminiscent of blood.

“Why are we letting a bunch of batch scrapings tell us what to do? I mean—“

Din turns to Boba, sees the tight lines around the corners of his mouth, watches as the insult sinks in and catches in the soft undersides of his ribs but turns away. The shield Boba pulls over himself is beskar-made and painted in the same dark green as his armour, an obligation he continues to carry. Why isn’t he defending himself?

There was something here Din was missing, a gap in his knowledge that he kept circling like a sarlaac pit. It bit at him like a burr that clung to a gap in his armour. A lack of knowledge, a single misstep, would have been enough to get him killed while he ran missions and yet, watching Boba be insulted and do nothing about it, feels worse.

“You.” Din jabs his hand at the offending Mandalorian, letting the other settle on the hilt of the Darksaber and feels the handle hum beneath his touch. Boba’s breath hitches, and his grip curls a little tighter around Grogu, but he doesn’t stop Din. “Step forward.”

The man does as Din commands, his head raised and a smirk lingering on his face. His armour is clean, unscorched and freshly painted, with stripes of bright crimson running over his chest plate. He settles, not in front of Boba, but in front of Din, his gaze never straying to the throne.

“Ni sushi ga’ke’gyce.”

“You pledge yourself to my rule? You swore to follow me and my orders?” The ritual words taste sour in Din’s mouth, and the echo of Boba’s pledge rises like a shadow in the edges of his thoughts, simply made and given without hesitation.

“Yes, Mand’alor.” The man remains still, but there is a note of caution in his words, his gaze twitching slightly as if he was fighting against the urge to glance towards the others, searching for support.

“You insult the Mandalorian who helped return my son to me. You degrade the king who has given us all sanctuary and safety without asking for anything in return. You cast judgement on a better man than you.”

Boba’s hand curls around Din’s elbow, drawing him back, and Din turns at his urging, his heart beating too fast in his chest.

Boba’s gaze is steady, but his brow is furrowed. He moves from his customary sprawl and collects his helmet from the floor next to him, holding it next to Grogu. “Are you sure?”

Din moves without thinking, leaning down, his hand splaying on the arm of the throne, to press his forehead to Boba’s. This close, Din can see the shiver that rolls through the other man at the cold touch of beskar, but he leans into it, fighting to keep his eyes open rather than let them fall shut in benedictional delight. Boba’s gaze is dark and locks onto Din’s in the small gap of his visor, and Din can’t help wondering what Boba can see through the tinted material.

It is a moment that Din could stay in forever, but he breaks away sooner than he wants, a fierce blush colouring his cheeks at the involuntary sigh Boba releases as they both straighten. Din turns back to the man, feels the rage reignite in his chest.

“Get out. Don’t come back before you’ve made amends to Boba. I have spoken.”

The man stumbles, his jaw slack and bright colour high in his cheeks, before he turns and moves, every step disjointed and uneven. His shadow disappears long after his huddled form vanishes down the steps of the palace.

“Fennec. Can you watch the kid?” Boba’s voice is carefully steady, the voice of a king and Din flushes, the intensity of his actions beginning to dawn on him. He had drawn Boba into kov’nyn, Boba had called Grogu his heir. Unbidden, his wayward thoughts from that morning resurface, traitorous but compelling.

“Of course.”

Grogu babbles something, and Din reaches out and brushes a finger over the curve of his ear before Fennec — swinging her rifle onto her back and slipping down from her perch in the same motion — scooped him up. She pauses to assess Grogu before settling him on her hip.

“Court is over.” Boba doesn’t raise his voice, but it carries, flooding out over the crowd, and they are moving before they understand. “Get out.”

Then they are alone.

Boba presses himself up and turns, dragging Din sideways in the same motion. His foot curls, hooking behind Din’s ankle and spilling him into the throne Boba had just left. The air rushes from Din’s lungs in a gasp, a dull ache radiating down his spine, but he doesn’t have a second to move when, all predatory grace and harsh lines, Boba crowds him backwards, his hands curled around the arms of the throne.

Their foreheads brush, not quite a Keldabe, but the shadow of one and Boba rocks back on his heels, his prosthetic catching against the stone floor with a hiss before he settles. “What are you thinking? Got to help me out here, Din.”

Boba’s voice curls around his name, reverent, as if it was precious.

“I can’t read your mind like one of those Jetti. Why did you do that?”

“He was insulting you.”

Boba’s grin sharpens. “Not the first time and won’t be the last. I would have not survived this long if I get worked up over every arsehole who looks down on me because of what I am.

“I’m a clone first and foremost. Even now, people will look at me and think they know who I am. Sometimes they see the armour, but I’m not a Mandalorian the same way you are.

“I’m a bounty hunter second. I’ve done terrible things to get my reputation, and I’ve done great things too. It’s all about the balance and you, kot'hokaan, have just upset that balance by throwing your lot in with me.”

Boba sighs, a rasp catching at the ends of the sound, but he doesn’t move away to get a drink. Instead, he leans closer, peering into Din’s visor and their eyes meet and lock.

“The Mandalorians aren’t here for me. They can barely restrain themselves from tearing my armour from me because they don’t think I’m worthy because they didn’t think my buir was worthy. He was a foundling who was Mand’alor for a time and next to none of those who followed him live.

“They’re here for you.”

“I never asked for it.” Din wants to move and press back against the cage of Boba’s bracketing embrace, wants to stay still and let the other man envelop him. He takes in the crinkles at the corners of Boba’s eyes, watches the way his scars dip and twist over his cheek as he smiles then breaks into a laugh.

“That makes you the most suited for the job.”

Boba knocks his knuckles against the hilt of the saber, and Din can feel the answering vibration in his teeth, a purr of contentment emanating from the weapon.

“Why wouldn’t I choose you?” Din circles back, sees confusion flicker across Boba’s face, and the other man straightens slightly, tipping his head to one side. “You’ve done so much for me, for Grogu, and I can’t even begin to repay you—“

“I’d swore to return your child to you as repayment for my armour. I don’t pledge my word lightly, and you don’t have to repay me. I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing. I wanted to help. What he was saying… it was hutyc. But why didn’t you say something?”

“They’re here for you.” Boba’s gaze bores into Din as inescapable as a black hole. “If you remain at my side, you’ll be dragged down with me.”

“And if I want that?”

Boba stood, towering over Din. He isn’t a tall man, but the way he carries himself is powerful, a confidence that fills the room, and Din raises his chin in defiance of it. He won’t be swayed from this, can’t retreat now that he has dragged the thought out into the light.

“I need to punch something,” Boba said. “Fancy a spar?”

Din laughs, nods and lets Boba pull him onto his feet. Boba hesitates for only a moment before his arm curls around Din’s waist, his thumb smoothing over the curve of his armour.

“You’re infuriating,” Boba says, stretching up with his free hand to draw Din down, pressing their foreheads together once more. “But I guess I’m stuck with you now.”

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Din promises. He keeps the vow carefully locked behind his teeth, but, as Boba laughs, helpless tremors that reverberate through Din, he can hear the echo of them in his words.

It was enough. It was more than he ever expected. It was more than either of them had ever expected.

Boba’s fingers loop through his as they walk, and Din squeezes them tightly, feeling the answering pressure, and knows that he has made the right choice and the only choice he could have.

Translations

Ad = child

bero’ika = little bounty

Buir = parent

Beroya = bounty hunter

Ne’alor = my King/leader

mhi ba'juri verde = we will raise warriors (part of the Mandalorian marriage vows)

Oya, ad’ika. Jaster ja’haili = Let’s go, my little one. Jaster watch over you.”

Ni sushi ga’ke’gyce. = I listen to your orders

kot'hokaan = axe (affectionate)

Hutyc = cowardly

#bobadinweek2021 #bobadin #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #boba fett #my writing #fanfic

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elindae-writes · 3 years

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Every cringe streamer or youtuber makes a music channel. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Megs is no different. I bet he'd force all the decepticons to sing for him. Starscream is just shrieking at the top of his lungs and though Soundwave is tone-deaf, he can drop some sick beats. The vehicons have some pretty deep voices. I'm pretty sure they'd be supporting the main singers. Megatron waves around his sword randomly trying to fit in with music and look like he knows what he's doing.

This ask made me really ponder Megatron's streaming style. The reason why is because I think he would alternate between wanting other people in his stream and at other times just wanting to stream completely alone.

He would wave his sword around as if it's a conductor's baton. Then he'd accidentally get it stuck in the wall and blame Starscream.

Okay, I figured it out: He'd probably force everybody to live out this extremely painful and cringey sing-song nightmare--on Tuesdays.

But on Wednesdays? On today's Wednesday? Megatron would go into Survival Man Mode. He watched too many survival shows and decided to get onto the wilderness survival bandwagon.

Let's see how our planet's ruler is surviving in the woods!

"hello," Megatron rasps in the camera. He is near a highway. "today i shall prove how inferior your pathetic planet is by easily surviving upon it. look, look how weak it is. pah. i will prove myself the true lord of earth today."

The cars get into an accident due to their shock of seeing him. "yes. i am shocking, am i not?" Megatron nods and then sprints across the road and into the woods like a whitetail deer.

"i know the basics of survival. first, i shall gather a source of water!" Megatron sees one of those tree stumps with leftover rain water in it. It has leaves floating around. He reaches down and slaps it with his talon, splattering water and foliage everywhere. "h2o has been procured."

"shelter," Megatron says as he zooms in on a bird's nest. "i must create a woodland abode of my own, like the one that this flying rat has constructed here."

He snaps down several trees and creates a very terrible teepee in the middle of the woods. He then settles down in a crossed-leg pose underneath it. He's hunched down a bit because it's too small. Megatron ignores this. The camera is propped onto a rock.

"this is easy. why do you humans suck at surviving on your own planet? mhmm."

A metal purple shape flies through the sky. The stream notices but Megatron doesn't.

An actual bird lands near the camera! You can see its blurry feet.

"a new stream viewer! what a lovely chicken."

It's a bluejay but he doesn't know that.

It begins to peck the camera.

"DREAFUL CREATURE, FOOLISH FLIGHTED BEAST, DO YOU KNOW NOT WHOSE STREAM YOU PECK UPON?"

He fires his fusion cannon at the bird. It misses and the birds flits off unharmed.

There is now a giant fire.

"well. that fulfills the next basic need: warmth. i shall be warm. winter is coming soon." It's summer.

He fires his fusion cannon a few more times and there is now a very large fire. "fantastic. warmth! wait. it's coming towards my teepee."

The flames lick at the moss near the base of his "teepee" which is still just precariously stacked trees btw

He crouches in front of the flames and waves his arms around in front of the fire. "do not encroach upon your lord's dwelling. DO NOT BURN DOWN YOUR RULER'S HOUSE"

The teepee is lit on fire. Megatron's optics flicker. He decides to try and save his "house." He waves his arms around in the hopes of stoking out the flames. They just grow taller. He stares at it for a few moments and then turns and leaves as the forest burns.

"well. okay..."

He clears his throat and ignores the forest fire now behind him. "it was the tree's faults for being weakly susceptible to flame. they should've decided to grow as flame-proof trees. stupid wood. perhaps there is some non-flammable wood in this forest? mhmm? i shall gather my next basic survival need: food." He pulls out a cube, puts it to his mouth, but then pauses with his mouth still half-open. "no... i will prove my superiority over your planet by proving that i can survive on its resources alone!"

He then throws the cube into the sky. It hits a mid-flight bird. "in fact! i shall even make do without my spare emergency cube!"

The purple metal drone flies over the trees again. It screams. Megatron still does not notice.

Megatron puts the spare cube down in front of a rabbit. he leans down and whispers to it very gently. "eat. food. this is yours. you are set now. thank me later." The rabbit sits on it.

Megatron then shuffles off.

Megatron crouches down and eats an entire bundle of leaves off a bush as if he is some woodland creature.

"disgusting," he mutters, "but i shall make do and survive. far too green."

There are screaming noises. He moves the camera to record the source of them. We see several terrified people playing frisbee at a nearby park. Yes, Megatron was just in a park this entire time. The frisbee clonks into Megatron as the people scream.

"you dare throw a disc of plastic at your ruler?!" Megatron scoffs. He begins to stomp at the humans.

A groundbridge opens up. Optimus emerges, battlemask drawn and weapons already out and pointed. "MEGATRON."

"hello! oh, how interesting it is to see you here, Orion. how interesting. i see that you happened to start your own wilderness survival stream coincidentally shortly after i started my own. what a happenstance, right?"

He coughs up a salad's worth of leaves and then shakily points at a confused Optimus. "you're copying me," Megatron hisses. The bluejay from earlier lands on his outstretched talon tip. "copycat! get your own section of woodland area to livestream in!"

"...MEGATRON?"

Megatron's optics flicker and go dark. "uh," he coughs. "perhaps i should have held onto that spare cube. that stupid bitch rabbit stole it." He collapses due to hunger and lands faceplate down onto the fallen frisbee. It turns out that Megatron couldn't survive off of just leaves after all.

#mcprime universe #megatron #optimus prime #transformers #transformers: prime

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fallenrepublick · 4 years

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I really liked your last fic! And it got me thinking tho 👀 if the reader had their first time with Maul...

Fuck yes.

Warnings: This one’s a softer smut but it is smut nonetheless. Just super basic stuff, no kinks involved to my knowledge.

You hadn’t kept track of the days, the weeks, or the months that you had been here with him. In truth, time seemed to meld together in his presence, the only relevant information that you could find in the little moments you were in his arms that of contentment and, as embarrassing as it was to say, undeniable bliss.

Oh, but him, the rightful ruler of Mandalore, a king in his own right, he was counting. It was only days, he had claimed, only the days that he was counting since you had first offered him your entire heart, the first and only one of its kind that had not come to him with strings attached. And yet you knew, deep down inside, in a place that he was certain you wouldn’t look, he was also counting in hours, minutes, seconds, the time that he took not to sleep at night, but just to hold you, ticking away at that internal clock as he added yet another second to his moments of happiness, all of it in a constant battle against his lifetime of pain.

And so it went, your lives together nearly perfect, the days rushed and busy and the nights quiet and warm as you listened to the sound of the other’s heartbeat, both of which seemed to continue on against all odds, and the rhythm in tandem even odder still, like two passing ships signaling to each other before departing for the last time.

It was that departure that frightened you, and of course you were already aware that the ways you had come up with to ease such fears did not automatically make such possibilities disappear. But you wanted it anyways. Somehow, someway, you knew he did, too.

Maybe you were a bit guilty for it. It wasn’t often that you asked much of him, and something so important caused a nervous tension to hide away in your chest every time you saw him. You hoped he didn’t notice. But he almost certainly did.

It was no different tonight, the planning and strategizing over, the backups prepped, and the backups for the backups similarly so, and finally you had time to breathe. Except lately, it seemed that even in your free hours, breathing was easier said than done.

“Starlight…” came a voice from the doorway, the word more an anchor for himself than it was a call to you. You turned your head to it regardless.

Maul stood under the frame, backlit by the light of the hallway, and a slight sense of unease cradled behind the arms crossed over his torso. Once more, your lungs froze, hands becoming fidgety in front of you, and your tight smile did little to hide your feelings.

As he came further into the room, the door shutting behind him and the room becoming dim once again with the setting sun, the gap between you nearly disappeared, and you found, in barely any time at all, his arms pulling you close, curling around your shoulders protectively, your head leaning into him. Your hands traveled up to meet his chest, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric of his shirt.

“Something is wrong,” he said at last, voice low and laced with worry. “You’ve been different lately, my Starlight. What’s happened?” His careful hand tilted your chin up to meet his eyes, in passing hope that maybe you’d be more inclined to confide in him if he did so.

On any regular day, you might have simply dodged the question, or insisted you had no idea what it was he meant. But the light of day was waning, and it took with it a certain element of self-control that you hadn’t before noticed left with the dying sun.

“I love you,” you began, hoping it would ease the shock of your desires. “I’ve loved you for so long… I… I want more.”

“More?” he asked simply, refusing to believe the first way he interpreted the statement was correct.

“More of this, more of us, more of… of you.”

You looked down, almost embarrassed that you’d said anything at all, yet altogether failing to deny the growing heat between your legs, the thought itself of being with him making you want to be taken right here and right now. But he still refused to move, watching your expressions change the longer he took to give you a concrete answer.

“We haven’t… done that before. Are you sure you-”

“Yes,” you interrupted, gripping tighter to his collar. “I’m sure.”

Silently, without any further hesitation, his hands held each side of your face, keeping it in place as he leaned into your lips, beginning the kiss softly. And his mind raced with thoughts of you, even the smallest of this touch urging him forward, nearly instinctive steps causing him to push you backwards until you met the edge of the bed you both shared.

His lips trailed down, pushing aside your collar to access the skin beneath, each bit of contact just as light as the one before it. He raised his head once more, eyes glowing in the blue shadows, waiting, asking for you to let him continue.

Your hand brushed at his cheek in response, to which he lowered again, hands drifting under your shirt, the callouses rough against your soft skin, removing the top in one swift movement. His kisses trailed further below, lips brushing at the top of your chest, teeth barely grazing you, earning small whimpers of delight with every touch.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against your collar, fingers already working at the clasps of your pants. “Don’t be afraid, my princess. I’ll be gentle with you.”

God what you did to him. He had ached for you for so long, days and nights of his life dedicated only to his desire for your touch, for you to be beneath him, your arms wrapped around his neck, calling his name as if it were the only thing you knew.

And he kissed you once more, humming into it as he pushed your back further down onto the mattress, your legs rising to wrap around his hips. He held them up further, fingers pressing into your thighs, though only leaving the lightest of indents on their surface. Yet one hand traveled lower, carefully rubbing at your clit, almost teasing you to what you wanted more than anything in the moment. Your legs tightened and voice became louder, leaving you practically begging him to hurry it up.

“Maul,” you struggled to say even, anticipation making it difficult to think, neediness clouding your mind. “Please… I need you.”

And he was prepared to oblige. Removing his hand, he placed the tip of his cock at your entrance, the normally cold metal now slightly warmed by its contact with your flesh. Yet he hesitated, fearing the idea of harming you, even in this way.

But you stroked the back of his head reassuringly, burying your face against his neck. It was a silent confirmation that even in such a desperate state he could identify.

The first part was the most difficult, a painful shock jolting through your body the moment he pushed forward. Your arms and legs tightened around him and you couldn’t help the cry of pain that you let out in the moment. Yet, it took little time to subside, and the sensation of his kind touch that still held your legs was what you seemed to remember more than anything.

After a moment, he began moving, slowly and consistently, allowing you time to grow used to it. Each thrust, though as gentle as it could be, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, moans escaping your lips the longer he went.

The way he said your name, quietly, almost in disbelief, only made you need him more, your moans turning eventually to cries and pleas for him to fuck you harder, faster, until you couldn’t walk anymore and your eyes saw nothing but him for days after.

As you wished, he pounded into you harder, the thrusts creating a knot in your stomach almost immediately, and you only held him closer to you as he did, your voice in his ears and the warmth of your body surrounding each part of him.

And it wasn’t long before your back was arching, words caught endlessly in your throat as you struggled to form coherent words, becoming incapable of holding back any longer. But it wasn’t something you had to ask for.

“Starlight,” he said again, syllables caught between rushed breaths. “Cum for me, princess.”

That was all you needed, your orgasm sending your body shaking against him, your juices flowing down to meet the mattress beneath you. The moan you let out was music to him, a chorus of the pleasure he brought you all releasing at once. And with the relief that came after, he felt pride, the knowledge that he could do such a thing to you and you alone only making him relish the time with you more than he ever had.

Your chests rose and fell almost identically, his hands slowly lowering your legs back down, though he continued placing gentle kisses around your neck, almost as an apology for the pain he knew he left you with. And you held him close, your protector and lover, the one you chose time and time again, and you knew at last, there was never any reason to be afraid.

#darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #maul #maul x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x you

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 4 years

Text

The Prophecy; the End of Everything - Chapter I

The prophecy stands: when the planets align he will free himself from his cell. The only chance of stopping him is the unity of the Worlds; the child of the Heavens, ruler of the Underworld, and warrior of the Seas.

[AO3]

“Stiles,” his father said softly. “It’s time to go.”

“I know, I know,” Stiles replied, the golden glow of his eyes fading back to their natural dark hue as he finished tending to the wilting plant. The trunk straightened and the wilted leaves grew firm, the edges that had been darkened by rot were now vibrant, lush and green.

Stiles rose to his feet and dusted off the front of his robes. He turned to look at his dad, taking in the weary, sad look on the man’s face.

“It’s only a few months,” Stiles assured him, his voice soft as he stepped over to his father’s side. “And you’re welcome to visit.”

“I know, but he does not interrupt your time with me, it would not be fair if I were to interrupt your time with him,” John said. He let out a sigh. “I do miss you.”

“And I miss you,” Stiles replied, pulling his father into a tight hug.

His father pulled back slightly, cupping his son’s cheek as he looked at him. A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips.

“You’d best get going,” his father told him.

“Can I come with you?” Erica asked excitedly.

Stiles looked at her.

She knew he couldn’t say no to her, but others were not allowed to know where the gates to the Underworld were, nor were they permitted to enter unless dead.

“You can walk with me as far as the edge of town,” Stiles compromised.

Erica beamed at him, hurrying to her feet and walking with him through the streets.

The town was quiet at this time of day; the sun was creeping towards the horizon, lighting the sky with smears of pink, purple, blue and orange. The cool breeze of night was chasing away the warmth of day and those who lived in the village were returning home for dinner.

“What’s it like in the Underworld?” Erica asked, pushing back a stray strand of straw-blonde hair that had fallen out of her braid. “Is it as dark, decrepit and gloomy as everyone says it is?”

“Only if your soul is sent to Hades,” Stiles answered. “Otherwise, it’s just like the Surface World… only, below the Surface.”

“And what’s he like?” Erica asked, looking at Stiles curiously.

Stiles fought the urge to smile as he thought about him—Derek.

“Beyond anything you could ever imagine,” Stiles replied fondly.

“What’s it like to be laid at the mercy of a man like him?”

Stiles slowed as they reached the edge of the town.

A coy smirk turned up the corner of Stiles’ lips as a glint of mischief lit his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at Erica. “What makes you think I’m at his mercy?”

He flashed a smile before turning and walking into the dying light, towards the mountains where the entrance to the Underworld was hidden.

The warmth of daylight faded, the wavering flames of the burning torches lighting his way. The pale silk of his clothes turned black and the golden threads faded to silver, the delicate patterns of towering stalks of wheat, blooming flowers, and twisted vines all standing out against the onyx-black fabric.

The ornate cuffs of golden vines that encircled his arms shimmered brighter than they did in the day as they caught the dim light of the flickering torches.

Flowers bloomed in the wake of his footsteps, their velvety petals as red as blood. The blossoms that were woven into a circlet around his head turned into a crown of ashy thorns and crimson blooms.

The darkness welcomed him as the king returned home.

Cerberus lifted his heads as Stiles approached the gates, his tail wagging excitedly. He wriggled as he scampered to his feet and bounded towards Stiles, sliding to a stop and struggling to sit still.

Stiles wrapped him up in his arms, patting his three heads and he quietly shushed the hound.

When Cerberus calmed down, Stiles stepped past him and through the gates to the Underworld. He made his way through the familiar setting, past the pillars of marble and large doors to his home, and over to the door that led to their bedroom.

The room was surprisingly large and comforting, the walls covered in ornate panelling that was painted black. A tiered chandelier hung from the ceiling, the flames of the candles dim but glinting as they caught the reflection of the shimmering crystals, casting light around the room.

Pies of old books were stacked against the walls—old hardcover books, leather bound journals and other books that looked like antiques, all bound in magnificent colours of scarlet, burgundy, deep green, gold, and grey. The spines of the books were decorated by gold or silver lettering that read the titles, adorned with small metal studs and a few were even fastened with small hinges that looked to be made of brass or silver.

A small wooden chair sat in one corner of the room, a blanket thrown across it. Beside the chair was a small alcove that was decorated by cushions, blankets and a book that had been set aside.

The bed sat in the centre of the room, pushed back against one wall. It was covered in black sheets, soft blankets and a golden silk throw which lay over the figure that lay there, fast asleep.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the man, watching the way his chest rose and fell with his even breaths and his stern features softened by sleep.

He stripped off his clothes, down to his britches. He unwound the golden cuffs from around his surprisingly firm biceps and lifted the crown of thorns and flowers from his head, setting it aside on the chair in the corner of the room.

He stepped over to the other side of the bed. He carefully lifted the blankets, trying not to disturb Derek as he climbed into bed. He lay still, letting his body settle among the familiar sheets.

He heard Derek stir behind him, letting out a weak groan as he shuffled closer to Stiles, wrapping his arm around the young man’s waist and nuzzling his face into the curve of his neck.

Stiles smiled softly as he settled back into the warmth of his husband’s embrace, letting his eyes flutter shut as sleep overcame him.

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

Derek stirred himself awake, drawing in a deep breath as he slowly blinked his eyes open. He rolled onto his back, untangling himself from the figure that lay beside him and dragging his hands down his face.

Realisation crashed over him like a wave. His eyes flew open wide as he turned to look at the figure lying beside him.

Stiles rolled over, letting out a weak groan as he stirred. He opened his eyes, looking up at Derek and smiling sweetly.

Derek smiled back, cupping Stiles’ cheek as he leant forward and brought their lips together in a sweet, tender kiss.

“When did you get here?” Derek asked.

“Last night,” Stiles answered. “I was hoping my presence wouldn’t disturb you.”

“Your presence is always with me,” Derek said softly. “It makes it impossible for you to disturb me… and highly possible for you to sneak up on me.”

Stiles flashed a mischievous smile.

“Heavens, I’ve missed you,” Derek whispered, leaning forward and bringing his lips to Stiles’ again.

Stiles let his breath fall from his lungs, reaching up, looping his arms around Derek’s neck and pulling him down against him.

Derek shifted atop of Stiles, straddling his waist as he pressed their bodies together. He dropped his hands to Stiles’ waist and pulled him close, enveloping him in his warmth.

One of Stiles’ hands glided up Derek’s arm, up his bicep and across his shoulder blade. His other hand ran up the nape of Derek’s neck, lacing his fingers through Derek’s soft hair.

Derek sighed in return, craning his neck as he deepened the kiss. His hand glided up Stiles’ side, feeling the curves of his waist and the small of his back.

He drew back slowly, gasping for breath.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Stiles said breathlessly.

Derek let out a low chuckle, the sound making Stiles’ heart flutter.

There was a huff under the door, followed by a quiet whimper.

“And I’m not the only one who missed you,” Derek said.

Cerberus let out another heart-breaking whimper, gently pawing at the door.

Derek let out a measured sigh, reluctantly pulling back the blanket and rising to his feet.

A playful smirk played across Stiles’ lips. He pulled the blanket up over his head as Derek reached for the door.

Cerberus came bounding into the room, quickly pulling up to a halt as he realised he couldn’t see Stiles. The smiles fell from his faces as he whipped his heads around, confused. He spun around in circles and paced around the room, looking for Stiles. He wandered back out of the room and in again.

“Where is he?” Derek teased, trying to hide his smirk.

He turned to Derek, tilting his heads in confusion and looking at the man with sad eyes.

Derek let out a low chuckle. He stepped over to the bed and gently patted the mattress, letting Cerberus jump up onto the bed.

The hound gently pawed at the blankets.

Stiles burst into fits of laughter as he pulled the blanket down.

Cerberus dove on Stiles, licking is face and snuggling into his warmth.

Derek couldn’t help but smile as the sound of Stiles’ laughter filled his heart.

There was a bright flash of light.

Derek looked over his shoulder to see Chris standing in the living room.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Stiles, pulling the door almost shut behind himself as he stepped into the large room.

Chris looked tired, his sky-blue eyes shadowed by dark circles and his light brown hair greying with stress.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Derek asked.

“Four days,” Chris said, his voice tense.

Derek let out a soft sigh. “I’ve been down to his cell every day for the past month, there is no weakening.”

“The prophecy still stands,” Chris told him. “When the planets align, the Heavens will go dark and he will free himself from his cell. The only chance we have to stop him is the unity of the Worlds; the child of the Heavens, ruler of the Underworld, and warrior of the Seas.”

“And we will stand together when – or even if – that happens,” Derek said reassuringly.

“I mean no offence, but you’re—”

“Not nearly half the warrior my mother was,” Derek finished. “I know. I also know that my powers will not work beyond the Underworld, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight.”

Chris bowed his head.

“I’ll check on him again today,” Derek promised, trying to reassure Chris.

Chris nodded.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“And whatever may come, I have your back.”

Chris looked up at him, his cold eyes softening as he smiled slightly. “And I have yours.”

Derek returned the smile.

#the prophecy; the end of everything #the prophecy #sterek #sterek au #sterek persephone and hades au #sterek mythology au #sterek myth au #sterek greek mythology au #persephone stiles #persephone!stiles #hades derek #hades!derek #written in the stars #written in the stars event

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE-OT7 🎃

Halloween Series: Halloween Surprise OT7

You always expected that you’d go to hell when you died. I mean, you weren’t terrible, but you weren’t an angel either. But what you hadn’t expected was to be shown through the seven circles of damnation by seven men-each more dangerous than the last-that plausibly could’ve passed for angels. Dark and beautiful angels, disguised as demons. And by the time you reach the last circle, it’s with a horrifying reminder from the darkest angel of all, that you realize you are not quite who you thought you were.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Halloween, Spooky Season, BTS Drabble, OT7, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, kim namjoon, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook

Warning: Mentions of torture and damnation, obviously.

Genre: Angst

Title: Seven Circles

CIRCLE I-GLUTTONY

As soon as the icy sleet hits the back of your neck-sending prickling waves of cold across your skin-you know where you are.

Opening your eyes, you see nothing but a white wasteland surrounding you-puddles of chilled slush pockmarking the ground and already soaking your shoes-and in the distance, though you cannot see them when you look straight on, only from the corner of your eye, is the blurry figures of dark shapes moving through the curtain of hail and rain.

The damned.

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your body to try and retain your heat-though you’re technically dead, so you don’t know how you think this will help-and start to feel lifeless tears drip from the corners of your eyes, obscuring the ghostly moving figures at the edge of your vision.

“Chilly, isn’t it?”

The voice startles you, and you whirl to face its origin-icy puddle at your feet splashing as you do so-and are startled to see a very real, and very solid, shape of a man standing before you, watching you with a slightly grim smirk stretched across his full lips, pulling them upward into the start of a heart shape-odd, in contrast to the rest of his steely expression.

“Who are you?” You ask without thinking, still shivering-ever more violently now-as the man flashes you a grin full of white, blocky teeth and steps toward you.

“I am the keeper of this circle.” The man gestures to the cold landscape surrounding the two of you. You note, briefly, that there is a pair of dark, black feathered wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, but again, you feel as if you cannot look at them straight on or they will disappear.

You tilt your head down slightly, to try to keep him in the corner of your vision. “Right. The first circle. Gluttony.”

“Hah.” The beautiful, dark features of the man contort with a humorless laugh, and his black hair sweeps into his eyes momentarily, as he leans toward you and places, long cold fingers beneath your chin. “Beautiful and well read.”

“What do you want?” You ask, pulling from his grasp, as a scream-probably of someone being condemned-echoes down from the gray flat sky above. “And you still haven’t told me who you are.”

“Ah.” The man, his fingers still frozen where your chin had been moments before in his grasp, retracts his hand, and nods curtly. “I am Hoseok. And as for what I want,” He eyes you openly, and his tongue darts out to trace across his lips, as you feel more chilled at his look than you had before. “That will have to wait. For I’ve been assigned to escort you through the first circle and to the next.”

“What?” You burst out, completely confused, as the man-Hoseok-turns his back to you and begins to trudge through the slush, onyx wings shimmering and moving in and out of focus. You take hurried steps to catch up to him-sneakers now absolutely soaking-and huff out between breaths, “I thought I was staying here.”

Hoseok laughs-the sound once again hollow-and ushers you in front of him as he walks. “Oh, hells no. You’re moving on, sunshine. To sweeter and greener pastures if you will.” He looks over his shoulder and winks at you, though the gesture makes the pit of your stomach roil with sudden unknown fear.

As you walk-to keep yourself from hearing the shrieks and looking out of the corner of your eyes at the blurry, dark figures hidden behind the sleet-you suddenly blurt out, over the sound of your crunching footsteps, “What did you do to be here?”

Hoseok stops suddenly in front of you, causing you to almost stumble into him, and you wonder, for a brief moment, if he has stopped due to your question, until you see the large, wooden, barred door looming up from the white landscape in front of you.

He steps aside, watching you carefully and intently, as you take a hesitant step toward the door. “I wanted something I couldn’t possibly have.” He says simply, but the way his words echo in your head, and the way he looks at you-just for a moment-as if in melancholy, puts you on edge.

“Anyway.” He forces another hollow smile to his lips-and once again, the heart shape catches you off guard-as he pushes the door inward to reveal nothing but blackness beyond. “Enjoy your stay, (Y/N).”

And before you can ask how he knows your name, you are being pushed through the door into the dark.

CIRCLE II-GREED

You notice-as you enter the second circle-that it is much hotter here than it had been just moments ago in Hoseok’s circle.

And there is a distinct smell in the air-almost the smell of hot, burning metal-that instantly fills and overwhelms your nostrils.

“You’re late you know.”

The sound of the deep, smooth voice, draws your attention away from the horrid smell, and to the tall, lanky figure of an incredibly handsome man, lounging on a large, cold looking golden throne.

He flicks his fingers at you in disappointment, as he sighs, and-uncrossing his legs-stands to face you, dark chestnut hair framing his beautiful features, as a look of disgust crosses his face. “I’ll have to remind Hoseok to send you people on time.”

“You people?” You bristle slightly. “And who are you?”

“Oh, darling.” The man laughs-the sound light-and stepping away from the throne, walks down the steps toward you, his shoes loud on the solid gold beneath his feet.

You note-almost immediately-that he has the same type of shimmering, almost hallucinogenic wings adorning his back as Hoseok.

He reaches you, and stopping to study you for a moment, he reaches out-fingers covered in gold rings-and strokes a finger down the still chilled skin of your cheekbone. “I am the ruler here-You may address me as Seokjin.”

You ready yourself to say something else sarcastic, but before you have the chance, Seokjin is putting his hand at the small of your back, and pressing you forward.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You take hesitant steps-but the weight of his hand at your back pushes you onward-and as you continue to walk, you realize, the smell from earlier is becoming overwhelming, and the sound of moans and groans and cries for help begin to fill your ears.

“What-” You start to say, but the words die in your throat, as Seokjin halts his progress forward, hand still on the small of your back, as you look down into the deep dregs of a pit.

The edge upon which you stand drops sharply down into the pit-and just like the earlier circle-there are dark, shimmering shapes filling the pit, the air rent with their cries, as they claw at the sides of the giant bowl, only to be swept back to the bottom as soon as they gain their footing.

“Is that-” You begin to ask, eyes wide, as you tilt your head to look at Seokjin, standing proud and tall and silent beside you.

“Gold. Yes.” Seokjin nods, almost imperceptibly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Greedy in life, the souls are damned to spend the rest of eternity suffering because of what they craved most.”

You feel the breath leave your lungs, and you turn from the pit, trying to calm yourself, voice shaky, as you ask, already knowing the answer, “So I’ll be with them, then?”

There is silence for a moment, and then Seokjin’s fingers curl beneath your chin, the gold rings cool against your flushed face as he turns you to face him. “Oh, no. You’re moving on. You’re much too good for this circle, darling.”

He snaps the fingers of his free hand, and a door-gleaming gold in the dim light- appears before the two of you, swinging inward, once more, to reveal nothing but blackness on the other side.

When you hesitate, Seokjin pushes you forward with a hand once more on the small of your back. “Good luck, darling. And don’t forget-” He offers you half a smile as you leave. “Don’t crave more than you can have.”

CIRCLE III-ANGER

The first thing you hear when stepping into the third circle is bellowing and ranting and over it all, the smell of swamp and decay in the air.

You glance down, surprised that the ground under your feet doesn’t seem to be solid, and note that your previously soaked sneakers, are now buried ankle deep in mud and muck and moss.

“Great.” You say to yourself, rolling your eyes.

Honestly-you’d never thought hell would be great-but you’d always assumed it at least had solid floors and wouldn’t ruin your sneakers so damn much.

“So I take it you like the interior decorating then?”

You glance up, no longer surprised, expecting to now be greeted at every level by some form of hot demon with black shimmering wings, who seems to know something about you that you don’t.

This demon-or dark angel or whatever-does catch you slightly off guard.

Simply for the fact that he’s breathtaking. And his voice sounds like dark honey sliding raspily from his throat.

He raises a dark brow at you-from where he sits, perched precariously on a large boulder, feet bare-and cracks a boxy grin in your direction. “Like what you see, princess?”

“I-” You swallow, and look away from him, only daring a glance from the corner of your eye to catch a better sight of his large feathered wings. How was this kid the keeper of the third circle? And anger no less? He seemed like nothing more than a jovial, innocent child.

A gorgeous, dangerous, darkly scary child.

Suddenly, he is in front of you, fingers-just like the other two before him-finding purchase beneath your chin, and you note, as you try not to look at him, that his feet are perfectly clean and seem to hover above the swamp you’re currently moored in.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks smugly, and you finally look up at him, just as he smirks, and the tip of his tongue appears to dart across his lips, caramel irises darkened beneath the sweeping mop of his curly black hair.

“No.” You huff out, straightening slightly and pulling away from his firm grasp on your chin. “I’m just worried if I talk too much, that your terribly rank swamp air is going to infect my lungs.”

“You’re dead.” The man states simply, almost curiously, as he cocks his head to stare down at you in amusement.

“I look pretty good for a dead bitch.” You snap back a famous line from your time alive, and instantly regret it, as the man in front of you laughs loudly and deeply from within his chest at your joke.

“I’m Taehyung.” The man grins at you once more, and then takes your hand, pulling your feet from the mud, as he leads you back toward the boulder he had been sitting on earlier. And suddenly, the ground feels less liquid beneath your feet as you follow in his steps. “Welcome to circle three.” He waves his hands at the dark and murky atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

“Anger right?” You ask, as he pulls you up easily to stand beside him on the large rock. You glance around, and note that the dark swamp surrounding you appears to be moving with more of the dark, etheral damned souls.

“Right.” Taehyung sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his curls, before he says with disappointment, “Wish I could keep you here a little longer, princess, but you’re on a tight schedule.”

You open your mouth to respond, but suddenly, a door appears beneath your feet-well, less of a door and more like a sewer grate covered with thick iron bars.

“Wait.” You hold out a hand, before he can snap his fingers and send you through to the next circle. You’re curious now. “Why are you here?” You ask bluntly, and Taehyung’s eyes darken slightly, and his normally jovial lips flatten into a hard line.

“Anger issues.” He shrugs, playing off the moment, and readies to send you through the door, as he adds vaguely, “I hurt someone I loved.”

And with that, before you can smell the swamp air once more, or ask any other questions-like why the demon’s face suddenly looks so sad-you are sent through the grate and into the black once more.

CIRCLE IV-HERESY

Circle four is HOT-flames and fire and cinder and ash-and so, it doesn’t surprise you, once you get your bearings, to see that the demon that watches over the souls here is also incredibly, absolutely, for lack of a better term, hot.

He approaches you immediately, as you’re coughing and choking on the ash filling the air, and the pair of wings on his back-shiny and out of focus-appear almost blacker than the others, against the harsh, orange light of the fires.

“Noona.” He nods politely to you, hands behind his back, as if he’s scared to reach out and touch you like the others had. “Welcome.”

There is something about him that seems oddly familiar-the large doe eyes, the way his long bangs fall across his forehead, the muscular physique, that is in contrast to the quiet personality-but before you can put a finger on anything, he is speaking once more.

“I’m Jungkook.” His eyes flick to yours and then away, as he backs out of the way-so that you can see the fiery pit behind him, flames licking up the sides of the bowl-as screams emanate from the depths below. “This is circle four.”

“I know.” You nod, not feeling quite as out of your depth with him as you had the other three. “Heresy right?”

He nods once more, silent for a moment, and then swallows, his full lips parting slightly, before he says gently, “However, you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t?” You ask, surprise clear in your tone. How far were you going? Your eyes glance over the pair of beautiful, feathered wings on the young man’s back, as you ask carefully, “But you do?”

Jungkook’s lips purse, and you can see through the way his eyes tighten, that he is considering how to respond to your question appropriately.

This kid-that you swear you know-couldn’t possibly be a heretic right?

There is the sound of a piercing scream and one of the dark figures you can see from the edge of your vision-trying to claw its way out of the hot pit-falls back in a poof of cinder and dark ash, that joins the rest of the pollution already floating in the smoky air.

Finally, Jungkook speaks.

“I do.” He nods, just once, solemnly, and then-still without touching you-motions for you to step toward the dark, charred door you have only now noticed. “You have to go now, noona. They’re waiting for you.”

“Who’s waiting for me?” You ask desperately, as Jungkook, with his mere presence, pushes you toward the now open doorway of black.

Doe eyes gleaming, and a look of almost regret on his beautiful features, Jungkook ushers you to the edge of the doorway. “The hyungs.” He says simply, dangerously.

And before you can ask what that means, you are once again tumbling into darkness on your way to the next circle.

CIRCLE V-VIOLENCE

Circle five’s ground-immediately beneath your feet-is squishy, like the edge of a lake or pond, and you watch-with horror-as puddle instantly begin to pool around the toes of your shoes, crimson and steaming.

The air smells like a new penny-copper and metallic-and when you lift one of your feet, the liquid beneath your toes is thick and drips slowly, burgundy as it creates ripples in the puddle.

Blood.

You feel panic creep up into your chest, and you have to focus on keeping your breathing even, as you glance up, and in the distance, see the edges of a red lake-boiling and steaming-splashing crimson droplets into the reddened air of the atmosphere.

And in the lake-hands and wavy, distorted fingers just visible above the surface-are the souls of the damned, dark and desperate and drowning.

Drowning in blood.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You start slightly, but only because the purring voice is right in your ear, and the feel of warm breath brushes across your skin and makes you shiver.

And out of the corner of your eye, you see the black wings, folding and unfolding lazily against the dark angel’s back as he stands beside you.

“Wasn’t the word I would have picked.” You manage to retort back, although slightly breathless, keeping your gaze away from him, as you look down at his fingers-small and petite-curled around your shoulders, silver rings glinting in the blood red lighting.

The man laughs-and the sound is light and airy and almost beautiful-as he turns you to face him now, almond shaped eyes regarding you carefully, as dark blue hair falls across his forehead, obscuring his gaze. His full, plump lips curl upward into the hint of a smirk. “Ah, but I’d use that word to describe you, baby girl. Most definitely.”

You swallow hard. He’s incredibly handsome, and smooth as all hell. You have to remind yourself that he’s a demon and a keeper of a literal lake of blood.

“You seem to know me.” You say, almost smoothly, as you try not to let yourself look directly at him and get lost in his eyes. “But you are?”

“Ah. How rude of me.” He tilts his head, watching you like a dark panther stalking his favorite prey, and his pink lips part slightly to reveal the tip of his moist, red tongue-the same color of the blood surrounding you. “Park Jimin. Keeper of the fifth circle.”

The name rings a bell in your head, but shaking the thought aside, you ask casually, “Am I staying then? Or are you simply showing me onward like the last four?”

Jimin laughs-the sound once again enchanting-and releasing his hold on you, takes a step backward, snapping his fingers as he does so.

The blood on the ground rises to form the shape of a large, ornate throne, and Jimin casually sits down on the warm, undulating liquid, watching you with half lidded, catlike eyes, before he replies easily, “Ah. So you met my brothers.”

He snaps his fingers once more, and a liquid, crimson door rises from the bloodied floor, swinging inward-once more-to reveal nothing on the other side but onyx night.

“Unfortunately-for me and yourself-” He sighs, tsking slightly, as he waves ring adorned fingers in the direction of the door. “You’ll be moving on.” He smiles, and it’s a pretty gesture, but gives you the willies, as he leans toward you, chin held up in his delicate, small hand. “So go on then, baby girl. And tell the others hello for me.”

You don’t dare ask him why he’s here, and without chancing another look at the alluring demon, you step into the door and go headfirst into the dark.

CIRCLE VI-FRAUD

“So you’re here.” The voice is a purr-like a cat, but holding a dark, dangerous, almost uninterested edge-as it reaches you through the blackness. “I’m lucky Jimin didn’t try to keep you for himself.”

You can’t see anything. Everything is dark and cold and desolate, and as you try to splay your fingers before your face, your breathing quickens, as you realize-it’s pitch black.

“Who are you?” You ask into the nothing, desperately spinning in circles, trying to see who are what is speaking.

“Probably your worst nightmare.” The voice replies, tone bored and deep, echoing around you from every direction.

A heavy hand drops onto your shoulder, and you start, letting out a yell of fear, before fingers cover your mouth, muffling the sound and effectively silencing you.

“Calm down, baby. I’ll spare you.” The voice is low in your ear, and the feel of his lips brushing across your skin because of his closeness makes you shiver.

There is nothing except the sound of your panicked breathing whistling through his fingers, and then you hear fingers snap, and the light of a candle-though you can’t see it-breaks through the darkness and forms a wavy, dim pool of light around your feet.

“Now.” The man’s fingers twitch where they rest on your lips. “Will you be quiet if I release you?”

You manage a nod in his hold, and slowly-one by one-his long, old fingers drop from your mouth, and you are able to breathe once more.

The demon steps into the circle of light before you, black beating wings blocking out the light in a dreamlike way momentarily, and cocks his head as he looks at you, the curious look crossing his feline features making him look more cat than man in the moment.

“You seem to have had a rough go getting here.” The man wrinkles his nose slightly-and it would have been endearing in any other circumstance-as he takes in your disheveled appearance and now thoroughly destroyed sneakers. “Did the others not take care of you, baby?”

“Who are you?” You repeat again, pupils large and dark as you glance around at the endless blackness surrounding your small circle of light. A scream and shriek and then wailing has you trembling, as the sound of a loud whip crashes toward you through the dark.

“Min Yoongi.” The man reaches up to brush dark hair back from his forehead, black painted nails matching the night surrounding him. He waves a hand-almost boredly-at the pitch black surrounding you. “This is the sixth circle. Souls are sent here to endure the dark and torture for eternity. Fraudsters.” He takes a step toward you, caramel eyes gleaming. “Tricksters.” Another step. “Deceivers.” Another step, and you’re almost nose to nose once more, as his long, cool fingers come up to brush down the line of your cheekbone.

“And which one are you?” You ask, slightly breathless from his closeness, as you try to ignore the ever increasing sounds of suffering and torture echoing back at your through the nothing.

“A better question.” He smirks slightly, revealing pink gums and white teeth, as he reaches up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. “Is which aren’t I?”

You swallow hard, as he studies you for one moment longer, and then snaps his fingers close to your ear, the loud sudden sound making you jump.

“Anyway.” His features draw back into a bored expression, and he shoos you toward the sudden outline of the door behind you-light leaking between the cracks into the dark void you now stand in. “Better hurry up, baby. I’d love to play with you more.” He grins, plush lips disappearing in the dark. “But he’s waiting.”

The light from the candle suddenly goes out, leaving you in the pitch black once more, and you scramble toward the light outlining the doorway, and into the suddenly much safer dark on the other side.

CIRCLE VII-TREACHERY

Your sneakers slip on the ice beneath your feet as you try to gain your footing, and as you glance around, you see nothing but your own reflection in the pillars of ice and sharp, jagged glass that surrounds you.

Your features are sharp and pinched and anxious and not at all like yourself.

And suddenly, you feel fear, even before you hear the low rumblings of his voice echo through your head, bouncing off the slick, ice cold walls surrounding you.

“Why are you here?”

The question catches you off guard, and you try not to fall as you turn to face the demon-the last dark angel of the last circle-sitting on a throne of something that looks eerily similar to human bones.

Yet, just like his wings, you cannot look directly at the chair and tell what it is made of. Only out of the corners of your vision can you begin to see the shapes of ribs and skulls and femurs.

The man-his cheeks dimpling-offers you a humorless smile, as he waves a hand in your direction, tall lanky legs crossed carefully in front of him, slippered feet resting on the icy floor. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

“I-” You stutter over your words, teeth chattering, as the sound of your voice lets a cloud of frozen breath out into the freezing air. “I don’t know.”

The man reaches to a side table, where an ornate goblet rests, and takes a sip of the liquid inside, letting it flow easily between his lips, as he looks at you over the rim. “You don’t remember anything?” He asks casually, setting down the goblet once more, and from the corner of your vision, the liquid looks thick and red and a little bit like the blood you had seen in Jimin’s circle.

“What?” You ask in sudden confusion, taking a careful step forward, as you try to find your footing on the icy tiles beneath your feet.

The man laughs-a short, humorless bark-and leans back slightly in the throne, feet crossing at his ankles, as he regards you with nothing more than cold curiousity from his perch. “Interesting.” He reaches out, twirling something that looks oddly like a human leg bone between his long nimble fingers. “Well then. Would you like to know why I’m here?”

You feel the breath leave your body at his words, and though your brain is screaming, you reply, “Yes.”

You are no shivering so hard that it is difficult to keep the beautiful man sitting before you in focus-his whole body now appearing as shimmery and nonexistent as his pair of black wings.

“My name is Namjoon.” The man pauses, studying you carefully, as if for a reaction, before continuing. “And I betrayed you.”

Your mouth falls open at his words-and suddenly, just a glimpse, a brief flash, of memory fills your mind-and suddenly, you know, only barely, in the back of your mind, that you know the man sitting before you, and you know him well.

“Come.” Namjoon stands from his relaxed position on the throne, and ushers you in the direction of a set of stairs. “I want to show you something.”

You carefully follow the tall man down the slippery, ice covered stairs, and as you walk deeper into the clutches of the frozen circle, the more you being to fear.

At first-as you pass the shards of glass like ice sticking up from the ground-you see nothing but your own face reflected back at you, and the face of the impassive Namjoon, beautiful and deadly and dangerous.

But then.

Then you begin to see memories reflected back to you-and you realize, with a harsh jolt-that they are your memories.

And they are dark, and they are deadly, and they are dangerous.

And when Namjoon comes to a sudden halt before you, you feel like you can’t breathe and that something is clawing away at you on the inside, as he turns to face you with dark, unsympathetic eyes.

“Do you remember now?” He asks in a scarily calm tone, and the feeling of losing air tightens even more around your chest, so much that you’re gasping at his feet.

“No, I didn’t-” You stutter out, clawing at your chest, suddenly feeling as if you’re made of ice as the cold wracks over your body in a wave. You look up at him desperately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Namjoon crouches before you, as your fingers feebly scrabble at the edge of his gown, as if he will help you.

But he won’t.

Because in this moment, there is nothing in his eyes beside burning, cold hatred and a sense of twisted satisfaction at your suffering.

“You see, (Y/N).” He reaches out and brushes a stray hair from your face, his fingers colder than the ice beneath your knees. “I betrayed you.” His handsome features darken, and his lips twist into a wicked line, as he waves a hand at the ice around you.

The ice that is now reflecting back at you-over and over, like plunging a knife deeper and deeper-the seven faces of the boys you had known and loved in life, the seven faces of the dark angels of the seven circles of hell.

Namjoon’s long finger goes beneath your chin and forces you to meet his gaze, and you feel as if you’re drowning in the dark pupils of his eyes, as his lips form the words you had never wanted to hear, “I betrayed you, but you betrayed all of us.”

“No!” You shriek out with the last breath that you can seem to pull into your lungs, and you try to move after Namjoon as he stands from beside you, but you are already frozen, the ice creeping over your dirty sneakers and up your legs even as you watch.

And Namjoon turns on his heel and leaves you-forever-with nothing but the echoing sound of your last scream and the faces of the seven boys you had betrayed.

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mrneighbourlove · 3 years

Text

A Better Future: Ch 1. Kingdoms Unite

The Ark of the Blazing Fire sailed forward across the ocean waves, sailing through uncharted territory. Captain Bellum of the Kikai Empire had a glorious task ahead of him. Chart out the ocean floors and discover territory for the Hasai Colonization. The Empire was growing large. Too large for the Emperor's liking. They needed to expand or their population would tear itself apart. Finally, his scout found something.

"Captain! Island dead ahead!"

"Excellent. Everyone to their stations. We have potential territory for the Empire."

The boat sailed in close, hitting the sandy beaches. Skorge troopers with spears hit the beach, flanked with Waku magicians. Once they secured the landing zone, Bellum kept a small crew on the boat as he and other Romton left the boat. "Sergeant. If there are other people here, do not engage unless I give the order."

The Waku nodded, despite some grunts of disapproval from the Skorge troopers. "Yes sir."

The Captain appreciated the lack of tongue from the Waku. "Excellent. Let's see what we have here."

For the next half an hour, the team of Hasai explored the small island. The Captain deduced there was plenty of lush vegetation. In the trees, Bellum took an orange, examining it closely. Smelled good. Felt good. Taking a bite, it tasted good. He checked off in his mind a good food source. One of the scouts found a river, connecting to the ocean. "Sir! Fresh water!"

"Very good." This settled it for Bellum. Grabbing a banner, he stabbed it into the ground. The Hasai flag flew high into the air. "Then this will be a good island to claim for the Empire."

Lorleidians did not condone violence. All of the tribes of Lorleidi tried to avoid fighting if peaceful resolutions were possible. Yet, there were a select few who believed in attacking first and asking questions later. These were the border guardians of Lorleidi, keeping a close watch over their beloved islands. For a while, the guards simply observed the newcomers. The queen had given strict orders not to intervene unless necessary. However, these were armed individuals with dangerous weapons and highly unstable, darkly influenced, fire magic. There was uneasiness in the Lorleidians' minds as the guards watched from their posts. Some were hidden in the ground. Others floated above in the air. A few were in the water, slowly dismantling the boats, to keep the intruders from fleeing.

Once the banner was in sight, the Lorleidians realized these newcomers were looking to conquer. This would not do. The queen would be interested to know of these strange people who dared to try to take their homeland. With the magical energy flowing in place, the trap was set. The best tactic to battle was to avoid the overall battle. Within moments, the Skurge were trapped by fauna which simply came alive, taking the weapons from grasp and tangling the warriors in the vines, constricted tight. The Waku were trapped up to their necks in the sand, the earth hardening to keep the warriors in place, unable to use the fire. The Romtan on the boat were suddenly trapped in spheres of water, only allowing air into their lungs by exposing their head.

Lorleidian soldiers had Bellum secured by his ankles, with Kovinas and Munjas ready to deliver a fatal strike if he so much as flinched.

"You are on Lorleidian land, outsider," General Waccamaw's fingertips were sparkling with lightning. "You dare trespass on sacred land."

As a glow came from startled Waku, and Bellum calculated this first contact quickly. The Skurge and Romton would die quickly. The Waku could fight back, but most likely be overwhelmed fast. No. Fighting in these conditions would be fatal for his team. Negotiations were needed to boost the odds of survival. "Put down your weapons, suspend your magic and spare my crew. I am Captain Bellum of the Kikai Empire. I mean you no harm. I was under the impression this was untamed land. There is no need for bloodshed at this time. Unless I am incorrect with my analysis, you are not savages. You see no reason to kill us needlessly. I see no reason for a counter attack."

"You are the ones who have brought weapons to our land and dark magic at your side," General Waccamaw was not so easily swayed. Outsiders have always brought trouble to Lorleidi. It was difficult to allow anyone who was not a Lorleidian here on the island. There had been too many incidents where outsiders tried to hurt the innocents or take what was precious to them. So, the Lorleidians defended what was theirs with much ferocity. "You must understand why we are skeptical of you and yours on our land."

“Dark magic? Interesting theory. Of course, any advanced culture would defend itself journeying into the unknown. And, this is your home. If I promise you me and my crew will not retaliate, will you treat us with hospitality?”

"Why should I expect you to keep your promise?" General Waccamaw was still not convinced. "Many outsiders have been here before, promising friendship and partnership, and have fled with our resources, our children, and betrayed our trust."

“You have us outnumbered. You hold the strategic high ground over my crew. To attack you after would only ensure our deaths. Does this prove enough trust on the matter? And if not trust, logic?”

"This only proves I have the advantage, it does not mean I will trust you so easily." General Waccamaw glanced at the warriors the Captain Bellum brought who were trapped by his guards. "Our queen will decide your fate." He then ordered the soldiers. "Bring him with us. Keep his warriors subdued until the queen gives her orders."

“Must you put sand up to their necks and keep them in such confined spaces? It’s rather barbaric to treat your prisoners in such a manner.”

"The outsiders say we are barbarians, so I suppose, if they believe it, we'll act like it." General Waccamaw motioned for the Waku to at least be allowed a little more breathing room. "Come. Our wise queen awaits."

Bellum breathed with relief with his men once they were given more leniency. “Thank you.”

Traveling with the Lorliedians, the captain felt like kicking himself in the foot. Behind the island he settled on was a massive landmass that dwarfed it in comparison. If he scouted further instead of letting his excitement get the better of him, perhaps he could have avoided this situation

General Waccamaw led the captain to the capital, having sent a messenger ahead with news of the outsider. The queen agreed to cast judgement. Within time, even the current reagent had grown rather suspicious of any foreigners. There had been so many injustices against their people in the past. Not only were there guards, but dragons around the palace as well. Many were massive beasts, protective of their homeland and nests, but also ready to attack those who were seen as a threat. As Bellum was led into the palace, the Kovinas made sure to keep his hands pinned together with two plates of metal, serving as a handcuff of sorts. There were also Munjas at his side, ready to use the metal to send a shocking current throughout the captain if he dared to try anything.

"Queen Yolandyi," General Waccamaw gave a polite bow to his leader. "We have brought the outsider."

The current queen was young, almost paler than starlight with her skin and contrasting raven hair. Those unusual lavender eyes could see straight into the soul of anyone. It was a talent of the royals, so the stories said, each and every leader of Lorleidi had a sense of who was righteous and who was malicious. There, she sat on her throne, as calm and poised as every ruler should be.

"It has been a long while since we had any outsiders from the mainland, those this one," Yolandyi's voice was like pure silk, her long eyelashes nearly touching her cheeks as she blinked, looking from her general to the intruder. "Is different than those from countries on the continent."

Bellum, still shackled, would not show weakness. His posture was straight, and his purple, amethyst eyes locked onto the Queen. His voice, despite being a captive, was kept cool and methodical. “You will need to be more specific on which continent. I’ve taken my crew from my initial departure over a month on the sea.”

"Where are you from, outsider?" Yolandyi inquired of the man, "And what do you want with our homeland? My general here tells us you were looking to conquer." She stood from her throne, the dress flowing behind her as she descended the steps. "Do we have reason to be alarmed by your presence here?"

“I am Captain Bellum of the Kikai Empire. We are a collection of tribes from a race known as the Hasai. I travel out because our Empire has grown to a level that will not be able to sustain our people without expansion. I am looking for unclaimed land that my people can settle on. I made the miscalculation out of excitement that the island we landed on was not claimed by another nation.”

Yolandyi listened to his words, her facial expression remaining stoic. Now in front of Bellum, she reached up and touched his cheek, feeling his energies within, searching for deceit or malicious intent. She found none. Bellum, however, was alerted to the swirling storm of power which the queen held. The connection went both ways. With a soft hum, the queen motioned for the guards to remove the manacles, the metal falling to the ground.

"He speaks the truth." Yolandyi removed her hand from Bellum's face, turning to return to her throne. "You and your warriors may go."

Bellum felt his wrists, giving a crack of his neck. “I never was given the privilege of your name. Or learned of the name of your nation. Or what your culture might be like.”

One of the Romton groaned at the last bit. They knew their captain loved cultural arts, and he could be kept up for hours studying it.

"I am Queen Yolandyi of the Lorleidians," She glanced over her shoulder at Bellum, halting her movements for the moment. "We have seven tribes for the Seven Siblings of Nature. Our talents were gifted to us by our deities," Yolandyi held up her hand, a bright ball of light floating above her palm. "We are children of magic. We are magic. Without it, we are nothing. Our home," She gestured to the island seen between the pillars of the palace, "Is the magnificent Lorleidi; the islands of magic."

Gracefully, Yolandyi extended her magical ability to the rest of the room, chasing away the shadows before recalling the light back to her in the shape of the globe. "The Kikai Empire has already been rumored to be quite a military force. However, if you are looking to expand," The queen used her magic to display a section of islands south of Kikai, a shorter distance, but accessible only when the storms chased away the clouds. "Here. A species of fauna with intelligence live there and have knowledge of many medicines and edible plants. I would suggest making friends there, while the other islands around this one are unoccupied."

“Fauna? Interesting. How much intelligence though? Might lack… flare though.” Bellum glanced over the Queen. “Do you rule alone? Do you not have allies yourself?”

"Are you asking if I have a king to stand at my side?" Yolandyi returned his question with one of her own. "And we have acquaintances. Lorleidi has no part in the mainland's war faring activities."

“I was.” Bellum directed his attention to the other point. “Acquaintances are for individuals who lack friends, not nations. Who do you rely on for trade? For shared protection? You can play the part of the shield, but if you do not take up a sword yourself, you must have an ally to do so for you. Least you risk destruction. Metaphor, but nonetheless true.”

"I do not have a king." Yolandyi took her seat once more, the dragons at her side keening lowly as she offered each a pet on the snouts. "We trade with Danjur, sometimes Hyrule, but we mostly have whatever we need here. Lorleidi is self-sustaining. And dear outsider," She asked him, a twinge of warning in her voice, "Whatever so gave you the impression we do not have a sword for defending ourselves? Why do you think so many outsiders never breathe again after stepping foot on our land? We have our ways."

“Do you kill them all? If they are thieves or pirates, expected. If they are travellers, that should not be your judgement to make.”

One of the men noticed one of the dragons bare its teeth at them. Cautiously, he whispered to his captain. “Sir. I think we should just go…”

Bellum waved him off, unconcerned. “Are those ways cruel? Barbarism? True, I know Hasai who would do the same. I, however, condemn it. It is an ugly thing. You can’t kill off someone simply because they traveled onto your property. Or ensnare them together. I’m clearly not your general, but I would not let paranoia allow myself to harm or restrain someone of a new nation upon first contact. What your general did, I would simply call rude. Perhaps unethical.”

The men really, really wanted to leave, but they knew their Captain was impossible to stop a point once he got rolling.

“Soldiers need discipline. You, General, lacked it. Part of the risk is waiting for the other side to make the first move. We made no such motion of aggression when you moved on my crew with forceful, some painful, and I’m certain, mentally worrying restraint. Simply put, it was not proper. Maybe you lack friends because of your lack of manners. You need better protocol. You clearly have power, but you used it incorrectly.”

"Innocents are welcome, but those who would see us under their heel, are not." Yolandyi calmed her dragons with a soft murmur in Lorleidian, giving a gentle kiss to the fire dragon's nose. "Until you've had war on your doorsteps, until you've seen your people suffer at the hands of others, and until you yourself have been a victim, captain, then you are in no place to judge what tactics were used to keep ourselves safe. My general does only what he is instructed to do. Lorleidians do not condone violence," She then paused, turning to the other dragon, motioning for the growling to cease. "But that does not mean we will not use it. This is how we have kept our people safe for thousands of years, and will keep them safe for a thousand more to come."

She then stated, "If you are here to simply give me a lecture, or tell my general how to run his forces, then you will find I have no patience for a man who thinks he knows better than me because he is just that; a man." Those electric lavender eyes peered at Bellum with no trace of emotion. "I've no need of your righteous prattle, Captain Bellum, and no need of a man telling me how to run Lorleidi when he himself does not understand the struggles of my people. Now," She gestured to the guards, "My guardians will see you out if you are done with your attempt at entertaining me?"

“Very well. I will report my findings of this nation back to my Emperor. You should expect further delegations.”

Bellum glanced around the palace room. “I’d like to come back. Examine your art under further study. Maybe you can meet our dragons.”

"If your emperor wishes to pursue a trade agreement, I'd prefer to discuss agreements prior to the arrival of your ruler." Yolandyi thought this captain was such a puzzlement, but opted to keep her opinion to herself... for now. "Very well. Send word ahead of time and you and your warriors will not be up to your necks in sand."

"We will send diplomats. Not warriors. Your skin? Why is it-" One of the men gave his captain a shake of the head. "Ah. Forgive me. Some examinations can be considered rude. Till we meet again."

As the Hasai left, a small hatchling made herself known. A little lightning dragon named Dova'll. "Who was that? Why were they rainbow coloured?"

After the captain was escorted from the palace, Yolandyi noticed the hatchling. It was common for the mother dragons to keep their babies close, so having hatchlings around the palace was nothing new. At the baby dragon's question, the queen actually smiled slightly. Little ones were always so curious.

"The Hasai, Dova'll." Yolandyi answered, "And it seems they are interested in making friends."

“Why was he blue? And the other one red? Are they dragon kin?”

"Dragon kin are the Winged, little Dova'll, part of legends." Yolandyi gently placed the hatchling on her lap. "I suppose a trip to the library is in order, yes?"

“But I don’t like reading.” The little dragon tried to bare her fangs before running off.

There was no communication between the Hasai and the Lorleidi for about a year. One day, on summer's eve, a dragon swam into shore. Behind it was one ship, the Halo of the Divine. Bellum led the company, with a company of ambassadors.

The Hasai Dragon had 6 whiskers with a large main, and it couldn’t get enough of the water. “So refreshing.”

“Erekk. Don’t get the locals upset.”

The port was massive, welcoming visitors from around the continents, but security was incredibly high. After the last visit from the Hasai, Yolandyi made changes. There were now scouts in the water, on the smaller islands, and no one was allowed to visit the palace unless it was diplomatic concerns. As the ship and dragon neared the port, the Hasai were greeted by water dragons on either side and Vodas who watched over the port.

"Captain of the ship, please state your intentions and purpose of visiting the island of Lorleidi."

“This is Admiral Bellum of the Kikai Empire. I am here as an ambassador to speak with Queen Yolandyi. Permission to dock?”

The Hasai Dragon immediately went up to the Lorliedi Dragons, swimming around them like an excited dolphin.

"Permission granted to dock, however, we have received no orders to escort a party of Hasai to the palace." The guardian then said, "We will relay a message to the queen to see if you will be allowed entry."

As Errek swam excitedly around the Lorleidian water dragons, the pair remained calm and collected, remembering their job to do. However, the two were polite to the newcomer.

"Newcomer, we are pleased to welcome you to our island."

"Remember, no eating of humans and no destruction of property."

"Doing so will result in imprisonment or demise."

"Please have a good day touring the island."

“Eat humans? I’m a Luck Dragon. All Dragons of the Grand Isles are. I’m a vegetarian. You don’t have whiskers. And you’re so scaly. And no fur! But you’re so big! This is amazing. I have never seen other dragons outside my kind!”

Bellum activated a switch on his helper as the boat docked in. A humanoid Android with a single glowing eye stood up, glancing around. “T0-D. You are to stay by my side at all times. Observe your surroundings at your pleasure.”

“Pleasure: I don’t know if I can feel pleasure. Or feel.”

"If you would like to interact with the other breeds of Lorleidian dragons, most of our kind spend their leisure time on the other side of this isle."

"Please do not disturb the nests, or else, you will face the wrath of the mother dragon."

"We have six other breeds of Lorleidian dragons."

"Water, fire, wind, earth, metal, and lightning."

"One of us could escort you to the area if you wish it."

It took a while though a messenger eventually returned to the port, allowing access to the palace. General Bellum and his entourage were escorted there by a large group of guardians. All weapons were stripped from the Hasai before allowing entry. There, upon her throne once more, awaited Queen Yolandyi, now more mature in mind and body.

Bellum gave a bow to the Queen, a new red uniform with gold shoulder pads signifying his new rank. Behind him, T0-D scanned the palace walls. He had many looks of bewilderment given his way.

The Hasai felt a draw towards the Queen as his purple eyes fell upon her. “Queen Yolandyi. Good to see you again. I apologize for the long delay between our last meeting. My Empire took lengths to expand our civilization and borders. There was an incident with the Rakashi. They tried to enslave our first colonists with spores. Were you aware they had this ability?”

"Goodness, dear Bellum, you have not seen me in all these years and the first thing you do is just like the last time we met," Yolandyi actually gave a small chuckle, seemingly amused, now, a softer look in her eyes. Her king was at her side, a little one in her lap, and already, her belly was swelling with another child. She seemed happier, not as despondent as before, taking her role of queen more seriously. "You and your questions. Though, to answer your inquiry, I did not."

“Unfortunate. Luckily, there were only 14 colonist casualties. And we only had to burn 4 out of the 7 Hiveminds to bring an end to the conflict, as well as avoid genocide. The act of meeting you and bringing peace to the conflict promoted me to Admiral. There is no ill feelings towards you for not knowing that the Rakashi had multiple natures.”

"I am glad to hear of your expansion though I do regret I had no knowledge of the plants being malicious. However, I am delighted you made peace with such an amazing species," Yolandyi then inquired of Bellum, "Though, it is now my turn to ask you a question, Admiral Bellum. Once again, just like old times, why are you here?"

“To negotiate further trade? And perhaps a chance to study Lorliedian culture closer?”

"Very well." Yolandyi gently set her firstborn into her husband's lap, carefully descending the stairs with a dragon at her side to steady her balance. "I will have my council draw up trade contracts for items of your choosing. What do you wish to know of Lorleidian culture? I would be happy to have my most esteemed scholars educate you."

“Your magic, your art, your agriculture, your lineage. Just to start.”

"That can be arranged." Yolandyi thought it was a little odd that Bellum wished to learn of her people's culture, but decided not to argue against it. After all, nothing harmful could become of it. "Though my lineage, Admiral, does not trace back to the past kings and queens of Lorleidi. Each king and queen is chosen for the throne. It does not necessarily follow a bloodline."

“Interesting and intriguing. So you were elected. Was your King as well?”

"I chose my king, Admiral," Yolandyi stopped in front of Bellum, a soft smile on her face. "A marriage is not true unless it is for love. You have not changed much since we last met," Her hand raised once more and placed itself upon Bellum's cheek, feeling of his energies once more. "... indeed. Simply the same."

“I don’t see a reason to change. I am content with the man I am and the position in life I hold.”

T0-D looked at Yolandyi with bewilderment. His hand mimicked her reaching out to Bellum. “Error: I do not understand the need for physical connection. Can you read Admiral Bellum’s electronic flow?”

"Change is inevitable for all of us, Admiral." Yolandyi told the Hasai, "Whether it be mind, age, or experience, everything in the world changes. I was simply curious to see if you were any different." When T0-D posed a question to Yolandyi, she looked curious at the talking metal man. "I am a Dusa, a magic user of life energies. I can sense Admiral Bellum's emotions and feel his life force. So... I suppose you're asking if I can read his 'nerves'?"

“Queen Yolandyi. Meet T Zero dash D. T0-D is an artificial creation I found on an expedition. It took me quite the amount of time to repay him. He knows who created him, but has lost his memory to time.”

“Confirmation: Nerves. What do you see? Can you see the same in me? Can I see the same in you?”

"... Tod." Yolandyi figured a name would be more suiting than a couple of letters and a number. "A piece of Sheikah technology, I presume?" Holding out her hand, she gently took the robot's and over turned her palm. "You and I are very different, Tod, but in some ways we are the same." She flexed her fingers, "We both have hands, and it seems, you share Admiral Bellum's curiosity. Would you like to learn alongside him?"

“I would. The Admiral spoke highly of you.”

If Bellum was at all flustered, he didn’t show any change of it in his expression. “Of course. The Queen is a fascinating individual.”

"Oh, he did, did he?" Yolandyi stole a glance at Bellum, noticing the subtle change in his energy but said nothing. "While your council and mine agree upon trade, I shall have my best scholars educate you in our palace's library where we keep our history. If you need lodging for the night, the guest rooms are available."

“Thank you, Queen Yolandyi. I look forward to understanding your culture in depth.” Bellum nodded to the Queen.

“Queen Yolandyi… Are you aware of someone by the name of Ganondorf?”

"Yes, I am." Yolandyi answered honestly, "He came here years ago when he was but a young boy, dying from a poison in his veins. I saved him from perishing and he stayed a while on the island in my care. I did not know of his identity until an undead Gerudo came to look for him."

“Queen Yolandyi…” Bellum checked his wrist collars, taking a breath. “I don’t see any other way to tell you this without being blunt. You came close to an invasion by his forces. Our border patrol close to your territory intercepted a navy force of his. We were quick to respond against a large force of monsters. They would have been 4 hours out had the Empire not intercepted.”

"... what?" Yolandyi looked extremely shocked by this news, disbelief covering her features. Even her king looked concerned, as well as the guardians and dragons in the room. "Surely you're jesting? I saved his life, he stayed with me for a few months. He has no ill will against me. Why would he want to invade Lorleidi?"

“We didn’t know for certain, but he attacked us on first contact and was making a beeline for your nation. I was close, and intercepted. There was a large engagement between my forces and Ganondorf’s. He fled with 15% of his fleet back to wherever he came from. After learning his name, our spies did research. We found a legacy. Ganon. King of Evil. A demon reincarnated for generations originating from the country of Hyrule. Sometimes man. Often monster. Always filled with darkness in his soul. And seeking power by exploiting others. Do you have any source of power he’d want?”

"... he told me his name was Xanatos and had no ill will toward me or my people then." Yolandyi wondered what could have possibly changed. The scared boy she saved in the street was simply looking for help. The continent had treated him poorly and he had escaped to Lorleidi via a Danjuran fishing vessel. She was highly confused, though when the undead soldier, Klinge, had come to look for his brother in arms, Ganondorf was not the name he used. Later, she learned through the history of Hyrule who had dealt with Ganondorf before for centuries. Yet, she figured it had to be a mistake.

It seemed she was in the wrong. Already, her king was ordering precautions to be put in place. "Thank you for relaying the information to me. I will be sure to strengthen our borders' guardians. As far as power," The queen did not like to go into detail to outsiders, though every single person on Lorleidi knew of the powerful artifacts of her people. Either way, Admiral Bellum would learn. "We have three precious pieces of history which contribute to our power. The Dusa Magija is our book containing the histories and abilities of the kings and queens of the past, of which only the chosen monarch may read and practice. A key which unlocks this book can only be used by the current ruler. Lastly, we have a pair gauntlets which seer into the body of current king or queen to allow them access to this magic."

Holding up her arms, Yolandyi gestured to the tattoos, "It is useless in the hands of an outsider. If a source of evil ever tried to take these artifacts, then the island would collapse in on itself, resulting in disaster."

Bellum put his hand to his chin, pondering this information over. “Then we know Ganondorf’s target. With luck, you’ll see him again. I would be a waste of life and culture for your island to sink into the ocean.”

"We will protect what is ours with all we have, Admiral." Yolandyi felt a sense of pity for Ganondorf. What could have happened to the young boy who was so frightened? What caused him to turn to such dark forces? She said a silent prayer for his soul to the deities, hoping he would find peace and love to keep him away from the shadows. "There are too many innocents to protect."

"Then you best sharpen your sword and bare your fangs for times ahead Queen Yolandyi."

T0-D wasn't paying attention to the rising concerns of the humans. Glancing around, his eye fixated on the little baby next to the King. "What is that? Why is this human so small?"

Bellum turned his gaze over at his robotic assistant, raising an eyebrow. "T0-D. That is a baby."

"Why is a baby so small? When I was created, I was made the size I am now."

Yolandyi started to reply to Bellum when the robot's inquiry surprised her. Had he never seen such a small child? It amused the young queen to no end, watching T0-D be so insistent that something could possibly be amiss. Everyone had to learn, she supposed.

"Humans are made in a different way, Tod." Yolandyi elaborated, "Sexual intercourse creates the child, and the mother carries the baby until it is time for it to be born. Then, as time passes, the child grows and changes. I did not start out this way, and I will not end this way."

"Organic Change? Is that why you expire?"

"Yes." Yolandyi thought it was as good as reasoning as any. "We have a set time, Tod. We are not internal like this. Only in spirit."

T0-D paused, his eye darting back and forth between mother and child. He then possed a very serious question. "Do I have a spirit?"

Bellum's eyes opened up wide, the query catching him off guard.

"You have a mind, you have a conscience, and it seems, you can think for yourself." Yolandyi reasoned with Tod, "So, I think it's possible you have a spirit. Don't you, Tod?"

T0-D looked at his mechanic hand, his eye zooming in and out. "Scanning: I am... uncertain. I will need more time to come up with a conclusion."

Bellum cleared his throat, wanting to change the conversation. "Queen Yolandyi. Perhaps I can start by taking a look at how you build your defense-?!" His attention was grabbed the Hasai the Dragon flying away from some of the other dragons. Turned out she was able to convince some of the children that just learned how to fly that a game of tag was good training. "Ah. Seems our civilizations dragons can co-exist well."

"Lorleidian dragons are quite docile unless provoked, Admiral." Yolandyi laughed as she saw the hatchlings declaring victory triumphantly because squeaking when Errek turned to chase them. "It is good for them to play. They learn how to fly better, and learn how to be fair." She then gave an order to the attendants to look after her child while the king and guardians escorted Bellum's staff to the guest quarters. She then gestured for T0-D and Bellum to follow her. "I shall show you to the library where my scholars can educate you on our culture. However, as far as defense goes, do you mean the fighting style of my guardians? Or how we defend an island? Two different tactics, Admiral."

"I think I will start with your island's security. Given the encounter, if I know it, I can coordinate better with your defenses." Bellum made a small chuckle. "I just remembered. My Emperor was hoping to have a child with you. Wanted to mix blood with a powerful magic user. He will understand the fact you have already been taken, yet nevertheless will most likely pout on the denial for at least a couple days."

At the sudden mention of marrying the Hasai Emperor, Yolandyi could not help it. She started a flurry of giggles, trying to stifle the sound was near impossible. After she had composed her demeanor, the queen knew she had to explain.

"While I am most flattered that your emperor wished to consider me as a potential bride, I would have never been able to leave Lorleidi." Yolandyi reasoned with Bellum. "How would I be his empress and queen here? I cannot be in two places at once."

Bellum raised a very confused eyebrow. “I don’t understand the humour. I meant the offer as a one time concubine, if you weren’t already taken by another. No marriage required.”

"Oh." Yolandyi misunderstood the implication and now was a bit flushed in the face. She had not even met this Emperor and he wanted to bed her for the sake of a powerful child? That sounded conceited, but also embarrassed her a little. "I will politely decline. While some Lorleidians practice polyamory, others are monogamous like myself."

“Understandable. I will of course try to do my best to persuade you otherwise, for the sake of the Empire with words of encouragement that go blah blah blah, and on and on, with etc, etc.” Bellum gave a nod. “Well, I did my best convincing, seems you won’t change your mind. Oh well.”

"Tell the emperor if he is interested in winning the heart of a Lorleidian woman, then it is best to pursue her by coming here to find one he is compatible with. Besides," Yolandyi told Bellum, "I am not a Vatra. I am a Dusa. It sounds like the Hasai would be better suited for one of our many users of fire."

“That sounds rather simple. You just mix fire with fire? Not much change. No variation.” Bellum shrugged. “Hasai, with training, can also master electricity. This comes easier to those with Royal Blood.”

"Ah, then the Munjas, who govern lightning, could also be compatible. Mixing fire with a life energy talent," Yolandyi pondered upon the possibilities. "I am not sure what would become in Hasai biology. When two different tribes of Lorleidians intermingle, then the child usually takes after one of the parents, sometimes a grandparent."

“Intriguing. All I know is that the Hasai tribes often mingle with their own. Least, the other tribes don’t mix with the Romtan. Worry there won’t be magical potential.”

"If all you focus upon is power, Admiral, then you will miss the sure opportunity for love." Yolandyi's guardians opened the doors to the massive library. "Here is our most prized treasure in the palace, Admiral. You are at liberty to use any documents you seek, however, they cannot leave here. You are free to ask a scribe for a copy."

“In my experience, Hasai are not a traditionally loving species, least compared to other races.” The Admiral looked around, grabbing a book. “Thank you Queen Yolandyi. T0-D starting reading books. Keep an archive on everything you read. Knowledge is power.”

“Affirmative Admiral Bellum.”

The pair was quick to stuff their noses in books, tuning out the outside world.

"Then perhaps, you could stand to learn a little about love as well." Yolandyi watched as the pair settled in with the massive pile of books. "If you require me, send a guardian." With that, the queen was escorted back to the throne room.

The Admiral and Android spent the entire day and night reading over books. When reading about the Dusa’s artifacts and the royal line, Bellum pondered on something. What if someone of a neutral heart used the artifacts? What if the connections to dragons could be mastered by one without destined blood. He drew up possibilities in his mind until he finally could stay awake no longer.

________________________________________________________________

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/658817460204617728/a-better-future-ch-2-royal-refugees Crossover story with @ridersoftheapocalypse. An AU looking at how select characters could have interacted had fate been different.

#ridersoftheapocalypse #Hasai AU #Alternative AU #Bellum #Yolandyi

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dat-town · 4 years

Text

cut me open (take my heart)

Characters: Eunwoo and You

Setting: dark fantasy au, sirens

Summary: It was tradition. Out of the sons of the Sea King, only that one will be the rightful heir if the crown that can take an innocent heart because if one can't bear the weight of a human heart, that can't be the ruthless ruler of the sea in times of need. And you, about to start your new life in colonized Joseon, meet an ethereal creature that wants your heart, quite literally.

Words: 1.7k

Author’s note: title taken from 5SOS’ When you walk away. I honestly wanted to write siren!Eunwoo since Blue Flame era (because of his sparkly skin in the MV) but with Knock I was kicked in the butt for not doing it earlier. And yes, I used this chance to write about his beauty because damn, this boy is ethereal.

He has always taken your breath away.

Even when you first met, on the day when you arrived to Joseon on the ship of Lady Gallagher. As an aristocrat and as a foreigner to a country that welcomed neither. Yet, the place had already amazed you and you curled your fingers around the metal handrail, leaning forward, not caring about dirtying your skirt as the vessel approached the bay. Everything was so new, so foreign: the buildings, the way people dressed, the exotic language they spoke but you just clenched onto your suitcase a bit firmer, determined when you were instructed to leave the board once the ship docked.

While doing so, it might have been your enthusiasm that made you so clumsy, because you slipped on the ramp, losing your balance just over the sea. Having no empty hand to grab on anything, hearing your aunt’s scream, you could only prepare for the worst as you closed your eyes, waiting for the cold water to envelope your body, heavy clothes pulling you down. But instead, a strong arm embraced you by the waist, keeping you safe, on the wooden ramp between the ship and the land. The touch felt burning even through the layers of clothing.

A shallow breath or two later, you pried your eyes open slowly and it was his eyes that you first saw. Those dark, endless orbs with a hint of midnight blue in them. Almost like the depth of the ocean, just as enticing so. You stared, same as he did, eyes locked for long minutes while the hand and delicate fingers resting on your corset dress loosened their hold and even though you stood steadily by then, you felt like falling anyway.

You had to narrow your eyes at the bright light of the Sun shining upon your savior, his pale skin glimmering like jewels desired by treasure hunters under the weight of the sea. The curls of his dark, almost pitch black locks, that looked soft like bird feathers, hovered over his forehead, tempting you to reach out and brush them away. But you didn’t do that, of course! What were you even thinking, daydreaming like this?

Coming to your senses quickly, you found your voice again and breathless, you thanked him that he saved you. At that the corners of his thin mouth curled upwards. It was beautiful, truly, the perfect line of his blossom pink lip pulling up in a curve, the littlest and yet, it made your heart skip a silly innocent beat. As an artist yourself your skin itched for the feeling of a brush between your fingertips. You wanted to… had this strange yearning to paint him, to have him as dark oil on white canvas, glittering dots glistening across his flawless skin and as watercolour on paper dripping through the material, the blues and silvers leaving their mark on your trembling fingers. You wished to make such beauty everlasting.

“Careful, my lady,” he spoke up finally, voice just as alluring as his whole aura, sweet and smoothing. Then he let go of you, taking a slight, polite bow before leaving and you could do nothing but stare after him, his royal blue uniform with silver chains over it making him noticeable even among the crowd.

Or it might have been just you, already enchanted.

His name was Cha Eunwoo.

People of the town whispered about him but nobody knew where he came from or what he was doing. He was a mystery to all but most of all, to you. You dreamt of him, about reaching out only for him to slip through your fingers like water. You often woke up with a heavy chest, something excited, yearning yet uneasy weighing you down. Sometimes you hallucinated his voice, the melody of it carried by the wind, inviting and alluring, dripping so sweetly it could have been a lullaby. Your aunt often had to call you out on daydreaming and sometimes you got the feeling that you were being watched but maybe that was mere wishful thinking on your part.

But as the weather had gotten colder and windier, the sea seemingly furious, you kept bumping into him everywhere: at the market, at the tailor, even on your way home and from the way he looked at you, you knew he recognized you, yet did not speak to you. Not until one day he found you alone, without your servants, staring out to the open sea spreading wide and golden in front of you.

He approached you quietly, like a predator, but voice sweet as honey.

“Do you like it?” he asked in a tone one part curious and two parts cold, yet it sent pleasant shivers down your spine. It was just his way of talking.

“What?” you turned to him, taken aback by his closeness. Your arms almost grazed each other and the scent of rain that always followed him hit you. Oh skies, he made you flustered so easily.

“The sea. Do you like it?” he elaborated his question, dark eyes flashing at you as he rested his elbowed on the railing. There was something unexplainable longing in his voice as if he was talking about something dear to him.

“It’s beautiful,” you sighed as you nodded, honest, having been in awe by the magnificence of the sea and oceans ever since you were a little girl.

“Beautiful,” the boy - almost man - echoed as if he was tasting the word, slowly and unfamiliar. His dark eyes boring into yours made you speechless for a moment. “You, humans, have an interesting idea of beauty. Aren’t you afraid?”

You blinked in surprise and confused, not understanding neither the statement nor the question. Why would you have been afraid? You had no reason to. Yet, you didn’t get an answer from this unearthly young man either as he left your side, walking down the shore. His absence suddenly scared you more than anything and your heart cried out in desperation to go after him. You didn’t understand any of these feelings, this strong affection didn’t make sense at all and yet, something tugged on your stomach and you took a few tentative steps ahead.

“Where are you going?” you found yourself asking, voice shaking a bit. Was it because of the fear of rejection?

“I can show you,” he offered as he looked back at you over his shoulder with a hint of smirk tinting the paleness of his perfectly curved lips. His smile was somewhat wicked but you couldn’t stop, your legs moved on their own accord and when you were by his side, walking further down on the shore, he turned to you with another question: “Would you like to hear a story?”

Soundlessly you nodded because suddenly you couldn’t find your voice, even the air seemed to change around you but you just followed him blindly. Wind blew harder, messing up your hair and riding up your skirt but you blamed it on the approaching tide while listening to the story you had been promised to.

“There is a kingdom far far in the sea that nobody on this land knows of. In that kingdom, there are six princes fighting over the throne but according to the tradition the true heir can only be the one that takes an innocent heart, consuming it fully as an offering to the goddess of the sea.”

"But why?" you gaped at him, finding the tale a bit too dark for your taste and he smiled down at you sickeningly sweet, long and pale fingers gently touching your cheek for the first time as your steps halted. You were surprised just how cold his touch felt.

“Power always comes with sacrifice,” he said observing your reactions closely, dark eyes drinking up as you lost yourself to the music of waves and wind bit by bit.

You found your feet frozen in place, your body shivering and when a sudden breeze swirled your scarf away, you reached for your bare neck as if that could have protected you from the cold. You just watched as the wind took it farther and farther away and by the time you looked back, Eunwoo was nowhere to be found.

Confused, you looked around, calling his name, shivering when the first thunder of the approaching storm shook the rocky land you stood on.

"Down here," you heard his mellifluous voice and turning your head you froze in place when you saw him from the edge of the shore, half his body in the water, pale and shimmering bare chest on display.

"What–" your eyes widened, lips trembling as you watched something turquoise move under him in the water. You should have run, far and farther and yet, you fell onto your knees, blood staining your skirt, fingers digging into the edgy rock under you.

"Haven't you heard the stories? That you should be beware of unearthly beauties?" he tilted his head, water droplets making his dark hair look like ink and the air stuck in your lungs when he pushed himself up coming face to face with you.

"Why… Why me?"

"Because you are too pure for this world, darling," he smiled beautifully and for the first time in your life, you believed him, you thought of beauty as something scary, something horrid. It was indeed a weapon, aimed at you, a gun at your heart but you couldn’t move. You were frozen in place staring into his pitch black eyes with the deepest of oceans in them, seeing as the moonlight painted white streaks over his milk white shoulders.

"It won't hurt, I promise," he murmured quietly into the seam of your mouth before enchanting music filled your ears as his mouth pressed against yours. His lips were cold and tasted like salt. Yet, it was almost sweet, almost like a dream as much that you barely even felt him pull you into the water with him.

But oh, he has always taken your breath away anyway.

#astro scenarios #eunwoo scenarios #astro imagines #eunwoo imagines #fantasy au #siren!eunwoo #stories #astro drabble #eunwoo drabble

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

In the Blood-Part Seven

Pairing: Brasa/Female OC

Word Count: ~3,000

Warnings: None

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

It took about two months of research to find the artifact. While there wasn’t a shortage of books bound in flesh in the rare antiquities world, there was only one bound in the skin of a culebra. She tracked it down to a veritable recluse a few towns over and had spent the better part of the last eight weeks trying to get inside his house.

Lilah rubbed at her eyes until she saw spots, drawing on the last reserves of her patience as she read through another disappointing report. She leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling, wondering if she should just drive out there and deal with it, herself. Javier had insisted that she shouldn’t, that she was needed here, but the team he’d hired was striking out left and right. The hermit couldn’t be bought, he couldn’t be threatened, and his security system was top of the line—an uncrackable safe, she’d been assured by experts.

And, Brasa was MIA. Lilah leaned on her elbows. Since that night in the hotel, she hadn’t seen him, but she’d feel him now and again. Pressing a palm to her stomach, a breath across her collarbones, heat radiating from beside or behind her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him more about the world she was suddenly immersed in. Lilah had read so much about culebras, mostly from books Javier sent her, but nothing about Xibalba. Correction: Little about Xibalba. The only thing that the books seemed to say was that it was like hell, only worse.

Surreptitiously, she’d skimmed the pages for information about a queen, and for Brasa’s name. There was next to nothing. The going theory was that Xibalban rulers were cruel, blood soaked tyrants who killed at will. Lilah spent a lot of time trying to reconcile the soft touch of Brasa to the violence in the books. She tried, and failed. Lilah needed more information.

Still, the job was there, every day. More excuses from the team, no book. Lilah looked up the directions to the hermit’s house, just in case.

This morning was an anomaly. A report came in that told her the hermit had a son. The hermit had a son that liked to gamble. She smiled as she read it, knowing that they could work the son to get inside and get the book. Easy.

Lilah pulled the contact information for his favorite haunt on her phone and dialed the number. She stood and paced while she waited for the other side to pick up. She hadn’t bothered to make the bed, knowing the housekeeping staff would take care of it later. She also hadn’t bothered to unpack. Though she’d been in this room nearly the entire time, she kept her suitcase packed and ready to go when she wasn’t actively using anything inside. Every night, she stowed away her laptop and other essentials. Just in case.

The line picked up, “Hello?”

“Yes, is this Mr. Pickerelle?”

A pause, “Who is this?”

Lilah sat on the bed, and put on her most professional voice, “I represent a loan operation and we specialize in—“

“Not interested,” he cut her off, voice brooking no argument.

Lilah tsked, “I think you are. I’d like to buy one of your debts.”

While she went over the details and got his account information to transfer the money, Lilah leaned over the bed and pulled the complementary notepad from the drawer of the side table. She wrote the numbers down, smiling at the first real progress in weeks.

“Tell me, what do you want with this guy?”

Lilah laughed, “Nothing good, I assure you.”

He launched into an anecdote about squeezing his first victim for money, and Lilah rolled her eyes, laying back on the pillow. Really, she should end the call and hang up, but information was information. She might need it later.

Just when she thought he might pull the story to an end, he went off on a tangent, and she slapped a hand to her forehead in boredom. She debated interrupting him, when a warm weight settled on her thighs. Lilah glanced down and saw nothing, but the heat was familiar. Absently, she reached down, hoping to find something solid. Her hand met only air.

Frustrated, she turned her attention to the call and found her opening to end it, pressing her thumb to the screen with a little more force than necessary. She tossed the phone to the side and looked up at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

Lilah didn’t know if saying out loud would transmit the message to him, but she said it anyways. The warmth dissipated after a moment and she clenched her jaw, refusing to feel bad about it. She had a new lead that needed to be explored. It was time to take that on.

Lilah spent about three hours figuring out details over email and then decided that she was going to do it, herself. The guy was easy to hunt down, given that he had no idea he was being followed. People were creatures of habit, whether they admitted it, or not. This guy was no exception. He frequented the same bar at least twice a week and drove a yellow Mustang. Convenient.

Lilah didn’t do much shopping, but she wasn’t going to get into this bar without wearing something nicer than jeans and a hoodie. She bought a tight fitting navy dress and maroon heels, curled her hair, and put on the only piece of jewelry she owned—a gold linked chain that fell enticingly into her cleavage.

The bar wasn’t so much a bar as it was a club. Lots of blue laser lights, music with a thumping base, and dark. Lilah could work with dark. She stepped to the edge of the dance floor, looking for her mark. It was early, and it was possible that he hadn’t arrived yet. She craned her neck, looking over the crowd. Not here, not yet.

Lilah turned to the bar, thinking that she might look more at home with a drink her hand, and felt a wave of dizziness. The air turned hot and the music transitioned to something slower. It vibrated in her chest, forcing her to turn around in search of someone else. She wasn’t in the bar anymore. She wasn’t really sure where she was.

To her right, there was a seating area that was sparsely filled, everyone’s attention on the stage to her left. She looked, too, jaw dropping as she observed a burlesque show mid-performance. The woman was beautiful—beautiful and really, really flexible. Lilah turned her head as she pulled her leg back and around so that it bent gracefully over her head.

Feeling a sympathetic ache in her thighs, she glanced around the rest of the room, looking for something to orient herself. She recognized no one, and it seemed that they didn’t recognize her, either. The few pairs of eyes that she met took note and looked away, far more interested in the show. Lilah was grateful, less interest meant less possibility for questions that she definitely didn’t have the answer to.

She almost went to the bar, but an area lit up in red caught her eye. Focusing, she took a few steps forward, edging around a high table to get a closer look. There was evidently a meeting in progress, several men discussing something passionately. One man I particular snagged and held her attention.

“Brasa,” she breathed, barely able to help herself. After so long, seeing him felt like coming up for air after laying at the bottom of a pool until her lungs burned.

As if he’d heard her, his head snapped up, eyes finding her across the room. He didn’t exactly look shocked to see her, but his brows rose in question. Saying something to the others, he pressed his hands to the table and rose. Lilah watched him stride over to her determinedly, pace quick but not rushed. She didn’t miss the way people moved out of his way, hurriedly stepping to the side. Lilah smirked when she noticed he wasn’t wearing all black this time, opting for a deep green long sleeve shirt alongside his usual black gloves and slacks.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he reached her, his hands already rising to her shoulders in order to draw her close. She went willingly, too glad to feel his warmth again.

Lilah’s brows lifted, “You’re not happy to see me?”

He smiled, “Of course I am.” Then, “Come with me.”

Brasa took her by the hand, leading her deeper into the room, past an ‘employees only’ sign, and through another set of heavy double doors that looked as if they were made of metal. The hallway opened up to a massive room with a single cement walkway through the middle, dissecting a large pool. On the far end was a desk and several chairs. The light, as in the club, was a dim red that seemed to come from the ceiling, though there were no discernable fixtures.

Lilah took in the room, slowing a bit, “Is this your office?”

He stopped and looked back at her, brows together in confusion, “Yes, it is.”

She continued gazing around appreciatively, “Nice digs.”

His head tilted to the side a little, one side of his mouth lifting, “Is that good?”

“Yes,” Lilah confirmed with a smile, “Its good.”

Something like relief flashed behind his eyes. He continued to look at her, taking in her dress, her heels, his eyes dark. She found herself blushing under the weight of that gaze, wanting him closer despite her frustration with him.

“Its been a long time,” Lilah prompted gently, wanting an explanation for his absence, but unsure of how to go about getting it..

Looking contrite, Brasa grasped her hips in both hands and dropped his gaze to the ground, “I know. There have been complications.”

She lifted one brow, “What complications?”

He released a breath borne out of long contained agitation, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her body, “A faction of my people have been attempting to run a coup. I have spent nearly every waking moment working to keep the peace.”

Lilah couldn’t help the little bit of ire that remained, though the explanation was pretty fucking good, “You could have said something. I started to think that it was all up here.”

She motioned to her head, attempting to convey the paranoia that had crept into her mind with every passing day that she didn’t see him. Passing touches only fueled the doubt, and Lilah did not like to doubt herself.

Brasa gathered her to his chest, resting his chin on her head affectionately, “Please accept my apologies.”

Reluctantly, she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling his scent and feeling tension she didn’t know she had fall away. Lilah wanted to hold onto it, but it slipped from her like water—which didn’t make any sense, because holding a grudge was a skill that she definitely had in spades.

“What is this? Please, explain it to me.” She didn’t conceal the edge of panic in her voice, not caring what that made her look like to anyone who cared to look.

He pulled away, catching her eye. It took real work to keep from falling deep into his gaze, the soft brown barely illuminated by the red light that seemed ubiquitous in this place. Darkness and shadow passed over and through him, making themselves at home.

Brasa swallowed and his glance shifted to the side a bit. Lilah forced herself to remain silent. He’d been open with her in the past when she asked him direct questions, she would give him that opportunity now.

“It thought it was impossible. I thought that demons couldn’t have—weren’t made for…”

She leaned in, resting her hands on his biceps, “For?”

“You,” he finished, the word issued with a little force. “I thought I would never have you. But, when I felt you in the healing pools, it just all fell into place.”

If anything, she was more confused now than she had been half a minute previous. She tried to hold his gaze, but he was still looking to the side. Lilah tried to force a little urgency into her next sentence. She needed to know.

“You’ve got to be little more specific.”

Brasa shifted on his feet, fixing her with an unblinking gaze, his jaw clenching. He stilled unnaturally, breaths coming in a little faster. Leaning down, he pressed his nose to the sensitive place behind her ear, inhaling, “Fuck, you smell good.”

Lilah couldn’t help the little whimper that she made when his mouth opened and he tongued along that little bit of skin. She wobbled a little in her heels, arching to give him more access. Despite the tangent, she liked the electric feeling of skin meeting skin, her body welcoming every touch.

“You still,” she asserted on the tail end of a moan, “Haven’t answered my question.”

Brasa laughed against her skin, kissing along her jaw until he met her mouth, where gave her the quickest, lightest little peck. Lilah tried to follow him when he pulled away, earning herself another soft chuckle.

“I haven’t,” he agreed, “And I did agree to answer your questions.”

“You did.”

Though he leaned back so that he could look at her, he kept his hold firm. She couldn’t have stepped away, if she wanted to—not that she particularly wanted to. Despite her effort to keep focused on their conversation, Lilah couldn’t quite tamp down the urge to run her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, her thumbs resting on either side of his collar. Fiddling with the fabric kept her from using it as leverage to pull him down for a deeper kiss. She’d been way too long without him and didn’t know when she’d get the opportunity again.

Clearing his throat, Brasa attempted to start again, “Do you remember when I told you of the blood bond I had to my queen?” When she nodded, he continued, “This is similar—deeper.”

“Deeper how?”

“You are mine and I am yours,” he said, the words coming out in a rhythm that hinted at ritual.

Lilah frowned, “Are you talking about soul mates?”

He smirked, “Blood is the conduit of the soul.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Brasa rolled his eyes, “I doubt its meant to. But, this is real. Every time I touch you,” he cupped her face, “Kiss you,” he pressed his lips to hers, “Catch your fucking mouthwatering scent. It. Is. Real.”

They stood there for a while, foreheads touching, sharing breaths. Lilah was speechless, her brain working to try to rearrange her whole world around a man who seemed to eclipse everything around her. After several false starts, she just stopped trying.

“Green looks good on you,” she murmured, tugging a bit on his collar.

His chin lowered and he traced two fingers from her chin, down her neck, to the edge of her dress, where he lingered.

“When I saw you tonight, I thought it was another dream to torment me.”

Surprised, Lilah asked, “You dream about me.”

“Constantly,” he affirmed, “You’ve wrecked my concentration.”

Lilah thought he was certainly doing a hell of a job wrecking her concentration. Her brain reminded her none too gently that she was supposed to be doing a job. Her body was calmly telling her brain to shut the hell up so that she could enjoy this. She rose up a bit in her heels and kissed him, ending the feud entirely.

He groaned into it, and wrapped both arms around her, a move that seemed almost reflexive. Lilah couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Every part of her felt over sensitive and raw, achy. She pressed her thighs together to try to put a little pressure where she most needed it. The motion brought into sharp focus the fact that she was teetering on the edge of knife. Just a little push would send her to her knees.

A loud banging on the heavy doors sounded, and Lilah gasped with the sudden intrusion. Brasa’s arms remained locked around her. He veered off to the side, mouthing down her neck and to the swell of her breasts. Lilah’s moan was loud even to her ears when his tongue snaked out to lick a hot stripe between them.

The knock sounded again, this time more urgent.

“My lord!” Someone yelled from the other side.

A vicious growl rumbled out of Brasa. It started low and built to one long, deadly warning. Lilah shivered, though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on why. The edges of the room began to blur and she could feel the tell tale wooziness.

Straightening, Brasa breathed deeply, his eyes closed. Lilah smiled at the concerted effort he was making to calm himself. It gratified her to know that she wasn’t the only one wanting more.

“Go take care of that,” she whispered, “I have a job I need to get to, anyways.”

Brasa’s eyes opened and she could see the determination in them, “We’re not done.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and the curve of his forefinger, “I found you.”

A little thrill went through her at the implication that she’d see him outside of their shared visions, “We’ll finish this later, then.”

Reluctantly, he let her go, taking a step away. Her mouth went dry as she watched him adjust the erection straining against his slacks. A not so little part of her wanted to reach out and palm it, feel its shape in her hand.

The knocking continued and he took a long, final glance at her before turning and heading for the door. Lilah closed her eyes as her equilibrium shifted, and then she was back in the bar she’d started out in. And, to her good fortune, her target had arrived.

#In the Blood #from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #fdtd #maurice compte

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kylos-saber-holder · 4 years

Text

The Deed - Part III

Summary: Wynssa has finally found the man she’s been searching more, well, more like he found her. Emperor Kylo Ren has got some secrets up his sleeves too, maybe more than Wynssa would’ve bargained for.

Words: 2,681

Warnings: Wounds, 18+ language, smut is referenced

Author’s Note: Hi, hello, again! If you’re still reading, it really means the world to me! I have some big things planned for this book so it’s worth sticking around!

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Part III - What Does That Make You?

Wynssa’s boots were sinking slightly in the mud that covered the ground as she looked up at the sky, rain drops clicking against her helmet as she saw the First Order ships landing in the set of trees not too far from where the ship was parked.

Wynssa felt the overloading pressure of the dark side weighing on her shoulders as she headed over to the First Order ships, careful of every step she took. Once she made it to the treeline, she made sure to use the trees to her advantage, using them as a sort of camouflage, clutching the staff of her lightsaber tightly in her gloved hand.

She stopped when she began to hear the drone of Stormtroopers, closing her eyes as she focused her power of the Force, using her senses to tell her roughly how many life forces she could feel.

Then, it happened in a flash. Her eyes snapped open, but it was too late. Wynssa’s body hit the ground hard, causing her lightsaber to go flying from her hand.

She grunted before quickly getting back on her feet, gaining her balance. He was there. Emperor Kylo Ren was here. Right in front of her. She felt suffocated by the darkness that surrounded her.

“You haven’t been an easy person to find.” His voice was deep. Almost intimidating.

Wynssa looked at the tall, brooding man in front of her, his lightsaber in his hand. His face was covered by the memorable mask, the red cracks illuminated by the moon and rain that plastered it.

“You were looking for me?” She asked, keeping a mental note of where her lightsaber was behind her.

“Yes. For some time, now.” Kylo said. Even with the helmet on, she could feel his piercing gaze burning through her suit.

“I guess we both got what we wanted.” Wynssa replied, careful to be aware of her surroundings, she was extremely outnumbered, one misstep and she’d be dead.

“I really do hope you don’t believe that you can take me on.” He sounded bored, like it was an inconvenience for him to be standing in front of her.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.” She reached her hand back, causing her lightsaber to come flying back into her hand.

He watched each of her movements carefully, “You’re strong with the Force. I could teach you. I sense your fear, your anger towards me, your confusion, your determination. Your powers are scattered, untrained, unpunished. We both know the Resistance is dead. You are much better off joining the First Order, people who will put your gifts to great use.”

Wynssa felt the familiar anger build up under her skin, causing her face to blush under her mask. Thankfully, he couldn’t see it. “You killed them. You killed them all. You have no idea how much I would love to detach your head from your body, Ren.” She snapped.

“That’s Emperor Kylo Ren, to you.” he corrected. “I am your ruler, now. There is no one to stop me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Wynssa said, her yellow bladed saber springing to life.

Kylo let out a sigh, “Your talents could be put to good use,” His red lightsaber screamed to life, “But it seems you will never leave this planet again.”

Kylo Ren made the first move. He was quick on his feet lunging at her, swiping his lightsaber across her body. She was just quick enough to simply step to the side, causing Kylo to completely overshoot, making him stumble slightly before he gained his footing back. He was seething already, he whipped around to face Wynssa, who was carefully reading his body language, “You say you can train me when you don’t even know how to properly stand for a fight.” Wynssa let out a distorted laugh by the grace of the modulator in her mask, “You talk about my anger, but I can feel it coming off in waves from you, Ren. You’re not much more than a scared child in a mask.”

“Then what does that make you?” Kylo snapped, twirling his lightsaber in his hand, the red blade glowing brightly against the rain that was now pouring.

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” Wynssa shrugged slightly, before raising her duel lightsaber in a defense position, urging him to try again.

Kylo took the bait. He lunged again, more grace this time rather than just a feral swipe. Wynssa blocked his hit with her own saber, causing a loud crackling sound to be heard. Wynssa shoved him back, causing him to go off balance for a moment before making her own move. She twirled her saber in her hand before using the lower half of her saber to cut at his legs, which he easily blocked. Wynsa was quick to kick him square in the chest, causing him to go flying backwards, but he caught himself, using the Force. Wynssa charged at him, swinging both blades of her lightsaber at him, using grace and poise while Kylo lashed and blocked with anger and rage. Wynssa was wearing him down, just as Master Skywalker had taught her. Patience was always victorious when it came to dealing with the dark side of the Force. The odd thing was, there was something...almost familiar about this fight. Almost like… she’s done this before.

In the second of her distraction, Kylo Ren used the Force to push her back. Her back hit a tree, causing her to fall onto her hands and knees, trying to catch her breath, as it was knocked clear from her body. Kylo Ren made his next moves quickly. Before she could even react, her lightsaber went flying from her hand to his. Just as she was about to reach for her blaster, it went flying from her hand to some distant place to her right. Just as she looked up to see him, he was right in front of her, his huge body looming over her. Wynssa had to play dirty if she was going to get out of this alive. Wynssa reared her fist back in a flash and was about to punch Kylo in the crotch, but he quickly grabbed her wrist with his hand, his gloved hand gripping tightly onto her. Her other hand was quickly bound by the Force. He pulled her up so she was standing, their masks not far from one another. She looked at him, peering into the dark sockets where eyes should have been. Wynssa couldn’t move, she was frozen as she tried to counteract him, but he caught her when she was vulnerable.

“Playing dirty, now, huh?” He asked, his voice low, she could hear the rumbling of his chest.

“Would you suggest any other way?” Wynssa smirked slightly under her mask before channeling a portion of the Force she only used in dire situations. Her hand was finally able to move as she snatched her lightsaber from his hand before he went flying backwards, hitting the mud, dirtying the heavy robes.

Wynssa turned her saber back on, the yellow light reflecting on her suit and helmet. She was not about to let up now.

She charged at him, ready to take the final strike. Kylo was quick to ignite his saber, blocking her attempt on his life. Crackling and sparks threw from the clashing lightsabers. Wynssa grunted as she attempted to force her lightsaber down onto Kylo who was trying to stand back up, his saber over his head, blocking her attack. She had him, this was it. She could finally end the First Order.

His next move was so quick, she couldn’t have seen it in a million years. He used his power to bring her blaster into his own hand, shooting Wynssa in the abdomen without a moment’s hesitation.

She screamed in pain, dropping her lightsaber, the blade dying out, gripping her abdomen. Kylo had no intentions of letting her live. He shifted on his legs, using both of his legs to kick her back. Wynssa’s body hit the ground, hard. So hard, in fact, that the suppressing locks on her helmet snapped off, the metal face shield hitting the ground, getting covered in mud and loose grass.

Wynssa fought through the pain and sat up, grunting in agony. Her vision was blurry as she looked at the quickly approaching man with her own two eyes, rain drenching her dark hair and skin.

Just as she could hear the screech of the lightsaber tearing up to put an end to her life, she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.

But that final breath never came.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked up slowly, still holding the spot on her abdomen.

Kylo Ren stood there, his weapon crackling in the air. He didn’t move. It was a few moments before the blade died out, leaving them in darkness, rain covering their bodies.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it.” Wynssa gasped out, feeling dizzier by the second.

Kylo Ren didn’t say anything. He clipped his saber to his belt, kneeling in front of her. Wynssa looked at him, her dark skin shining in the moonlight. She could hardly see the expressionless mask at this point. This was it...she was really going to die...right here on this god forsaken planet.

“You’re not going to die.” Kylo’s voice was low and almost calming. Not that it was going to matter for much longer anyway.

“People happen to die when you shoot them…” She wheezed out. “Get away from me.” She tried pulling away when he reached for her.

“Stop. Or you will die.” He snapped, his voice harsh.

Wynssa didn’t really have the strength to fight him off anymore, so she simply allowed him to hold her in his arms, like a mother would hold a sickly child.

“You’re not going to die on me, Winnie…” was the last thing Wynssa heard before drifting off into darkness.

Kylo kneeled in front Wynssa, containing his composure as he surveyed the damage he had done out of pure rage.

“You’re not going to die.” He said truthfully, reading her thoughts clearly, studying the face of a woman he had met many, many years ago.

He never thought he’d see her again. His Wynssa… his Winnie. No, no, she was Ben’s Winnie. She didn’t belong to anyone named “Kylo Ren.” That didn’t cease the grief in his cold heart. After so long...he had thought she was dead.

“Get away from me.” Her voice was cold, full of hate. It hit him like a Stardestroyer to hear that.

“Stop. Or you will die.” He said, his tone harsh, but there was no other way she would listen to him. Kylo wrapped his arms around her, cradling her in his arms which were now soaked from the rain. He could feel her life force quickly fading.

“You’re not going to die on me, Winne.” He huffed shakily. Right after those words left his mouth, she went limp in his arms. His heart skipped a beat, for the first time in years.

“Winnie? Winnie!” He gasped out, using one of his hands to rip down the hood of his robe, quickly unlatching the hooks of his own mask, tossing it to the side, next to hers. “For stars sake, Winnie, please don’t die on me.” Worry seeped into his veins like poison, threatening to shut down his body as well.

‘Focus. You’re going to save her. Breathe. Think.’

A voice in the back of his mind became the voice of reason as his next move was nearly instinctive almost like nature, like he had done it one thousand times beforehand. He placed his hand on her wound, closing his eyes, letting the thick rain pelt his face as he focused his life source on healing Wynssa who was still limp in his arms. He sighed out softly as he let himself heal her, feeling her life force become stronger and stronger.

He opened his eyes as he felt her move in his arms, hearing her groan slightly. He removed his hand, seeing the blast wound was completely gone. Thankfully, she was still unconscious...this was not the way he wanted to meet her again. He wasn’t ready to...speak to her again. Not so soon. Well -- it’s been six-ish years. But he had thought she was dead, never in his life did he think he’d be face to face with the one person he never wanted to hurt in his entire life. Now here she was...laying in his arms, soaked from the rain and a hole in her suit from the blaster shot. Thankfully, the wound was healed...but he couldn’t imagine that his powers could heal the mental wound she would have the second she found out what had happened or who he was.

Kylo couldn’t stop himself as he reached up, pushing a piece of Wynssa’s hair from her perfect dark hued skin. His eyes studied her face, taking in each and every detail, his leather gloved thumb gently stroking her drenched cheek. He shifted his body so he shielded her a little bit better from the pouring rain.

“Oh, Winnie…” he sighed, feeling guilt build up in his soul.

He had to get going before his Stormtroopers came looking for him and they eventually found Wynssa. He grunted as he stood up, Wynssa still tightly held in his arms. Kylo headed into the cover of a few trees that was mostly shielding the rain. He gently set her down, careful not to hit any of her body parts too hard against the damp ground or the small clump of trees that surrounded the small space.

He looked at her again, sighing as he walked over to the spot he had thrown his helmet. He picked it up, wiping some of the mud off before placing it over his head, the locks clicking into place.

Kylo saw the staff of Wynssa’s lightsaber in the corner of his eye, causing him to turn in that direction. In a few short strides and a graceful swoop, the now muddy lightsaber in his large leather covered hands.

A few moments passed before he clicked the lightsaber onto the other side of his belt, deciding on taking it with him. Maybe he wasn’t ready to talk to her now, but he would be later when she came back for her lightsaber. According to the Jedi, their lightsabers were more than a weapon to them, it was their lifeline. There was no way she wouldn’t return for it.

And when she did...he’d be ready to see her again.

Rain was pouring on the outside of her hut as Wynssa’s naked body cuddled closer to Ben’s naked sweat laden body.

“I hate storms.” She muttered softly.

“I know.” Ben said simply, pushing her hair from her face.

“I wish there was no thunder and lightning. Rain isn’t so bad.”

“Rain would get pretty boring if it wasn’t mixed in with storms.” Ben pointed out.

Wynssa chuckled, “I suppose.” She rolled onto her stomach, looking down at him, “If I died, would you be sad?” She asked suddenly.

Ben looked up at her, his puppy dog eyes activated. “Would I be sad? What kind of question is that?” He laughed a little.

“It’s a genuine question, Solo. Now answer it.”

Ben sat up slightly, grunting as he looked at her, “Yes. I would.”

“That’s it?” Wynssa asked, unimpressed. “You would just be sad? Nothing else?”

“No, Wynssa, I’d be devastated. If you died, the world would blur. I wouldn’t even know what a tree was.” He said honestly, looking at her.

Wynssa felt her heart almost turn to mush at the response. “I am so in love with you, Ben Solo.”

“And I am so in love with you, Wynssa Habea.” He finally sealed the conversation by taking her face in his large hands, kissing her deeply and passionately.

How in the hell did she get so lucky?

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a-forgotten-spirit · 5 years

Text

Azriel x Reader

Credit to Artists.

Author Note: I’m sorry I'm slow at writing. I’m thinking of doing an Amren x Wendigo reader, anyone interested? You can find all chapters tagged under ‘lovers of shadow’. Also if any single one of you need something feel free to send me a message!

Tags: @alphaomegahybrid @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @livlaughlove20 @klashmafia @tiasbandom @shane-knight @ourbooksuniverse @warning-fangirl-at-work @xxpapasfritasxx @shadowsingersxks @-im-fantastic- @kenzie-cold-greenkale @great-goddess-of-sin @judig92 @pugzzzz @mariamuses @salma-mohammad54

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Chapter 8

Y/N P.O.V Walking to the area where there was space I stretched my arms over my head and gazed over to see Cassian watching my movements. A couple of the other warriors came to watch the fight after all Cassian is the Commander and needs seven siphons making him the top dog weather the other Illyrians like it or not. I can't stand how the others act it’s disgusting.

Twirling the knife in my hand the metal feeling cool against my skin, my nails made a clicking sound while I drummed them against the metal. Watching his muscles flex with each movement my eyes tracking them.

Fighting did something to the brain, making it more alert and focused. Some couldn't leave that state once submerged, I was one of them. I never stopped fighting whether it be a physical fight or a mental one, I never stopped. I did try, I honestly did but growing up to be a ruler it felt as though it was woven into my genetics. My first war was brutal and I lost many friends, I was never quite the same after that and even I noticed. I changed little by little every day on the battlefield. I would maim and kill with no remorse or guilt, I don't think those closest to me ever got over that. The way war changed me. I tried to stay out of fighting and war after that but I couldn't, taking a toll on my mind and body I worry one day I won't be able to come back.

"Are we fighting or what" Cassian smirked and my eyes narrowed in on him, it was an addiction. One I lusted after, feeling skin beneath my fingers of a foe. I craved this.

My body moved with no hesitation getting to his form and sending a closed fist directly into this sternum. Hearing the gasp of breath come from his mouth but originating from his lungs. Recovering quickly a fist came at me sending my body into a backward flip ending only a few meters away. Circling each other slowly small piece of dirt crunched beneath my shoe. Swinging the knife between my fingers I watched him. The way his wings fluttered and muscles flexed. I monitored each millimetre of movement. His body came hurtling for my own a closed fist wanting to hit my face. My hand raised to catch his fist and with a few gasps from the crowd and a wide eyes shocked expression from Cassian. I flipped him on his back hitting the ground with a thud.

I looked down at him but I only then noticed it was hazy. My vision was not clear or that I could see, no it was hazy and uneven. I could make out the figures but not the details. Slowly they cleared and I was dizzy for only a second, shaking my head and looking to Cassian who was looking at me in worry and concern. He got up from the ground and I could hear muffled words, one of the warriors watching and him.

"Y/N look at me, what happened. What's wrong" I could only just make out Cassian's words, it was as though I was underwater. I watched him walk closer and seem to give me a once over to look for visual injuries.

I stood for a moment hearing the whispers of my people "They are coming" I whispered and I threw myself over Cassian as I felt the ground shake, I felt something fly past me and called out “Get the others. Now” within a few seconds, I could feel the shadows around me.

The ground shook again and I fell Cassian catching me as I did. It was forceful and shook the camp, Illyrians were running around collecting weapons and other devices. Flying into the air and calling out that they were firing things at us. No one was hurt so far and I rushed down the bond seeing Azriel was all right. Grabbing Cassian’s hand I dragged him to where the others were my men guiding me through the least destructive path. Getting to the others I let go of Cassian’s hand and yelled “What are they firing”

“They are using the Cauldron to boost the power of large boulders” Rhysand called out “The fight begins now” with that his wings spread and he flew into the air Cassian and Azriel the following suit. I saw Mor and turned to her.

“Watch Feyre I’ll watch the boys” with a nod from her and I grabbed Amren’s hand “You’re with me” she nodded as we ran hand and hand through the forest. Once out the fight was loud and destructive, a sword came from the ground and I handed it to Amren getting my own. “I’ll watch your back you watch mine” she nodded and we began to fight. She wasn’t in the best fighting clothes but we will make do with what we have. I trusted her with my life and she did I.

Going straight forward I sliced hunters and watched as some got dragged into the depths of the Earth shadows draping the field if an inkpot had fallen over. Shadows grabbing Illyrians and pulling them to the sides to not get hit, it was indeed an eventful fight. We were winning losing some of the Illyrians but still winning nonetheless, a few casualties were to be expected. Shadows jumped from the ground but what I saw was not what I was expecting as I see one get cut and fall his skin returning to one of a flesh body and my falling my eyes wide at the scene.

“Amren they knew my people would be here” I whispered my voice shaking as I stood still soldiers moving around me. She saw it too as did a few others so with a growl and my body sprinting I began to run through the hunters as though they were merely butter, how dare they hurt my people. It wasn’t long until the Hunters and Hybern began to flee I was watching them my breathing heavy, eyes narrowed and my sword drenched in the crimson liquid of their fallen.

I stood in front of everyone my body shaking as the bodies of my people were brought to me, thirteen in total, my family, my children. I dropped to my knees in front of them and covered my mouth. My people gone, thirteen taken from this world because I thought they would be fine because I didn’t predict the consequences. Their blood is on my hands, I could hear the chatter behind me and then someone dropped beside me.

“We will get revenge little shadow” Amren whispered and hugged my side, I saw my people bodies laid out in front of me some eyes were still open, blood dripping from their gashes. I stood Amren letting go and I walked forward as my people rose from the ground turning into their human forms, no one spoke as I kneeled and sighed out trying not to let my sadness fall down my face.

“How” one whispered as I kneeled to a young woman inspecting her gash, I ran my hand over the wound and hissed pulling my hand back.

“Jutyius Flower” I whispered and looked to my bodyguards in shock, “I thought it died out over a thousand years ago” I looked to these thirteen people their lives taken from something of a myth, no longer folklore.

“It is” I heard I didn’t know who, my mind was running a hundred miles an hour and I turned to Amren who was older than anyone here looking to her for an answer.

“He has the Cauldron but no one should know you exist unless there is a spy of sorts” her eyes narrowed the smoke seeming to move faster in swirls like ocean waves crashing against the rocks of a cliff. “He must have made some, you only need one, coat your weapons and your army fall” she whispered and I turned to my people.

“We will send them” I breathe my eyes beginning to water. “Send them off as they wished. We all loved them and now we will see them off. Let them float in the depths” I whispered and stood. I looked back seeing the boys and their looks of fear as I looked to my people. “Boys can I please have the way” I whispered but I knew they heard me. Within a second they were in the air a shadow cast over and I breathed out.

I never thought I would have to do this to one of my own but if the time came I would do this to the boys they had asked me too after I showed them the place. I raised my hands the bodies floating into the air as my people circled and then we fell into the ground. We carried them flying through the abyss of darkness. I heard cries and whimpers as we did, we flew until everyone had stopped crying it was hours and then we reached the depths. Looking back we pushed them off as they sunk their bodies being engulfed by the abyss. We stood everyone swirling around the depths and then with a sigh and a wave of my hand we left going back to the Illyrian camp. I rose from the ground my eyes close to crying. I walked into the tent pushing the flaps open and I walked in seeing Amren sitting with Varian on his lap, Amren jumped up running to me and throwing her arms around my neck and bringing my body as close to hers as she could, I broke down all my feeling becoming too much for me to handle.

I couldn’t breathe I lost my people, it may have only been a few but it was enough to fracture my whole life. My body was shaking as I cried my crying turns into sobbing, Amren kept me in her arms as I stood there all my emotions falling into the Earth. I don’t think I hadn’t cried like this since Azriel since he left. This was all too much for my heart to take. Thirteen people I let die, thirteen people, I could’ve saved if I wasn’t reckless, thirteen people I let fall. Thirteen of my people, of my family.

“Shhh love it’s ok” she whispered and hugged me tighter. “They are safe. I can feel it” I knew what she is, her true self. I knew everything about her and she had seen my worst self. Amren came to visit me and I loved her with all my soul her visits stopped because she couldn't bear seeing me the way I was when Azriel had left.

“How. I thought it was extinct” I whispered and hugged her tighter. Her small frame hugging my chest as I sat my head on her own.

“There is someone here giving information, who I do not know. The boys are going to find them” she moved to grab my face in her hands “Y/N” she paused her eyes swirling with locked power “I can feel they are safe and happy” I nodded and let her go as she did I.

I looked up and shook my head “I apologise, Varian, this isn’t my best look” I tried to smile but it came up short.

“No need to apologise. Amren was worried for you so we waited” His smile reached his eyes. I was glad Amren had found Varian she deserved happiness, she was amazing.

“What are the plans” I looked back to Amren her eyes falling once I met her own. “I'm not too sure. It was a shock and we lost quite a few we will need to re-think our strategies and then attack or plan for another assault” her voice was always so mystical, as though magic swirled in her words dripping in power and hidden feeling of revenge. “We will make them fall. I promise” her eyes narrowed and I nodded in agreement.

“Are the boys hurt I didn’t even think to check” letting the air from my lungs I breathed out my hand raising and running through my hair, they were alive and they were standing so nothing serious if anything at all.

“A few scratches and a little slice to a wing bone but nothing dramatic” I nodded and breathed out. “They will be fine. Will you” she asked leaning forward and grabbing my hands in her own.

“No” I whispered honestly. Shaking my head as I felt the tears well up again I pushed my emotions back and breathed my eyes moving to the floor “No I will not. I didn’t plan for this and I should have”

“You could not have known” she sighed and gripped my hands “It is good to see you again Y/N. Your people are now safe and the thirteen that passed are safe and happy they died protecting you and the people you care about” she smiled and I nodded knowing she knew more about death then I.

I nodded once more. We sat down and spoke for a while until the boys came back and told me the news they couldn’t find who it was, all I could do was a nod as I sat on the bed next to Amren and across from the boys. I loved them all so dear. I couldn’t live with myself if any of them were to get hurt.

I didn’t eat that night, I couldn’t bring myself too and with a smile to them, I made my way back into my home, looking around I got undressed and had a shower. I needed to wash the grime and disgust for myself off of me, I had scrubbed my skin until it was red. You couldn’t tell if you cried while having a shower. Once done I sighed, dried and got dressed going to bed with Azriel behind me cuddling into my back. I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t his breathing was slow and even he had fallen asleep as I laid in place looking to the window across from me and flashes of the deads faces rang in my head though Amren’s words did comfort me to no end. I was glad for her and I loved her more than anything for allowing me to know they were safe and happy.

The morning came and I left the bed dressing and walking out with a smile to a still sleeping Azriel, I didn’t make it far. I looked to see Cassian who looked to me, I shook my head knowing his questions and made my way to the food area. Grabbing a slice of bread I picked at it as I walked around and in the end threw the leftover bread into a nearby bush for the animals to have. While I was walking my mind wandered and I started to panic. I couldn’t breathe, so I ran.

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Chapter 9

72 notes · View notes

the-wayward-arc · 5 years

Text

The Sons of Salem chap 1 (commissioned)

"I will forge a world that even the twin brothers will be envious of. A world that will know peace and calmness…" Queen Salem, Ruler of a hundred worlds

-unknown sector, Rebel controlled world-

"Keep firing! Keep those things off the wall!" A commanding voice yelled as dozens of armored soldiers were firing into the enemy force behind their high walls. Gun turrets fired red beams nonstop at the enemy, some began to overheat and erupt in flames, consuming the gunner. The commander watched as his soldiers fought with all their might. They had rebelled against the tyranny of the Imperium, fighting off those loyal to them in their system and even keeping reinforcements at bay! For a time their armies were strong, being able to keep their sector and planets safe...until they came.

Reports came of a vessel that came out of the warp, it crashed into the nearby planet before any of their ships could intercept it. Assuming it was just a lost vessel that made an emergency jump, a recover force was sent to investigate the wreckage, then the distress calls came in. Various reports of some kind of creatures attacking their various outposts, overrunning them. Slaughtering their defenders and easily overrunning the others. Then more reports of vessels coming out of the warp, crashing on many of their worlds and more reports of creatures. Cities were being overrun and soon they came...a massive force of…

"IT'S GOT ME!" a soldier shouted, snapping the commander out of his thoughts. He watched as the soldier was shooting frantically, others also shooting while another held onto him and before they knew it, the soldier was thrown over the wall by whatever that had got him.

“Dammit! You!” he yelled, pointing at another soldier whom was tending to wounded. “Get up on that wall and keep those bastards at bay!” The soldier saluted and ran to join the wall defenders. This was the last stronghold, the final bastion of resistance against the Imperium of Mankind and their corpse Emperor. Thanks to its natural barriers, the only way in or out of the stronghold was the massive gates that were currently being besieged by these “Imperial” forces.

“By the protector, look out!” someone yelled as something exploded, destroying one of the gun turrets. The Soldier shook his head as he looked over the wall, seeing creatures scaling the wall. The bone like faceplates forever burned into his memory as they dug their claws into the structure. He aimed and fired, striking one of the wolf like creatures in the eye and causing it to fall below, where others lay dead, their bodies slowly disintegrating away into a black mist. He looked at the destroyed gun turret and then out across the battlefield, where he could see “Imperial Guardsmen” making their way across the battlefield towards the city.

These guardsmen, they were different. They didn’t look like typical guardsmen, no, they were different in many ways. Their armor was vastly different from the others, looking like ancient knights of the Imperial Homeworld of Terra’s ancient past. Some appeared to have what looked like ears or antlers jutting out from atop their helmeted heads. Abhumans? He didn’t know nor cared, it was the fact that these guardsmen were fighting alongside these creatures was worrying. He watched as some were riding atop the wolf like creatures and firing at them from atop their steeds, some hanging onto them as they climbed the walls.

“Keep firing! Keep th-” the soldier didn’t get to finish as head was blown clean off, his body falling off the wall and down to the ground below. The surviving soldiers shot back, trying to keep the creatures off the wall but they were too late, one made it over. It wasn’t alone as its rider began firing at them, killing a few while the creature slashed others with its claws. It let out a blood curdling howl as more and more were climbing over that section of the wall. Some alone while others with riders.

“Take the gate controls! We need to allow the main force in!” yelled one of the riders as they fought the defenders back. The commander of the defenders yelled orders as he shot from below, striking one of the attackers from the side. Before he could fire again however, he watched as the wolf like creature covered the injured attacker. It kept him covered as another guardsman ran over to tend to his wounds. More and more creatures were making their way over the walls, from the wolf like ones to larger versions of the wolf ones to even other creatures.

“Beringels coming up!”

Another creature made it over the wall, a hulking mass of a creature that roared as it grabbed one of the defenders from behind and threw her over the wall. The wall was lost. More and more of the defenders were retreating, some jumping down to the ground below despite the height in an attempt to get away from the creatures and the attackers. Others were being simply kicked off by the attackers and their monsters.

“Open the gates! We have control of the wall!” no sooner did a voice say did the mechanized gates begin to open, they survivors could hear yelling from the otherside as more creatures and Guardsmen began pouring into the courtyard, fighting the defenders with the help of their monsters! The commander fired, killing a few of the attackers as a creature charged at him, its jaws open and claws outstretched as it lunged at him. The commander stayed calm, raising the lasgun up and letting it build up a bit before pulling the trigger and letting loose a plasma bolt that made contact with the face of the creature, killing it instantly. He fired at more of the creatures, rallying his forces to fight off the invaders!

“Don’t let up! Send these bastards to void itself!” he yelled as his forces fought back, some able to bring down one of the large creatures known as a Beringel. Then he noticed something, he watched as one attacker quickly killed some of his men easily with his weapon, only to watch it change into a sword like weapon. He saw other guardsmen weapons doing the same thing, changing from rifles to either swords or maces.

He noticed another attacker was dressed a bit differently than the others, wearing a different kind of armor. While dressed in similar metallic armor, this one had a metal mask on that looked like the face mask of one of the creatures. He fired at the attacker, only to see for a brief moment what looked a bluish field that covered the body of the attacker, easily deflecting the the bolt of plasma. Before he could fire again, a loud thunderous horn was heard, causing all the attackers and creatures to quickly back away towards the opened gates. The surviving defenders looked at them, ready to continue fighting if need be but were confused by the actions of their attackers. But they soon realized why. Why they stopped fighting.

An extremely loud roar echoed from outside the gates, the “guardsmen” moved out of the way as something massive made its way inside. A towering monstrous creature slowly walked in, resembling an ancient long dead creature that the commander had seen in old pictures of Terra’s past. A Tyrannosaurus rex from what he remembered but this...this monster looked wrong. Bone like spikes ran down its back, ending on a razor sharp tail, its massive three toed clawed feet caused small cracks to form on the ground with every step. Its snarled at them all, showing off its sharp teeth as its glowing orange eyes scanned around. The rider upon its back simply patted the side of its head and the monster calmed itself.

“N-no way…”

“It can’t be…

“Oh gods, we are forsaken..”

Various voices reacted to the who was Riding the monster. The commander gulped as he watched the creature lower itself down so that its rider could step down. The Rider towered over the other attackers, cladded in heavy power armor with a cloak that waved faintly as the figure walked over to the commander, each step heavy as he did.

“You fought well.” The figure told him as it walked towards, a soldier tried to attack only to be effortlessly knocked away by the armored giant.

“Your soldiers are fearless, you should feel proud of that fact.” he continued, his voice calm and deep. It was a voice that demand compliance and obedience. “Your armies proved far more resistance than the Imperium let on, you even gave the Grimm here trouble.” he gestured to the creatures they stayed put. “But here you are, your armies destroyed. Most of Your planets now under the banner of my mother’s kingdom.” he finished as he stood before the commander. The commander had to look up at behemoth of a man. Or well a God-warrior. For standing before him was a Primaris Marine, a super soldier and the pinnacle of Human evolution. Bred and trained to be the ultimate soldiers. Taught to never retreat. Never to surrender. They were perfect warriors. They knew only war. It was their purpose.

His armor was colored black and red, resembling the creatures of Grimm. His face hidden by the bone white colored helmet, red markings etched into it in order to resembling that of the creature he rode on top of. It looked as if it was molded to look like the creature as well. The optics of his helmet glowed that frightening orange, similar to the creatures eyes.

“So I ask you this, Will you surrender to a superior force or die trying to fight for a lost cause? The choice is yours.”

The choice was clear to him. His army was on its last leg, this stronghold held the last of them. He looked at them all, some were wounded, barely clinging to their lasguns while others lay dead or wounded. He looked at the Primaris Marine, dropping his plasma pistol and bowed to his knees. “I surrender.” He simply stated.

“Raise the flags of your queen!” The primaris marine order as the flags of the rebels were cast aside and another flag took its place. The guardsmen saluted the flag by placing their fists up to their chests.

“Glory to her Majesty, Queen Salem!” they yelled in unison. “Glory to the sons of Salem!”

The Primaris Marine walked away from the commander as the Remnant Guard began to tend the wounded rebels and round up prisoners. The Royal Symbol of Salem fully displayed on his cloak, showing that he was a Son of Salem.

“My lord, you have an incoming transmission, it is lord Nokris.” a Remnant guard informed him, he looked down at the faunus girl as she held a communication. Her helmet held to her side. She placed the communicator on the ground as a hologram of another helmeted Primaris Marine formed infront of him. The faunus bowed as Nokris gestured her to leave.

“Malach, our mother wishes to know the status of your mission and your wellbeing along with the others.” he told Malach.

“It's nice to see you as well brother. The mission is complete, the last of rebels have surrendered and our forces will begin gathering all surviving Grimm soon.” he explained to his “brother.” While not related by blood, they were brothers still by the experiences and hardships they endured. And their history. All those in the “Sons of Salem” Primaris marine chapter were brothers, for they all shared a single mother. Salem. “The Young blood are currently establishing bases for the Imperium’s forces when they arrive. When they do, we shall make our leave back home to Remnant. Let our mother know that her flags fly all over this system and many have bowed to her will.” He concluded as Nokris simply nods. The transmission cuts off as Malach walks away, his monstrous mount lowers itself to allow him to climb back on.

“My lord, what should we do about the other holdouts?” another guard asked. Malach looked down at her from his grimm mount and simply laughed within his helmet. She looked confused at this but composed herself as he spoke.

“Any who resist my Mother’s will are to be dealt with understand?” she nodded at him. “Exterminate them as you would an insect.” he signal his grimm to walk forward as other Grimm followed closely. The remnant guards watched as Malach rode away; Malach “The Siege Breaker”, the ninth born of Salem.

-rebel system, another “liberated” planet-

“You must be cleansed. This planet must be cleansed.” Remnant guard walked about, tanks strapped to their backs as a tube connected to them led to a flamethrower like weapon. They stood guard as Grimm walked by, a faint orange glow could be seen in the distance. “Cleanse with fire, it can cleanse even the most vile of sins.” a distorted Voice said calmly. The remnant guards looked at who was speaking, his cloak displaying the royal symbol of Queen Salem as he stood in front of a large fire, serpent like Grimm slept around it for warmth. The fire reflected off his orange optics, his helmet was painted and fashioned in a way to resemble a Manticore. He extended his massive gauntlet, fire erupting from under the palm as it fed the fire before him more.

“Lord Onyx, an urgent transmission for you.” A Remnant guarded informed the giant as he looked away from the fire. The Remnant guard placed the device in Onyx’s massive hand, a holographic image immediately formed. It was Malach, his younger brother.

“Malach.” he said as the helmeted face of his brother looked up at him.

“Ah Onyx, I see you’re being well you.” Malached said, his attempt at humor didn’t faze Onyx.

“What do you want little brother.”

“Our eldest brother wants to know how you’re mission went and mother wishes to know if you are well.”

“My mission was a success, the young blood,” gesturing to the other Primaris marines that stood nearby, ordering the Remnant guard. They too were giants among men, their armor painted in the same way as Onyx’s and Malachs, save for them not wearing cloaks. No, they wore the royal Symbol of their mother upon their pauldron. They too were the sons of salem. “and the Remnant guard have cleansed this planet of the sins that tainted these people.” Onyx looked towards the orange glow, watching as a massive city burned in the distance, illuminating the surrounding area as if it was day.

“Alright then, we have been called home, our mission is done here.” Malach stated before the communicator shut off.

“Awaken my beast, we leave this cleansed planet.”

The words awakened a massively sized slumber grimm, it moved towards its master, revealing to all a Manticore Alpha. It dwarfed the other Manticores and even caused some to go into a frenzy as it let out a mighty roar as fire escaped from its mouth. The Remnant guard backed away from it, Onyx however was not fazed by its actions. It lowered its head, giving Onyx a chance to gently pet it before walking to its side and mounting it. Upon doing so, the metallic armor it was wearing hummed to life, a dark purple glow emitted from parts of it as the large flamer weapons on with side of its face hummed to life.

“Soldiers of The Remnant guard! Young blood, we leave this planet and we return home! We have cleansed it of sin!” this caused the soldiers to yell in victory as the “Sons of Salem” Marines simply looked upon their elder brother. Onyx signaled his forces to begin their trek towards the landing point as thunderhawk gunships flew in the sky to take them aboard their warships that orbited the planet.

For this planet had been cleansed by the fires of Onyx, “The Fire lord”, third born of Salem.

-rebel system, other rebel planet-

Two Ursa fought over a dead rebels body as Remnant guard scoured over a battlefield, the battle won in their favor. One noticed a rebel trying to crawl away. “There, Lord Ares was correct about some being alive.” The Bull faunus stated as she kicked the rebel down, the barrel of her weapon pressed against the back of his head. He pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as she pulled the trigger. A distant explosion pulled her attention away from the body, looking towards the ruined stronghold where it originated from.

“Lord Ares and the other Sons are really giving it to them.” her companion stated as A beowolf walked next to her. She placed her hand on top of its head as they got back to their task. Various shots could be heard as hundreds of Remnant guards scoured the battlefield for survivors, the Grimm picking off any as well, for this was their task given to them by Lord Ares.

-in the stronghold-

“Dammit! What the hell are these things!” A rebel yelled as an Ursa charged at him, only for it to be gunned down by the gatling lasers of the sole remaining mechsuit they had left. They were pushed back by these creatures and their masters, these marines.

“Sir! We-” the rebel didn’t get to finish as a bolter round literally blew him into pieces, leaving a bloody mess of parts. “Sons of Salem” marines moved up, the giant warriors shrugging off the rounds that the rebels fired as if they were nothing but pebbles. Their Ursa ran up ahead, trying to overcome the defenses only to be gunned down by the mechsuit. The Rebels clung to that hope, that hope they would survive this and counter their attackers but that hope was dashed as the Sons of Salem kept advancing.

They were stunned as one slowly walked forward, the others stopping their march as this single marine stepped forward. This Marine was different, he was bigger than the other marines around him. A good two feet taller than the others. Two massive chainsaw axes held in both hands, the razor sharp teeth of the axes dripping with blood as the defenders could feel the aura of dread coming from the single massive marine. His helmet painted and fashioned in a way to resemble the Ursa. His cloak flapped in the wind as he stepped forward. But what drew some of their attention was his exposed arms, unlike the others, his arms were exposed. Scars and wounds riddle the purple veined deathly white skin of the massive marine’s arms.

Then they saw something else that utterly terrified them, walking up from behind the marine was a massive Ursa Alpha. It dwarfed the Ursa Majors around it. Adorned in metallic armor with a single twin barreled gatling laser mounted on its back, the creature growled, awaiting its master’s orders.

“You will all die here,” The massive marine spoke, pointing a claw at them. “You make a mockery of this battle and my warriors by hiding behind your machine and your walls. I shall show you what a true warrior looks like!” he roared as he charged, the other marines resuming their fire as they charged ahead. Some wielding their chainswords, chainsaw like swords that roared to life. The rebels fired, fired all they had only for it be in vain as the massive marine stomped his way towards, lunging at the mechsuit and sinking his chainsaw axes into it. Sparks flew as the teeth began to eat through the armor plating of the suit, eventually slicing the pilot inside. The Rebels were ripped apart, brutally slain by the Sons of Salem and Ursa. it was nothing short of a massacre.

Within Minutes, dozens of bodies lay strung about as the marines ensured none survived. Salem’s flag was soon placed high above the stronghold, signaling this planet was taken.

“Lord Ares!” a voice yelled out, the massive marine turned to see a Remnant guard riding upon a Beowolf ride up to them. “A message from Lord Nokris.” he informed the massive marine as he patted the head of his Ursa Alpha. The Remnant guarded handed the communication device to a marine before riding off. Nokris eventually appeared upon the hologram, looking up at his brother.

“Ares, i see that your mission was also a success. How many rebels survived this final battle?”

“None did, my soldiers are ensuring even the wounded are slain. They have made a mockery of this battle by not fighting head on, but instead hid behind the walls of their fortress!” he yelled as Nokris stared at him. Nokris knew it was fruitless to argue with his brother, even if he was in the wrong.

“When you are finished there, return home. The Imperium’s dogs can have the scraps. Mother wishes for her sons and her armies returned home.” Nokris ordered as the communicator shut off. Ares looked up at the sky as a massive shadow blanked the land. His massive warship hovered above, awaiting the return of Ares, “The War titan”, Fourth born of Salem.

“Let us return home brothers.” he stated as they made way to leave the former fortress, now little more than a giant tomb for its former defenders.

The Rebels were able to drive off the Imperium for 10 years…. It only took the Sons of Salem and Remnant guard six months to take back the entire system.

-Remnant, Sepia system; Named after one of Salem’s daughters-

“Oh please, do you really think Queen Salem would allow any of the Outsiders near our home planet? You Know Remnant is only for those born in this sector of the Imperium.” A lion faunus stated as she ate her lunch with another girl. Both were dressed in an academy uniform belonging to their academy. The uniform was standard for those who attended The Fall academy, named after its founder, Cinder Fall.

“Well that’s what I heard!” the other stated as she looked up at the sky from where they sat. A massive “Sons of Salem” Warship flew overhead, casting a massive shadow over the city as it was followed by a few standard Remnant guard warships that were dwarfed in comparison to the Sons of Salem ship. They slowly hovered away, heading towards another direction the girl did not care for. She simply looked at one of the many ships that safeguarded their sector of space. “Its just, what if she does? What if the Imperium tries to instill some governor or something that would have more power than the queen?”

“As if! Do you really think her sons would allow that?” she looked at her friend as she finished her meal. “The first ten would never allow her to be dethroned or have someone else try to rule over us.”

“Plus we would fight back, an entire system going to war against a false ruler. The Remnant Guard, the Sons of Salem, the first 10 and even us regular people would rather die than let some Outsider dethrone our Queen! Billions upon billions of people and faunus from all across the planets she rules, would fight back to ensure her rule stays.” The Lion faunus stated proudly.

“Plus it would be an affront to the first born.” her friend stated, causing the Faunus to look at her. She calmed down when hearing that,

“Yeah, it would be spitting on his sacrifice…”

“...He who gave his life to ensure our Queen, his “mother”, lived and brought upon our Golden age.”

“Mauve, do you ever wonder what the first Born was like? I heard he was kind and that his eyes were beautiful and calming.” The human girl asked the faunus as she laid back onto the grass.

“I mean, we did learn about him and the others in school or did you forget about that Maze?” Mauve asked her friend, looking at her.

“I know! But there is more to history than what we read in books. For instance, did you know that he led the charge that freed her majesty when she was taken by forces of the four ancient Kingdoms?” Mauved ears perked about when hearing that.

“No, i didn’t!”

“Yep! Learned that from an old Journal that was found recently, belonged to some old Remnant guard. This was only a bit after the Imperium found our sector.” Mauve was surprised by this, why didn’t they teach this in Academy!

“Also there is another tidbit, Salem wasn’t his mother.”

“Well yeah, we all know that while the Sons of Salem are named as such, they aren’t really related to her by blood. I mean, well there is that other thing that connects them to her but still!”

“True, the first ten are kinda her children since she raised them but the first born was still related to her.” Maze informed, Mauve looked confused at her. Yes, the Sons of Salem were not really her sons but she still treated them as such. She mourned for any Son of Salem that died while fighting on far off worlds. Even held month long mournings for anyone of them that died.

“So how was he actually related to her?”

“Well, he was actually a descendant of one of her daughters.”

“What!? You’re lying! All her daughters died when they were killed by that man!” Mauve rebuked, knowing that they were taught that her Majesty’s daughters were killed by the Wizard.

“Its true! My brother, he's one of the guards that guard the inside of the First Born’s Mausoleum, he says there is a plaque near the entrance to his tomb.” Mauve looked away from her friend in disbelief, towards the massive statue that stood tall 900 feet tall, overlooking the City and Salem’s castle. It was that of the first Born, wearing his royal Sons of Salem armor, holding a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He was the Guardian of the land of darkness and the Kingdom of Salem that resided within it. A massive King Taijitu rests near the base of the statue, one that is said to be one of the largest Grimm in history. Its said that the massive Grimm was the first born’s trusted mount and protector. It slumbers now, only to awaken if the Land of Darkness comes under threat.

“What does it say?”

Maze cleared her throat, “Here lies Jaune “Alexandros” Arc, The First born of Salem and the direct Descendant of her Majesty’s daughter; Her Royal highness, Catalina! The Eldest of Salem’s daughters.”

-Salem’s castle-

Salem looked upon the ancient painting of her deceased family. Her three daughters. Sepia, her youngest daughter. Sangria, her middle child, and Catalina her eldest child. Her beautiful children whom were taken from her by that man! She quelled her anger as she placed her hand on the image of Catalina.

“I’m sorry my sweet child, if i had known… I would have been there for you.” she said sadly as a small tear escaped the corner of her. No longer was her kept in a bun much like before but now freely flowed as it did before in the past. A Crown upon her head and adorned in an outfit similar to her old one though much more majestic looking for the Queen of Remnant sector, dark purple veins raced across her deathly white skin. However, what drew attention away from her unnatural appearance were her eyes. They were no longer black with red irises but had gone back to what their original state before her Grimmification, a gift from her first born. Her light blue eyes looked over at the picture next to her daughters, another wave of sadness washed over her.

“Jaune…” she placed a hand over the picture of dashing young man with golden hair and ocean blue eyes. He was smiling in the picture as he stood next to Salem. His smile, he shared many traits of Catalina, her eldest. His smile was the same as her and so was his personality, the urge to protect their family and those that couldn't defend themselves. But he was taken. Anger filled her as she looked at where he stood, or where he stood. She had him cut out of the picture long ago.

Ozma was the reason he was dead...

-Long Ago-

A young Girl crawled her way out of the rubble of her former home. The magic she had was the only thing saved her but her sisters were not so fortunate. She looked around, seeing nothing but the remains of a place she once called home. A place that she had such lovely memories. A home filled with a family...family now gone. She heard something from behind a ruined wall, she clutched her side as blood ran from her cuts and scrapes. She looked from behind the wall, seeing her mother stand above her father.

She was saying something to him, something she couldn't hear. She was gonna call out to them, to stop this but before she could; she watched her mother kill her father. She was stunned. Horrified. She backed away as fear engulfed her.

Fear that her mother would do the same to her. She ran away. She could hear the Grimm coming as she made her way out of the ruins of her former home. She stopped as she noticed something on the ground. A piece of one of the banners that adorned their home, bearing her mother’s symbol. She grabbed it, looking at it before clutching it close to her chest.

She still loved her mother. One day. One day maybe they’ll meet again. She ran with the banner In hand before any of the Grimm would find her.

The symbol of her mother, she was told it stood for bravery in the face of adversity. Defender of the weak. Honor. She would ensure these ideals her mother told her would never die. Catalina ran, hiding from the Grimm as she finally made her way to a nearby village.

The young princess would endure. Catalina would grow from a girl who only fantasized about being a warrior to actually becoming one; using her magic and the skills she would acquire, she sought to help others.

Taking the last name "Arc", she would go from village to village, aiding the people against bandits and Grimm alike. Catalina would eventually start a family, unable to pass her magic to her children, they would instead inherit huge amounts of Aura. More than anyone on Remnant.

The Arc's would become a well known family in time, skilled warriors would be born from this family. Their symbol, an altered Version that Catalina had made, two golden arcs was one that brought hope to many on the frontier.

Catalina would grow old, no longer able to wield her sword. She would die with a smile on her face, surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. A single tear escaping her eye as she remembered her sisters. Her father. And her mother. She had long ago forgiven her and had hoped to one day see her again…

-many years later-

A Young boy played outside near his village, wielding a wooden sword and pretending to fight off bandits. His golden locks swayed with every movement as his ocean blue eyes look for the imaginary danger.

"Take that you band it scum!" A six year old Jaune arc yelled out as she slashed his wooden sword around.

"Let's go then sir knight!" A voice yelled from behind. Jaune stopped and looked, seeing his friend, Nokris with his own wooden sword. The boy was no older than six himself. His indigo eyes locked onto his friend. He wore bandanna over his face, adding to his bandit costume. His brown hair tied into a ponytail. Jaune let out a yell as he charged at his friend, sword raised as his friend simply moved out of the way, causing the young boy to stumble and fall. Nokris walked over, his sword pointed at Jaune's throat.

"Surrender knight!"

"Never! An Arc never surrenders!" Jaune stated, knocking his friend back as they fought. Laughing and smiling as they played. Unaware of the snickering scorpion Faunus who watched from behind the trees a good distance away. Bandits hidden behind him as they waited.

"Oh the fun we will have. Play and play to your heart's content little ones!" He snickered, "come tonight, itll be our turn to play and you won't like the outcome."

#rwby #snippet #commission snippet #salem #rwby salem #Jaune Arc #warhammer 40k

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cottonblush · 5 years

Text

excalibur | ljn

❧ word count: 10,079

❧ genre: fluff because that’s literally all i know how to write lmao

❧ notes: the way that jeno is so pure and precious i couldn’t stop smiling when i wrote this,,, ugh HIS POWER! once again, tysm kp for the feedback! i hope this version is a lot better:)

❧ moodboard

The heat of the forge is something that used to bother you, but after spending almost a decade at Ulric’s Forge, your skin has developed into a shield of sorts. The heat of the thousand-degree flame no longer dries out your eyes and you can proudly say the sparks that fly off the forge feel no stronger than a bug bite. Over the years, you’ve developed into a strong and independent woman, or as strong and independent as a woman could get in such medieval times. You’ve gained the respect of most of the men at the forge, though it took walking into a sleeping dragon’s lair to convince the oldest blacksmith, Cedric, that you’re tough enough to make it at Ulric’s. The whole ordeal was worth it because not only did you gain respect, but also a family. The guys at the forge are people you can trust with your life, people who have your back. A specific instance is when your single father passed away during one of the many wars that swept the nation. You were only ten years old at the time, but your father worked at the forge and no one hesitated to bring you in and teach you the trade.

Speaking of which, your specialty is swords. You’ve always been fascinated with them and figure that if you could keep on developing better weapons, people would be able to defend themselves better and fewer people would die; fewer children would be left without their fathers. You’ve slowly amassed a reputation for making quite strong and dependable swords as well as new types of swords. You’ve actually been testing out designs for a curved sword and are currently working on one, hand repeatedly striking hot iron, when you’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You look up from your work, eyes traveling across the figure standing in front of you. The young man, Na Jaemin, is a famous sorcerer who holds a lot of power in the kingdom. He also happens to be a close friend since birth. He’s squinting due to the immense heat coming from the burning coal, but even then you can see his pleading eyes and you can tell he’s about to ask you for a troublesome favor.

Your premonition is correct as Jaemin is asking you to make him a sword mere seconds later. It needs to be perfect, he says; if possible, it needs to be more than perfect. The weapon needs to be made out of the most durable material and has to be able to cut straight through stone. When you ask who it’s for⁠— Jaemin has never even touched a sword in his life and doesn’t plan on it since he fights with his “superior magical prowess"⁠— you’re told that the sword will be for the new king. Instantly, your brain comes up with a barrage of questions. Has the new king already been selected? Why do you have to be the one to make it? And realistically speaking, couldn’t Jaemin just conjure up one in the blink of an eye?

Jaemin answers all of your questions fast enough that you’d think he read your mind, but you know he didn’t because the two of you agreed he wouldn’t after he tried to once, found out about your first crush, and subsequently teased you about it for months on end, receiving a cold shoulder in return.

"I guess I should specify that it’s not just for the future king but for the selection of the future king. Of course, I could conjure a sword since I am that powerful, but I could only make a generic sword. You guys are the ones who can experiment with designs and materials. And before you complain, it has to be you. You might not be the best or most experienced, but there’s intention behind what you do. Your hopes and dreams are passed down into every single one of your creations. I can feel it. There’s no one else I know who would fit the job better.”

“Not even Johnny? He may only have two years of experience under his belt but he’s quite the prodigy when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

“Not even Johnny.”

You groan externally, but your insides are bubbling with excitement. You’ve never said no to a request unless you knew it was going to be used for something immoral. Plus, you’re sure the reward for this sword is quite hefty. However, you try to keep a serious façade because you know Johnny and Woojin would mock you by copying whatever sentiment you express except at a higher decibel. You place your hands on Jaemin’s shoulders, his smooth robe feeling strange and foreign under your rough, weathered palms, and steer him out of the forge. The smoke and heat are clearly starting to take a toll because once he gets outside, he wheezes so hard you would think he’s had weak lungs since birth.

“Leave it to me,” you say, hand coming up to wave him goodbye as you tell him you’ll give him an update after two weeks.

Returning to your forge, you spread out the coals, allowing them to cool down at least a little bit before turning your attention to the notebook in your bag. You pull out the old leather book and take a seat on a stool, propping your chin up on your hand and ignoring the dull pain of your elbow digging into your thigh. You flip to a new page, paper feeling slightly unpleasant against your hands that have had the moisture sucked out of them by the dry heat. Making a list of all of the possible metals you can use and the combinations you can try, you also draw in a column on the side and give each an individual score based on practicality, weight, cost, and durability. However, you don’t do any eliminating yet as you never know which metals you may need for the design you end up choosing.

You head out to talk to your suppliers, asking each if there are any new alloys that have been made or if any new materials have been discovered. Most say the same, scratching their chins and going down the same list of precious metals and steel mixes. You’ve just about given up hope and are walking back to the forge dejectedly, feet gently kicking up small clouds of dust along the rocky path. At the last minute, something catches your attention in the outermost corner of your peripheral vision. There’s a cloaked figure resting against one of the trees of the forest that borders the market. You don’t know why but it feels like the person is calling to you so you turn back, taking hesitant steps toward them.

“Excuse me,” you call out. “I’m looking for different precious metals and materials that can be used in a sword. They have to be really strong, though. Do you happen to know where I can get any? I already have a sufficient supply of iron so I’m not really looking for that.”

The voice that responds is just a little over a whisper, like a gentle breeze tickling the shell of your ear, but you can hear the response clearly, “I can get you what you need, but it’ll be pricey.”

Your eyes light up and you almost skip over to the mysterious figure, grabbing a hand to shake. The action startles the stranger, causing their shoulders to shoot up and the loose hood that covers their face to fall down behind them. A sharp breath escapes your mouth as your hand releases theirs and raises so your fingers are ghosting over your lips. Your soft petals are parted in shock from the sight before you, a light pink flush spilling over your cheeks. It turns out that this mysterious person is not an actual person, but a faerie. The young man before you is the first of his kind you have seen and it is truly a shame because he is breathtakingly beautiful in an understated type of way. His hair is a pink that appears softer than even the freshest of tulips and his ears are small, dainty, and pointed at the top.

“You’re a faerie,” you breath out, partly in shock but mostly in awe.

The faerie, who introduces himself as Renjun, does not try to deny it. He explains that his kind usually prefer to keep to themselves, but he has personally had an interest in humans for as long as he can remember. Renjun also adds that the metal that he has access to is something that only faeries know about, so it will truly be one of a kind in the human world.

When you ask him why he is so eager to offer up something that has been kept secret for so long, Renjun admits that he was spying on Jaemin earlier and happened to hear your conversation. He says that if he plays a part in making the future king’s sword, perhaps the ruler will offer them protection from any future enemies and faeries will finally be able to rejoin the human world. Overall, his explanation seems legitimate enough so you decide to make a deal. You’ll pay him as much as you can for it, and you’ll also find him someone who’s willing to show him around the world beyond the borders of Avalon.

In the meantime, you return to the forge and plan to test out different materials for the hilt of the sword and for new creations as well. As you hammer into different kinds of metals, you think to yourself with a soft smile that this really is something you can see yourself doing for the rest of your life. The aspect of discovering something new is something that you constantly yearn for and through this job, you’ll be able to meet new people and constantly learn new techniques.

You’re so lost in thought, the thick smoke wafting off the glowing hot coals also seeming to cloud your mind as well, that you don’t even notice that you have visitors. There are three men standing at the entrance, eyes drifting around and taking in their surroundings. They’re tall and lanky, disinterest seemingly tattooed onto each of their faces. The man in the middle starts to saunter around, perking a brow at anything that brings the slightest bit of interest. The other two that flank his sides walk over to one of the other blacksmiths in the forge, Jinyoung. Your eyes go back to the anvil you’re working on, noticing your steel bar has gone cold and you need to place it back in the flames.

The bar has regained its bright orange glow when you pull it out, aligning it against the surface of the anvil. You bring your hammer down several times, each hit precise and filled with purpose.

A voice interrupts you as you’re flattening out the steel rod in order to make a handle, “What are you making there, sweetheart?”

You grit your teeth at first, rolling your eyes and hoping if you ignore this guy then he’ll eventually leave you alone. Unfortunately, that’s not the case as he just begins to pester you even more.

“Are you sure you can handle that? Want a strong guy like me to help you out?”

Having had enough, you look up to the man and meet his eyes, this time striking down your hammer with an unnecessarily excessive amount of force. The irritating and unwanted visitor visibly stiffens, intimidated and surprised by your display of strength, and backs off. He walks backwards slowly, eyeing you warily as he rejoins his friends.

You can vaguely hear him saying, “Jinyoung, where did you guys find that weirdo? She’s scary strong, for a girl anyway.”

You smirk to yourself, but then you look down and notice that you’ve used so much strength in that last blow that you’ve accidentally broken the hammer you were using. It’s your favorite hammer, especially efficient in flattening surfaces and absorbing some of the impact so it creates less of a strain on your wrist. You doubt anyone has one that’s just like yours, but you decide to ask around anyway. Unfortunately for you, no one you know seems to have it. But there is one person you have yet to ask. He’s wearing goggles to protect his eyes as he gets up close and personal with whatever he’s working with. You don’t recognize him so you figure he’s new around the forge, but you might as well give it a shot and ask him. Walking up to the man, you wait for him to finish with whatever he’s doing before clearing your throat.

"You don’t happen to have a hand hammer just like this one, do you?”

The man takes off his goggles and repositions them on his smooth forehead, eyes scanning over the broken hammer you’re holding in your hands. He thinks for a moment, fingers leaving their place on his cold chisel to drum against the wooden table he’s leaning against, before rummaging through his own tools.

“Sorry, I don’t have one; I just have chisels and maybe two or three hammers,” he says, voice softer and calmer than you were expecting.

You nod slowly, shoulders slumping slightly in dejection as you rock back and forth on your heels and contemplate what to do next.

“Hey,” you start, “are you new? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

The man, who had turned back to face his own forge, jumps a little in surprise, probably not expecting you to continue the dialogue.

“N-No. I mean, yes! I just joined around a month ago but I haven’t really taken the time to introduce myself to everyone so I guess it’s my fault no one recognizes me.”

You laugh and wave him off, assuring, “Don’t worry about it! It gets kinda busy around here so I totally understand. I’ll make sure you’re invited to our next group trip to the cavern. I’m Y/n, by the way. What’s your name?”

The young man reveals his name to be Lee Jeno, smiling a warm smile at you and waving slightly.

“Well, Jeno, it’s certainly nice to meet you. Anyway, since no one has the kind of hammer I’m looking for, I might as well go visit the market. Even though I just got back from there.”

You whisper the last part but even in the midst of the chaos of the forge, Jeno still manages to catch what you say. He hesitantly offers to come with you, wanting to check out the different stalls to see if they have any new hot chisels for him to use. The two of you walk side by side on the familiar dirt path that leads from the forge back to the center of town. You take the time to observe the man beside you. Your eyes start by sweeping over his figure and taking note of his impressive height compared to your own and how his slightly tanned skin seems to glow under the sun. Jeno is looking ahead, deep pools clearly reflecting his surroundings. You’re pretty sure if you squint, you could check out your own reflection. When his head starts to turn towards you, you snap your head forward, acting as if you weren’t just checking him out.

Your companion asks, “So how old are you? I’m nineteen.”

“Eighteen,” you respond, “but I’ve been working in the forge since I was ten, so I actually have more experience than some of the older guys. My dad used to work in the forge as well.”

“That’s really cool. I was actually in training for something else before I joined Ulric’s. But I really like it there. Everyone’s like one big family.”

“Exactly! I’m glad you feel that way too. Don’t forget that if you ever need anything, you can come to any one of us and we’ll be glad to help.”

Jeno’s lips curve upward into a smile and you can’t help but notice how his eyes form the shape of a crescent moon as if they too are smiling. He’s about to express his gratitude towards you when you’re interrupted. A guy, a stranger to you, walks up to Jeno and wraps an arm around his shoulders, punching him lightly in the side with his other hand. Jeno seems to recognize the two because he offers them the same kind smile you received moments before.

“Hey, Jeno! How’ve you been, dude? Still pursuing that pipe dream of yours?”

Jeno tenses up beside you and you start to notice that his smile wasn’t the same genuine smile to begin with. His lips are stretched thin and his jaw is taut. You can tell this man is Jeno’s old friend, but even so, you won’t stand for the way he acts.

“Jeno’s actually a really good blacksmith, for your information,” you say in your companion’s defense. “He’s probably the best person in our forge to go to for detailing.”

The stranger, who deems you unworthy of knowing his name, decides to ignore you and take a step back to look at Jeno, giving him a once over. He narrows his eyes in scrutiny and looks like he’s about to continue his attack on Jeno’s already meek personality when a second person joins the conversation.

“Oh! Jeno, is that you? It’s been forever!”

A girl, rather a beautiful young lady, runs up to the three of you, throwing her arms around the man she called out to. Her voice is light and airy, like a wind chime on a calm summer day, and her long hair flows down to her hips, curling ever so elegantly. She has flowers laced in her hair and her gown is made of a rich red satin, not a stain to be seen. She’s everything you’re not and even you have to admit that you’re stunned by her beauty. When she lets go, her eyes flicker toward you, as if just noticing you for the first time.

She asks, now blatantly staring at you, “Who’s this?”

“She works in the forge. We just came to the market to look for new tools.”

The girl’s expression lights up, no longer deeming you a threat, and introduces herself, “Oh, hello! I’m Yoona, Jeno’s friend. My brother, Yonghee, and I have known Jeno since we were little kids.”

The way Yoona says the word ‘friend’ has a bitter tinge to it and you can instantly recognize the crush she’s harboring for Jeno. However, Jeno is completely unaware, eyes nervously darting about. You’ve had enough of it and decide it’s time to go, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward a stall that you know to have high-quality tools.

You call out behind you, “It was really nice meeting you, Yoona, but we’re in a bit of a rush right now. Maybe we can talk some other time.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, instead turning a corner and going into the alley where the shop is located. You step in, welcomed by the cool air of the building. Realizing you still have a hold of Jeno’s wrist, you let it go and turn to look at some of the sledgehammers on display. You expect for Jeno to do his own thing and look at the chisels since you know that’s what he came with you for, but you find him following you like a little duckling follows its mother. His attention is not on you, but on the hammers resting in a display case. He runs his fingers along each one, grabbing some to see how they would feel under his hands.

He asks you and the shopkeeper, “What would be the best hammer for a beginner? I hate to admit it but I’m really not that strong yet, so I’d like something easier to maneuver.”

The shopkeeper leads the two of you to a section with smaller hammers, stating that they’re lighter, though they’re not as strong. Jeno raises a brow towards you as if asking if he should purchase one or not. Of course, you’re not one to say no and if he has the money for it, you don’t see the harm. Not long after, the two of you are walking back to the forge, both having purchased a hammer. Jeno stops in his tracks, free hand coming up to rub at his other arm.

He clears his throat and says, gesturing to his newly acquired hammer, “Actually, I was wondering if you could teach me how to use this properly.”

Of course, you agree, eager to share your passion. However, you want to add something else, eyes stuck on the way Jeno’s figure seems to cave into itself.

“Why aren’t you more confident in yourself?” you ask.

You don’t mean it offensively. It’s just that Jeno lets himself be bossed around so easily. He’s too nice for his own good. He explains that he’s just always been this way and he doesn’t really see anything to be confident in. You don’t know why but your heart throbs at his words. Can’t he see that he’s worth more than the value he’s placing upon himself? You want to help him, though you’re not sure how. Contemplating it for a few moments, you come up with the beginnings of an idea: you’re going to help Jeno get in shape. You think maybe if he feels more confident in his figure, he’ll start standing up for himself.

Introducing the idea, you watch as Jeno plays with the idea for a bit. Eventually, he agrees. He admits that although he’s not sure it’ll help with his self-esteem, it won’t hurt when it comes to his work in the forge.

There's a clearing in the forest by the forge that you two decide to meet at. It's not big, probably a circle with a diameter no more than fifteen feet, but it'll do for what you have in mind. It's rather calm too, the bustling sounds of the townspeople completely out of earshot and the thick smoke of the forge nowhere to be seen. Trees surround you, tall enough that several families of birds have built nests, their chirps and calls echoing sonorously. And yet, they're short enough that the sun's rays can clearly filter through.

You arrive first, setting down your canteen and satchel against the trunk of one of the trees along the perimeter. You've brought two swords from the forge with you, one light and one heavy but both blunt; you're not aiming to damage anything. You hold the lighter sword out as soon as you see Jeno approaching. He takes it, features morphing to show his surprise at how easy it is to wield.

"It's for beginners," you explain. "I made it myself, actually. Just for you, so consider yourself lucky."

Starting with basic drills, you teach Jeno how to dodge and parry with the correct stance. He practices against a still target at first, blade making small cuts along the thick trunks of the tall trees. The young man is making quick progress and soon you decide he's ready to start practicing with you. You take it slow at first, repeating the same exercises that you had him do with the trees, except you shift your weight from one foot to the other, bouncing back and forth. Jeno tires easily and you can understand why. The heat in the forge is strong and dry, but this summer day is humid, beads of sweat lining both of your foreheads. The sound of heavy breathing fills the air as the two of you slump down against the trees.

"Is it always this hard?"

Your eyes flicker up to look at Jeno as he practically wheezes out his question. You tilt your head back and let out a laugh.

"No, I promise it's not. But have you ever really worked out before?"

The man sighs and hangs his head in shame, causing you to laugh once again. You reassure him that it's okay but you think it'd be good for him to work on building muscle too. His expression is distraught but you can tell he's joking from the way his lips are twitching, a hint of a smile peeking through.

"Take off your shirt," you say.

Jeno splutters, surprised by your sudden request, "W-What? Wait, like right now?"

"Yes, now. I want to see what I'm working with if we’re going to bulk you up. Don't worry, I don't bite."

You're teasing him, but you do want to see his physique without the blacksmith apron or baggy shirt he always wears. He slowly peels off his shirt, sweat causing it to stick to some parts of his back and arms. You're not shocked when met with the sight of an outline of ribs and a flat stomach. However, you're pleasantly surprised when you see that he already has some definition in his biceps from working at the forge and his shoulders are actually quite broad. His skin is fair but still has a healthy tan, and you have to stop yourself from staring for too long.

Jeno feels as naked as the day he was born as he watches you scrutinize him like a hawk. He wants to curl up into a ball but he knows you'd probably reprimand him and tell him to be more confident. At that thought, a smile settles on his face. Your presence has already made itself known in his mind, reminding him whenever he feels small that he is worth more than he thinks. He appreciates it more than you'll ever know and the only thing he can think to do to repay you is to listen wholeheartedly to what you have to say and make you proud.

You clear your throat, realizing that even though you tried not to, you ended up ogling the boy before you. Jeno gets back to practicing, completely oblivious to the embarrassed flush that has turned your ears and neck a hot pink.

Between slashes, he asks, question coming out low as he quickly becomes short of breath, "Where did you learn how to fight like this? I mean, you're so good that you could even be a knight."

You're in the middle of picking up your own sword when you freeze, the question bringing back some delicate memories. Sensing the sudden shift in the air, Jeno panics, waving his free hand frantically. He assures you that you don't have to share if you don't want to, but you silence him by waving him off.

"It's okay, Jeno. I don’t mind talking about it. You see, my dad was one of the top blacksmiths at the forge and he had a lot of knight friends that would come to him with custom requests. He'd often travel to the castle and to the training grounds to visit them and sometimes I would tag along. 'Sometimes' turned into weekly visits, even when my dad didn't go. I was just fascinated with how cool the knights looked. I wanted to be a knight so much back then."

Jeno inquires, "What made you change your mind?"

"Well, there was this one time that I actually got to watch the knights from the inside instead of observing from over the top of the fence. I saw some kids watching them too and I went to introduce myself, but they all laughed at me, making fun of how dirty my clothes were and how I didn't belong. They ran away before I could even get in my first word. I never went back. I wanted to prove to them that I didn't need their fancy training methods to become a knight. But then I started going with my dad to his job and I fell in love with his work even more. I guess I kinda gave up on that old pipe dream."

Something settles in the pits of Jeno's stomach that makes him feel uneasy. The story feels familiar to him, though he doesn't quite know why. It isn't until you turn your face directly to him and give him a toothy smile, telling him the past is in the past, that he fully registers what's bothering him.

You don't know it, but Jeno was apart of that story. He was one of those kids you saw, one of the kids that you showed your smile to, eyes unwavering in their innocence and kindness. He didn't say anything mean to you, yet he did nothing to stand up for you either. He thought nothing of it at the time, truly believing his friends when they told him a dirty kid like you would probably be carrying several diseases and that you should just be avoided. When Jeno tells you all of this, your reaction definitely is not what he was expecting. Your pearly white grin morphs into a gentle smile, and your eyes are holding the same innocence and indiscriminate kindness that they did years ago.

"At least you're making an effort now," you offer, though it doesn't do much to help the guilt making it's home in his heart. "If you really want to make it up to me, you can do the detailing on the sword I'm making for Jaemin. Everyone knows you're good at it."

"It's a deal," Jeno says as he shakes your hand, not missing the little spark that makes its way through his arm when you first make contact or how he can still feel it even when he goes home for the day.

Jeno's mother sends him out to the market to get some ingredients to make a dessert for his father's upcoming birthday. He arrives at a farmer's stall, eyes raking through his list to see what ingredients he can cross off. After the farmer hands him some eggs, milk, and flour, Jeno hands over the necessary amount of money. He's pocketing the leftover change when something, or rather someone, catches his attention.

"Jeno," you call out, arm raised above your head, waving back and forth. As you jog towards him, Jeno's eyes draw together in confusion.

"Are you talking to me- Oh! It's you, Y/n. I don't know why I didn't recognize you."

Jeno does know why he doesn't recognize you. Your hair is down and thoroughly brushed through, soft locks tickling the skin of your neck. You're free of the smears of charcoal that usually taint your face. The starkest difference, however, is your choice of clothes. Instead your usual work trousers, you're adorned in a soft cream-colored dress, delicate ruffles capping off puffy sleeves. You look like you've had years of worry shaved off of you, smile light and carefree. More so, you look like an angel, the sun's rays surrounding your frame like a large halo. When you reach him, you're only slightly out of breath, a blinding smile gracing your soft lips. Jeno feels tongue-tied; he knows you're the same person you've always been but it's like he's seeing a new part of you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," you say, tucking a couple of loose strands behind your ear.

You look a bit uncomfortable, out of place, hiding your dress behind the large bag of vegetables that you're holding.

"It's fine, I was just distracted. Are you done shopping?"

"No, I actually have to get a couple of fruits as well. You're welcome to join me."

Jeno agrees, of course, and offers to carry your bag. It's a cute gesture, really, but you can't help but giggle as he lets out a grunt, arm shaking under the weight of it. You tell him you're fine, taking back the bag with ease. You pull him along to another stand that sells fresh fruits, grabbing some strawberries, cherries, and peaches. As the afternoon sun bears down on you, Jeno offers to walk you home, an offer which you accept after a bit of convincing.

"Let's take a little break," you say, setting down your bag on a grassy hill and flopping down to sit with your legs crossed. You dig around in your bag and bring out a bunch of cherries, pulling one off of its stem and popping it in your mouth. You hand a couple to Jeno as well, the two of you enjoying the sweet, yet tangy fruit. While you enjoy the change of pace, a meek voice pierces through the peaceful silence.

"Excuse me," says a small child, "may I have something to eat? I haven't had anything in days."

The child is skinny to the point where you're wondering how he is standing up on his own, bones prominent against his thin and dull skin. Of course, you oblige, not only handing over a cherry, but the whole bunch.

"Come and sit," you say gently, not wanting to scare the poor child away. You hand him your canteen and he takes a big swig, several drops dribbling down his jaw. Wiping away at his chin with the fabric of your sleeve, you tell the child to take it easy. Your eyes are soft as you speak, hand gently rubbing at his back.

It's a day full of new experiences for Jeno as he looks at the scene unfurling before him. He likes this side of you, the one that doesn't seem to have such a tough exterior. He can't deny how his insides melt a little when the sickly child falls asleep on your lap and you carefully card your fingers through his thin and tangled hair.

"It's nice seeing you like this, you know," he tells you. "You look so carefree and feminine that I almost forgot you're a total god when it comes to swordsmanship."

"Hey," you reprimand, "you can be feminine and be great with a sword."

Jeno puts his hands up in defeat, but the point he made still hangs in the air, causing you to let out a soft sigh.

"Not everyone is as nice as you, Jeno. You know I've been through some things and I don't think I've seen enough to prove that my views on people of the other class are untrue."

Your voice is laced with sadness as if you wish you could say otherwise, and looking down upon your watery eyes that reflect the setting sun, Jeno vows to right all the wrongs that have happened to you.

Images of you fill his mind, those of you in the forge, the orange coals casting a soft glow upon your features; visions of you training with him, wiping the sweat from your brow; and pictures of you and your carefree smile under the afternoon sun. They're all he can think of as he shuts the door to his house behind him.

"Had a nice day, sweetheart?"

Jeno's eyes flicker up to see his mother looking at him with an accusatory gaze. Her eyes are narrow and her thin arms are crossed across her chest, weight shifting to one leg.

"Y-Yeah," he replies. "Why do you ask?"

"A little bird told me you're spending even more time with that commoner girl. You know that's not good for you or our image, Jeno. We're people of nobility; we can't be seen with just anyone. First, you choose to go to that silly old forge and waste your time away, and now, this?"

"Mother, you know that blacksmithing is my passion, my dream. And there's nothing wrong with that girl. She has a name."

"You're getting attached, Jeno," comes his mother's mocking sing-song voice, clearly not taking his argument seriously. "You already know that Yoona is the girl for you, so I suggest you stay away from that… peasant girl from now on."

Jeno is far beyond angry at this point. Hot air blows out of his nose as his figure practically shakes. First, his family disrespects the dream he finally worked up the courage to pursue, and now they're judging you without even knowing you. He doesn't know how he never noticed how biased his family and friends can be.

"If this is how it's going to be, I can't say I'd be okay aligning myself with this family," Jeno declares.

Jeno's mother huffs indignantly, asking, "What will you do without us, Jeno? We're all you've ever had."

Before storming upstairs to stuff some clothes into a bag, Jeno makes sure to enunciate the fact that he has a whole different family, one that actually cares for him and his dreams, waiting for him back at the forge. He slams the front door behind him and walks toward the familiar building, his bag of clothes feeling extra heavy as if being weighed down by the consequences of his decision. He probably should've thought it through and planned ahead of time, now not knowing where to go. However, luck seems to be in his favor because there is a source of light in the forge, signaling someone is still working.

Jeno breathes a sigh of relief as soon as he pushes open the door to the forge and sees that Jinyoung is hard at work, flattening out an iron rod. The aforementioned man looks up, confusion filling his eyes as he notices the figure in the doorway.

"Jeno? What are you doing here?"

The young man scratches his chin as he replies, "I was planning on crashing here for the night. And basically from now until forever."

Jinyoung immediately sets down his tools, walking over and asking if everything is okay. He nods understandingly when told that Jeno basically ran away from home.

"Jeno, you can totally stay with me and my brother. We have a spare room in our house."

"Are you serious?"

Jeno wraps his arms around his friend, relief settling into his bones. It finally feels like he can breathe freely again and he can't express his gratitude enough. He's still thanking Jinyoung even as the two close up shop and head home for the night, no matter how many times the older boy reassures him that it's what anyone in the forge would do.

Jeno doesn't tell you about his situation, mainly because your relationship is running so much smoother these days. Your interactions are full of smiles and secret glances at each other across the flames of the forge. The strange faerie you met earlier, Renjun, managed to get his hands one the precious metal he was speaking of and you've started working on it, the material proving to be just as durable as claimed. Overall, everything is going really well.

It's one of those days that you and Jeno meet up in your secret spot in the forest. Lately, Jeno has started sparring against you, skills rapidly developing. You two are moving so fast and so fluid that it's almost like a dance, tiny sparks flying off every time your two swords clash. This time, you're about to go in for the kill (not literally, of course) when your foot gets caught on the root of a tree and you stumble backward into its trunk. Jeno takes advantage of this opportunity and holds his sword up, level with your throat. Slowly, he brings the sword back to his side and forms a cage around you with his body. There's a thick tension in the air as he approaches, eyes never leaving your own. Drawing even closer until he's mere inches away from your face, the young man feels the rough skin of your worn hands come up to caress his face. His eyes flicker over, smiling gently as he feels the hairs on his arms raise from the feeling of this much awaited skin contact.

You have other ideas in mind, hand suddenly wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him into a chokehold. Your partner soon gives up, raising his arms up in surrender. You smirk as you let him go and lean back against the tree again.

"Never let your guard down," you remind Jeno. "I believe that was lesson number four or five."

Jeno rolls his eyes at your feigned cocky attitude, watching as you release on of your now trademarked carefree laughs. Seeing an opening, he takes a chance. Placing a hand on your waist, he pulls you flush against himself. Your breath is stolen as you place both of your hands on his chest. You can't help but let your hands wander across his now hardened physique. It's as if he's bulked up in the blink of an eye, chiseled abdomen making itself known against your own. This time, it's you who can't seem to look elsewhere as you swallow thickly.

"Jeno, are you sure about-"

The man before you makes the final move, hand snaking around to the small of your back to give you a gentle push closer, if you could even get any closer at this point. Your lips meet at the middle, soft pillows interlocking perfectly as if made for each other. The sun's rays are nothing compared to the heat of Jeno's hand as it finds a place along your jaw. You feel a tug of something in the base of your stomach as Jeno brings your lower lip between his teeth. You know that if you don't stop here, you could get too carried away, so you push him away, lips parting and foreheads now coming to rest against each other. Your breaths mingle in the little space between you as your chest heaves, partially because you're out of breath and partially because you feel as if your whole body is on fire and your heart has been stolen. You give Jeno one last peck at the corner of his mouth before fully backing away. Picking up your stuff, you adjust the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

"I should go. I'll see you at the forge, Jeno."

You disappear into the thick maze of trees, but not before shooting one last dazzling smile his way over your shoulder.

"Y/n, you have a visitor," comes the voice of Johnny as he walks in, clocking in for the day.

You place your tools down and dust your hands against each other, rubbing them against your apron as an extra precaution. You take off the goggles that are wound around your head, blowing strands of hair out of your hair. Taking your hair out of its ponytail, you brush through the strands with your fingers before deeming yourself presentable enough. Usually you wouldn't mind so much about your appearance, but since you're at work, you never know if it'll be a friend or a potential customer. However, you're surprised when you step outside and find that neither is waiting to greet you.

"Y/n, right? I'm sorry to pull you away from your work, but there is something really important that I must talk to you about."

You can tell from the tone that the woman standing before you isn't the least bit sorry. However, you let her continue, not really bothered enough to interrupt.

"I don't know if you remember, but we met at the market once. I'm Yoona, Jeno's childhood friend and former betrothed."

"Former?"

"Oh, Jeno didn't tell you? He ran away from home just so that he could be with you. It's actually what I came to talk to you about. It's probably not your intention, but you've become quite a toxic person for Jeno to be around. Not only are you negatively affecting his life, but the lives of his family and dear friends."

"I- I didn't know. He didn't tell me."

"Yes, because he wants to live out this little fairytale that's in his head. But you and I know what's really the best for him. He needs to be with his family, not with some poor strangers that were forced to take him in."

You try to argue that Jeno would never be the type to purposefully be an inconvenience, especially to strangers. However, Yoona doesn't let up for a second.

"It's up to you, really," she says. "Do you want to be the girl who comes between Jeno and his family? And all for what? Some crush that you have on him that'll never be reciprocated?"

Yoona spins on her heels, hair whipping behind her and creating a sharp breeze that blows toward your face and causes you to flinch. You watch as she walks away, gait slow and delicate. Sighing to yourself, you realize that is the type of girl that's meant for Jeno, not someone like you. You do care about him, more than you've probably cared for anyone other than Jaemin and your father, but this means that you won't hesitate to do what's best for him. This is why when you walk back into the forge, your head remains low and your expression is stone cold, no form of sadness peeking through. You look down at the sword resting on your anvil, blade and grip already complete. All that's left is the detailing of the rain-guard, but that's where your problem lies: Jeno is supposed to do the detailing. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the sword and bring it over to Johnny, ignoring the blatant way Jeno's eyes follow your figure.

"Hey, Johnny," you start. "Do you think you can do this detailing for me?"

Johnny's eyes raise in surprise and you don't miss the way his eyes flit over to Jeno for a second before replying, "Are you sure? I have a bit more experience than you, but you know I've never been good with a chisel."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Anything's better than the sloppy job I'd do."

You hear the sound of a tool clattering on the floor and you know that it's Jeno who's dropped whatever he's been working with, but you choose to ignore it.

Jeno's eyes still haven’t left your figure since the moment you walked back into the forge, and he's plagued with confusion. Just the day before, you were taking a walk, hand in hand, stealing kisses on the cheek, forehead, and nose. And now? You're acting like he doesn't even exist. The change is too stark and he knows he has to figure out the cause, but for not, he walks over to Johnny, offering the older man to do the detailing instead. Johnny gratefully accepts, handing over the sword and agreeing not to tell you about it. As he aligns his chisel with the tip of the hilt, an idea forms in his head. He has an inkling of who could be behind your sudden behavior change and resolves to ask about it when he clocks out for the day.

"Mother, Father," Jeno calls out, voice echoing in the silence of his home. He hears soft footsteps and not long after, he sees his parents' figures descending down the main staircase.

"Jeno," the young man's mother all but squeals as she rushes up to him and wraps him in a tight hug. He has to admit that he's missed seeing his family, but there are more important things to be said.

"I have something to ask you… Did you say something to Y/n? I know you don't approve of her but you have no right interfering in our relationship. And even though she may not have had an official education, she's just as knowledgeable and eloquent, if not more, than any of my friends."

Jeno's parents shuffle uncomfortably for a moment before his father clears his throat and speaks up, "We know, son. And we're truly sorry for that. We see now how committed to your dream you are and we think that girl has actually had a positive influence on you. You used to never stand up for yourself. I really don't know why she would be acting that way."

It feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted from Jeno's shoulders. Sure, he would stay with you with or without his parents' consent, but now he can pursue a relationship with you and have complete confidence. Now, the only problem is finding out who or what could've changed your mind. His mind plays his memories with you back as if he's reading one of the story books he read as a child. One day seems to stick out in particular. It's the day you two first met. More specifically, when you visited the market. He remembers feeling insecure and shy around Yonghee. Then right after, he remembers Yoona rushing up to him, latching onto his side and making her presence known to you.

"That's it," he whispers, causing his parents to look at him weirdly. "It's Yoona. I can't believe I hadn't figured this out sooner. I know I just got here, but I have to go. I'm sorry."

Jeno's parents give him encouraging smiles as they see him off, mother stating, "It's okay, dear. We know this is something you have to do.”

It's not a long trip to Yoona's house, probably a five minute run at most, and as soon as he reaches the doorstep, he's practically banging against the door. His heart rate quickens as the door opens, but it's not who he's hoping for.

"Jeno, what's up? You look totally different from the last time I saw you."

"Not now, Yonghee. Where's Yoona?"

"I-In the kitchen. Why-"

Jeno doesn't give Yonghee the opportunity to speak, dashing towards the room where he knows the cause of all of his problems is residing. He runs up to Yoona and demands to know what she's said to you, restraining himself from physically shaking the answer out of her. Yoona's eyes dart around nervously as she tries to avoid his question

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jeno."

"Yes, you do. Why else would she completely ignore me like she's doing right now?

It takes a couple of tries, but Jeno manages to get some sort of an answer when Yoona reveals, "Ok, fine. I may or may not have told her about how you moved out and how it was all her fault."

"Yoona, I know we've been friends since we were four, but that doesn't excuse this. You had no right to interrupt like you did."

"I know. God, I know that now. You'll never love me like that and I see that now. Can I ever make it up to you?"

"I don't know if I'll ever completely forgive you, but if there's one thing you could do, it would be apologizing to Y/n."

With that, Jeno turns and retraces his steps back to the forge. Each step he takes makes him feel light and heavy at the same time, and he doesn't know why. It's like some invisible force is holding his heart in hand, ready to crush it into pieces if all goes downhill. At this point, all he can do is hope and pray that his chances at a real relationship with you haven't been completely ruined.

Jeno tries not to picture what his life would be like without you in it as the forge draws closer and closer. Pushing open the door, he's greeted with utter silence, realizing that the light he saw from outside was just a candle that someone forgot to extinguish. He curses aloud, shutting the door and pacing around, trying to remember the way to your house from one time when he walked you home. He has a vague idea of where to start, taking a narrow road to a residential area not too far away. However, the darkness of the night sky and lack of lighting along the rough pathways does nothing to aid him. He ends up taking a wrong turn somewhere along the way and is now lost among the many small houses lined up side by side. And just to make things worse, he feels a few droplets fall from the sky and splatter against his face.

By the time Jeno finds your house, a small one-story building tucked away in a maze of flowers and shrubbery, he's soaked to the bone, the loose white cotton shirt put on in the morning now sticking to him like a second skin. He knocks on your door once, twice, and then thrice, hoping you can hear him over the sounds of the storm that's brewing.

It takes a couple moments, but you do eventually pry open the door slightly, your face poking out and tiredness pulling your eyelids down. Bringing a palm up to rub at your eyes, you blink a couple times, finally acknowledging the person on the other side of the door.

"Jeno? Oh my god, what are you doing out there? You're going to catch a cold."

You swing the front door open wider, free hand reaching out to grasp his arm and pull him inside, all the while trying your best not to ogle at his clearly visible figure. Asking the drenched boy to stand in one place, you rush to your bathroom and grab a dry towel. You don't realize it but as you wrap the towel around Jeno, you're also pulling him closer to you, and it only really hits you when the two of you are almost standing toe to toe, his shaky breath fanning out across your face. Clearing your throat, you take a step back and leave him to dry himself. In the meantime, you warm up some milk for the two of you.

When Jeno is mostly dried down, you request for him to take a seat at the couch in your living room. You hand him the glass of warm milk, noticing how his hands are still shaking, and decide to light up your fireplace. Dusting off your hands and turning to face the man on your couch, you start to think maybe it wasn't the best idea, because the way the glow of the fireplace bounces off Jeno's skin already has your heart going a mile a minute. You settle for sitting on a chair across from him and looking down as if the milk in your glass is the most interesting thing you've ever seen. Eventually, you feel as though you have to say something, the silence seeping into your skin and creating a ball of anxiety that weighs down your heart.

"Why did you come here, Jeno?"

The man looks up at you, eyes full of sorrow, guilt, and something else as he formulates his response.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been-"

"Yes, you have. You asked Johnny to help with your sword even though it's something we promised we'd do together."

You swallow thickly, knowing that you've been caught, and admit, "Ok, so I did try to distance myself a bit, but I just felt like we were moving too fast."

Jeno sighs deeply, frustration turning his knuckles white as he grips his mug tightly and says, "You're lying again, Y/n."

The way Jeno can see through you so well leaves you feeling overexposed, but somewhere deep inside, there's a part of you that appreciates it. He's looking at you as if you're the only thing that's ever existed and you've never felt so bare and content at the same time.

"It wasn't a complete lie, though," you say, tone slightly defensive. "You have so much going for you. You come from a wealthy family and you have good friends, and Yoona is head over heels for you. You could have so much. I just don't think you should be wasting all of your potential on me."

"None of that matters if I don't have you with me. Yes, my family is rich, but do you really think I care about that kind of stuff when I gave it all up to come work at the forge?"

"Well, I…"

"And do you think I'd be here right now, doing my best to fight for you, if I thought I could live a life with Yoona? Y/n, you're the only one I could see myself with; you're the only one that will ever make me feel complete."

"But your parents, Jeno. They'd never approve."

"I talked to them. Sure, they think still Yoona is my match, but they're willing to accept you. And so what if they weren't? It's my life and I'd be willing to give up all of it for you."

He stands up, placing his mug on the little table between you and walking around it to stand before you. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers to pull something out, but it slips through his grasp, falling somewhere on the hard stone floor with a soft clink. It takes a minute but Jeno is able to find it, fingertips grazing across a familiar cold metal underneath the chair you're sitting on. He takes the object between his fingers and offers it to you.

The scene before you is something you'd never think would happen. Jeno is on one knee and in his hand is a small metal object, a ring that you can tell is handmade. It's not a perfect circle, not even close, and you can tell it was rushed by the lumps on the surface, but the mere sight of it has you flustered beyond belief

"Jeno, I hope that's not what I think it is. Never mind the fact that society wouldn't approve; we're not even twenty yet!"

It takes a moment for the man to realize the position he's in, but when it clicks, he jumps to his feet, startling you a bit. He takes your smaller hand in his, holding it as if it's a delicate flower, and looks deeply into your eyes.

"It's a promise ring I meant to give you. It means I'll always care for you, support you, and love you until the day that I die. I hope this proves how much you mean to me."

With that, Jeno slides the ring onto its designated finger. And in this moment, it's like you can see into each other's hearts and souls. In this moment, no one else exists and nothing else matters. Jeno thinks the smile that finally breaks your tense visage is bright enough to illuminate the whole world, if not the whole universe.

You jump up to your feet and wrap your arms around the man, your man, placing a kiss on his chapped and cracked lips. The feeling of your lips locking perfectly together assures you that this is how it's meant to be and you should've never tried to settle for anything less. The kiss is sweet and innocent and pure and you want to stay like this forever. Unfortunately, you both run out of air and pull away, though your hand is still tangled in the hairs on the back of his head and his palm is planted firmly on your waist.

"I love you too," you breathe out, reciprocating what he had said earlier.

Jaemin holds up a finished sword, the product of yours and Jeno's hard work, twisting his wrist to inspect the blade from all angles. The sun’s rays make it glow as if it’s molten silver, causing your friend to nod in approval. He makes a few slashes at the air, but they're sloppy and slow as the sorcerer has never been the fighting type.

"It's perfect, Y/n," he tells you with his pearly white smile.

You can't take all the credit though, elbowing Jeno in his side as you declare, "Jeno did a good amount of work on it too."

Jeno snaps out of whatever daze he's in and shyly rubs a hand against his neck, claiming he really didn't do much. Even still, you decide to split the reward evenly between the two of you. You think it's only fair since what's yours is his and what's his is yours.

Jaemin snaps his fingers as he reminds you, "Hey, you never did tell me its name."

You and Jeno look at each other, smiles coming to your faces knowing you'd actually discussed this topic just the night before.

"Excalibur," you declare proudly.

And Jeno finishes off, "The sword that cuts through steel."

104 notes · View notes

maladaptive-ninja-returns · 6 years

Text

Tonight

Bucky x fem!Reader

Content: SMUT. Pure, smutty smut. Do not read if you are below 18. Please.

A/N: Happy birthday @tarithenurse !!!

I know this isn’t even half as decent as what you write but I wanted to do something special (and hopefully naughty) for you. hehehe.

Masterlist and Taglist in bio, doll

"Aw! Fuck me!" Awkward silence. "Fuck Thor!" "...I don't think he has anything to do with this." You look at Bucky with a glare of disapproval.

"The God of Thunder is out there having fun with the Llamas at Macchu Pichu while you and I are stuck here in the Facility, not able to step outside because of this fucking thunderstorm. Right when I finally make plans with you to go out for drinks! I can curse whoever I want!" Bucky parts his lips to say something sensible but finds nothing. "I really was looking forward to going out," you nearly cry. "Oh!" Bucky's beard hides the smile when he bubbles with joy at the thought that you were looking forward to the night out with him. Just him and no one else. You barely would join other Avengers on their nights out, choosing to sit in the lounge and binge watch whatever stirred your fancy at that particular moment. Last week had been a Hannibal marathon and this poor soldier thought to join you because it sounded like a detective series with a new-age love. It had taken you a few minutes to realise he was talking about the tinge of romance between the protagonist and antagonist before bursting out into controllable laughter fits every time that poor sod found out what the show was actually about. So much for trying to find your taste, he thought, feeling it was better to just ask you out to a nice place for drinks and a game of pool. Half of his existence had been anxious at the thought of being rejected. The other half was already planning the menu as per your liking, your favourite karaoke songs and stop for dessert on your way back. But this cursed downpour had literally soiled all his plans. "Your expression just changed," your voice brings him out of his personal internal rant. "I...uh..." Bucky tries to make it sound as non-creepy as possible, "I was also looking forward to the drinks. They had a special discount on beer tonight." He watches your eyes flicker wide for a seconds before melting into a smile and moving away from the window. Special discount?!! he shouts at himself, nice one Buck. "We can drink here." Bucky turns to find you already out of your heels, your perfect legs hanging as you sit down on the sofa's headrest. Bucky questions his eyes as he notices the flowing blue dress rest over your knees, spread about the side of your thighs like wings resting. Your shoulders rise up a little, suggesting a shrug, and he feels his lungs pause for a moment. What? is all his brain can come up with. "Y-Yeah, we can drink here," he manages to respond. You feel a flutter inside your stomach. Observant as you are, Bucky's usually wavering gaze coming to rest on you at times he thinks you aren't looking has become your subject of adoration and his undoing lately. From the time he watches you change your expressions during meetings to when he is completely lost in thought of what's going on in your mind when you don't cry during a Disney movie. So much entertaining is his gaping blue glistening in the mystery that is you that you often try to act as if he's invisible to you, going about the things you usually do with just a dash of some sensual suggestiveness, though it just didn't work when Bucky choked on the water he was drinking and Steve and Sam had to come to his rescue to get this man to breathe. Tonight, with all the Avengers out of your way, searching for some new trouble to throw hands at, your mind was already working on how to bring this flustered cinnamon roll out of his twisted shell, laughing ominously at the thought of the things brewing up at that very instant. Thunderstorms might be good sometimes. "We're playing what?" Pressing away the smirk and trying to ignore the heat building up in your ears, you poured out the cola in the two tall glasses of a classic Long Island Iced Tea. "Never have I ever," you repeat before taking the glasses and strutting towards the break room on the floor above that is lit up only by the lights outside. Bucky follows you with bowls of nachos and garlic chips in either hand. "Never have you ever what?" he questions your seemingly incomplete sentence, making you laugh. "No, you goose, never have I ever is the name of the game." Setting the glasses down on the coffee table you push out the makeshift sofa to turn it into a comfy settee for two. "But considering it's just the two of us, I've customised it." Bucky sets down the bowls, mimicking your movement before sitting down next to you under the skylight pattering with raindrops over it, sliding down the glass to one side, making his skin look like he is standing under a waterfall, waiting to be devoured by the subtle waves. How openly bold you are with your mind, while Bucky is struggling not to let such thoughts infiltrate his conscience and do something stupid. The thing is, stupid was what you were craving tonight. "So," you begin, bringing one leg up to sit comfortably while facing Bucky, "here are the rules. I will tell you something about myself that may or may not be true. You have to figure out what it is. If you guess it correctly, you win, if you don't, I do." Bucky's brows crinkle a bit as he tries to understand the walkthrough. "For example," you continue, trying to make things easier for him, "I say 'never have I ever eaten Sam's doughnuts behind his back'." "That's false," Bucky blurts out immediately, "I saw you having death by chocolate just this morning," before realising what he's done. "I ...uh-" "Perfect!" You cannot help but smirk at the colour in his cheeks. "Now as you won, I will," you bring your fingers to lightly rest on your lips in some thought before you eyes catch his, "take a piece of my clothing off." For the second time this month, you're glad Bucky was not drinking anything when you laid down your carefully designed words for him. He forgets how to breathe, the air around him turning heavy as he feels his ears heat up while his belly does a little flip. Your eyes do not miss the tongue that darts out to lick his lips as you bring your glass forward to hide a miniature sense of victory bursting inside you. Bucky runs his hand through his hair in some nervous thought. "Not comfy playing?" The purr in your voice tickles his core and he knows now that he has walked into a brilliantly woven threadwork of your liking. Natasha did warn him about how people who are publicly shy are the boldest in person. He just didn't realise this was the bold she'd meant. Not that he was complaining. "Shall we?" Clinking glasses, both of you take one good swig of the cold brew for reasons known only to your bodies before letting the game begin. "Let's start simple," you go off, smacking your lips and tasting the mint you had added for your own liking in there, "never have I ever lied to Nat." Bucky cocks a brow at you. "You call that simple?" You nod matter of factly before shrugging your shoulders. "Okay. Um...true. Nat is very good at catching liars." You tilted your head in wonderment before tucking your hair back, watching Bucky's eyes run over your neck, his Adam's apple feeling a jerk as he gulped in the sight of you. "Am I making you nervous, Sargeant?" Bucky blinks, buying himself time to gather his thoughts. "N-ahem-no." "Hm-" you nod before tilting head up in a little nod, "time to take off your jacket." "What?" "I said 'never have I ever lied to Nat'. That was false. Just because Nat is good at catching lies doesn't imply it stopped me from lying to her." A smirk plays on your lips as you watch his surprised features take in a cold hard fact before his arms slide off his jacket, revealing a black henley, exposing his chest under that red muffler just enough to make you shift where you sit. "Your turn," you state, taking a tortilla chip topped with all the spicey cheesiness before putting the whole thing inside your mouth, letting the sauces drip a little over your lips, allowing yourself lick it all off without breaking eye contact with the man who was slowly getting a hang of your play. Bucky faced you this time, looking down at his metal hand before his eyes landed back on you. "Never have I ever kissed a woman." You cannot help but chuckle, impressed at how fast he catches on to you, forcing your core to twitch in anticipation as you two start to play the game. "False," you speak softly, your index pressed tightly under your teeth, anchoring your already swirling mind in between your jaw, wondering what would it be like to kiss those red lips. "Steve has told everyone stories about you, Sarge. Quite the player you have been in the old days." Bucky smirks just enough to let you know you're not wrong. He groans a little before removing the muffler around his neck. You hear your insides growl at that red piece of fabric. Good. Get off that perfect chest. About time it was exposed for some blissful sins. "My turn," you snap at your own thoughts as the ache between your legs begins to take control of you. "Hmm...never have I ever kissed a girl," you state, biting your lips before allowing the smirk to escape not only your lips but your eyes too. Bucky shifts this time, the heat coursing through him being felt where you sit. "False." Nothing but the sound of raindrops. A heavy inhale follows as you remove your jacket, revealing the peeking shoulders and the plunging neckline reaching down further than either of you anticipate at that moment. Bucky wonders if you had planned to kill him with just that tonight. Only if he knew. "Never have I ever made out in someone's workplace." You almost snort out your drink. "Did it involve belts and ties?" The question throws Bucky off, making him struggle for words. "No? How about rulers?" And the image that crosses his mind creates a prick inside him. A delicious thirst-filled prick. "False," you say confidently, "you seem the type who knows how to use them all. Especially the ruler." The lick of his lips followed by the strong dig his teeth take on them makes you want to do the same to them. You watch him sit back as he casually rests his arm over the back of the sofa. Oops. "Now what would you like to take off?" You narrow your eyes at him before throwing your head back in defeat. "Guess I deserve that," you mumble before getting up. Bucky's eyes follow your movements as your hands reach under your dress, lifting it up further above your thighs, making his lips part, his heart beat fasten, his eyes blink at the scene where his imagination runs to before averting his gaze. Oh, my sweet Brooklyn boy. "These stockings weren't letting me breathe anyways." He comes back to look at the pair of stretched fabric you hold in your hand before throwing over to the lone chair sitting at the opposite end. "My turn," you announce before sitting back down, this time a bit closer to him. "Never have I ever... slapped the person I was making out with." You can almost feel the devil cackling over your shoulder as you hear the tempting whir of his metal arm, clearly gripping at the words being so flawlessly painted in his imagination. The heat building inside him was working as a perfect catalyst to vaporise his sensual thoughts in the air around, making you inhale the burning aroma plum and woody spice lingering all around him, making your belly ache. "That's um..." "Take your time," you assure him, resting your head on the settee's headrest, watching the liquid ceiling over you run over his features like a visual note. Bucky looks at you with careful consideration. At least that's what you think till his glittering oceans seem more like they are playing with your most innate strings without your knowledge. "False," he finally speaks. Finally. Taking your drink in your hand, you bring your other leg over the settee as well, watching him suggestively. "Really?" "Guess we both don't know about each other as much. There really is a need to...explore more." The breath he draws in creates a spark in the air that travels down your limbs. "If you're not comfortable, we can stop," you assure him on the outside but deep down your ovaries are smacking you hard at even suggesting such an outrageous thing. "The only one getting uncomfortable tonight is whoever watches the facility footage," he speculated before his arms to grab the shirt on his back, causing you to bite down on your thumb a little too hard as you watched his muscles flex as the curtains drew up from the poetry that was his exposed skin feeling the goosebumps by just your mere stare. The threads holding the animal inside you start to feel the stretch; one even snaps. His chest glistens with a blue hue from the lights outside before he settles back into the seat, pushing his back with both his hands. The metal lets the lights dance upon it before reflecting it on your skin, touching you without touching you, leaving you breathless for one torturous moment. Not wasting time now, are we? "Never have I ever-" the husk in Bucky's voice brings your attention back to his blue eyes, dilated to let the wolf inside glare its teeth at you- "dreamed about kissing the woman sitting in front of me." Every breath you take in now aches, your chest wanting to explode. "False," you say without breaking eye contact, "now get out of those pants." Throats run dry. Breaths hitch. Lips get wet. Legs shift to hide the arousal even in the heated darkness. Seconds later the pants are gone and he stands in front of you in just his boxers. "My turn," you declare as you stand up, trying your best not to tremble now. "Never have I ever wanted to know what it would be like to be loved by you," you speak softly, close to him, "hard." You raise your hand to touch his bare skin, feel it under your fingers and stop as soon as the word leaves him. "False." Lightning lights up the room for a second, breathing in the intensity of the room before thunder follows. His fingers run up your hand, creating a storm as the hot flesh and cold metal create a vacuum inside you, wandering up your arm till they find the slim strings holding the fabric up, skillfully moving them down your shoulders and leaving them halfway for gravity to do the rest. "Let's find out," he whispers before his lips find yours. You smell the saltiness over his lips, increasing your hunger more while his beard lights up the neurons inside you with the faintest touch. Your already pooling core feels the heat radiating off him as his metal wraps around your waist to bring you closer to his body. Your lips take a taste of his lips, giving him an open invitation to let his tongue run inside your mouth, gulping in the moan that pulsates inside you. Your hands find their own path on his skin, travelling down his front and back before finding a path down the lone fabric wrapped around him. A breathless moan escapes him as your hands wrap around his manhood, causing his fingers to dig into your ass. His hands leave your skin, producing a growl in your throat at the loss of his touch before they remove yours from his and gently push you back into the seat near the window. Your chuckle echoes through the glass walls around you. "What?" Bucky's confusion is visibly carved by the shades coming from outside. "You should've asked me out sooner," you purr as you watch him get down on his knees. "You should've played the game sooner," he throws back before grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards him with a jerk, forcing your upper body to fall back into the soft cushions. "You should've shown interest in psychological thrillers sooner," you chortle before gasping as you feel his hands yank away your pantyhose, almost ripping them apart, feeling him growl between your legs as he puts them over his shoulders. "You should've forced Thor to make it rain sooner." Your brows crinkle for a second at his words. "Wait wha-hol-" The words break into a breathless gasp as you feel his tongue find its way through your soaking folds. Every perfect stroke makes a ruthless moan escape through you, every skilful caress of the bundle of nerves forcing you to arch into him again and again till has to hold you in place with his flesh hand. His name escapes in a hurried whisper from your lips, making his length twitch, wanting to feel your heat all around it. He comes back up from the delicious pool, glistening in your liquor as he licks his lips. "Never have I ever craved for something so devastatingly beautiful," he whispers less and roars more as his metal digit enters you, the coldness creating a sensational storm inside your trembling walls. The cold digits move in out of you, caressing your walls right at the spots where Bucky feels you squirm before his tongue plays your nerves like a personal favourite string. Your hands go into his hair trying to find an anchor to the mini fireworks that his beard is creating on scratching in your slickness. The tides from the tsunami initiated inside you go back from the shore before beginning to rise up. Bucky can sense that from the gradual shudder his shoulders feel vibrating from your legs, working his fingers inside your most sensitive spots to let the waves crash and crumble everything that comes in the way. And oh, what a chaos it is! Breathless and smeared with sweat, he lets you take a breath before gently displacing your legs. Your arms almost feel numb as you get up to face him, watching the blue dilated to the maximum with the hunger watching right from the edges. "That was-" He doesn't let you complete your mushed up thoughts as his finger lands on your lips while his own shush you. Not what I was expecting, you hear your brain call out from somewhere before lighting up with the fury of a thousand suns as his tongue finds it way up your neck to the back of your ear, pushing you back down as he weight lands over you along with the bulge working its way to your core. Satisfying as the high was, you feel your restless core grinding against his erection as soon as his thighs part your legs. He plays with you first, never entering you, drinking in every grunt and agitated moan leaving your lungs until your fingers dig into the skin on his back, forcing his beast to lurch forward and allow you to resonate with the sparkles dancing inside him. Both of you shudder audibly on feeling each other. Your walls flutter in his presence while he soaks in the heat you are radiating in its prime. Moving his hips away, he comes back hard, his tongue already inside you, ready to swallow every vibration leaving you that was the result of his movements. Second thrust, you feel your teeth bite his lips and your fingers drag down to the small over his back before generously feeling his buttcheeks in your hands. Another thrust comes harder than before, the cry escaping your lungs in the air while he sucks and nibs your shoulders, accelerating the high. Your hips rise up further into his, creating a rhythm of their own, allowing Bucky to increase his pace, drawing clandestine groans from you. The tides rise again this time further as you heard him grunt and call out your name in unadulterated pleasure. "Yes, doll," his panting voice urges you further to the cliff where the rocks wait for the foaming waters to wash over them, rocking his hips into your without any restraints. Your walls begin to clench around him, feeling yourself close to the edge with every ferocious stroke. Your breaths become shallow, your grip hard. Your cries become fervent driving Bucky further inside you till you feel yourself crumble once again under him. He doesn't slow down as your legs shudder under him, elongating the already fueled up orgasm. His own groans turn shallow as he feels his high coming up, making his movements sloppier, faster, dirtier. You feel his length swell up inside you, driving you down into the depths of the storm before filling you up inside with final thrusts eroding under his own high. Neither of you moves in the movements that watch you catch your breaths and let the pleasure work through every part of your body. Bucky carefully pulls out of you and lies down beside you. You raise your head to bring his cold, soothing metal under your overheated neck. "People usually kiss on first dates," you wondered out loud before turning to look at his amused blues and bursting into light laughter that Bucky joined in. "I don't think those people strip on their first date," he chimes in. "Touché." His metal folds around your shoulder to bring you closer for him to plant one long, soft kiss on your forehead. "By the way," he whispers right into your ear, "happy birthday." Your grin knows no boundaries as the happiness flows out of your stretched lips even as you rest your head on his chest and try to hide under his hair. "I guess thunderstorms are not that bad after all."

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