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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year

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Demon!Azriel x Reader: Teeth and Talons

Summary: you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…

Warnings: demon!Azriel, drinking blood (more vampiric), mentions of cannibalism, sexual tension, rituals, monsterform! azriel?, biting

A/N: I do want to make a small note that @azrielscrown ’s Prince of Hell series made me want to write my own demon!Azriel fic!

-Part 2- -Part 3-

Visual Prompt here!

You’re a trembling mess, cold sweat slicking your body with sallow skin, temperature fluctuation from sizzling to so cold you feel you’ll seldom be capable of movement once the fit has passed. You know what the priests will say. Possession. They’ll say you’re being inhabited by a shadow creature, tie you to the bed and mist sacred water across you until your body shatters.

The fever isn’t subsiding, and you’re not the first to succumb to the strange plague sweeping through the citadel. Just one of many poor, unfortunate souls. You’ve heard they’ve taken to burning the bodies. Some not completely void of life before they’re set alight.

Is this really the end? It swept in so abruptly, seizing you firmly as it ravages you internally. You can only hope death will come silently.

————————

When you wake, your rags are soaked with sweat, a dark pool having formed beneath you, yet you are no longer being sieged by heat. Your brow is clear of sweat, your limbs no longer being wracked with tremors.

You’re struck by the peculiarity of the miracle. Nobody else has survived. Surely if the plague wasn’t fatal word of mouth would have carried the news to the emperor by now. Not as if he would know what to do. Not as he if was actually ruling.

Maybe some god had taken pity on you.

You should make an offering to Thesan.

————————

The following morning you were arrested. Witchcraft, they said.

Not miracle-worker. That was reserved for men.

The stories had willingly flown in. A woman without husband, living by herself, suddenly recovering from an absolutely fatal plague? Corruption. A pact made with the Lord of the underground. The king of Hel.

Devil worshipper.

Witch.

Whore.

The last you knew had nothing to do with the allegations and everything to do with your sex. It didn’t make the sting and less painful.

————————

You’re thrown to your knees at the foot of the dais, the boy-king sat atop the throne, lounging in a bored fashion. He only perked up when he was brought ‘visitors’, or rather, people for him to inflict punishment.

Candle-wic, he cries, clapping his hands in puerile manner, his young mouth lifting into a gleeful smile as he points at you. How a child could so joyfully sentence someone to being doused in scalding tarmac only to be then set aflame, you could hardly fathom, yet here the boy-king sat, dictating your fate with a flick of his youthful hand.

His advisor advises him. Something less flamboyant. More discreet.

It’s the first time you’re setting eyes upon the emperor’s advisor and you’re not at all surprised to see the old man with already fading hair and wrinkles that swallow his eyes beneath flaps of loose skin. But that’s what you catch on. Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

They’re alarmingly void, more than anyone’s have any right to be…and lacking in definition. Just one solid layer glazing across the obsidian coloured surface. Depthless.

He suggests leaving you for the devil you sold your heart to in order to revive a remedy. There’s no use in proclaiming your piety, their minds are set. You’re a threat to their power, an unseen obstacle and must be dealt with accordingly.

————————

And that’s how you find yourself in the centre of The Blood Rite. The private ceremony is reserved for great warriors to prove their worth. Though apparently, it serves as a discreet method of elimination for unwanted - innocent or not - citizens.

The earth is damp beneath your knees, the bones sinking into the mud. Your wrists are bound painfully - a courtesy that would not be extended to a warrior. The ties are designed to hinder, to make an already inevitably gruesome death all the more horrid by removing any ridiculously self-indulgent notions of escape.

Your breath fogs as you exhale harshly, the night air freezing your lungs with every breath. How long had you been kneeling here, waiting patiently for your end? Because it’s coming for you. There’s no point of struggling. Movement would only catalyse the inevitable. Maybe if you remained still, calmed your heart and removed any sort of thrum from your body the unknown entity would leave you be.

Wishful thinking.

The night air presses in on you, goosebumps pebbling up your forearms, hackles rising at your back. There’s a presence to the forest you’ve been dumped in, a cloying madness that lies between the trees, stalking every silent breath of damp air.

A twig snaps to your right, tension rippling up your body, neck flushing with heat as terror seeps from your being. Your eyes dart around the forrest in a frenzied dance.

A shadow flickers in your peripheral vision, darting behind a tree. Pulses thrum through you, beating your blood melody loud and clear. How long would your death last? Would you unnecessarily suspended in those agonising moments that should be limited to mere seconds? Or would the dark beasts draw out your torture, playing with the shreds of your skin with carnal delight.

Something rustles to your left, like a hurried shuffle through leaves, only made to taunt and confuse. Made to misdirect.

Then something pounces on you, sharp claws biting into your shoulders as you’re slammed backwards into the ground. Maybe it would be quick, but not painless. A beast wreathed in shadow, four paws with talons the length of your forearm and rows of razor sharp teeth that glitter with wet saliva beneath the silver moonlight. It has an elongated snout, a flat nose sliding over the protrusion, skin around it’s eyes peeled back to be permanently bulging.

It shoves it’s snout against the spoonful of your abdomen, sizing up how big a bite to take. You pray, silver lining your eyes as your body trembles, petrified to the spot. You can easily imagine entrails decorating it’s teeth like the wreathing in temples. Your stomach lurches.

Then it releases an ear splitting scream, agony slicing down your ears as it howls to the sky. Hot, dark liquid splatters onto your torso, followed by a wet ripping sound. Its blood - you assume that’s the liquid - smells of damp clothes left in a pile beneath the sun: stagnant. Admittedly, not the worst scent.

The large creature goes lax, slumping forward, toppling on top of you. You’re crushed by the weight that slugs into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you careen backward.

The beast is nudged aside by a large protrusion of shadow, flipping the creature onto its back, allowing you to see the viscera spilling from its soft, round belly. A cold sweat slicks your skin, hairs standing on end as inherent dread twists you round it’s sharp talons.

The humanoid shadow steps forward and you’re frozen in place, hardly able to even shift a muscle as it prowls closer. Until it’s stood in front of you. Fight or flight kicks in, everything kickstarting inside of you as you scramble to your feet, finding safe purchase on the forest floor.

You back up, paralysed with fear as you watch the creature, shadows flickering at its silhouette. Before you really have a chance to move, or even do anything, the shadows swarm forward and you feel rough hands gripping your upper arms.

The last thought you have is how abnormally elongated the creatures talons are, like those on a phœnix.

————————

Your mind can barely comprehend the information. Words turning to mush in your brain, thoughts slowing to a sluggish squelch as you sit across from the dæmon. Azriel.

Azræl? You had asked, trying to pronounce the word on your tongue, but the syllables simply bumbled together. He’d shaken his head, Azriel, he’d repeated. You’d kept you silence, deciding the chance of spelling it out in your mouth to his liking was low enough to class as a risk. Instead you’d swallowed and nodded. He’d looked as though he’d push, but his eyes flicked to the bowl in front of you, ordering you to eat.

All he’d told you was he was in need of a human bride. Not why. Or what your role was. Nothing. So you went on with nothing, deciding to follow his command to eat, despite the protests from your stomach.

You look down only to see there’s no cutlery. Your lips part silently in question, flicking about the table as he watches you from the opposite end, marking your actions. His gaze makes you squirm in your seat, discomfort pressing down on you.

Eventually you swallow, lifting your gaze to his nervously. That was another thing, his eyes: Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

“May I have a knife and fork?” You request, voice hoarse and scratchy. His eyes bore into you, piercing your soul as they filter through your pupils. You swallow again, throat feeling dry. The table has a single jug - no glasses. The water is crystal clear, mist condensing over the glass, no doubt refreshingly cool. Your parched throat is desperate for reprieve, yet he gives you none.

You’re in Hel, he’d told you. That was becoming clear.

You try sitting in silence with him, but he keeps staring at you with those wild, pitch black eyes, pupils that swallow his irises - if dæmons have irises.

“You’re not going to inquire why I selected you?” He breaks the silence, his deep voice rolling across to you, encompassing your sentences.

“I’m not so conceited as to believe you intentionally chose me,” you reply, steeling your spine as your eyes flick to his. “You are clearly a creature of self-serving narcissism.” Is it wise to say that to a dæmon that technically saved your life? Either way, you hope he doesn’t hold that over you. Dæmons can be…unkind when it comes to their debts.

“Creature over beast?” He responds. Despite the casual tone he’s using, his sharp gaze reminds you it’s anything but. “Are you a beast?” You settle on.

“That’s for you to decide for yourself.”

You bite off some of the fluffy bread, “so there’s no definitive answer?”

He cocks his head, amusement sparking in his obsidian gaze. The movement makes you pause. You have close to zero idea what his intentions are.

You swallow. “You’re not going to eat anything?” You nod to his end of the table, void of any eating instruments. What do dæmons eat, anyway? Do they eat?

A slow smile lifts the edges of his mouth, the tips of glittering canines protruding beneath his lips. There’s nothing remotely kind about it.

Discomfort coils in your lower belly. You’re no longer hungry. Moving slowly, you quietly push the plate away a little, lowering your hands to your lap as you shift in the chair. Something gleams in his eyes and you wonder if he derives pleasure from the buildup of tension before a kill. Immediately, you regret the thought.

“I think I’m full,” you announce, softly, hoping you’ll be allowed to leave the chamber. “Not curious about my eating habits?” He drawls. You know you probably don’t want to hear the answer, but he’s not really giving you a choice. All you can hope for is that it won’t upend the contents of your stomach.

“It didn’t seem as though you were keen on answering,” you reply, watching your hands fiddle in your lap.

He hums, and you prepare yourself. But silence follows.

When you lift your gaze to see what he’s doing, he’s gone, seat empty. It’s unnerving being in his presence, but at least you have a vague sense of where he is. Now you feel as if he’s watching from every corner. You shift in your seat, heart pounding.

A hand wraps beneath beneath your jaw and you flinch, jumping in your seat. He pulls your head to the side, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as your fingers turn white with how hard they’re biting into the wood of the chair arm. Your jaw tightens as you feel the menacing scrape of canines tracing your throat, every muscle in your body turning rigid as you shrink into the chair.

“How obedient,” he drawls, the muffled murmur making your hair stand on end. “I bet I could sink my teeth into you and you wouldn’t move a muscle.” Your breathing turns shallow as you try to limit your movement. “Isn’t that right, bride?” His razor sharp teeth scrape a little too close, a hot stinging sensation prickling your neck. You try to lean away from him but his grip tightens.

“You eat humans?” The tremble in your voice is prominent, and you’re surprised you don’t stutter with the fear that’s thrumming along with your heartbeat. “Among other things,” he drawls, inhaling your scent as you try not to move. Your breath catches as he opens his mouth over your throat, a whimper working it’s was from your own as terror climbs higher. A quiet squeak leaves you as his tongue swipes out, hot and wet, dragging over your skin as he tastes you.

“I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.” Another scrape, followed by that sting. He huffs a dark laugh onto your neck, “does that terrify you, bride?” White spots swim in your vision, dark blotches accompanying them as he squeezes on your throat.

Then he’s pulled back, the spot on your neck feeling cold and empty now his mouth is no longer latched onto you.

“Come, it’s time to retire.”

————————

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

The more you replay the words, the stronger the thrill they send spilling inside of you. You have to remind yourself it would be painful. Unpleasantly so. It wouldn’t the be sting he’d given you over the meal, it would be a frenzied shredding. Ripping and tearing as you’re pulled apart beneath his teeth and talons.

If he becomes bored of you, or you fail to meet any expectation of his, would he be free to replace you? Your brow furrows. Are you dead? Surely nothing alive can exist in the underworld. It’s a home for the damned.

Are you damned?

An adrenaline-fuelled smile cracks your lips. Maybe he’s your damnation.

What a silly thought.

At least the bed looks comfy. It’s circular - you hadn’t known they could be circular - and has a distinct lacking of pillows and blankets that you would have expected to decorate the mattress. Maybe that’s just another difference between your kinds.

“You don’t like it.” Displeasure drips from his words as you jump. He’s a very quiet predator. Automatically, you retreat a few steps, finding him directly in front of you when you turn to face his voice. He follows like a dance partner, hand gripping your jaw as he looks down at you, face blank. “Ungrateful,” he taunts, softly.

“I’m curious about the bedding,” you stammer, hauling yourself together. “The nest is fashioned after your own,” he replies, eyes remaining on yours as he pulls you closer, “you did not seem to value them in your own den.”

Heat flushes your cheeks, eyes snapping away from his, “they’re expensive.”

“Steal, then.” You bite back your reply, that if you were caught, you’d suffer a less than favourable death. His brow twitches, “swallow your tongue and be surprised when you choke,” he mutters.

“What?”

He releases your jaw, stalking away, leaving you dazed and confused.

————————

He prowls through your thoughts that night, every scene you dreamt up tainted by a dark shadow lurking just out of sight. The presence grows more sinister as the imagery drags on, growing stronger with every second. He brings a flare of heat with him, every touch of shadow sending flame to lick between your thighs until the dreamscape shifts.

You’re lying on the circular mattress, darkness shrouding the surrounding room, lit only by candles. The milky wax melts to the floor, moving in circles until it forms a tight ring around the mattress. Then, the streams start looking toward your bed, rolling beneath you to inevitably join.

It’s an altar.

Your heart pounds as you look up, that dark presence returning, lurking at the end of the mattress. His pitch black irises take up the whole of his eyes, leaving the ball smothered in darkness. There’s no doubt he looking at you. Shadowy sinew runs beneath his skin, and you follow the lines with your eyes.

He’s naked. Completely without clothing.

Gorgeous. Crafted. Divine.

He’s different from earlier. The blotted out eyes and sinew aside, his canines are more pronounced, fur dusts his abdomen, thickening as you follow down. The same black veins pulse along his cock that’s hard and swollen. Begging to rut into something.

You’re desperate for water, throat parched as you tear your gaze away, dragging it over the rest of him. Scars lacerate his torso, decorating the corded muscle of his arms. Sharp talons split from the skin of his fingertips, curved and razor sharp. As long as your forearm, you would guess, if not longer.

You suck in a breath, raising your gaze to his blacked out eyes. He’s hungry. Ravenous. All of it piercing into you as you shift in the nest, trying to slowly shuffle backward. You catch sight of yourself as you’re doing so, clothed only in a white robe that’s barely concealing your breasts. The lace reaches just past your elbows before it cuts of, and the rest of the silky fabric does nothing to conceal your heat from him. He has the perfect view of you: your thighs are parted though you’re trying to squeeze them together, nipples peaking through the sheer silk.

But he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching. Waiting.

He’s waiting on you. Waiting for you to come to him.

Heat spools between you thighs as a sinful curve tips the edges of his mouth, like he’s hearing your thoughts and giving you the confirmation you need. You’re not sure what will happen if you don’t adhere to whatever ritual he’s caught you in.

But you know you’re in a dream. You’re asleep; safe. He can’t hurt you here. It means nothing.

Maybe that’s why you shift onto your hands and knees when he beckons you toward him with the pull of his middle and index finger, crawling toward him, eyes trained on one another. It’s like you’re enraptured by him, everything around the male fading to negative space as he encompasses your conscious. He’s everything.

You stop when you reach him, tucking your legs beneath you as you kneel before him, hands in your lap. How obedient. His mouth splits open in a murderous grin, baring his sharp canines as he takes in your submissive form. Small.

How he’ll enjoy defiling you.

————————

You wake with a gasp, skin damp but clothed. You pant, fingers gripping the mattress as you haul down lungfuls of air.

“Bad dream?”

You scream, jerking away from the voice, scrambling backward but a hand wraps around your ankle. He pulls you toward him, making you scream harder, kicking as your night robe rides up until the silk is pooling at your waist.

He snarls at the noise, lifting from his stomach, muscle flexing with the movement, as he climbs on top of you. His hand covers your mouth, silencing you as he straddles your middle. The male sleeps naked. You silently thank his shadows for sparing you the humiliation of a shameful flush decorating you cheeks should you have seen him again, in such a short span.

Silver lines your eyes as those same shadows tie your wrists down.

Terror sets in and you open your mouth, biting down hard on his hand. He doesn’t even flinch. Only cocks his head in what seems like confusion, pulling his hand away to examine it. You still, not knowing what to do. You don’t want to provoke him any further. “You bit me,” he states, eyes flicking to yours, back to normal.

Then a dark laugh rumbles from his chest as one hand grips your jaw, the other thumbing your upper lip away from your teeth, “how adorable.” The pad of the digit runs beneath the blunt edge of your canine, pressing against the enamelled bone, “what were you expecting to do with these?”

You tremble beneath him, the true power imbalance dawning on you. His teeth broke your skin by grazing it, while he’s pressing against your own canine without so much of an ounce of pain showing.

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

Before you can manage anything he’s pressing his face into the crook of your neck, scenting you. He pulls back, nostrils flaring.

“You’re in heat.”

“I’m not an animal,” you breathe, a hot flare of indignation flushing your skin. Despite the denial, warmth envelops your body, settling deeper in the pit of your belly. “It just happens sometimes,” you hiss, hot embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “It’s not something I can help.”

“I can.”

“No.”

He tilts his head, lips curving into a malevolent grin, “you’re aroused. That’s what a husband is for.” Your breath hitches at his implication. “You aren’t my husband.”

“Not yet. But you’re still mine.”

“I am not.” His thumb brushes against the soft skin of your neck and you flinch, feeling the sting his canines left. “Maybe to you. But you’re surrounded by my kind. They’ll understand my mark.” Your eyes widen, “you can’t do that,” you breathe, “you can’t just lay claim to any human you want.”

He leans closer and you press back into the bed, “what’s stopping me?” The words brush over your mouth and you shiver.

You’re aware of the shadows thrumming around the bed, how his powerful arms are caging you in, but it’s taken you a while to realise there’s something hard poking into your middle. You squirm beneath him, trying to wriggle out of his dominating hold. “I said: what’s stopping me?” He growls, hand fisting in your hair as he yanks you upward, his mouth grazing leisurely along the lifeline in your throat.

A whimper claws its way up your throat and he laughs at the sound, canines searching for their earlier mark. “That’s right,” he purrs, lapping once over the scratches before he lines his teeth up, preparing to bite down, “nothing.” His fangs sink into your skin and you don’t even have enough breath to scream.

His shadows loosen and your hands instantly fly to his hair, nails raking over his scalp. He doesn’t let up and you grasp onto him desperately, clawing for something to grip, to tie yourself to for some form of safety. You go lightheaded as he feeds.

The myths you’ve heard about their drinking habits are false. In the tales they don’t leave a drop behind, needing every ounce to sustain themselves. For Azriel, it’s a display of decadence. He doesn’t need every drop. He’s drinking you up for his own enjoyment. You aren’t a necessity, or even a luxury; you’re a gluttonous indulgence.

Blood trails hot paths down your neck, sloping over your collar bone, trailing between your breasts as the liquid flows down your body. It spills over your back, saturating the bed with sanguine flavour. Then he pulls back, licking over the bite mark to heal it. You receive a metallic zap, and you’re sealed. Fresh as ever.

He looks down at you, soaking in your look of shock as he releases your hair, a blood-red slash instead of a grin. It drips from his lips, weighted droplets splashing on your chest, staining the silk night clothes. “My side is fulfilled,” he drawls. Your vision swims, fingers releasing their grasp on his soft hair, brushing over his shoulders before falling at your middle.

You manage a few shaky pants before he’s lowering his mouth, a surprised whimper being stolen from your lips as he settles over you. The blood mixes with his taste, tongue sliding over yours as his canines inadvertently slice up the inside of your lips. You lie there, passive, still very much in shock.

With the little strength you have left, you bite down on his tongue. Blood - not yours, this time - fills your mouth, gushing from the wound you’ve made. His eyes snap open angrily, hands brutally digging into your shoulders as he shoves away from you. Fury dances in his charcoal eyes before it’s smothered.

“If I’m going to choke on anyone’s tongue,” you hiss, words dripping with venom, “it’ll be yours. Not mine.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#demon! Azriel #acotar #dark! Azriel #Azriel smut #acotar au #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #Teeth and Talons

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jordisblogg · 5 months

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am i worthy of this gift?

shuri x reader

summary: after the birth of your newborn daughter, shuri makes a promise to her, she’d always be there.

ib:

it was around 3– maybe 4am, you and your wife, shuri were laying in bed, soundly asleep, until the sound of your daughter, amani’s, cries interrupted your slumber.

ever since the bundle of joy was born, it seemed like you haven’t gotten any rest, and it looked and quite literally was taking a toll on you. as you groaned and prepared yourself to get up, shuri stopped you.

“lay back down, umfazi, i’ll get her.” she reassured you softly, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead and throwing the duvet off of her while you laid your head back down on your silk pillow.

shuri steadily walked up to the crib, “hey, hey..” she whispered to the tiny one, picking her up and softly bouncing her in her arms, making her way to the large accent chair.

catch me i’ve fallen in love for the first time

she rocked amani close to her, letting her hear the steadiness of shuri’s heartbeat as she took slow, calm breaths, softly rubbing her back and kissing her atop her head.

soon the girl’s cries turned to hiccups, then to coos.

for you i drop the tough guy shit, on this bus i sit

the queen chuckled to herself, “made all of that fuss.” she teased, smiling down at the little princess. she studied the infants features, god she had to be the most gorgeous baby she’d ever seen, or maybe she was just biased.

“hi omncinci” she whispered, gently wiping off the tears from her daughters chubby cheeks with her thumb.

“you were waking mommy up, you know? she’s been really sleepy..”

amani only stared up at her with her big brown eyes.

the royal shook her head, “i don’t know why i’m talking to you as if you can even comprehend words.” she exhaled, watching the gummy smile spread across the princess’ face. the sight only warmed shuri’s heart more.

reminisce when you came out the womb

“what am i going to do with you omncinci?” she spoke, mainly to herself.

she was blessed with the intelligence to be able to grant the gift of the both of you, two females, to create a child with both of your combined dna. but she feels like she might waste it.

what if she isn’t a good mother? what if she doesn’t know how to help you when you need her? how to connect with the little bundle of joy once she grows and matures? will they both fight? will they even like each other?

the soft giddily screech of her daughter snapped her out of her thoughts.

she brought amani up to kiss her over her face, she couldn’t laugh just yet, but shuri could tell she was trying, it made her giggle to herself.

“are you trying to laugh? are you laughing at me encinci?” she mocked, tickling the infant in her stomach, causing her legs to squirm.

tears of joy i think filled up the room

she could remember the day that you both had announced the birth of your daughter to the nation. they called her the kingdom’s gift, and that she is. she was something, someone, you all needed.

shuri remembered the spark in your tear filled eyes as amani was brought into your arms. she hadn’t cried when she came out of your womb, she merely looked around, after just coming into the world, she was curious little thing.

you told her how perfect she was, how beautiful she looked, she had shuri’s skin complexion but had your eyes, with the longest, prettiest lashes. a mop of curls set atop her head. and she was so little, almost as if you could crush her if you held her too hard.

she truly was perfect and had to be the most gorgeous baby you both had ever laid your eyes upon, and the kingdom agreed.

you are now the reason that i fight

it had seemed like time had slowed down as shuri had first seen the baby girl. she had never cried that much since the death of her mother and her brother.

but now she was blessed with the gift of a family of her own.

“i promise you,” her voice cracked, as a single tear fell down her cheek, “i’m going to be here for you, i wont ever let you go.”

i ain’t never did nothing this right in my whole life

“i always give you a shoulder to cry on, then i’ll dry your tears, i’ll clear the skies when it rains, i’ll make sure you never feel anything but joy, i’d give you the moon and stars if you asked me, i’d move mountains for you, i’d keep away all the big bad wolves that would even dare to mess with you, i won’t ever let any harm come to you, sithandwa.”

got me thinkin’…

“i love you.”

am i worthy of this gift?

#shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri x y/n #mcu shuri #shuri x black! fem! reader #bpwf #shuri fic #shuri #letitia wright #Spotify #what am i doing lol

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atinycafe · 10 months

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waking up from a nightmare and yunho fucks the pain away!!! 🥺

warnings: nsfw under the cut, soft dom yunho, slight dumbification, fingering, clit play, spit play, use of pet names (yuyu, baby, princess, pretty, tiny), mention of bulge, yunho big cock supremacy, slight dacryphilia, yunho puts you to sleep... literally, slight mention of cockwarming, unprotected sex (boo!! tomato tomato!!), slight hurt 2 comfort, multiple orgasms, 2.7k wrds author's notes: wrote this, finished it, forgot to save the draft, cried, rewrote it. anyway anon you ate, yunho speaking in 3rd person does something 2 me. masterlist

"baby?"

yunho's voice, soft and tender, drifts from his position behind you in the bed. stirred by your restless movements, he awakens. as he embraces you, his body curving around yours, he remains unaware of the anguish etched upon your face. in this intimate moment, all he sees are the vibrant crimson digits of your alarm clock, casting a glow at the unearthly hour of 3 am.

startled by your involuntary flinch and the gentle whimper that escapes your lips in your slumber, yunho instinctively responds by tightening his grip around your waist. shifting his position, he carefully withdraws his arm from under your head, propping himself up to catch a glimpse of your face. his brow furrows in confusion as he struggles to comprehend the circumstances, his mind muddled by the remnants of sleep.

as yunho's gaze settles upon your visage, his comprehension dawns instantaneously. despite your closed eyes, the furrowed brows etched upon your forehead convey a profound distress. driven by an instinctual desire to alleviate your unease, he delicately places a finger between your eyebrows, applying a gentle, upward motion that serves to soothe you, even in your unconscious state.

the fleeting respite is shattered by another anguished hiss that escapes your lips, leaving yunho no choice but to rouse you from your slumber, despite the impending early schedule the following day. the sight of you in such a vulnerable state, consumed by fear, becomes unbearable for him, compelling him to intervene and provide solace.

gently, yunho shakes your body, his touch tender and affectionate. he peppers your face with soft kisses, whispering sweet pet names near your ear in an attempt to coax you out of your slumber. startled, you wake up with a jolt, swiftly turning around to seek the comfort of yunho's embrace. to your delight, he is already there, arms open and ready to hold you, as if anticipating your awakening.

seeking solace, you nuzzle your face against yunho's bare chest, finding comfort in the warmth radiating from his body. overwhelmed by emotions, small, quiet sobs escape from within you. yunho responds with tenderness, shushing you gently while his hand moves in a soothing rhythm, patting your head. the deep, rumbling timbre of his voice serves as a calming balm, helping to alleviate the remnants of your small panic attack.

"'m right there tiny, you don't have to be scared of anything," yunho's sleep-laden voice, deep and resonant, envelops your senses like a comforting blanket as he reassures you. his words penetrate your mind, offering solace and dispelling any fears that may haunt you, "yuyu's right there next to you, nobody can hurt you when i'm here princess."

the weight of his words fills the room, prompting you to blink away the tears that gather in your eyes, all the while yearning for the comforting warmth radiating from yunho's body. determined to be even closer to him, you adjust your position in the bed, pushing yourself higher and tangling your arms around his head, pulling him towards your neck, craving the physical closeness that offers solace in moments of vulnerability. as his soft cheek nestles in the crook of your neck, yunho's heart aches in response to the rapid rhythm of your own heartbeat, the forceful thumps reverberating against his cheek, serving as a poignant reminder of the intensity of your fears.

"'s okay princess," yunho's deep groan escapes into the crook of your neck as he inhales the gentle scent that is uniquely you—a blend of face creams and the lingering traces of sweat. softly, he seeks to coax an answer from you, his voice laced with concern and care. "wanna tell me what happened in your nightmare? mmh?" he gently prompts, hoping to offer reassurance and comfort once he knows the depths of your distress.

"y-you left me, said you didn't wanna be with me anymore," your words falter, choked by the weight of the memories, and tears threaten to well up in your eyes once again as the reminder of the nightmare lingers. seeking solace, you tug at yunho's black curls, yearning for every inch of your bodies to be intertwined, as if physical connection alone can alleviate the lingering distress within your heart.

"pretty i would never, you know that right tiny? it's just a dumb nightmare," yunho's comforting words flow from his lips like a lullaby, aimed at soothing your troubled heart. he reassures you with a gentle coo, however, when he doesn't receive a response to his question, a hint of concern flickers across his features. he pulls back, locking his gaze with yours, his expression transitioning to a more serious tone. with earnest eyes, he acknowledges the weight of your thoughts behind your glossy gaze. "princess, i'm yours and you're mine, and that's gonna be forever, whether you like it or not."

"i like it," immediately, in response to his heartfelt declaration, you whisper your agreement softly. yunho's lips curl into a gentle smile, finding your sincere response cute. even in moments when you are the one seeking reassurance, you never hesitate to offer support to him.

"should i show you how much i love you mmh baby?" yunho's soft smile gradually transforms into a mischievous smirk, doing nothing to hide his real intentions, "would my princess like that, i bet she would," as his lips continue to shower open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his fingers delicately trace heart shapes on your tummy. the implication of his actions becomes clear. sensing the need for consent, he pauses, waiting for your affirmation.

upon hearing your gentle "yes please" his fingertips plunge beneath the delicate fabric of his shirt to settle over your undergarments, their dance upon the material a tantalizing caress. with his middle finger, he traces the contours of your slit, pressing the fabric against the slickness that awaits. he withdraws, savoring the way the fabric absorbs your essence.

a soft moan escapes your lips as his finger glides teasingly over your sensitive clit, eliciting a rush of pleasure. simultaneously, his kisses upon your neck grow more intense, creating a stark contrast to the gentle caress bestowed upon your lower body. you can sense the smirk that graces his lips, pressed against the tender skin he has marked as his own. the sounds that escape your mouth serve as both fuel and reward for his skilled ministrations, prompting him to apply added pressure. despite the deliberate slowness of his movements, each stroke upon your clit draws lazy patterns, prolonging the delicious sensation.

"just spelled my name on your pussy, do you know what that means princess?" he breathes, his voice laced with possessiveness. you shake your head in a subtle denial, emitting a soft whine that mingles with the tousled strands of his hair. in response, he playfully nips at your neck, his teeth leaving their mark. "that means that cunt's mine, forever, i own this pretty pussy," he declares, his words dripping with dominance.

as the possessive tone weaves its spell on you, your moans crescendo in volume, harmonizing with the mounting intensity of his movements. your orgasm approaches rapidly, and with one final cry of pleasure, you surrender to the overwhelming release. his skilled fingers, having worked their magic over the damp fabric of your underwear, bring you to climax without ever directly touching your sensitive flesh.

"look at you pretty baby, already came so fast, who else could make you cum like that except for me," a soft chuckle escapes his lips, resonating with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. with deliberate intent, his long fingers glide down, removing your panties, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. as he traces his hand back up your trembling thighs, his touch evokes a cascade of shivers coursing through your body.

"you, only you yuyu," you let out a sob when two of his fingers sink into your core, deep and long, immediately hitting your g-spot. his motions are swift, his fingers deftly curling, eliciting a symphony of high-pitched, fragmented moans from your lips. he licks away the escaped drool from your mouth, tracing a path from your chin to your lips. as your tongue ventures into his mouth, he sucks on it with an intensity.

"nobody can fuck you like i do, i only need my fingers to make my princess go dumb, mmhm so pretty when you cry for me," he mumbles against your parted lips, his fingers maintaining their relentless pace within you. simultaneously, he applies pressure to your sensitive clit with his palm. a soft chuckle escapes him when you bite down on his lower lip, shocked at the sudden stimulation. in a hushed voice, you utter unintelligible babblings under him. "you think i'd let anyone else see you like that, my baby's so pretty but so dumb, 's okay though, yuyu'll do the thinking for you."

when he feels your core tighten against his fingers, a sly smirk tugs at his lips as he brings his other hand, previously entangled in your hair, to firmly grasp your chin. with a deft movement, he parts your lips using his fingers, and gently leans down as his index and thumb take hold of your tongue, pulling it out into the open air. lost in the haze of your overwhelming sensations and intoxicating fuzziness, you remain oblivious to his actions. before proceeding, he places a tender kiss upon your forehead, his satisfaction evident. then, he releases a small amount of saliva onto your waiting tongue, allowing his thumb to messily rub the liquid across the surface.

"look at you baby, so fucked out for me you'd let me do anything to you right?" he lets out a laugh when he sees your frantic nod, and he's pretty sure you don't even understand the words that come out of his mouth, only agreeing for the sake of agreeing, for the sake of being good to him, "such an smart girl, i wouldn't trade you for anything in the world, now swallow princess, show me how good you are."

he releases his hold on your tongue, his gaze transfixed upon the mesmerizing motion of your throat as you obediently swallow his saliva. need surges through his body, causing his sweatpants to cling to the tip of his erect member, which eagerly leaks precum. overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, a deep groan escapes him as he catches your gaze, your hooded eyes filled with longing for his approval. in a state of disbelief, he gently lowers his head onto your breasts, unable to contain his astonishment.

"got so lucky with you baby, you're so pretty you'll make me cum in my pants," overwhelmed by his appreciation, you whimper in response to his compliment, your trembling fingers reaching out to pull him closer. with an urgency born of desire, you engage in a passionate, messy kiss, your tongues playfully intertwining and leaving trails of saliva on your chin and cheeks, "can my princess cum for me? need you to cream on my fingers , please tiny? it'll make yuyu so happy."

with an increased pace, yunho senses your grip tightening on his strong back, clawing at the flesh. he envisions the vivid image that awaits— you photographing the delicate pink marks etched upon the canvas of his pale muscles. he takes great pride in the hidden folder you keep, meticulously documenting the marks you lovingly leave upon his body. lost in the memory of your shared laughter, his thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched whine that resonates in his ear, where you had buried your face in his neck. it is in that very moment that you reach your second orgasm of the night, your release coating his fingers. the tightness of your grip poses a delightful challenge for him to maintain his gentle movements, striving to prolong the ecstasy of your climax for as long as possible.

the orgasm crashes over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, and in that moment, it seems as though yunho himself radiates with an ethereal glow. waves of pleasure ripple through your body, causing you to tremble uncontrollably beneath him. sensing your heightened sensitivity, he tenderly glides his palm up and down your form, offering a soothing touch to ease your post-orgasmic bliss. as you gradually regain composure, your breathing heavy and exhaustion setting in, he withdraws his fingers from within you, leaving you with a sense of emptiness.

"open," he commands, and without hesitation, you obediently part your plush lips, allowing him to insert his moistened digits into your mouth. as instructed, you begin to suck on them, eliciting a gratified groan from him. he delves deeper, his fingers grazing your uvula before he withdraws. his gaze lingers on the thick and white strands of saliva connecting your tongue to his fingers, and with his own tongue, he skillfully breaks them apart, popping his fingers in his own mouth, relishing the taste. you whimper at the sight and he softly takes them out, sucking along the length. he smiles brightly down at you as he gently brushes aside the strands of sweaty hair that cling to your face.

"'m yours princess and you're mine," he declares with a pinch to your cheek, his touch filled with affection. in response, you release a satisfied sigh, silently affirming the unspoken agreement, "nobody can make me feel as good as you, get that in your pretty head," he emphasizes his statement as he grinds against you, the weight and warmth of his long shaft pressing intimately against your bare thigh.

"wanna feel you inside," you confess meekly, voice carrying the remnants of fatigue from the previous climax, yet your longing for him remains unabated. his eyes become captivated by the sight of your palm pressed against the supple skin of your tummy, precisely where the tip of his impressive length would emerge, stretching you to your limits, so substantial in size that he consistently fills you to the very brim.

"whatever my princess wants, she gets, mmh? i spoil you so much but you deserve it, don't you," with a gentle nod, you express your agreement, fully aware of how he consistently meets your every want and need, "you always ask so nicely, how could i say no to such a pretty face," he remarks softly

he lightly slaps your face with his large hand, delivering two gentle taps to rouse you from your daze, intending to bring you back to the present moment. he guides his hand downward, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, liberating his impressive member, allowing it to spring free, hitting at this firm stomach. grasping firmly at the base of his throbbing member, he unleashes a long, resonant groan, indulging in the exquisite sensations that surge through his body. with deliberate strokes, he skillfully caresses your delicate bundle of nerves, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, intensifying your pleasure with each deliberate touch. the mingling of your cum and his precum elicits a sharp cry of pleasure from your lips. he slowly enters you, gradually inch by inch, and you let out sobs of pleasure as you feel the pronounced veins of his shaft encasing your inner walls.

once he is fully nestled within you, yunho initiates a gentle back-and-forth motion, sliding in and out of your depths, his thrusts causing his pelvic area to press against the noticeable bulge in your stomach. his face buried in the pillow beside yours, he releases a deep moan of pleasure. he maintains this rhythmic movements for a few blissful minutes until his keen awareness detects a subtle change, prompting him to gradually decrease the speed of his movements.

the room falls into a profound silence, devoid of any vocal expressions. no whimpers escape your lips, no desperate pleas or moans fill the air. nothing.

yunho leans against his arm, gently angling himself to catch a glimpse of your face. as he gazes upon your peaceful countenance, so pure and innocent in slumber, he finds himself captivated by the sight. the corners of his eyes widen with delight, and a soft laugh escapes him, filled with a mix of adoration and amusement. unable to resist the overwhelming affection he feels, he leans in to plant a tender kiss upon your lips.

yunho collapses back onto your body, still deeply connected as he remains inside you. with a gentle maneuver, he shifts the two of you onto your sides, creating a comfortable position. as you lie there, he gazes at you, captivated by the sight of your slumbering form, his eyes fixed upon your serene face.

"guess i'll settle for cockwarming tonight."

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champion-leon-imagines · 2 years

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Yo, your Leon's the best! I was hoping you could write the following: Leon and his wife have some sweet and soft tender Thank God You're Alive Sex after the Darkest Day happened and she had almost died after being attacked by Eternatus. The doctors told Leon she wasn't gonna make it for good measure, so to say he's relieved and overjoyed is an understatement.

Please and thank you! <3

(Thank you so much for your kind words - and those from AO3. I will give a lil warning beforehand. It's been quite some while I wrote something in english and I may be rusty. So I apologize for any mistakes or strange sentences. Also a warning for mild nsfw. I tried to make it as softcore.)

He'd never thought that day would actually come, after all doctors already gave up on you ever waking up again. Eternatus hit you with his strongest attack, Eternabeam. Though, your Pokemon were able to parry most of it's power with barrier and Light Screen, but the impact was too strong.

Leon felt guilty and helpless. How could he let you be in such a danger and when you were at the verge of death, all he was able to do was cry and pray for your life. Thankfully, Arceus seemed to granted him his biggest wish, because one day, he got a call from the doctor.

Your condition got better until you could even walk and eat properly again. They said, your fighting will matched Leons will during battles and that's why you recovered so quickly and made you leave the hospital a few days after you woke up from your coma.

Of course, your friends were infront of the building to get you. Next to Leon was his brother Hop, who cried tears of joys that his sister-in-law was back at good health and even Sonia ignored her work and waited for you. But you couldn't care less to see them when your eyes fell at that bulky chunk of teddy-bear-like statue, who seemed to sob und almost stumbled over his own feet when he made his way over to you to get you into a big and gentle hug.

Leon was careful not to hurt you, but still managed to show you how much he missed and feared to loose you. "Thank Arceus.. I thought I would never have you in my arms again Y/n.. I thought I lost you forever..", Leon mumbled in your ear, his scent enveloped you like a blanket and you took a deep breath and inhaled this familiar scent. You missed him as much as he missed you and you couldn't be more happy..

After Hop and Sonia accompanied you and Leon to your shared home, they bid you goodbye to leave you alone with your worrywart husband who constantly apologized for what happened to you. "Leon, darling. Please stop to blame you for what happened. It was my own decision to help you out there with Eternatus. There is nothing I regret, you hear?", you whispered, trying to calm this poor mans heart down. Leon refused to let you go ever since he hugged you and held your hand close to his heart. "I know.. But.. I still feel guilty.."

"Mhm.. If you really feel guilty, I may know a way you feel better. Plus, it would make both of us feel way better.", you started and looked at him. Leons gaze was puzzled for a moment, until he realizes the passionate look in your eyes and started to heat up. "We have so much to catch up.."

No more words were spoken after this, when you felt his warm lips upon yours. Leons kisses were always special. They melt you in mere seconds and you felt his pure love from the way he was holding and kissing you.

He had no trouble to pick you up while he doesn't broke the kiss while he slowly made his way towards your shared bedroom.

Within the next minute, you laid on the mattress with Leon hovering over you and kissing your neck, while one of his calloused hands fondled your left breast.

A moan escaped your lips when he found your weak spot and startet to suck and nibble on it until your skin was red and swollen from his lips and teeth. Your own hands wandered up his broad torso and tucked at his jersey, trying to get it off from him. Leon stopped for a moment and leaned back to slowly undress his jersey.

You licked your lips when you saw his abs and caressed his stomach up to his chest, before Leon bent down again and captured your lips in a passionate and needy kiss.

It always started like this. He was so gentle and shy at first, but after his desires took over his instincts, he became rougher and you felt his errection between your legs. You started to grind against his bulge until he let out a masculine growl. His sounds and touches made you so hot that you felt getting wet already.

Leon wasted no time in getting rid of your clothes and soon enough you both were just one last fabric of your underwear. His hips grinded against your clothed sex until you mewled in impatience. He just knew how to get you desperate and you had the feeling he loved being in control.. "Leon..", your voice was slightly hoarse from lust and also a little warning. Like you were about to scold him. He hums in response, licking and nibbling at your earlobe, while his finger drew circles around your clit under your panties. When his hand disappeared in them? Hell, you already forgot. "Yes?", he asked ever so innocently, kissing his way from your ear to your cheek and finally pecks your lips, because he inserted a finger into your wetness. You gasped and moaned at the feeling, it felt like an eternity since you had felt each other in that way. Your hips moved against his rhythm to get more friction but it was not enough. "Stop teasing me, love.. I need you inside of me. Now.", you spoke, almost in a low and pleading voice. How was he able to deny you that when you were so irrestistible? "You want the Champ time already? I hoped we could have a lil more foreplay after such a long time.." Leon whined, but chuckled when you gave him a soft slap on his chest. "We can do this after you fuck me hard. So.. please?" "How could I say no to that cute face?", Leon smiled and bent down to give you a long and loving kiss, before his finger retreated and you felt something big entering you..

The following hours were filled with cries and moans of each other names and you were pretty sore the next days (but not too sore to repeat this night the following days.)

#champion leon #pokemon leon #Leon #Dande #Delion #Champion Leon x Reader #Pokemon Leon x Reader #Leon x Reader #pokemon #pkmn #pokemon sword and shield #pkmn sword and shield #pkmn swsh #pokemon swsh

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factorialsotherfandoms · 3 months

Text

Errr osnf spoilers up to the end of episode 3! There be all sorts of nasty here, but nothing outside of canon. A very quick and dirty ficlet.

Blood soaks the grass, the walls, the trees. Corpses upon corpses lie across the ground; Daniel, eyes gone; Alex, his head blasted apart; Gonzales, warped as a blood zombie; Chris, torn to shred… All of them and more, corpses covered in blood as a monster feasts upon them.

It towers over her, made of a thousand limbs and claws and teeth. Its mouths defy logic and reason, but eat the flesh before it all the same. Black, pulsating, terrible…

Liz is crushed by her mother's corpse, where she cannot see it but feels every splattering of blood. From her position she stares upon the wasteland, the oblivion and destruction all around. Thiago, if he is here, is nowhere to be seen.

Joui and Cesar stand in the middle. Joui is on his knees, clutching an arm as blood streaks down his face. Cesar is beside him, immobile, frozen, hands and arms dripping with his father's blood. The monster does not care for her, hidden in corpses and mist as she is, but it cares a great deal for the two men frozen there.

It turns, and bounds towards them.

She yells at them to run, to get out, to save themselves. She begs, she screams, she cries, yet no matter what she does she can only watch as they remain frozen, coated in blood, sobbing and in pain as the monster bares down upon them.

Liz cannot look away.

Her eyes remain fixed on the monster, on the men, as they finally start to flee - Joui draped over Cesar's arm - but it is too late! Too late! Too late! The monster is here, it is come, it grabs both of them at once, shoves them both into separate mouths. She can only watch and scream in horror as they are eaten - alive. Cesar head first, and yet she can still hear him scream. Joui legs first, where she is helpless to act as she watches the pain on his face.

She sobs and she screams and finally the monster notices her. With the two men still only half eaten it strides over, plucking her from beneath her mother's corpse. In one sweeping motion she is thrown from a clawed hand into an open, gaping mouth.

---

Liz wakes up.

She cannot catch her breath, cannot breath. Without thinking she grabs her flashlight, not even stopping for her slippers as she runs from the room. Behind her, she hears Thiago ask what is wrong - she does not care.

She runs down the hallway, to the room where she knows the two men are. Without a key all she can do is hammer on the door, yelling their names as tears start to streak again.

Familiar, too familiar, she knows it is a dream but is haunted still.

It does not take long for a bleary eyed Joui to open the door.

"Liz-senpai?" he asks. "What's wrong?"

Immediately she grabs him, pulling him into a tight hug. Her chest eases a little as she looks around, spying the light of Cesar's computer. He is not looking at it, but rather at her.

It's too much, she needs him.

Joui is pushed into the room, and onto Cesar's bed. She sits herself between the men, one arm around Joui's shoulder and the other across Cesar's back.

Both are bandaged, neither is fine, but they are here. They are still here.

Thiago follows her, their room key in his hand and a his phone used as a torch. He looks around, frowns, and pulls all three into a hug of his own.

"Is everything alright?" he asks her.

"Just a dream," she replies, finally able to breathe. "Don't worry, it was just a dream."

#osnf #ordem paranormal #osnf fanfic #joui jouki #elizabeth webber #cesar cohen #I guess I'll call this a character study via dreamscape #character study

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 months

Text

Fickle Warmth in a Freezing Storm

Hi! I love all your fics so so much, especially how you write Merlin and Arthur! I don’t know if you’re still taking prompts but if you are (and if you’re comfy writing it, no pressure!) could you do a self harm one where Merlin wants to cut but instead he scratches / accidentally-on-purpose burns himself or some such? And the knights and Arthur have to explain to him that that counts as self harm and maybe he gets upset because he’d thought he was doing so well by not giving in to the urge? Obviously only if you want to, thank you for all your lovely writing <3 – anon

Hey, I have a Merlin prompt if you’d like it: a magic reveal happens around the same-ish time that the knights and Arthur find out that Merlin’s suicidal, so when they start keeping a close eye on him he gets the wrong idea and thinks they don’t trust him because of his magic. Cue Merlin getting even more depressed and pushed closer to the edge. And maybe when he realises what they were really doing, he can’t understand why they don’t want him to go through with it? If you want to write it, thank you in advance <3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: depressed character, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self-harm

Pairings: merthur

Word Count: 3871

The snow bites into his cheek. The wind carves his cheekbone as he hunches his too-small shoulders. The cloak wrapped haphazardly around his neck flaps and snaps in the gale, threatening to choke him. He can’t even summon the strength to grit his teeth.

Undead legs move on.

“You have magic.”

The first words he remembers upon waking, enough to send a jolt down his spine. He flinches and promptly cries out as his limbs shudder painfully.

“Hold still,” he hears the voice bark, and forces himself prone. “That’s better.”

He blinks a few times and Arthur’s stern face swims into view. In an instant, his heart sinks. This isn’t how he wanted Arthur to find out—to know just how badly Merlin’s betrayed him for years. He can only hope that the King is still the man he’s been privileged to know, and won’t run a dying man through on his deathbed.

Belatedly, he realizes that Arthur is expecting some form of an answer.

“Yes,” he croaks with a ruined voice, “yes, I have magic.”

Arthur’s jaw works. “Can you heal with it?”

“Y-yes. I can try.”

He nods sharply and jerks his chin towards Merlin’s front. With great effort, he moves his head just enough to see the bandages wrapped around his forearms.

“Fix it.”

Another sickness curdles in the base of Merlin’s stomach, but he dare not disobey.

“Yes, sire.”

***

He stopped being able to feel his legs…hours? Days? Weeks ago? He doesn’t know anymore. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he keeps going.

The storm howls in his ears, more knife-like gusts of wind cutting through his tunic, to his skin, to his bones. The ache of the gale against the weak skin of his face gets icy fingers underneath and pulls, trying to pick him apart, piece by piece.

He long ago lost the ability to shiver.

***

The knights shadow him now. Gone are the days where he could hope to walk through the castle unattended, instead armored footsteps and blood-red cloaks trail his every movement. Out of pity or mercy, he cannot decide which, it is the Knights of the Round Table who form his constant guard.

He surprises himself by being able to deal with the stoic quiet of Elyan and Percival, even the almost sullen nature of Lancelot. Gwaine’s change is more difficult: harsher orders and rougher touches belie just how much his betrayal has shaken the core of the knights, how he catches Gwaine looking at him only when he thinks Merlin can’t see.

He wishes Gwaine would shout, strike, do something more, but why should he deserve the catharsis of punishment?

No, the worst of them all is Leon.

***

Snow piles up and sticks to his legs as he limps into the oncoming storm. Each step weighs him down more, the slight difference in temperature acting like cement as the misshapen things he once called feet gain more and more with every inch he gains. The storm aches to swallow him, he can feel it in each ravenous howl. Louder. Hungrier. With mocking and euphoric fury. It’s agonizing and bloodcurdling and he hasn’t enough blood left in his ears to curdle.

He has a fleeting, hysterical wonder about whether he might taste good.

***

Leon notices. Leon has always noticed, has always been far cleverer than Merlin, in his arrogance, had ever expected.

Gaius was right, his foolishness did bring about his demise.

The worst part of Leon’s perception is that he thwarts Merlin’s attempts to do them all a favor. With the others, it was easy to stumble into a door, graze himself on the sharp metal. Or wander too close to a passing animal and receive a bite on his shoulder. Or even when polishing the swords, not that they ever let him handle such sharp objects for very long, to just let his fingers slide against the edge and whet his selfish appetite just once more.

Leon sees. Leon always sees.

The hand that guides him from the walls is devastatingly tender. The words that still the unsuspecting animal are brutally soft. The look that he gives him when he takes the sharp objects out of reach flays him far more effectively than the keenest blade.

Leon is, at his core, an honorable man, and that will haunt Merlin for his every waking moment from this until his last.

He tries once, to flee. He does not use his magic, because he is a coward and his magic has always been more loyal to those who deserve it. He breaks from Leon’s gaze and sprints for the abandoned corridor, heart in his throat, lungs burning.

He barely makes it three steps.

If it were just the press of metal against his hips, it would be fine. If it were just the ache of the stone under him, it would be fine. If it were just the bite of the sword against his neck, it would be fine.

But there’s a hand under his head to cushion the fall. The sword is removed almost as soon as he feels it. Leon looks at him, not with the cold, hard eyes of a knight, but the soft and knowing gaze of—of—

He never tries to run again.

***

The snowflakes sting where they strike his bare skin. The sodden thing around his neck is like a brand of its own, icy water clinging and digging into every spare crevice it can find. The howl rises to a scream. Is he still in the forest? Did he manage to make it past the frozen lake? Are the howls in his ears the wind or his own memories?

With a dishonorable instinct, one of his hands raises to his chest, trembling not from the cold, but with the shame of self-preservation. His lips move against his will to soundlessly ignite a flame. The gold in his eyes is lost in the white.

The flame splutters against the onslaught and Merlin feeds it his fingers. The burn is almost identical to the corrosion of the cold, but it makes his traitorous lips smile.

***

He discovers it on accident.

He’s in Gaius’s chambers, with Percival standing by the door, trying to mix a poultice for one of the new orders. He’s holding the flask over the flame when all of a sudden, a gust of wind comes in through the window and the flame licks his hand.

The rush of sensation is staggering.

Quickly, he glances over at Percival. He doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. He swallows.

Feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel, he leans over under the guise of pulling the book closer to him and lets his hand drift over the flame. It licks greedily at his pale skin once more, turning it red and raw in mere moments.

He moves it back before Percival can see what’s going on, but he tucks the information into some corner of his wretched mind.

His fingers grow blistered and scarred and his magic grows timid and restless.

***

Were he a better man, he would’ve found the courage to kneel before Arthur and ask for a quick death. Were he a lesser man, he would have shrunken in on himself and allowed his magic to waste away until he could breathe again.

But he is only himself, for better or for worse, and so he wanders through the storm as a revenant until the winds swallow him whole.

***

In the end, it is painfully easy to find an excuse good enough for Gaius to get the knights off of his back long enough to disappear from Camelot.

Another Merlin might have been dismayed at how many sorcerers with ill will targeted Camelot with harmful spells and curses, but this Merlin is relieved that perhaps he might have one more chance to be useful. A curse of an ancient tempest, roused from eternal slumber, sends catastrophic storms across the lands until Arthur decides that something must be done.

Merlin, who had felt that it was magic from the moment the first clouds formed, turned to Gaius and said that there wasn’t much time.

They had ransacked the illegal books that Gaius would never throw away until they found tale of an endless icy storm that belied the true heart of the spirits responsible. If one could travel deep into the perilous wasteland and reverse the enchantment placed upon the crystal, the spirits would be put to rest and the storm would end.

Gaius had looked at him and said he could only buy him so much time.

Merlin had said that a few hours was all he needed.

His magic had grown discontent and sulky over the long months since its discovery, but as Merlin set out to put an end to the curse, it surged forth with renewed vigor. He couldn’t blame it, not when his own heart soared at the thought of saving those he cared about, but when it came at the price of wounds healing, strength returning, and health improving, he can’t help but resent it.

He really is despicable, isn’t he?

That’s why his mission here is two-fold. One: to bring an end to the curse plaguing Camelot, so that the innocent people would no longer have to suffer for the crimes of those for whom they were not responsible. Two: to rid them of the despicable thing that slid into the King’s chambers and leeched his poison throughout the castle.

And…perhaps, because he is alone with his own selfishness, he can admit that he’s too much a coward to let himself carry on another time.

The first part had been easy enough. His magic had guided him past the worst of the gales and to the crystal at its center. Reversing the enchantment had been simple. The worst of the storms had subsided completely, leaving only the last of them to blow themselves out. And, to cap it all off, his magic had viewed that as the end of it, almost leaving him completely.

Now, if only the storms had the decency to finish the job.

***

Memories…memories…

The feeling of Gaius’s hand on his shoulder as they read through the books. The faint smell of old herbs and leather as the books groaned when their pages were turned.

The sweet smell of flowering grass as the knights trained on the field. The slight flash as the sunlight caught their armor, or their blades, as the wind caught their laughter and carried it high into the air.

The warm crackle of the fire in Arthur’s chambers on a cloudless night. The soft scratch of quill against paper as he hums under his breath.

Where had he gone wrong? Was it the first time he raised a hand, not to defend himself, but to attack? Was it the first lie he told, not to save himself, but to inflict it upon another? Was it the first life he took, or the second, or the hundredth?

Had he become despicable, or had he just realized he was?

He remembers quite clearly the first time he thought about dying. It was the first day, when he’d arrived and saw the sorcerer executed. He’d thought about what it might feel like, taste like, smell like, as the flames ate through him. He doesn’t remember when it became an instinctive thought, only that he turned around one day to find it as much a part of him as his shadow.

He remembers a smooth lake, a boat, a rose dying in his hands, and the impulse to set himself ablaze and drown beneath its depths.

Was it a blessing, that they’d finally discovered his magic and now had tantamount reason to despise him? Or was it a curse, that they would only look at him more now as an untrusted thing? Was it Destiny, reaching out to screw him over one last time, or his own ineptitude, that even She didn’t want anything to do with him?

The howl of the wind and the soft crunch of a body hitting the snow.

***

”Merlin? Merlin!”

“Christ, he’s freezing.”

“Get him wrapped up, get the spare blankets, now!”

“He’s not going to make it all the way back, we’re too far.”

“We can’t stay here, the storm is still coming.”

“Back to the forest, if we can make it deep enough in, we might be able to find some cover.”

“Hurry, get him up off the snow.”

“Careful, he’s weaker than a newborn deer right now.”

“Oh, you idiot, what have you done to yourself?”

“Yell at him when he’s awake and back with us, we’re not even close to being safe yet.”

“Hang on, Merlin, you hear? Just you hang on, you’ll be alright.”

“We have to go faster, the storm’s still coming.”

“I thought it was over?”

“The worst of it is, but these parts of the mountains are stormy anyway.”

“Why didn’t he go down the other way? He could’ve been safer much quicker.”

“You know why.”

“Damn you, Merlin, you’d better make it through this.”

“He’s still breathing but his heart is weak. He hasn’t got long left at this rate.”

“Let’s hope his magic will keep him stable long enough to get to Gaius. We just have to make it home.”

“You hear that, Merlin? We’re taking you home. You’re safe now, you’re with us. We’ll get you home.”

***

He’s dreaming, he must be.

He’s in a warm, soft field of grass and wildflowers. Trees sway back and forth in the gentle breeze as golden sunlight reaches its long fingers through the branches. A bunny hops up to where he lies on the ground and butts its nose against his cheek. It’s warm, slightly rough. It does it again, and again, rubbing its face against Merlin’s.

Wake up, it says softly, wake up, Merlin.

He doesn’t want to wake up. This field is quite nice.

Wake up, the bunny says again, you have to wake up.

The bunny doesn’t sound like how a bunny should sound. It sounds deeper, gruffer, and its nose is starting to feel like leather. He tries to turn his head away, but then there’s another bunny on the other side, keeping him in place.

Wake up. Wake up, Merlin.

He tries to pull away. He’s too weak. The bunnies turn into hands.

“Wake up, Merlin, you can do it.”

Merlin tries to move away one more time and his eyes flutter open.

He’s looking at a crack in the wall. There isn’t a crack in the wall by his bed normally. The red bedcovers are hurting his eyes. His bedcovers aren’t red. Why are his covers red?

“That’s it. Come on, look at me now…”

The bunnies have followed him. How rude. Their hands—wait, bunnies don’t have hands. Not like these hands. Merlin blinks again.

“Is he awake?”

”Just coming around now.” The first bunny leans down and a face starts to swim into view. “Merlin? Can you hear me?”

He can. He’d like to stop. He’d like to go back to sleeping with the nice bunnies in the field. But he’s not allowed to; the hands shake him gently and the face that had been a swimming and blurry mess turns into Leon.

“There you are,” Leon says softly, his hands stroking Merlin’s cheeks, “you gave us all quite the fright.”

Another voice starts to say something and is promptly shushed by a whole lot of voices. What’s a group of bunnies called again?

“Stay with me,” Leon coaxes, “that’s it. Eyes on me.”

“Wha—“ Merlin swallows. “What’s going on?”

“We found you in the snow,” he says with such gravity that it makes Merlin’s head spin, “we thought…we thought we had lost you.”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” someone—Gwaine, that’s Gwaine—Gwaine says, appearing over Leon’s shoulder, “you scared us all half to death.”

Indeed, as one of Leon’s hands finally relents and lets him turn his head, his eyes widen as he sees all of the knights huddled around the bed with stricken expressions on their faces. Lancelot gives him the smallest of smiles, getting up and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. With the utmost care, he reaches out and takes Merlin’s limp hand in his. The rush of warmth brings a gasp from his lungs and Lancelot squeezes reassuringly.

“You’re safe now,” he promises, “we’ll keep you safe.”

Leon gently coaxes his attention back, tucking some of his hair back from his face. “You need to get your strength back up. The burns on your hands need time to heal too. Let us take care of you for a while, yes? I fear we’ve been far too remiss in that regard for too long.”

Merlin is…confused. Not because he thought the knights were bunnies, no, he’s awake enough to realize that was the last of his dream fading away. No, he’s confused because Elyan and Percival are staring at him with open concern, Lancelot has now taken his hand in between both of his, Gwaine is on the other end of the bed radiating protectiveness from every bunched line of muscle, and Leon is still cradling his face like he’s something precious.

“What’s the matter,” Gwaine asks softly when all Merlin does is stare at them for long seconds, “does something hurt? Gauis patched you up the best he could, but there might still be something he missed.”

“Why did you save me?”

Several expressions flicker across Gwaine's face before he settles for laughing uneasily. “What do you mean, ‘why did we save you?’ Is the cold still freezing part of your brain?”

”Be nice,” Lancelot chides, rubbing his thumb over the back of Merlin’s hand. “He’s only just woken up.”

“We weren’t going to leave you all on your own,” Gwaine continues, a furrow forming between his brows, “and of course we saved you. Why wouldn’t we save you, what made you think we’d just let you die?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he can tell it’s the wrong thing to have said. Gwaine’s expression darkens almost instantly and Lancelot’s grip tightens on his hand. Before he can stutter out some sort of apology, Leon’s turning his chin again.

“Why do you think it’d be easier,” he asks with the patience of a saint, “can you explain it, please?”

And so he explains. About how he remembers waking up to Arthur’s stern face asking—no, telling him that he had magic and to fix his mistakes. About how the knights follow and watch him constantly. About how he’s not allowed to so much as mark himself, not since Leon told them all to stop him. About how he figured the storm was the easiest on all of them.

About how when he collapsed in the snow, he figured that was the end of it.

“Oh, Merlin,” he hears Lancelot say weakly as he finishes, as Gwaine gets up to pace.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Leon says, much to Merlin’s continued confusion, “a terrible misunderstanding.”

”We were worried that we found you with life-threatening wounds, not that you were a sorcerer.”

“We wanted you to be safe, not that we thought you were dangerous.”

“You were hurting yourself, a man we care deeply for, we couldn’t just stand by and let it happen.”

“We were worried, don’t you see?”

Merlin’s head is spinning. Lancelot’s grip on his hand is the only thing that’s keeping him in the room, in the bed, and he grabs onto it as tightly as he can. He must hush the other knights because the voices die down.

“But the burns,” Merlin’s babbling—how long has he been talking?— “those didn’t count, they didn’t count—“

“They did, they do,” Lancelot interrupts with devastating softness, “they do count. I’m so sorry we didn’t realize how much you were struggling, my friend. Or that we were adding to it.”

“We don’t care that you have magic,” Gwaine adds—

“We care a little,” says Elyan.

Percival nods. “It’s really cool.”

“—but we don’t care,” Gwaine emphasizes, “not like we care about you. You’re Merlin, that’s what we care about. That’s you’re alive and safe and all of that.”

“We’ve never hated you,” Leon finishes, “never despised you, any of that. Your happiness and your safety are what matters to us, not your magic.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Before he has a chance to truly panic about just how selfish he’s been, how selfish he was going to be, he hears a clattering of footsteps from beyond the door.

Arthur.

“Is he alright,” Arthur demands as the door just about flies off its hinges, “is he alive? Is he okay?”

Lancelot and Leon have just enough time to get out of the way before there’s a red blur and suddenly—

Warmth solid comfort pressure safety comfort warmth Arthur Arthur Arthur—

“Thank the gods,” come the words breathed into his ear, “thank the gods you’re alright.”

Soft golden hair brushes his temple, callused hands and slightly chapped lips brushing the shell of his ear. His hands curl into the back of Arthur’s shirt in disbelief, and another sigh warms the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, to reassure both of them, “you’re safe now, Merlin, you hear? I’ve got you.”

Merlin’s eyes flutter shut as his senses overwhelm with Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Distantly, he hears the knights shuffling around to get comfortable, but he can no more open his eyes to see than he could pull himself from under Arthur’s protective embrace.

“A-Arthur?”

”Yes,” he breathes, turning just enough so their noses brush, “yes, it’s me, Merlin.”

“Are—are you going to look after me?”

Arthur smiles, half laughing in disbelief as he brushes Merlin’s hair back from his forehead. “Yes, you idiot. I’m going to look after you now.”

It’s warm inside as the storm finally blows itself out.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #dragonbabbles #fic

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bellafragolina · 1 year

Note

A bittersweet self-aware prompt that can involve any character of your choosing:

The three times the character was introduced to the player.

1) When the player first started the game and was just learning the ropes.

2) When the player came back to re-play the game and wanted to experience everything the game had to offer.

3) When the player was showing their child how to play the game and helping them get through the hard parts.

If that’s too sad, you can switch it up and say younger relative/friend.

Feel free to go as in-depth or simple as you like, and pick whichever character - or characters if you’re feeling bold - you want.

Enjoy!

ooh!! Any character I want?? Hhhh that’s a tricky game to play cause you know who I wanna choose

🍓🍓🍓

The sky faller is strange. Understandable, since the world they came from is no doubt considerably different. Professor Laventon keeps notes on it all, eager to help the poor thing adjust, everything from mentions of food to phrases and actions they often do and their meanings. This world is not kind to strangers, to things dubbed different, so Laventon works hard to be a comforting presence.

But even still, the faller is. . . strange. As time passes, Laventon starts to notice more of their little habits. Their words are very limited, hardly ever speaking their wants, instead rushing around towards things they shouldn’t be able to see, to know about. They’re scarily astute, well aware of what is nearby, be it item or Pokémon.

And the Pokémon. . . Even the Pokémon are strange. They act as normal, but without any sort of command from the faller. They strike, deafening moves of devastating power, without so much of an indication from the trainer. They point, swipe their hand, and the Pokémon somehow knows what to do. Laventon watches them battle endlessly, yet can’t seem to gleam what it is that’s instructing the Pokémon to do different moves.

He’s worried. These things could cause strife in the village if not properly explained or proved harmless. It’s terrible that he has to even study the faller, a small child that’s acting as they always have, but they’re different. And to Laventon’s disdain, different is treated as bad here. So he works hard.

And in his determination, he looks up to the sky that birthed his honorary charge, and sees. . . not Sinnoh. No, it’s not a Pokémon that lingers in the sparkling waves of the spacetime rip. Instead, it’s a face, human.

A smiling face. And with it, a warm voice. The voice, soft and murmuring, guides the faller. The voice shows them the way, points out the various things a normal person cannot see, and conducts the Pokémon to be victorious. They puzzle through mysteries that surround the land, the Pokémon, and bring the bare bones PokéDex to new heights.

And in their sweet voice, they always pour plenty of praise onto Laventon himself, flustering the professor to no end.

Laventon finds himself staring at the sky far more often. Whoever it is up there, watching over the faller. . . He’s entranced. Who is this person? How are they there, gazing upon Hisui?

Whoever they are, Laventon easily becomes smitten. He watches them guide the faller with nothing but patience and encouragement. As things grow to a close, the dex on the verge of being completed, Laventon starts to contemplate opening up to this person watching over them. He has so much to ask, to say, to thank them for.

Perhaps after the last noble is calmed-

◉

When Laventon wakes up, he feels. . . strange. He rushes wanders Jubilife, drawn to the little beach, just in time to see a figure float down from the sky. He marvels the faller, his darling Pokémon quickly rushing over to them with eager chirps and cries.

Laventon starts to follow, then pauses. He gazes up to the sky, the rift, and. . . there's a face. A face of determination.

Ah. Yes. He remembers now! But. . . why is this all happening again?

Laventon watches carefully. The faller is the same as before, but even more efficient. They catch Pokémon with ease, and their guardian murmurs aloud about evolution and dex entries.

It's hard not to feel flattered when such a grand being takes such interest in his work, such delight in his entries. Laventon makes sure to tell the faller his thanks and gratitude often, knowing it travels up to their guardian, given the smile they always wear.

And it's hard not to fall for such a proud, delighted smile.

Laventon works hard, as hard as the faller. He strives to get approval from the guardian above, perhaps saving this world from another repeat of events, perhaps gaining their favor towards him as well. They already help so many people. All the villagers, the clans, even Kamado despite their sullenness towards the captain.

Laventon understands, and even comes to share some of their sullenness when the faller is banished. No amount of pleading can stop it, and Laventon grows so upset, seeing the face in the sky grow shadowed and disappointed.

He can't stand to see them disappointed.

But it works out! The might Sinnohs are quelled, and things return to normal. The dex becomes the sole concern once again, and despite the betrayal of Volo along the way, the faller and their guardian work hard together. Laventon cheers them on every step of the way, so excited to see things finally coming to completion.

It feels like things are as they should be. Laventon guides the faller like you do, the best he can. It feels like he's gained a child of his own, somehow, with how he frets and worries for them when their not around. He sees the guardian in the sky do similar, whenever the faller is struck, so perhaps they feel like a parent as well?

Perhaps he and them are parents together, to the faller? It's a nice thought to have, one where he has a little family, a life of accomplishment and comfort and love and affection.

And when all is done, the dex sitting completed in his hands, Laventon has to look up towards the sky, and-

◉

Laventon wakes up, and knows things are wrong. He knows where he is, when he is, but it feels. . . different. He eases himself into the village, and feels like years have passed, despite being back at the start once more. So he rushes towards the beach, towards the faller still sinking down down down.

Reluctantly, he gazes towards the sky.

There the guardian is, just as beautiful as he can remember. And in their lap sits a small child, one with their eyes.

Laventon stops looking at the sky, and focuses on the faller before him.

🍓🍓🍓

i did my best! i hope this is good!

~Renee

#professor laventon x reader #laventon x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader

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levy120 · 7 months

Text

Burn Your Bridges

[PART 1: Foreign]

[PART 2: Advertisement]

[PART 3: Blood Money]

[PART 4: Tit for Tat]

Rating: PG

Words: 2300

Genre: Introspection, Character Deconstruction/Analysis, Speculation, AU

Lore: Rayman 2, Captain Laserhawk speculation

Characters: Rayman, Razorbeard, Globox, Ly

Summary: Rayman returns to the Glade.

AN: Oh look! It's an all new chapter that wasn't planned :') See also on: [dA] | now also on [ao3]

See also: [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [You are here]

More like this: [Rayman Oneshots Masterpost]

A group of Henchmen escorts Rayman to Razorbeard where he's received... with a surprising welcome.

"Rayman!" Razorbeard says "I see Eden's been doing you good! You fine looking."

"Cut the crap," Rayman says, eliciting a tinny chuckle from Razorbeard.

"You know why I'm here."

"I know, I know," the pirate says with a hint of excitement as he hops from his seat and approaches Rayman. He eyes one of the hands hanging by his side before looking up at the Limbless with a devilish glint in his optics as he offers his own.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you." of all people.

Rayman has to hold himself back from crushing Razorbeard's hand in his palm.

---

As Razorbeard leads him down the prison ward, Rayman feels his skin crawl from the sight of the familiar walls.

They’re just like he last saw them, lined with cages. An assortment of trapped creatures blink up at him in confused hope. Rayman’s name is a whisper in the halls.

It's a cacophony before he knows it. Cries for help. Confusion about why he's following Razorbeard. Or looks so different.

And the endless question of why he just keeps moving along instead of setting them free.

He's avoiding his eyes, running the gauntlet. Just tries to not lose Razorbeard's trail.

Don't even think about getting lost in here. Just... don't think about it.

It was too easy to forget just how many there were still trapped upon Razorbeard's prison ship.

And Rayman is here to get just one.

His feet stop moving as the guilt comes crashing down. The disappointment he's going to leave in his wake.

He is not helping.

One slave is just a drop in the desert.

…

But it's the first drop, he thinks, clenching his fist.

Just the first step.

If he were to free them now…

He'll draw Razorbeard's anger.

Razorbeard's anger will infuriate his boss.

And his boss will call retribution in ways Rayman doesn't want to think about.

"Desolé," he breathes.

…and moves on.

---

Globox is sleeping when Rayman catches up with Razorbeard in front of his cell. Compared to his old one, Globox merely has wooden bars to keep him contained.

He almost doesn't want to wake him.

The large frog looks rather peaceful. And maybe a little like he hasn't eaten in… a while.

Rayman looks forward to changing that.

Razorbeard very calmly finishes spanning an umbrella and then starts lifting the wooden gate with the press of a button.

As soon as its height allows for it, Rayman slinks into his friend's cell.

"Globox!"

He doesn't know why, but he'd expected this to be different. For Globox to be happy to see him. But the large frog barely stirs.

"What's up with him? What did you do?!" Rayman glares at Razorbeard who merely shrugs.

"Guy's been on a diet. He's just overdramatic."

Razorbeard sees the Limbless's gaze harden and his hands ball into fists.

"Now hold your shells. He's fine. We just had to make sure he's not up to pulling his little stunt," Razorbeard points the umbrella at Rayman, "You do recognize the concept of self preservation, don't you?"

With an angry puff Rayman's attention returns to his friend, the state of which makes him deflate immediately.

He pulls the limp body into a hug, scared by how easy his weight makes it.

"It's gonna be okay," He vows, "I'm getting you out of here. You'll be fine, I promise."

After one last squeeze that elicits a slight murmur from the large frog, Rayman removes himself from Globox and steps up towards the robot.

"What about his children?"

"A deal's a deal," Razorbeard admonishes, "But I can make you a batch offer for the next time."

"But you're feeding them?!"

Razorbeard raises his hands placatingly.

"They’re… not a threat," he explains, "And don't need quite so much per mouth."

Rayman is visibly mulling over the words. His jaw locked.

"Fine," Rayman almost snaps. "I'll pay extra for you to increase their rations. Please bring him to my ship. My boss will cover all expenses."

"Aye, Aye," Razorbeard signs off almost too enthusiastically, "Before I let you two leave, would you like to see Ly? I had her brought here specifically because I knew you were coming."

"What?"

Ly was… here? On the pirate ship???

Rayman thought she'd been holding up the fort since he'd been captured! But then again, how long ago has that been?

He feels his gut churn at the mere idea of seeing her again behind bars. That's… not at all how he'd thought this would go.

"Come on. As a treat between business partners. I'll let you say hi. I'm sure she will be thrilled to see you."

Rayman hesitates but his heart is threatening to run away from him. Whether from fear or anticipation he does not know. YES he wants to see Ly again but-

"I'm not sure that's the best idea right now."

"Fine," Razorbeard remarks, "I'll tell her you weren't interested."

That's worse!!!!

"On, second thought!" Rayman rushes after the little pirate after he'd already turned to leave.

"Yes, I'd love to see Ly."

---

"Oh, Rayman! It's really you! I thought Razorbeard had sold you off!"

"I did," the Admiral pipes proudly.

"He did," Rayman confirms with a side glance at the robot casually regarding the bolts of his knuckles.

"But I'm here now!" Rayman says.

He’s up to the bars of her temporary cell. Her slender hands are reaching through to cup his cheeks and his on hands reach for hers to know she’s real.

It makes his heart simultaneously soar and cry out. It's good to see Ly again - but she shouldn’t be behind bars.

"What are you wearing?" she asks with amusement as she takes note of his jacket and pokes the adorable little bowtie.

"It's cute."

Something bugs her, even though she can't put her finger on it. Maybe it's the fact he's no longer sporting the sigil. It's so strange to see him without it, but then again, it's not like Ly got around to telling him why that mattered so much to her.

All in all, though, she's far too relieved to see that Rayman is doing okay, to give it too much thought.

"It's a long story," Rayman says scratching the back of his head bashfully, "It's impractical," he really misses the warmth of baggy comfort clothes or the practicality of his adventure attire, "but they're not letting me be seen in anything else."

Ly shoots him a worried look.

Rayman talking about 'them' - and in this way - is the first time the thought manifests that he's…

...he's been gone, and not just out of sight, somewhere on the prison ship. It makes it all the more incredible he's returned though. That must have taken some trials.

Ly wants to stay positive, but the thought of Rayman being exploited gnaws at her. He seems to have been treated well, though. No wounds - old or new - to speak off, and he holds himself well. Healthy. Fed. Physically, he's in top shape, if a little exhausted. She hasn't missed the deep-set worry lines on his brow or the (masked) bags under his eyes.

All the better though, that now they have a chance to bring an end to this situation for good.

The fairy tugs at Rayman's hands and leans in closer. Her gaze is focusing on Razorbeard as she whispers to the Limbless.

"So what's your plan for Razorbeard? Let me know if you need a distraction. I gathered a bit of energy for you when I heard you were coming."

"Oh!" Rayman pulls back suddenly, like Ly's suggestion comes as a surprise.

"No, that's… off the table."

"What?" Now it's Ly's turn to be confused, her brow creasing as she waits for an explanation.

Rayman breathes an embarrassed sigh.

"I guess I should have led with that," he admits bashfully.

"Razorbeard has immunity. I'm here for negotiations. I can't… do anything about him."

Ly pulls back from the bars with dawning horror as she watches Rayman. Words fail her as she tries to make sense of him.

"Razorbeard is right there," she says in denial, by now indifferent whether or not the robot can hear, "You could end this… right now."

"But here's the thing," Rayman tries to explain himself. His entire being is clammy with cold, nervous sweat.

"There's a better way! My boss has connections! We can negotiate-"

"No."

Ly doesn't believe what she's hearing. Rayman - her Rayman - is conspiring with the enemy???

"I know it sounds crazy!" Rayman blurts, "I just- I'm sorry, I came for Globox first. I just thought you were still holding down the fort and you know how scared Globox is of the robots, so when I had to choose who to free first I-"

"You chose?!" Ly cuts him off and the silence that follows is deafening.

Razorbeard chuckles and removes himself to stand on the sidelines. This is gonna be good.

"Ly, please," Rayman pleads, "It took me so long just to get here, but I promise to make this right! Razorbeard won't come after you again once you're let free! I just need a little more time and… please don't look at me like that."

But the fairy's gaze is scrutinizing.

"You chose," she repeats with admonition, "Who gets to be free… and who has to stay here?!"

Ly raises to her full height to glare down on Rayman.

"Where do you take the right-" she has to stop herself, starts pacing in her cell.

"Razorbeard is just over there!" She has said this before, it's unbelievable to her that it bears repeating. "You free a single soul, that you take the audacity to decide on, instead of ending this Nightmare once and for all!"

"It's more complicated than that," Rayman tries to explain, to somehow vindicate himself, but his heart isn't really in it.

"I promise, when I'm coming back, I'll get you next. We can go to Eden together."

Ly stops pacing to look at him.

A good, long, accusing look.

"Rayman," this tone in her voice is so new to him, it's giving him chills. Ly had always been such a serene boulder in the storm. Now it's like she embodies thunder itself.

"I am not leaving the Glade."

His breath hitches.

"This is my home. Our home!" She's adamant, "And you're dragging Globox away? To… to a place called Eden? What about his kids?! Are they supposed to grow up without a father? Don't you think he'd rather be with his family?"

Rayman flinches. He has no answer to those questions, admittedly barely thought about them in his excitement to… to do something good!

"I'm doing the right thing!" he insists, if only to convince himself.

But he can't look Ly in the eyes, even as he says it.

The fairy's silence is deafening, but he can feel her glare without needing to search for it.

"You can't truly believe that."

"...Fine," Rayman feels his fist shake at his side. Hot anger burns in his chest and threatens to spill.

"Stay if you have to. But I don't see what good that would do now."

Ly cannot believe that - after all the fighting, after all they'd been through - Rayman would just trade in his home like that.

"How can you just give up on the Glade?"

And here she thought they'd been friends. Allys. Maybe even…

"I haven't!" Rayman snaps and gets up at the bars again.

"If I had, I wouldn't be here right now!"

Ly has no right to judge him like that! After all the pain and suffering he's been through. All of his efforts will not have been for naught!

The fairy takes one hard look at him. Hurt and betrayal reflects in her eyes.

Despite all he says… he's not going to stay. She knows it now. He came back only to leave again.

"You've changed," she says. It's in his aura too. She can see it now. It's what's been bugging her this entire time.

What used to be calm and light and filled with playful joy now vibrates with hostile anger and distrust.

"What- No! I'm still the same!"

He doesn't even see it. Ly has lost him. She doesn't know when. And she doesn't know why.

But Rayman has made one thing overwhelmingly clear.

"You say that. And still, you're going to leave again."

Leave them behind.

He's going to choose his new life over her. Over the Glade. This… strange world she's never before heard of that did this to him.

And what's worse, he's going to steal Globox away from them too; in the unshakable belief that his best friend would like a place that changed Rayman into this. That broke him like this.

Globox is going to hate it.

She tries to even her own breath. Smooth out the cracks in her own heart. This anger is unbecoming of her and if she doesn't control it, it's going to consume her the same way.

It's a feeling she reserves for enemies. For robots. For Razorbeard.

…for whatever it is this new Rayman has become.

"Leave then," she capitulates.

"I will not be waiting."

"Ouchy," Razorbeard jests as he makes his way back over and pats Rayman's back, jostling his midsection.

"She hasn't been fed yet today. I guess that makes her a little cranky. Come on, let's give the lass her wish."

Reluctantly, Rayman's feet turn as Razorbeard ushers him away, but his gaze clings to Ly until her cell disappears behind a corner.

All in all, Razorbeard considers today a raging success.

After all, the only thing better than gold or slaves

…is petty revenge.

#rayman #captain laserhawk #clabdr #fanfiction #speculation #sorry not sorry

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plainemmanem · 2 years

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okay but can I request a protective!Poe ? Chapter ten gave me protective vibes and fuck I'm a slut for those

i am also an absolute whore for protective poe, so let's see a little more of him shall we? also, i havent done a lot of writing from poe's pov, so i thought i would try it out! i had so many ideas bouncing around in my head for this ask (p.s. i actually wrote like three different versions of this lol, im sorry it took so long) but i hope you enjoy <3

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

Enter the planet, meet the informant, and leave. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But the second Poe's foot touched solid ground, he knew something was off.

It was a set up, a particularly clever one at that, and Poe quickly found himself in a waking nightmare:

Torture. On the Starkiller Base. Face-to-face with none other than Kylo Ren himself.

Ren had been hunting Poe for years. As a close confidante to Leia before her passing, Poe held top secret knowledge that could be detrimental the Resistance. Poe, or at least his mind, had great value to Ren.

He just had to squeeze that information out of him.

It was obviously a trap, sending a hologram of Poe's torture directly to D'Qar. Ren knew someone from the Resistance would come for him soon after, but he had been particularly hopeful it would be you.

Who better to incentivize Poe than his own fiance?

And you knew you it was a trap. You knew it was selfish to go after him. But you slipped away in the night anyways, taking great care not to alert the rest of the base, knowing they would do anything to prevent you from leaving. Lock you up, knock you out. Whatever it took.

But you couldn't stop yourself.

The hologram Ren had sent was....

You couldn't not go.

His poor screams rang through your head the whole flight there.

You didn't even have a plan. You just needed to get to him, as soon as possible. You would offer yourself, trade places with him, join the First Order, it didn't matter. You just had to make sure he was safe.

Poe had begged you not to come in the hologram, but you couldn't stop yourself. Thoughts of Poe's lifeless corpse prevented any sound judgment.

Poe prayed you wouldn't come. He needed you safe. He didn't care if he died, he just needed to make sure you stayed put.

He tried to remain strong against Ren's torture, occasionally cracking jokes and holding in his screams, but his determination was slowly wearing thin. Every time he closed his eyes, your face flashed through his mind.

Your smile, your face when you first woke up, your concentrated stare. He could swear you were right there with him.

And then you were.

Ren had caught you easily, immediately dragging you to the interrogation room himself.

"I want you to see for yourself," his voice was muffled through the mask.

Poe felt so weak, he barely even reacted when Ren brought you in. He couldn't even be sure you were real. You could merely a hallucination, a sadistic trick of the mind.

But, unfortunately, this was no trick.

Ren released Poe from the chair, his limp body collapsing on the floor.

Poe could tell your arms were restrained. You didn't even try to run.

"Maker, Poe!" you tried moving towards him, but Ren quickly got a hold of you, despite your violent thrashing.

Poe's mind screamed at him to say something, to do anything, but he could barely find the strength to catch his breath.

Ren swiftly kicked him aside, now securing you to the chair to take Poe's place.

Poe made a sad attempt to stand, even managing to push himself up partially, but he couldn't do much more than that.

His brain felt like it was on fire. He could barely swallow, his mouth was so dry, and it felt like electricity was pumping through his veins.

He peered up from the ground, catching your eyes immediately.

You had been crying. He so desperately wanted to reach out and brush your tears away; he hated when you cried. His heart constricted tightly in his chest before he turned a fiery gaze upon Ren.

"L-Let her g-go. She has n-nothing to do with th-this..."

Ren stooped down to meet his gaze. All Poe could see was his own reflection staring back at him in the mask.

"She has everything to do with this."

Ren rose once again, now stepping back to face you and scanning you from head to toe.

You harshly looked away, avoiding his gaze and setting your jaw tightly.

"I'm not afraid of you," Poe could hear your voice wavering slightly.

Taking a small step closer, Ren grabbed your face roughly before turning you to meet his gaze.

"You will be."

Your eyes were filled with fire, but your jaw still held a slight tremble.

"Don't worry," Ren's whisper was almost undecipherable behind the mask, but Poe could hear him loud and clear. "It will be over quickly."

"Enough," Poe slowly started to gain back some of his strength, and was managing to make it back on his feet. "You already have me."

Suddenly, Ren thrusted his hand toward him, sending Poe flying backwards into the concrete wall behind him. All the air in Poe's lungs vanished before he quickly sank back down to his knees.

Ren released his gloved grip on your face, now turning his full attention towards the pilot beneath him.

Poe could practically feel rage seeping through Ren's mask as he stalks towards him.

"Join me." The words were so simple, yet so biting.

Poe snarled lowly, disgust washing over him.

"Never." He spat the word like venom at the man towering above him.

Ren turned abruptly to you, determination in his stride.

"I feel I can persuade you," Ren replied succinctly. His voice was almost robotic. Hollow, void of emotion. It was inhuman.

He took another step towards you, reaching his hand out before him and holding it just in front of your face.

Poe watched in horror as your face slowly contorted in agony, eyes narrowing and brow furrowing. He knew exactly what you were feeling. He could practically feel the searing pain splitting through his own head.

You put up a good fight, holding in your screams, but Poe knew it would only be a matter of time.

"Stop!" the pilot yelled, voice desperate and frantic.

Ren persisted, your head starting to fall back, all your muscles becoming taught. Piercing shrieks ripped through your body, and Poe could feel himself truly starting to panic.

His mind raced. Joining the First Order was out of the question, but he couldn't live in a world without you in it.

"This will kill her. Eventually," Ren uttered to Poe, never breaking his ministrations on your mind. "It will take time, but I can wait while you make up your mind."

Breaking you was easy for Ren, and Poe sensed you starting to slip. Poe's eyes shot from Ren to you, his pulse quickening and his body igniting with adrenaline.

"Stop! Stop, enough! I-I'll join you. The First Order, I'll join you! I'll leave the Resistance." He knew he must have looked insane, his eyes wide with fear and his voice full of desperation. "Just... just let her go."

Ren finally halted, your body falling forward and going limp. Little aftershocks still ripped through your body as you barely lifted your head to shoot Poe a sorrowful look. Your tears fell like raindrops to the ground below and all Poe could think about was how he never wanted to see you in pain ever again.

Ren quickly spun back to Poe, tilting his head slightly at Poe's decision.

"N-no!" you yelled, voice raw and vulnerable. "No, take me! I'll tell y-ou anything- Anything you want-t!"

Ren froze at that. He almost seemed to be contemplating this new development.

But Poe couldn't understand why. Taking you would make no sense. Ren had been after Poe for years. Why was he even considering you over him?

Ren turned fully to face you, giving you another look up and down, before heading to the door and ripping it open. Two troopers stood at attention outside, waiting patiently to receive orders.

"Bring the girl to a cell," Ren barked at them harshly. "And take him outside." He turned, giving Poe one final glance. His face was impossible to read behind the mask. "He's going home."

"Wh-?" Poe stumbled to his feet, shock making his blood run cold. "No!"

The guards swiftly rushed in, releasing you from the chair. One guard began to drag you out of the room, while the other grabbed Poe by the arms to be restrained.

"No!" Poe roughly shoved him away, rushing towards you and grabbing your face with both hands. You looked so weak, all the color running from your face as if the life was literally draining out of you. "I-I'll come back. I won't leave you. I'll get you out of here. I love y-"

You couldn't even speak as the guard hauled you from the room, your feet still dragging behind you.

"No, wait! No!" Poe fought off the guard, rushing after you once again, if only to have you in his arms one last time.

"Requesting backup," Poe could hear the trooper call out behind him as he raced for the door.

Suddenly three more guards appeared before him. Poe threw as many kicks and punches as he could physically manage before the four guards had him fully restrained, two on each side of him forcing him to the ground.

Ren stalked out of the shadows of the room and stood before Poe once again, looking down at him as if he were a mere insect beneath him.

"She has potential. I feel she will do well here." Ren remained emotionless, speaking to Poe as if he had never met him before in his life.

"That wasn't the deal," Poe made one last attempt to break free of the guards' hold, thrashing about, to no avail. "She was never supposed to be a part of this!"

Ren gave him one last look before spinning and heading for the hallway follow after you.

"Things change."

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron x you

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 2 years

Text

Thranduil and Josie Part 51- The Elvenking

Summary: Thranduil is in peril from his use of black magic. How did the hourglass get broken and what has it unleashed? Josie, Legolas and Haldir are in shock at the resurrection of the notorious Elvenking in more ways than one, and he is as dark as ever. What can save him? The King and Haldir's revived friendship, although astonishing is quite refreshing. Legolas fights his new found feelings as Haldir struggles with extreme guilt. Thranduil has a lucid dream. A gathering of the 3 realms takes place in Rivendell. Thranduil will feel his Queen's wrath.

*Smut* (long chapter)

There was a reason you felt the need to go to Thranduil, even as angry and hurt as you were. The two of you shared a rare connection, which began before you met him as he would hear you in his mind from time to time, calling for rescue which always frazzled him, not knowing who you were, where you were or why he would hear a simple human from so far away, or even at all. He would then soon come to realize it was destiny and fall uncontrollably and irrevocably in love with you.

That connection was strong as ever and you came to find him in his quarters with Legolas hovering over his father's unconscious body lying on the floor, begging him to wake, and you heard the crow outside with the caws of 3.

"Thranduil!!!!!!!!!" you screamed and ran right to his side, falling onto your knees, tapping repetitively on his face in a panic. He was cold and extremely pale, more so than his natural state was.

"I..I came to check on him and found him like this in the chair. I just thought he was drunk but...the hourglass, it is broken...." Legolas stammered as he stared at the shards of glass and red sand lying on the floor under his father's chair where his hand had hung limp. You followed Legolas's eyes and gasped when you saw it.

"No....." you whispered with big eyes and swung your head back to Thranduil checking his pulse. You panicked as you did not feel one and brought your head quickly down upon his chest listening for a heartbeat, which also was non existent. You screamed so loud it caused Legolas to jump. "Baby no no no nooooo, wake up!" you shouted as you shook him relentlessly. Instinctively, you began cpr as you cried in between breaths. A vison flashed in your mind. "Legolas!!" you gasped. "You are fast, go, run to the infirmary, Haldir is wearing the emerald pendant that saved me!" Legolas was gone before you could even finish. You kept on with cpr and pleading with Thranduil to hear you, to wake up, to breathe...."You cannot leave me, you cannot leave our daughter!!! I love you...."

Legolas really was fast, he must have jumped over pathways and took shortcuts through the trees that grew throughout the caverns, because he was back already, with the pendant in hand. Haldir had been awake and willingly gave it to Legolas. You knew Haldir had done it for you, not for Thranduil.

You immediately opened Thranduil's robe, revealing his bare, still chest and laid the pendant over his heart. You and Legolas stared at it, waiting. What was seconds seemed like minutes and the gem lit up a pastel green that brightened the entire room, singing a deafening tune. The glow radiated through Thranduil's chest as the pendant vibrated over his heart. His back arched up as he gasped in for air. Your hands flew over your mouth in shock as tears poured over them. The pendant's light went out and all was silent except for Thranduil laying with wide eyes, catching his breath. Your hands were shaking, hell, your entire body was. "Easy...it is alright, you are alright." you sobbed as you rubbed his face. His eyes jumped to you in confusion and he slowly sat up as the pendant slid down onto his lap. He gazed at it, then at Legolas, then at you. You took his hand which was now warm and his color had returned. "Do you feel ok?"

Thranduil stared at you for a moment, then yanked his hand from yours causing you to lightly gasp. He then turned to Legolas. "Legolas...why are you hovering over me, in my corridors no less, and why am I upon the floor in such a state?" He was referring to his openly bare chest as he peered down at it. "Have I indulged in too much of my reserve?"

"Adar, you do not remember? We found you in here....you were not breathing, and had...no heartbeat. Haldir's pendant, there on your lap, brought you back." Legolas explained.

Thranduil looked back down at the gem and picked it up, analyzing it. "Yessss. I remember he always wears this." he whispered. "Why is it that it is in my possession and not his? He never takes it off."

"He is here, in the infirmary. He offered it to Legolas when he told him what had happened. Thank god he was here or I would have lost you." you said with a sniffle.

Thranduil stared at you blankly, then turned back to Legolas. "Why is he in the infirmary, what has happened to him? Is he alright?" he asked in genuine concern which floored both you and Legolas.

"Father. I had to shoot him with an arrow to protect Josie. Do you not remember any of this? He will be alright, I did not aim to kill him."

Thranduil gazed at him in bewilderment. "Whom is this Josie you speak of?"

You sucked in a breath, almost choking on it. "Thranduil, it is I?"

His head snapped back to you. "Whom are you to address me by my name? No one does such unless granted my permission to do so, which I do not recall giving it to you. In fact, I do not recall you at all."

It hit you. The pendant and it's notoriously known after affects of restoring a life, the same thing that happened to you. Memory loss. Elrond had explained all that the day the gem was used on you. With rebirth is a new life, that can either temporarily or permanently erase your previous one. But why did he remember all but you? You couldn't speak from the shock of how he looked right through you as if he had never laid eyes upon you in his life, and to him, that is exactly what he believed.

"Father. You do not know your own wife? Josephine?" Legolas told him and pointed at Thranduil's wedding rings, causing him to hold his hand up and stare at the foreign jewelry upon his finger.

"I most certainly must have overly quenched my thirst for to have partaken in such an act! and to a human no less." he snarked as he then removed himself from the ground, patting at his pants to remove any filth and buttoning his robe. He then removed your rings and handed them to you as he strangely looked upon the one made of red hair. "Whatever has occurred against my will or knowledge, I now dissolve." Your hand shook as you slowly reached out. He dropped them into your palm as if touching you was beneath him. "Legolas. Show this woman out. No one should be in my quarters. Do not let it happen again." he said in such a cold manner and went to the wine table for a drink.

Your heart was palpitating at what you were witnessing. The Thranduil that existed before you knew him. The Elvenking in his true form. When you had met him, he he had at least taken an immediate fancy to you, but this version of him had no interest whatsoever. He was a complete stranger to you, just as you were to him.

Legolas tried his best to help as he saw your distress. "Father...she is your wife. You love her more than your own. She....is with your child."

You could audibly hear Thranduil choke on the sip of wine he just put into his mouth. He turned back to Legolas and wouldn't even glance at you. "If this woman is with child, I assure you it is not mine. I would never be so careless, let alone even have relations with a human, for they do not appeal to me like they may do to some elves. Wherever you have received your information from, it is clearly misguided."

"Father, I assure you it is not. There is so much more you do not..."

"Enough!" Thranduil snapped, making you jump. "Do as I have ordered. There will be no more of this."

You couldn't hold your tongue any longer. "Thranduil, please. Let me stay and tell you of what you do not remember." you asked in desperation.

"Have you ears fallen deaf woman? You will address me as King Thranduil or my Lord while you are in my presence. Speaking of, Legolas, did I not ask you once to remove her? Also, have Tauriel come and clean this mess up." He said as he glanced at the shattered hourglass without one thought as to how it happened or why.

He kept referring to you "woman" which was like a knife through your heart. You just wanted him to call you by your name, the name you always hated being called but loved it when it came from his lips...Josephine. "Yes...my King." you replied with glistening eyes.

"My King? I am by far not your King. Learn to choose your words wisely."

You began to feel sick, and placed your hand against your lips. Legolas noticed and came to you. "My lady, are you alright?" he asked as he placed his hand on your arm. Thranduil was discerned by his son's concern and addressing of you.

"Legolas! Glenn- hi!" (Go now)

He bowed at his father and began to guide you out. You suddenly felt like your head was floating and slowly began to faint. Legolas immediately caught you and picked you up in his arms. "Father, she needs help. It could be the child."

Thranduil's eyes rolled. "Take her to the infirmary. She is not of my concern, but now of yours since you seem to have an apparent affection for the girl. Where did you find this one? I suppose Laketown with Haldir as usual? It does not matter....Now... Do not disturb me. I have to deal with the gathering of the realms, which by the way, is in Rivendell this time, since the last one was here." The one he spoke of was the party here in Mirkwood where you first danced with and kissed your King.

Legolas had to bite his tongue and did what his father ordered. He was amazed his father could remember the meetings he deemed useless and boring, but not his own wife and unborn child. He knew his father was not in his right mind, and hoped it would only be temporary. He didn't know how to deal with him again permanently in this state, the state Morwen put him in. Cold and calculating.

Legolas carried you into the infirmary in panic and laid you on an empty bed next to Haldir, who opened his eyes upon hearing him relay to the healers what had happened. He was still bound to the bed and struggled at the ropes in the sight of seeing you there. "Legolas! What is wrong with her??" Haldir pleaded.

"She fainted. No thanks to my father." He handed the pendant back to Haldir and told him all that just transpired, then informed the healer it was safe to unbind Haldir as he clearly realized the curse was now unleashed upon his father by the breaking of the hourglass. He didn't believe for one minute this was solely the doings of the pendant considering he remembers everyone and everything except you..

Haldir sat up, still in a mild pain with his arm in a makeshift sling, and just stared at you while the healers tended to you. His guilt of what he had done was eating him alive. Legolas tried to reassure him that this was not his fault and also apologized for having to take him down in the only option there was to keep you safe. Haldir understood. "I would rather you have killed me than for me to have hurt her." Haldir confessed. "But I am grateful you did not." he smiled. He then looked at the healer, which happened to possess powers of knowing much like Tauriel has. "Will she be alright? Please tell me her child is safe."

The she elf smiled at Haldir. "All seems well. She just needs rest. I feel she is suffering from exhaustion and a mild dehydration. When she comes to, the waters will fix her right up." Haldir closed his eyes in relief.

Legolas walked over to you and stroked your cheek and spoke to Haldir while his eyes stayed fixated on your face. "I am going to go check on my father, regardless of his demands to be left alone. If she wakes, please tell her I will be back shortly."

You finally awoke and saw Haldir laying in his bad looking vacantly at you. "Hey there princess. How are you feeling?" he said with a sweet voice and smile.

Seeing his face and that he was awake and well made you so happy.

"Jo...I am so sorry. Please believe I would never hurt you." Haldir said as his eyes teared up.

"Haldir...please do not apologize for something you had no control over. I do not blame you. You did not hurt me. I know that you could never." you reassured him. At least you tried to but he was extremely traumatized from it.

"But I did. And if Legolas had not stopped me, Jo...I would have..."

"You wouldn't have done anything. First of all, it wasn't you. and second, you stopped when I...."

"When you told me you love me...." he whispered in shock as he just remembered. You both gazed at each other for awhile.

"I do, you know. How could I not after all you have done for me?

"I do not deserve anything from you. Jo...I cannot unsee it. The fear in your eyes. I cannot unhear your cries for me to stop....I...I struck you...." He then turned away and stared at the ceiling.

You got up and went to him, sitting on the bed beside him and turned his face to you with your hand on his cheek. He maneuvered himself into a sitting position as he looked upon the lingering bruise on your face. His hand came up and grazed it and he almost began sobbing. "Come here." you said and put your arm around his unhurt shoulder, pulling him into an embrace. He brought his free arm around your back and squeezed you gently.

He whispered into your ear. "I am so sorry for what is happening. I gave Legolas the pendant to help you, I would never have denied that. I just need you to know."

You squeezed him back. "I do know. and I thank you so much."

"Besides...Legolas would have wrestled me to the ground if I had refused." His cheek rested upon your healing one and he could feel the slight heat that remained in the left over bruising. He pulled back, peering into your eyes. "Jo...my god I am so sorry. I do not know how to deal with this. I know that you forgive me...but..."

"No...I do not forgive you...because there is nothing to forgive Haldir?" you said as you held his face in your hands.

Legolas walked in. "Oh...I am sorry. I will come back." he softly said and turned to leave, as he read more into what he was seeing than what it really was.

"No...Legolas. Please stay." you quickly replied before he could walk out.

He turned back and smiled. "As you wish my Lady."

"Did you go to see Thranduil?" You knew he did after Thranduil made it quite clear he wanted us gone. Legolas had that fiery side of Thranduil in him, which you admired. But the side of Thranduil you experienced earlier...you despised and feared, as did most. Legolas looked down and you could tell he did not want to speak of it, at least not there. "Haldir...I am going to go for awhile, and speak with Legolas. I promise, I will be back soon, ok? Please...please do not fret over what happened. I truly am alright."

Haldir nodded and bowed with his sweet smile, but you saw right through it. He was only putting on a facade to keep you happy, when he was screaming inside.

You went back to Legolas's room with him. He immediately turned to you. "Josie, there is a gathering planned in Rivendell, like the one that was here when you first arrived. My father has strangely not forgotten about it and is adamant on attending, which is also strange because he despises these gatherings. I must attend also and we would be leaving in 5 days."

"We?" you asked

"I meant my father and I...but I did ask if I could bring you as my guest and with a little coaxing, he agreed. Will you come? He expects Haldir to come as well, which he is probably visiting him as we speak. I probably should have warned Haldir but..."

Legolas appeared conflicted. "Leg, what is it?"

Legolas lightly smiled at your paraphrased saying of his name. "It just blows my mind...all of it. He remembers nothing of his hatred towards Haldir and now adores him like he had. Is it wrong of me to be hopeful that when he remembers everything that he will remember his affection of Haldir and let go of all this animosity?"

"Of course you're not wrong for wanting that. You said "when". Do you believe he will remember?

"I do...how could he not? You did...he just needs to be in familiar places and I feel Rivendell could spark that, as you and he spent 2 wonderful weeks there."

"Yes, but we also spent how many of bad times there." you said as you remembered Malsha...

"Even those Josie, could spark something. Please try to remain hopeful. His love for you is like no other, how could he ever forget that?"

You laughed. "Well, he has so....God, the things he said to me..."

Legolas pulled something out of his pocket. "Here my Lady...I took these from your hand when you fainted." He handed you your wedding rings that Thranduil basically threw into your hand. You took them and broke down crying. "What am I going to do? I cannot even hear him at all anymore, and I am certain he does not hear me. I have tried. His magic that is in me has seemed to have vanished along with his memory."

Legolas came to you and took you into his arms. "My Lady...it is late...try to rest. I will go back to Haldir and tell him you needed sleep and find out what was exchanged between he and my father.

You nodded. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep? I need you Legolas."

His eyes widened a bit at your words of needing him. "Of course my Lady."

You climbed into bed, under the covers and Legolas did what he did the previous night by laying on top of them. You were out in a matter of minutes and he turned his face towards you, and just watched you breathe. He always saw you as beautiful, but he didn't realize how much until now. He had never looked upon you that way and he didn't understand why he was now. The dream he had last night of you flashed in his mind and it made cock pulse which in turn made him slightly jump in shock. He put his hands over his face and ran them down it as he sighed, telling himself to snap out of it. He had to get out of there before he became a hard mess and so he did, to go see Haldir like he said he would.

He found out from Haldir that he had agreed to go to Rivendell next week. He had been deemed fit to endure the journey by the healer. Haldir spoke of how he was taken aback by Thranduil's demeanor towards him and went along with it. Legolas could tell that it affected Haldir deeply as he and his father used to be quite close, best friends per se and the Elvenking was very particular of his company, so Thranduil obviously thought very highly of Haldir, enough so to request he be his son's Guardian.

Legolas went back to his room and you were still fast asleep, laying in the same position as when he had left. He laid down on the bed, his body stiff. He could not relax. His body was not the only thing that was stiff. His cock throbbed in pain and he could do no other than to go to the washroom again and relieve himself. As he did this, you were in your own little dreamland and your relaxed open mind unknowingly sent Thranduil memories, like it had once before back in Rivendell.

Thranduil laid upon his bed fast asleep and began dreaming. He heard your voice calling to him like he had heard back in the spring before he had found you. He squirmed in his sleep at the sound and turned over, laying his face upon your pillow and breathed in your lingering scent, causing him to burrow into it. His dreams continued against his will. He saw you walk before him at the throne, frightened as your then emerald green eyes peered up into his. Then there was the dance and he heard a song playing, something about magic. He could feel your skin and smell your scent that he was unknowingly breathing in right now from your pillow which he gripped in his hands. He felt your lips as he kissed yours, tasting all of it. Like fresh cherries. Then he saw the first time he made love to you. How he teased you against the wall when you had came down to his room and saw him naked in the pool. He squirmed about some more, pushing at his cock as it was hard and throbbing. He turned over and delved back into the dream. He saw you encasing his body with your legs as he had lifted you up against the wall. He shoved into you....and he felt it causing him to jerk his hips. He gripped his pillow and moaned while still deep in sleep as his hips slowly rocked against the sheets beneath him. Every time the tip of his cock touched the bed, he thrusted harder. His groans were so loud, they should have awoken him. He then saw you under him on the bed, and the face you made when you came all over his screaming hard heat. He felt it, your walls restricting him. He heard you scream his name, sending him over the edge. As he climaxed in the dream, he also did right there on the bed, shoving his cock against it so hard. This time his loud moans and intensity of his contractions awoke him as he strongly pulsated in a rather quite long release....He grabbed himself and laid there gasping without a single memory of why he just had the most insane orgasm he believed he had ever had.

5 days later:

The morning arrived for the trip to Rivendell, and you hadn't seen Thranduil ...at all. It had been 5 days and it was killing you. Everyone packed up their horses, including you. All you could think of was speaking with Elrond in hopes he has seen something that would help, and you were excited to see Arwen also. You were experiencing morning sickness and did your best to deal with it. You bathed and dressed, purposely trying to make yourself desirable to Thranduil, but at the same time you feared how he would react to your presence again. It was the same feeling of when you knew you had to meet him for the first time all those months ago. In a way, you were actually meeting him for the first time all over again. You walked out wearing the tiara he gave you at your vow renewal, which you snatched up after you knew he had left his room.

You saw Haldir and went right up to him, hugging him tight. "How's your shoulder? Do you think the horse ride will be too uncomfortable? Not too mention, can you even ride with one hand?" you asked since they still had him on a sling.

"Jo...really?" he smirked. "You know the capabilities of an elf and you ask if I can steer my horse?" He then took on a duchenne grin and chuckled.

"Although I may need some assistance in mounting her." Oh did he ever wince at his choice of words. Now you were smiling from ear to ear. As he went to climb up, you tried to help. Haldir turned to look down at you as he stood with one foot in the stirrup. "Jo...I was joking." he chuckled as he threw his leg over the saddle.

"Ha...ha. Haldir." you frowned and playfully smacked his foot.

The King had witnessed the entire interaction between you and his great friend whom he was quite protective of. Thranduil wondered if there was more to the folly he just laid eyes upon. He remembered his son's words, that Haldir had been trying to protect you when Legolas had to shoot him. He never did ask of Legolas to explain, but he now would pursue it, as he was already in a huff with himself for allowing you to attend.

You felt Thranduil's eyes upon you as you smelled his botanical scent trace up your nose with the breeze. You slowly turned and saw him walking down the steps and the sight took your breath away. He was dressed so elegantly in his armor that glistened from the sun and the way he gracefully moved sent shocks through your lower region. You missed him terribly.

He made his way to Haldir without on glance at you. "My Lord." Haldir greeted the King and offered a bow of his head.

You could do nothing but stare at him. He felt your eyes upon him and hesitantly brought his to yours with a slight eye roll. "What is it girl, cat got your tongue?" You were instantly blown away from his statement as it was one of the very first things he said to you when you first had to stand before him at this thrown, shaking like a little mouse. Except that he did not call you girl nor had he treated you unkindly. "You are to properly address me when graced in my presence." He was sure to put emphasis on the word properly to make sure you had not forgotten what to call him. He did happen to glance at your tiara and your moonstone necklace but neither seemed to phase him. He hadn't noticed you still wore your wedding rings and you purposely kept them hidden from view, afraid that he would order you to remove them.

You still hadn't spoken and you were standing against Haldir's foot, which quickly nudged your side. "My Lord." you spit out and bowed your head.

Thranduil smirked and looked upon Haldir. "Are you settled and ready to proceed with the unpleasant ride?" His tone carried concern for Haldir's comfort.

"Yes Thranduil. The discomfort has greatly lessened. I am ready when you are." Haldir answered. You noticed that Haldir called him by his name and Thranduil had no adverse reaction to it, so Haldir must have been one of the few that were granted permission to address him as such. Of course Haldir always had, even through their constant rivalry that was now non-existent and Thranduil still had not objected.

"Wonderful news my friend. I shall see you at our destination then." Thranduil said with the first genuine smile you had seen on him since the Elvenking had surfaced and walked away without another look upon you. Friend? Your ears were in disbelief.

"Wowww." you blurted out as you peered up at Haldir with a shock ridden face.

Haldir snickered. "I know.....Jo...do you think the roughness of the ride will be alright for the child?" His face was now serious.

"I believe so, she is till quite small. Since Legolas will be riding along side his father, do you mind if I ride next to you?"

"What kind of a silly question is that Jo. Of course you can. I would prefer it so you do not feel alone."

Haldir was just so sweet and he meant the world to you. You smiled and lightly rubbed his leg as you left to mount your horse, and then the commencement began.

Time jump to Rivendell: (2 days later)

You took the bedroom you had the last time and couldn't wait to crawl into the enormous and luxurious bed after the dreadfully long and boring journey.

You heard a knock on the door. "Come in." you said, not sure of whom it could be. In walked Legolas. "Leggy!!!" you squealed and pranced over to him, giving him a tight hug. "I was wondering when I would see you."

He smiled and slightly blushed at your excitement to see him. "I apologize my Lady. We were all settling into our corridors. I wanted to see how you were and to inform you that the gathering shall commence this evening. There will be dinner and dinks on the patio. I hope you are not too exhausted to attend. You really should have extra nourishment."

"Of course. I want to speak with Elrond anyways. Certainly I have not come all this way to stay in my room. In the meantime, that giant heaven of softness is calling my name." you said as you looked upon the bed with tired eyes. Legolas glanced at it and pictured you laying upon it. He didn't mean to and felt he should now leave before a very visible occurrence took place, that he felt slowly arising below.

"I will leave you to rest and see you later this evening then my Lady." he said and abruptly left.

You climbed into bed and placed the dreamcatcher charm that Haldir gave you, on the pillow beside you. You had slept with it every night and have seemed to be nightmare free since. You thought of Thranduil as you drifted off squeezing your pillow in place of his absence. Many hours later you awoke, feeling quite refreshed. You got up and began rooting through the wardrobe for something to wear tonight, wanting to appear presentable enough to Thranduil's standards, although the way he thought of you now, you doubted you would achieve that. You began singing as you searched for the right dress.

Thranduil had been outside his corridors at the other end of the hall speaking with Aragorn. Aragorn's words began to fade as Thranduil's keen ears picked up on your voice, although he did not realize it was you. It was angelic to him and he felt he must locate the source. He excused himself and proceeded down the hall, closing in on the heavenly voice. He halted outside of your room as the voice was now prominent and he realized it was coming from behind the door that was slightly ajar. He laid his fingers upon it and slowly pushed it open just enough to see, but to go unnoticed by whomever was in the room. His eyes grew wide and he slightly choked on his own gasp. There you were, completely naked and dancing around with a dress you had gripped against your chest. You began to sing another song.

"Come take my hand, you should know me, I've always been in your mind. You know I will be kind, I'll be guiding you. Building your dream has to start now, there's no other road to take. You won't make a mistake, I'll be guiding you. You have to believe we are magic, nothing can stand in our way. You have to believe we are magic, don't let your aim ever stray. And if all your hopes survive, destiny will arise. I'll bring all your dreams to life, for you. From where I stand, you are home free. The planets align so rare. There's promise in the air and I'm guiding you. Through every turn I'll be near you. I'll come anytime you call. I'll catch you when you fall. I'll be guiding you."

Thranduil was taken aback as he recognized the song he had heard from his very lucid dream last week, but he did not remember you being in it. He continued to stare at your body, which he found disturbingly beautiful to him. You stood for a minute after you stopped singing and squeezed the dress, saying his name and began to cry. His hand slowly fell from the door and he stepped back with his mouth open in complete shock. He should have been highly outraged but he was not, although he was used to women desiring and lusting after him, but what he witnessed just now was not desire, nor lust, but that of something real. You then went off to the washroom for a bath. Thranduil pushed the door open and began to walk around, looking at your belongings. His fingers traced over your cloak on the back of the chair as he passed by it. He picked up the dreamcatcher and gazed it it wondering where you had obtained such a rarity, then he laid it back in place. For some reason unbeknownst to him, he slowly picked up your pillow and breathed it in. Your scent he then also recognized from the dream. He gasped and laid the pillow back on the bed as his cock was reacting to it which he did not like. He immediately left the room and chastised himself for ever allowing that to happen over a mere human that he had no favors of.

You came out of the washroom and immediately froze. You smelled him. The floral scent of lilacs filled the room. How? you pondered as you looked all around at the empty space. You then heard voices outside the window. You covered yourself and curiously went to look. Thranduil was out in the gardens speaking with Legolas and Haldir. Now it made sense why you smelled him, at least that's what you believed, that his scent was carried upon the breeze up into your room. He sensed you and glanced up causing you to jump back but not before your eyes briefly caught his. Now you were worried he was going to accuse you of spying on him. "Ughh!" you said in frustration and went to dress. You slipped on the white strapless dress with patterns of blue on the front, loving how it accentuated your necklace and eyes, hoping Thranduil would notice.

You arrived on the patio. Haldir and Legolas were talking, both stopping simultaneously as they saw you and stood with their mouths open. Out of the two speechless elves, Haldir finally spoke. "Jo...you look...incredibly stunning. There are no words." he said as he bowed to your presence. You bashfully smiled as Legolas literally stood there stuck on stupid, feeling a slight twinge in his groin.

"Thank you Haldir. Your words are too kind. You look very handsome yourself." You noticed he removed the sling from his arm. "I am glad to see you are feeling better." His eyes still spoke of his guilt as he gazed upon you.

"My Lady, apologies for my behavior. I agree with Haldir, you look quite the sight that I could not find my words. I meant of no disrespect." Legolas finally said and also bowed his head.

"None taken." you giggled.

Elrond then arrived onto the patio with a very tall man you had never seen before, older with long silver hair.

You turned to Haldir and Legolas. "Who is that?"

"That...is Gandalf the Grey. A great wizard." Legolas replied.

"Gandalf? The one who saved you from the spiders in Mordor?"

"Yes. The one and only. I am glad my father does not remember that or this night would not be of a pleasant one." Legolas explained with a guilt ridden face for what he had done of faking his death.

Elrond saw you and immediately approached with Gandalf at his heel. "Josephine...how happy it makes me to see you again. I have looked forward to it." Elrond said with a knowing look in his eyes, which told you he was aware of what has occurred with Thranduil. "This is Gandalf, Elf of the Wand, a great wizard and dear friend."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance fair Lady." The giant elder spoke with a bow.

"Likewise." you replied with a smile.

Thranduil's voice rang loud from behind you. "Mithrandir, I am pleased to see of your attendance this night." He then actually looked upon you seemingly mesmerized but that quickly faded as he turned to Elrond. He was so beautiful. "My Lord, everyone greeted him with, as did you finally. With that, his eyes moved to the side where you stood barely turning his head, as if he were annoyed by your presence, which you certainly figured he was. What he was truly annoyed by, was that he even desired to look at you.

"Legolas, come." He ordered to his son and then made his exit over to the wine table. You then turned to Elrond and he knew of what you wished to know. "My dear...I wish that I was able to assist but with the hourglass being broken, I cannot. It will have to ride it's course. Thranduil knew of what it would entail. You will simply have to trust that."

What the fuck did that mean? Your eyes teared up and nodded.

Thranduil poured his wine and looked at his son. "Tell me...what is it of your intentions with this girl. And do not think to tell me untruth as I have heard your impurities."

"Adar...I..." Just as Legolas went to speak, a she elf appeared behind Thranduil. Red hair and very large ears. Thranduil seemed to know her and was not displeased whatsoever to see her.

You watched from afar as her body language spoke clearly. She wanted him. But what woman wouldn't. Judging by his reaction, he quite fancied her as well. Is this why he was so adamant to come here knowing how much he despised these gatherings? He then poured a glass of wine and offered it to her which infuriated you on so many levels.

She took it and seductively drank from it, her eyes devouring his face. The way he looked at her was how he looked at you once upon a time and you felt sick. She stood so close to him and touched his arm, something the Elvenking would never allow but he did and seemed to to invite further advances. The next thing you knew, he glanced at you, grinned and then leaned down and kissed her. Not just any kiss, but a deep one that you could tell had tongue involved. Your body shook as Legolas stared at them in shock. He came to you quickly. "Josie, let me take you away from here."

He put his hand on your arm and what you did next, surprised the hell out of you. You grabbed Legolas and pulled him into a deep kiss just like the one Thranduil just displayed to the entire room. Legolas's body froze but his mouth did not as he kissed you back with intensity, tongue involved as well. You pulled back and stared at him. "I...I am so sorry Legolas. Forgive me." You then glanced at Thranduil who stood with his mouth hung open and wide eyes, which pleased you beyond belief. You returned his previous grin and then ran out crying. You ended up out in the forest as dusk was arising. You fell to your knees and grasped your moonstone necklace as you cried out for your King. It lit up.

Thranduil withdrew his advances to the she elf and she huffed off. He went to pour another drink with the hand that bore his moonstone ring. It lit up and whistled as it vibrated on his finger. Thranduil dropped his chalice and it shattered at his feet as he whispered. "That is impossible......"

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hymn-of-muse · 6 months

Text

A Twin's Connection

[a twins connection]

another scp story i thought i would move over here, even though these scp's arent from any wiki it is inspired by an scp related game

A twin's connection...

Is stronger than you think...

"Specter 30, Your assignment is to track down Subjects SCP-37319 and SCP-37329. Upon discovery you are to incapacitate them. Your primary directive is to have them unconcious, not dead, and brought back to the nearest facility under the foundation's name. It is highly important you keep the two subjects SEPARATED at all times. Do not let them out of your sight if you can help it. Once you've located them, radio back and we'll have a team sent out to help you escort them. Under no circumstance are you ever to let them be within the same vicinity of each other once captured. Good Luck"

The mission details seemed fairly straightforward and simple, easy enough to understand. The file that came with the instructions held details of the two mention 'subjects'. A pair of twin children. If the subjects the foundation was after were just two kids you'd think this 'assignment' would be super easy and gone off without a hitch.

But the report and logs inside the case file of the mission held more details that clearly stated otherwise. These were no ordinary kids.

"Specter 30, log 3. I've tracked down subjects 37319 and 37329 and located the area they've been hiding in for the past few days now. I'm currently observing them and their surroundings before i make any moves, the safer option would be to catch them with their guard down and it seems like they've developed a bit of a routine for themselves. I'll return with more updates again soon."

"Specter 30, log 5. The following conversation is between the foundation agent, Specter 30, and a field communications operator from the foundation, codename Zion.

Specter 30: Zion, this is Specter 30. Do you read me?

Zion: Specter 30, this is Zion, I read you. What's the situation on your current assignment?

Specter 30: I've been observing the twin's routines for a bit now, just trying to find the right time to make a move...but these kids...they seem so...normal? Are we sure this is what we're after here? a couple of runaway kids?

Zion: Focus, Specter 30. These subjects are not normal kids, they are dangerous anomalies and your orders are to incapacitate them and keep an eye on them untill your backup escort team arrives. Do not let the subjects fool you nor should you let them out of your sight. Do you understand?

Specter 30: but they're just-

Zion: I repeat. Do you understand, Specter 30?

Specter 30: Understood, Zion.

Zion: Good. Now, you need to make your move now, you're on a time limit Specter 30.

Specter 30: Right. I'll contact you again either once I've captured them or something comes up. Specter 30 out."

It was clear a few logs were missing from the entire file, but the information on the logs that were still there was all i needed. They were a bit old, but the only reliable source i had.

"Specter 30, log 10. I managed to catch the subjects off guard both are out cold and tied up, if they wake up before the team gets here then- wait something wrong, one of them's missing. Shit."

"Specter 30, log 12. Brats. Thats all they are. Brats that like to play tricks. I lost connection with the foundation but managed to reconnect and get through to zion earlier. She's sending the team but i hope they get here before either one of these kids makes trouble again."

"Specter 30, log 15. I didnt...No i should have known it was in the mission's instructions to keep them apart. the team arrived and we got the twins into two separate vehicles. Just as we started leaving they...they cried out for each other. Damn they looked so genuinely scared and desperate to stick together...i couldnt find it in me-i though.. i thought separating them would just be cruel so...so i had them ride in one car together. Worst mistake of my life! those..those arent children. theyre monsters! the minute they touched hands when they were together... god i cant even find the words to describe it..."

"Specter 30, log 16. When those kids joined hands as we took off towards the foundation they had the...their faces changed drastically from a look of fear to a look of pure malice, but a look of malice with a plastered large...creepy smile. Thats when i knew i'd fucked everything up. i got warned over and over but i didnt listen. now im paying the consequence. the entire team is dead. its just me again. i dont know why they didnt kill me, maybe they like me? or maybe they like playing with me... damn it im sick of being these monster's toy! i dont care what the instructions say, i've already fucked up so theres no way the foundation still wants me but maybe i can still do some good. i'll track down those little shits and kill them just like they did my team. theyre too dangerous to just let them roam the world free...i feel like shit for learning this too late. i'm tracking down subject's 37319 and 37329 again, and this time im ending them."

The logs seemed to have ended here, and thats where the report picks things up. My guess is that the report was written by this Zion, since theyre the only other person to have worked on this.

"Mission 76 Report: Failure. Specter 30 failed to follow strict orders to track down and capture subjects scp-37319 and scp-37329. The entire escort team is proclaimed KIA with no survivors, all killed in the same fashion. Specter 30 attempted to complete his mission a second time, only with the intention to kill the subjects rather than bring them to the foundation as instructed. This attempt cost him his life, and the subjects, also known together as SCP-373.9, remains lose out in the world. The foundation has decided to shut down the project for scp-373.9's capture for the time being, with this being the 13th failed attempt. No further Information is known of this case."

That last part wasnt...exactly true. They did try again, and they know more than they let on. The foundation never stops hunting these scp's. The last guy they sent to capture 373.9 was called "specter 39"...or was it "45"?

No matter. Because they'll keep sending these specters. Unless they're stopped. Thats why my sister and i are here, researching. The best way to learn how to stop your enemy is to know them right?

What better way to learn about the foundation than to pay a visit? Maybe then they'll learn that a twin's connection is much stronger than it first seems.

reblogs are appreciated!

feel free to request more angst, fluff or whatever comes to mind!

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maybe-your-left · 2 years

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BITCH PICTURE THIS.

Young Jedi Benji baby and you, always sneaking off and hiding your relationship. There’s sexual tension every time you sneak away to smooch. Any hidden place, sneaking into each other’s rooms after dark. Just think - HEAVY PETTING.

Do with this information what you will👀

did i write this to set up for a commander-ren canonverse fic?

yes.

do i have time to add another fic to my agenda?

no.

am i going to do it anyway?

yes.

enjoy :)

______

High Chosen

jedi Ben Solo x jedi Female Reader

kylo ren x female reader

some music for the mood: https://youtu.be/pbyC8wYyoBs

—

There are moments.

Moments, where everything is at peace. When you can sit down and breathe for the very first time, and clear every thought inside your brain. As it bounced around your skull, not punishing it for being there.

Just acknowledging and moving along.

Master Luke loves these moments.

Sends you to different areas of the island, to soak up the sun, breathe in the sea air. Listen to a porg chirp at its family, where you can feel the universe become whole.

There is no darkness, no voices, no threats or danger, there is only you.

He tells you about it every morning when you rise with the sun and join on the morning hike. Bracing yourself against the harsh elements of the world around you, unable to ask for help. Jedis are not supposed to need it-no attachments-be free from the bonds of humanity.

But when you sit, on your slab of rock, smoothed from months of perching upon it. You don’t feel the connection with nature or hear the songs of birds or the cries of people who need your help.

You see a single image, a bright light. The sun, eclipsed by a shadow, standing tall, carved out by ages before it. Knowing of the heritage on its broad shoulders, every day it gets closer and closer until you can see its fingertips almost touch…

“That’ll be all for today, young padawans,” Master luke’s voice breaks the connection, sending a sharp pain to throb at the base of your skull. Only soothed by the touch of another-forbidden.

You slowly stand, brushing off the dust that accumulated while you were meditating. Seeing the others groaning, a few laughing how their backs hurt from sitting so straight.

Years ago, you would’ve agreed, the rigidness of the body has to be as dedicated as the mind. When you aren’t committed, nothing will change.

But that was before.

Before him.

“Join me.”

“Please.”

—— 3 years ago ——-

“Ben!”

You squealed from the shores, ripping off your outer layers so you could run into the ocean. Giggling as the winds whipped your hair away from your face, freezing from head to toe as you stepped into the sharp sea.

There was nothing like it, every Sunday you would run down the edge of the island. Almost falling on your face down the cliff, plummet to your doom. But you’d catch yourself, on something each time. Brought to you by your noble friend, caretaker, Ben.

He had explained to you a thousand times before how you should be careful. Not run away from the group, even if it was the jedis rest day, you had to wake up!

You squealed from the waves, arms flailing in the salty air at the beach where Ben stood. Arms crossed and a scowl on his face, there were days where it would fade.

Maybe even a dimple of a smile would appear, watching the waves crash over you before rushing to the shoreline. Desperate to catch your breath before staring at the sun rising, “Brisk today, isn’t it?”

And Ben would always nod, and say, “Just like before.”

But this morning he changed the routine, stripping on the beach, down to his tunic, you stared with wide eyes as the wraps on his forearms were bared to you and all the gods above.

You’d never seen him without layers of beige you all were forced to wear, unable to see the pale flesh that lived beneath. Littered with constellations of freckles and moles, you stood solid against the current whipping around your shoulders.

Feeling the force thrum through the air as he approached. Ben's jaw was clenched tight, glaring at the sky as you would usually.

“Why do you do this!?”

You stared at his throat bob as he hissed out pained breath after breath, no longer feeling the chill nip of the wintery waves but a warmth in your cheeks.

Spreading down your chest, and deep into your soul.

Your voice was small, barely a whisper over the ocean who demanded to be heard.

“It reminds me that I’m alive.“

———

Every week, Ben joins you in the waves.

Shows you new tricks, recently he’s been throwing balls of water at the back of your head. When you whine about not wanting to get your face wet, the showers were sparse and the ocean wasn’t as cleansing as one would imagine.

You were hiding behind a large boulder, waiting in the waves for Ben to rush out and find you. Mind focused on creating a wave to finally knock him over so you could win your little game, be on top for once!

Ben was silent, slowly moving. You could practically see it, the water lapping across his abdomen. Turning red from the piercing cold of the waves-but he never shivered. Or complained after the first time, so neither did you, instead engulfed by his presence.

You scrunched into yourself more, seeing his hand reach out past the boulder.

Reaching towards the dark gray abyss of clouds that Master Luke had warned was coming. To hide in your huts until it was safe, there was no changing mother nature's course.

You watch carefully, feeling the force flow through his legs. Grounded at the bottom and up towards his finger tips. Crackling with life, how you wished you were as strong as him.

But no one would surpass Ben-he was born to be great.

You wanted to reach out, maybe feel some of the power he exuded when suddenly the sky cracked. Ben's hand shot towards you in a rush of rain and waves over taking your feeble form.

You were sure you blacked out, only seeing the same image over and over again.

A cold layer of snow, blanketing something dark and red, gasping in sharp breaths while the liquid stained whoever’s soul was laid to waste there…

“We have to hurry,” Ben's voice cut through your fogged psyche. He fumbled with your clothes, trying and failing to wrap you in your lavender robes before giving up and hauling you in his arms.

You stared out at the sea, watching the swirling vortex of rain contort into a face. Riddled with scars and screaming for whoever could hear.

And the sharp pain was back, as Ben kicked through the small door of your hut.

Laying you down on your cot, you finally focused on him. His face scrunched in fear, scared, blinking wildly while he tried to brush the bits of sand and sea that stuck.

You tried to speak, overcome with the emotion of seeing him. Needing him-after so long of being friends you felt something different. That you couldn’t ever be without, and you lunged.

Wet hands clasping onto his shivering jaw, succumbing to the most human of urges as your lips met.

Ben froze.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to see him reject you, claiming that the jedi are not allowed this mortal feeling. They are above it-you couldn’t let it sway you to the darkness inside.

But instead of the lecture you were sure to hear, he melted.

A soft moan slipping through his lips as they pressed hungrily to your own. You pushed your fingers through his sandy hair, creating two knots to grab onto while your tongues licked for entrance.

He tasted divine, like pure sin and absolution mixed into one. You felt truly at peace, scratching your nails against his scalp until he collapsed on top of you.

Two bodies shivering from the cold, Ben leaned on his forearm, looking into your eyes for a brief moment before kissing you once again.

You pressed your chest into his, nipples tightening through the damp fabric that separates you. His muscles tightening under the light scrape, you gasped into his mouth, “Oh, please.”

The words barely tumbled out before you realized, a whine falling as he pulled away. Hands clasped to his own face as he stared into the lamp by your bedside.

“No-no-no-no!”

You watched him pace the room, talking to himself in low tones. Almost wrestling with a demon, you could feel the air charge around you, as deadly as the storm outside as it raged on inside you both. You rushed to him, without thinking you grabbed his arms.

“It’s okay! Ben,” you gasped before you were zapped with a sharp pain. Cowering against the sidewall of your hut, cradling your hands to your chest.

Ben blinked for a moment, both of you registering what he had done.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his hands to rid them of the poison that flowed, you watched him re approach your bedside. Leaned on his palms, “I didn’t-I didn’t mean to. It's just-we aren’t supposed to.”

“I know,” you squeaked, trembling as you watched his pointer finger move to touch the tips of your shaking feet. The sharp pain lighter now, like a soft ember glowing in a fire.

You looked down together, seeing his large palm engulf your ankle. Tugging you from the dark corner and flat on your back, Ben swallowed, “I should go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Leaving you, with only a chaste kiss on the lips that tingle throughout the storm.

——-

You thought about that moment over and over, turning it in your mind while you tried to sleep.

Days went by, and no change in your routine, it was like it never happened to him. Still brooding and silent during your hikes across the mountains, through the dark waves of the island. In meditation sessions, you watched him floating above everyone else, unable to take your eyes off his scrunched face.

But something was different, you could feel it.

A string tied the two of you together, from the place where your chests had lightly touched, you caressed your sternum at night. Under the dim glow of the fire, you pressed into the contusion of skin and bone and took a deep breath.

Seeing it again, that scene in the forest.

Snowflakes cascading down, hitting your frostbitten face. You hummed as you felt it melt on your skin, blinking awake to the sight of a body laying on the ground. Shivering, hulking, a mass of muscle shrouded by darkness.

A trail led your footsteps towards the beast, breathing rasping against the fallen snow.

You reached out, feeling the force flow through the bond. Eternally tethered now to this thing.

Kylo?

Your voice whispered the word, rolled it along your tongue. Oh-yes, it tasted decadent, just like Ben's fleeting kisses. You licked your lips, moaning a little as you approached the being once more, the pain in your chest rising and rising until you were in front of it.

You could almost see its face…

“What are you doing?”

Ben's words ripped you from your vision, shooting off your cot gasping for air. Like you were pulled from the dark waters at the shores of your hut. You clutched your chest, trying to keep your modesty, you’d been laying in the nude.

Caressing your chest by yourself wasn’t something he needed to witness, draping your tunic from your waist over your heaving breasts.

“What?”

He moved into the dim light, the door to your hut closed behind him. Shrugging as he sat down on your cot, creaking under his weight, “What were you doing? I could hear you mumbling something?”

Confusion painted your brow, how could he have heard you? His hut was the farthest away from yours, unless he was… “Were you spying on me, Ben?”

His cheeks flushed, jackpot.

“You were!”

You squealed, leaning into his side playfully to jostle him from another mood.

“I wasn’t-I just heard you and it seemed like you were in pain.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, rubbing the spot on your chest that soothed with his touch. You nuzzled your cheek into his rough shoulder. Fabric scraping only a little, it felt good to touch him again.

Ben's cheek fell to the top of your head, a heavy sigh followed before he placed a tentative hand on your back. Bareskin under his thumb, slipping it a few times under the top hem, so soft and smooth.

“I’m worried about us.”

You stiffened, mind beginning to race, “Did you-you didn’t tell Luke about our…kiss?”

His exhale took much too long, you shifted. Ready to hear his lecture, or for your mentor to burst through the door and rip you away from Ben. To never see the man next to you again, you weren’t worthy… not of a jedi or even be a jedi yourself.

What if you were taken away? Would the pain worsen? Would the bond sever? Would you never feel this way again, only to be in deep pain through the end of days?

“I feel it too,” Ben whispered, slipping his hand to one of your own. Unclutching it from your dressing, he brought it to his chest, “Right here.” Tapping against the sternum with your fingers folded together between his own.

“What does it mean?”

He kept your fingers between his own, letting the hands sag like his shoulders. You studied his profile, blinking slowly while he stared off at the powdery ground of your hut. Your swallow loud enough for your collective ears to pop, you were about to speak when his voice caught you off guard.

“It can’t be good.”

It was like he was speaking to himself, shaking his head before looking back at your face. You blinked with him, eyes snapping towards his rosy lips, and suddenly he was on top of you. Pressing your mouths together in a desperate passion that caught you off guard, arms slung around his neck while his tongue quested inside you.

Tangling in a duel, you moaned into him. Relaxing under the pressure as more of him joined your limbs on the cot, pressing your bodies together. Ben's hands came to rest on your cheeks, moving down to wrap dangerously around your throat.

Snapping tight around the column, you felt the shaking and sweating from his palms mixing with your slickening skin. Tight-you gasped for breath, kiss bitten lips stringing together with some saliva that snapped onto your chins. You glanced down, your tunic pulled enough to expose your naked skin.

Stiff peaks rubbing against the stringy fabric of his own, Ben looked down. Keeping his hands around your throat, he cleared his, “Oh.”

“Ben,” you whispered, hands coming up to paw at his shoulders.

Unknown if they were to help him get off you, fix the mistake of your nudity, or to disrobe him.

Ben quickly sat up on his knees, thighs between your spread ones. Hands like lightning towards the sash across his chest, it shrugged forward as he divested himself. Throwing it off to the dusty floor in a poof of air. Naked skin, you'd seen it before at the shoreline, but it was so different…

Bruised.

Your brow furrowed, reaching out to touch the largest, “Ben, where-how did you get these?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

His hands landed on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing the skin once, twice, three times before moving to join at your sternum.

Pressing at the center, “I feel you, right here.”

You nodded, sliding your palms up the length of his arms until you mirrored his movements. Tapping the bone under your fingertips, “It usually aches.”

“But does it now?”

“No.”

A deep breath.

“Never when I’m with you.”

Ben smirked a little, barely a movement of his lips before he moved his palms to touch the bounty of your body. Holding your breasts delicately, rolling them under his hand. You sighed in pleasure, you’d touched yourself like this in the past, just to know what it would feel like if the moment ever came. To feel the flesh bounce under another's touch-electric.

His thumbs came down over the stiff budding of your nipples, pinching softly.

“Oh.”

Ben nodded, “Do you like that?”

You mirrored his nod, letting your hands fall away from his shoulders and bounce on the bedding around your head. Lifting your chest into his touch while he pet and pinched every inch of your flesh exposed to him until he made his way to where your sheet was wrapped around your hips.

Wiggling his fingertips between the fabric and your bareskin, you glanced towards one another. The question floating around between the both, you felt a strong pull emanate from the center of your chest. Beating harder and harder as he tugged on the fabric until it came loose from your cocoon. “Ben,” you were breathless, watching him as the ache increased. “Ben, we shouldn’t-”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” he asked without looking at you, just pulling the fabric from your center that was opening for his hungry eyes, “We could make each other feel better, like this.”

Your head pounded with the millions of reasons as to why it was a bad idea, forbidden for you to have such a relationship. But your heart, it was beating for every touch he was giving you. Ache soothed by the balmy touch of his palms against your sensitive inner thighs.

Angled for him to touch and play with, you gasped as his fingers found your center. Playing with the skin of your outer lips, his own opened in awe of your form. Your eyes rolled back as he touched more, rubbing his thumbs up and down on the skin as it grew slick and dewy from your core, hot to the touch.

You gasped as his hot breath hit you, snapping down to see his face inches away. Eyes wide and bouncing around his skull while he leaned in, moaning as his hot tongue flicked out for the first taste.

The noise that fell out of your was foreign, not a cry or a sob. But a squeak as he repeated it again and again, Ben buried his nose against your mound, blissfully taking in your essence as more dripped out from your candy center.

Soon you were riding his face, chasing your release as he ground down. Hands roaming your body before him, squeezing and smacking at your breasts in his hold. Grasping at his silky hair between your legs while your thighs shook from the pure pleasure he was rocking you towards.

“Be quiet,” he mumbled into your skin, kissing your innermost thigh with slippery lips, “We can’t be found.”

“No,” you agreed, eyes squeezed shut as you urged him with your hips to continue. You were so close to something big, cresting over the edge of the hill you tried to climb every day with no one by your side. But Ben was taking you there, hand in hand, with his flickering tongue dancing between your folds and smacking inside your entrance.

Fluttering inside you, scooping out the wetness that smeared across his chin. Oh, you cooed just as the snap in your chest seemed to break. The damp between your legs grew as your legs shook again and Ben's hand smacked around your mouth right as you were to let out a blood curdling scream into the dim light of your hut.

Panting against his skin, you watched as he released your core, wiping his mouth against your sheet before pulling away from you. Standing in the center of your room, hands on his hips and chest breathing in deeply.

You laid against your pillow, studying his face flash through a range of emotions before closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Ben,” you reached out towards him, hand trembling as your chest began to ache more and more the further away he stepped. “Its fine-”

“You’re making me feel things that I know I’m not supposed to.”

You stopped, leaning back with your hands in your lap while his eyes met yours. Different, they were different now. Rimmed with tints of gold rather than the usual blackness you could drown in, bright.

“I have to go.”

—------

The sky is on fire.

Everything around you billows with smoke and ash, falling on your untainted shoulders as you run from the temple.

Screams ringing in your ears, loud enough for you to know you’ll never live another day without remembering the pained cries. You stood in the center of the temple square, or what was left of it as the alarms rang around you.

Staring at the flames that licked every corner of it, your friends were all trapped inside. You couldn’t get to them, forced to watch everything you’d help build burn to the ground before your very eyes.

Your chest ached, oh, it ached as you stumbled over pieces of rubble towards the hills in the distance. You needed to get out of there, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Not until you knew, knew that he was safe.

Ben had to be safe-he had to be.

Tears streamed your cheeks as you thought of the immense pain never going away, tethering you and him together. Only to be soothed by the other touch-you had to find him.

Your bare feet stung as you climbed over a fallen pillar, charred from whatever caused the mayhem to ensue. The staircase towards the heart of the temple littered with bodies that you didn’t know were dead or alive, you didn’t stop to check as the smoke became thicker and thicker.

Coating your throat like his hands had before.

“Ben!” you screamed out, met with nothing but the sound of the wind whipping through the skies, the sea raging on behind you.

“Ben! Ben-please!”

You scrambled up the stairs, running now, determined to find him. Throwing rocks and other debris out of the way with the force and your bare hands, every blank stare met with the cold realization that it wasn’t him.

Where?

Where could he be?

You looked around as you made it to the center, flames all around the hall while you coughed and choked on your very last breaths.

This was it, you’d never see him again.

Your eyes grew tired, blinking slowly as the poison made its way into your lungs. A sound echoing around your skull as you took in the last image of your temple, footsteps approached you.

A figure, shrouded in black, darkness coming to meet you firsthand. Devoid of all light as you scanned up the body, until it stopped at their face.

Half covered by an unknown shadow, a gloved hand reached out for you to take.

“Join me, please.”

And as the words rolled off their tongue, you recognized the face of your dear friend.

“Ben?”

_____

we love villain origin stories

#adam driver #adamdriver #ben solo #ben solo fanfiction #jedi ben solo #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfiction #female reader #jedi reader #canon verse #tw: mention of death #tw: betrayal of friendship #tw: going against jedi code #this is all set up for us getting back together #idk if this is good but i enjoyed it #heavy petting #no touching #but also yes touch me

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ironfoot-mothafocka · 1 year

Text

And a time for planting (that which was uprooted)

Trigger warnings for mentions of death and descriptions of grief and depression.

An ending comes to Ixil and Grór’s story (or the start of a new one). My headcanon, inspired by the fantastic @mrkida-art

4/4

2.6k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5

—

Ixil,

The pen stalls, then falls.

Grór sighs, screwing up her face in concentration, against a headache that cleaves her skull.

I did not receive a reply to my last letter. I hope all is well in the East? Let me know.

Ulri died—

She can’t go on, and she places the pen down harshly. It clatters against the metal ink well. She picks it up.

The stone-setting will be soon.

She cannot bring herself to write any more details. That would be enough — if he even bothered to respond this time. She passes the parchment into the hands of a servant without sealing it and folds back down over her writing table. Somewhere behind her, a child cries.

Far away, another dwarf sits in a writing chamber. The winter in Ugzharak has been particularly harsh this year, and blizzards rip across the tundra outside of the Stiffbeard hold.

The rebuilding — seven years hence the remnants of the dragon was found — grinds on stalwartly. Ice had spread into much of the interior, cracking and weathering millenia of stone halls and supporting structures; for dragons are not well known to close the door behind them once they entered a dwarf’s lodging. Other foul creatures followed. Tribes of Men, followers of the Zigûr and goblin-friends, had sneaked in and set up camp unnoticed. Hall upon hall, home upon home were ransacked, the metalwork stripped and plundered. Filth, decay and rot littered once habitable dwellings, mouldering on top of a thick covering of ash and dust.

Ixil’s first task, once he had arrived in Ugzharak, had been to lead a party of warriors inside the lower levels and secure them of hibernating beasts. Some were killed quietly by a well timed crossbow bolt; others were wide-awake in ambush, and a fully grown adult whitebear could kill three dwarves in one swipe of its torso-sized paw.

It was tiring, gruesome work as they relentlessly scoured the forgotten streets of their ancient home. Dwarves who were now grown and under Ixil’s command had not even been born in Ugzharak, knowing only Thikil-gundu, and a few greybeards had to lead the way down mazes of corridors and backalleys, as Ixil’s own memory had grown hazy with the passing of years. His heart had ached as he encountered unfamiliar stone, tracing it questioningly with soot-blackened fingers, but his stonesense received only pain and anger in return. You abandoned us, said the stone. You left us to die.

The bodies of the dead dwarves were the worst to come across, and it has taken a full sun-cycle for Ixil’s beard to recover from the amount of times he has shorn it. Now, he is more used to having stubble on his cheeks than a proud braid falling from his chin. Some parts of Ugzharak he still cannot enter, for fear of the memories it stirs up inside him. Bodies upon bodies. Some cowering, some small — of children. He can’t go into those parts, even after they were cleansed by khandrel and the sacred dances of death had been danced by the zhanim. They couldn’t cleanse his own mind of what he had endured.

Life is constant in the North-East of Middle-Earth, though the dwarves of Erebor think it grinds to a halt, furling up like a green leaf in the snow. The dwarven nomads return to the Old Ways; some who moved to the greener pastures around Ghomal in the wake of the dragon now drive their shaggy auroch and mumak upland, and join with those families who stayed on the plains out of sheer grit. Stiffbeards sink into industry: ghaspar and coal mining, iron-working, shipping vast quantities of goods across to the cities of Men in the far-reaches of the frozen plains for whale-fat oil. And for Ixil, it seems that he has been barely able to catch his breath. With the election of a new Queen, divined by the omen-speakers of all the Clans, he has risen through the ranks like a fish being hauled up from the deeps. Most of the time, he feels like a fish — hooked and speared, pulled this way and that, gasping for air.

Ixil looks up at Zurkuh, who has a crumpled letter in one hand. “My Lord…” He is a Lord now — Scoutmaster for the Queen. Titles don’t suit him well, and neither, he feels, do this many responsibilities. He looks down at the map that he is outlining. A pack of snow-orcs were sighted in the middle of one of these foul blizzards, driving a large herd of whitebears along one of their traderoutes. He is beginning to suspect, as the omen-speakers have been telling him, that these weather patterns aren’t natural formations of Middle-Earth, but some abominations of the enemy. Ixil rubs his face and blinks hard. “What is it, Zurkuh?” His assistant approaches cautiously and then drops the letter in his hand. He only has to say a few words to snap the dwarf from his thoughts. “It is from the Iron Hills, my Lord.”

—

Ixil’s eyes scan the words in front of him, horror slowly welling inside him. He slams it down on the table, and then, with shaking hands, rips the drawer from underneath him open. “Where is it? Where is it?” he mutters frantically, and then turns to Zurkuh who is standing by silently. “Did I write?” “My—” “Did I write?” he forces himself up from his chair and crosses to the slender dwarf, taking his shoulders in his hands. He forces his breath to come slower, but the panic doesn’t abate and his speech makes little sense to him. “Do you remember? This year — this Durin’s Day? If I wrote? Tell me, Zurkuh, tell me that I did. Tell me I did not forget. I write, I always write— Zurkuh shakes his head sadly. “The last time you wrote to the Iron Hills was five years ago.” Ixil blinks. “No— no it cannot—” He returns to the desk and throws piles of parchment onto the floor around him, and they scatter like leaves at his feet. His hands pause somewhere near the bottom of the drawer and he picks up a precious piece of paper as though it is edged in gold leaf. Near the top of it, in Grór’s spidery handwriting, is the date he received it, and his finger traces the runes around and around.

Five years before. Five years. He had forgotten to write for five whole years.

Slumped in his chair once again, he feels numb. Zurkuh moves behind him and picks up the fallen letter that had fluttered from his desk, placing it on top of the map once more. “Friends grow apart,” he says softly.

—

No words were spoken at their parting. Formalities only. Avoiding glances, and then catching one another’s eye only to look away again. There was so much to do that it was easy for them to ignore one another — until they couldn’t.

Ixil looked down at Grór’s hands over his. His blood thundered loud in his ears — what was it… embarrassment, sadness, guilt? — and his throat constricted, trying to force something out, but there wasn’t any more time to speak to her.

“Write,” she said.

“I will visit — I will come back,” he said, his chin rising in defiance. But even then, he knew that was a lie. Grór grimaced. The ugly truth lay naked before them. No — this was it. The end, and the beginning of something new — this time, without the other.

—

“It is good to have you to watch with, as well. I might mistake everything for a dragon, but know that I’ll be ready to fight it, if one comes. You Longbeards took me in. I vow to defend your home until I lose my legs or my breath doing so.”

—

“I took an oath,” the Stiffbeard says to himself. Disgusted, he looks down at the last letter, the one Grór sent five years ago. He remembers now, saying that he would put pen to paper, and then that he would go himself on occasion of her marriage, and how he would choose a wedding gift that would eclipse all others: a crown fashioned out of pearls and white gold, with the three-headed mumak on it, the same one that she wore in iron at her breast.

If she still wore it.

And then… he struggles to remember, memories of even last week fogging up like steam in front of his eyes. And then— that had been the year that the hold had almost starved, with trading from the south blockaded by war.

So he hadn’t written, after all.

“It doesn’t matter,” his own voice replies.

An oath of seventy years past doesn’t matter? What would his mother say to him if she could see him now? If she had survived the journey back?

Don’t start something and not finish it.

Zurkuh has procured him a fresh sheet of paper from somewhere and a pen. The other one has rolled away underneath the desk, and the ink bottle tipped over. He presses them both into the Scoutmaster’s hands and sets them on the paper. “Even so, it is best you write back. I can arrange a funeral gift to be sent. You have enough to do, Lord.”

Was he even a Lord anymore? There was nothing lordly, nothing noble about a dwarf abandoning his kin. But still, he could write back. He could do this one thing.

He wrote one rune, and then another. The first two rune-letters of the date. His hand stilled.

“Bring me my cloak,” he said. When Zurkuh didn’t move, he stood up himself and brushed past him to his bedroom, fearful that if he stopped for a moment to reconsider his actions, the sensible part of his heart would take over. “Where are you—” “And pack a sled for me,” he said, turning to face his assistant, “for a journey to the Iron Hills. I am going there myself.”

—

The fog of depression settles deeper into Grór’s bones. With each passing day, she feels it gnawing its way in like ants on a log, hollowing her out from the inside.

Yesterday, Frór and Thrór arrived, but there had been no welcoming party to greet them. It was all that she could do to stand when they entered her chambers. Frór went straight to Nain’s room and emerged with him in his arms. “I’ll bathe the wee one,” he said quietly, as he went to fill a kettle of hot water. Nain blearily blinked up at his uncle before falling asleep again, his small fingers wrapped in his straw-coloured hair. Thrór had simply sat in silence. Then, when it was evident that Grór would not speak, he had returned with a cup of something hot and set more coal to the fire, prodding it until the room grew warmer. “You need to eat,” he said, bending down to peer into Grór’s face. She hardly saw him.

—

The morning dawns. It could be morning or it could be evening for all the Lord of the Iron Hills cares. It is the same to her, and sleep comes in fitful bouts when she passes out in her room from exhaustion. At least this morning she manages to sit on her throne and her breakfast doesn’t make her nauseous. She eats half of the porridge before it grows thick and cold, and eventually someone takes it away.

The door to the kitchen swings shut behind the dwarf at the same time that another one opens across the Great Hall. The raises her eyes to the messenger that strides quickly towards her. Something about his confused expression makes her sit up a little straighter. “Yes?” she asks, before he has time to reach her. He bows, and then, as if at a loss for words, gestures behind him. “My Lord Grór, there is a visitor…” There have only been visitors this past week, the week before the stone-setting. She icily reminds the messenger such. He stammers an apology. “The dwarf is from the East — from Ugzharak, Lord. He’s pulled his sled right outside and says he knows you, but we had no word of his coming at the watchtower, so—”

The doors smash open with enough force to shake the floor. A dwarf in tattered, weather-stained clothes and boots marches in, barely restrained by two guards. “Grór!” he shouts, before the guards seize him by the wrists. He’s too deft for them and escapes their clutches with the dexterity of a weasel. Before they have time to draw axes, he’s running towards her, his eyes wild and his face flushed from the cold. Grór sees a flash of it before he throws himself onto one knee before her, a brown, scarred hand reaching forwards for the tip of her boot. “I came back.”

The guards drag him up and away, pulling at his cloak which rips from his shoulders. And finally, Grór finds her voice. “Stop—” she rasps.

They stand, facing one another in silence. A letter falls to the floor — the one she had written just a few weeks ago. “I told you — Grór, I said I would visit,” he says, his eyes pleading with her.

It has been seven years.

She wants to hit him, to push him away, to scream at the guards to take him from the Hall at once. But, she soon realises, she doesn’t have the energy. The anger that she might have held seeped from her weeks ago, along with her joy. All she can do is stare. And then Ixil is close to her, and his hands are over hers. His fingers have more callouses now, and they feel harder and stronger, while hers are tattooed in dark ink and stripped of all her customary rings and ornamentation. Between her breasts, she feels something, as though another heartbeat had stirred next to her own. Something she hadn’t thought of for years, but had worn, unnoticed, next to her skin. A small, iron trinket. “Idu’bar,” he whispers, so quietly that it feels as if her own soul is muttering the deep name which few in her life have ever known. “I have come back.”

Epilogue

“We’ve had our troubles,” she says.

Ixil nods and licks the foam from his top lip. Grór sinks back in her chair, and for the first time in countless weeks, feels full. Ixil, on the other hand, is still eating chicken leg after chicken leg, until Grór supposes that he’s eaten a whole flock.

“The East is a… troubled place of late,” he replies delicately. He looks at her enquiringly. “I would still like you to see it.”

“Perhaps I will,” she says.

Before now, she would have thought that impossible. But today she has discovered many things. That in the eye of grief’s storm she can smile, and smoke a pipe in peace, and eat a full meal. That a dwarf she thought long gone could spring up out of nowhere like new grass and pull a sled halfway across Middle-Earth to be with her. Why could she not venture out and see new sights, and explore new things again?

There was a place and a time for everything. For death and for life renewed.

End.

Kh. Idu’bar (id-u’bar): Grór’s deep name of my own invention (grower); apparently Grór could be derived from the Old Norse gróa, meaning ‘to grow’. It also means ‘to heal’.

#tolkien #gror #dwarves #tolkien fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the lord of the rings #middle-earth #the hobbit

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