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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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homelander x f!reader 18+ 6.2k, predator/prey, consensual non-consent, dirty talk, cockwarming, outdoor sex, oral sex, there's a lot. check ao3 for full tag list. shout out to @mari-thesimp and @whatevermonkey for the prompts that inspired this fic!

Summary: You ask Homelander to chase you through the woods and thoroughly ravish you, making sure to ignore any protests. He takes the role very seriously. AO3 Link.

Nothing could have prepared you for the reality of this moment. The chase had sounded like such lighthearted fun in theory. A jaunt through the forest with your superpowered boyfriend never far behind, pursuing you through the woods. Upping the ante by agreeing to do it at night seemed, at the time, like simply removing the training wheels. You were wrong. The pound of your heart nearly drowns out the sound of branches and woodland debris snapping under foot as you run blindly through the woods, the moon above barely serving illumination through the dense tree canopy. What you hadn’t realized at the start of all this was that your body wouldn’t know the difference between running for your life for fun, and running for your life for real.

A blast as sharp as a gunshot whips by overhead, bowing the trees with the force of it and startling a scream out of you. The startle causes you to lose your footing, and your momentum is too great to catch yourself. You hurdle forwards, rolling end over end into the mess of brambles, landing flat on your back, gasping for breath. You hear the thud of something landing in the distance. You lay there a moment, brain frantically recalibrating while you stare up at the dense tree cover, trying to catch your breath. That’s when a new sound cuts through the ambient sounds of the forest; someone whistling a cheery little melody. Shortly after that, you begin to hear footsteps. “You made it further than I thought you would,” Homelander calls into the night, his chipper tone replacing that jaunty whistle. “But c’mon. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You scramble to your feet, bracing against a tree to look wildly around yourself. It’s too dark to even make out his silhouette, but what you see instead turns your insides to ice. Maybe twenty feet away, two glowing red eyes cut through the black of the night, peering around until, abruptly, they lock onto you. The glow of them is just enough to illuminate the way Homelander’s lips pull into a sharp smile. “Got’cha.” Immediately, you take off running. There’s no thought behind it, nothing but the pure animalistic panic to escape. He may be the love of your life, but that was terrifying. The dense treeline breaks into a clearing, and you run for the path of least resistance, even as your muscles scream. A small hill near a babbling stream catches your eye, and though every breath you suck back makes your lungs burn, you push yourself to it, desperate for a place to hide. You skid to a stop just beyond the hill, and then hurl yourself back against it, clamping both hands over your mouth, screwing your eyes shut as you desperately try to quiet yourself.

The agreement was that Homelander would not utilize his x-ray vision. Your only hope was that the sound of the stream might mask the thunder of your heart beating in your chest. In this state of flight, you find it impossible to gauge the passage of time. It might be seconds that pass, it might be minutes. You can’t fathom it. Either way, it isn’t long before you begin to hear heavy booted footsteps crunching through the underbrush. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Homelander's voice rings out, that wicked smile audible in his tone. "You can come easy, or you can come hard. You're mine either way." You bite into your own hand, tucking yourself further in against the grassy mound. His words hurl you into a dizzying haze of panic and excitement, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting, unsure if you should be running from or towards the honied voice calling you from the shadows. Abruptly, the sound of footsteps stops, and you are left with nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat, and the burble of the stream.Time passes, but still you hear nothing. Tentatively, you peer out around the edge of the mound, into the clearing where you heard him approaching. Seeing nothing, you cautiously rise to your feet and crane to get a better look. Empty. There isn’t a trace of him anywhere. There’s more light in the clearing, lending a touch to your bravery. You don’t need the cue of his eyes to see him here, but the fact he’s disappeared somewhere into the treeline worries you. You glance down to the river. Perhaps your sound-based subterfuge was successful, and he believes you kept moving forward. You take the opportunity to backtrack, and hopefully throw him off your trail. After all, if you get back to the cabin by yourself, you win this little game.

Not wanting to run the risk of him hearing you, you pick up a modest trot back towards the thicket you had emerged from. Reaching out to brace your hand on a passing tree, you scream when a crimson gloved hand closes suddenly around your wrist, another hand catching you around the waist and yanking you backwards, lifting you clean off your feet, and up into the air with him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Not so quick. We haven’t even gotten to enjoy the view together yet,” he says, his words warm huffs in your ear, prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. You thrash against him with everything you have in you, but you may as well be pounding against pure steel. He’s unyielding. Homelander drops back down onto the ground, and with unbelievable ease, spins you around to pin your back against the tree. Slotting his thigh between your legs, Homelander lifts you with just that. Effortlessly catching both of your wrists in a single hand, he traps them up above your head. He leans forward, his knee braced against the tree. “There’s my girl,” he purrs, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Any other day, you would lean into it. The rumble of his voice when he calls you his never fails to make you melt. Right now, however, the two of you are playing a game, and you aren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

You yank your face away from his hand, leaning as far as you can to the side. “Let me go,” you gasp, still thoroughly out of breath. “Mm, nope, no. That… That I don’t think I’ll ever do,” he says, catching your jaw tight between his leather clad fingers, yanking you back to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes, which flare a dim crimson. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.” Homelander kisses you hard, swallowing up the cry you give. You nearly succumb, you almost kiss him back before you remember yourself. Instead, you twist as violently as you can in his grasp, trying anything you can to gain leverage, but nothing works. He has you lifted off your feet, and he’s pressed in too close for you to utilize your legs against him. Meanwhile, he relishes your struggle. You can feel him smiling against your lips, followed by the hot wet press of his tongue. You yield to him only for the opportunity to bite down hard on the appendage. It’s soft beneath your teeth, but it doesn’t give. There’s nothing you could do that would damage him.

Homelander hums a delighted little noise, breaking the kiss. His smile is like that of a wolf, fangs and all. “Now you’re really getting me excited,” he says, punctuating it with a slow grind up between your legs, startling a moan out of you. He lets go of your face in favor of dragging his hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing, making you keen. “I was gonna be a gentleman and take you back to the cabin, but if you’re gonna behave like a fucking animal–” he says, his rich, molasses sweet voice veering into a rough growl as he rips your shirt wide open, exposing your chest to the night chill, “–then I will gladly fuck you in the dirt like one.” Struggling against him only intensifies the friction of his thigh against your pussy, your clit throbbing against firm muscle behind the confines of your pants. You turn your head away as he kisses down your throat, wringing a gasp out of you when he bites down. You feel him chuckle against your skin, dragging his tongue over the stinging mark, his soft hair tickling along your jaw. “So, what’ll it be? You gonna behave for me?” He asks, drawing back to meet your stare. The question makes you ache, worsens the throb of your clit against his thigh. His perfect blonde locks are set askew now, giving him an untamed look. You feel as wild as he appears. Heart thundering in your chest, you make a play without a second thought, and you spit in his face, spattering the corner of his mouth and his cheek.

For a split second, Homelander looks sincerely shocked, his eyes wide. Slowly, he begins to laugh. The sound of it rolls chills all the way down your spine. You’ve never heard him sound this menacing. His tongue darts out to lick away the mess of it from the corner of his mouth. Pulling one of your hands down from above your head, he uses your palm to wipe it clean, turning his face to nuzzle into your hand, despite how you try to close it from him. When he looks at you, his pupils have reduced the blue of his eyes to a thin ring, making his eyes look almost completely black. His sharp grin has turned him wholly into a predator. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, voice pitched low. Faster than you can track, he dips down and hauls you up over his shoulder with ease, that abysmal eagle pauldron digging into your side as he carries you back into the clearing. You ball up your fists and pound on his back with every ounce of strength you have in you, twisting against his grip on your legs, but nothing fazes him. “Scream all you want, sweetheart,” he laughs, giving your ass an indulgent smack. “No one to hear it but me.” Homelander hurls you forward, and though you hit the ground much more gently than you braced for, the motion is no less disorienting. Sprawled on your back, you move to roll over, but a sudden weight on your thigh stops you. You look down and see his muddy red boot pressed firmly there, pinning you. Above, you hear the familiar sound of him unzipping his pants. Once his cock is free, Homelander grips it with a heated sigh, staring down at you through heavily lidded eyes. His lips are parted, and you can see the sharp edges of his canines glinting in the light of the moon. “Look at you, such a fucking mess,” he says, pumping his cock in slow, even slides of his hand. He’s already fully hard, the engorged head of his cock leaking drops of precome with every stroke. You can feel how bad he wants you in the way he watches you, the way his breath hitches. He looks like a wild animal drooling over a fresh cut of meat.

You writhe beneath him, but the weight of his boot alone is more than enough to keep you in place. “Please,” you whine, fighting to keep the desire out of your voice. “Please don’t, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone–” “Ssshhhhh, shhh,” Homelander hushes, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I know you won’t.” Reaching out, Homelander bends at the waist and lifts his boot off of you just before he catches a handful of your hair, maneuvering you up onto your knees. The way he handles you is exceedingly gentle. He has no need for rough or forceful movements when his strength can bend steel. You have no choice but to move with him. “I’m gonna give you one chance to redeem yourself, alright?” Holding you steady, Homelander guides you to his cock, arching your head back with his grip in your hair. “Open up, pretty girl,” he croons, the only warning he gives before shoving his cock between your lips, smearing precome along your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. The salt-sex taste of him is immediately intoxicating, and though you gag at the sudden intrusion, you suck him down without meaning to, reflexively swallowing. “Ffffuck, ah, hah, that’s it. Mmm, such a natural little cockslut. Taste good, sweetheart?” He asks, positively destroying you. He’s never called you anything like that before, but the ease with which he says it now makes it sound like the hundredth time. You want to hear it again. You make a sound that’s close to a moan, pushing your hands against his thighs, digging your nails into the padding of his suit. Letting go of his cock, he cups the side of your face, and picks up a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking your mouth shallowly.

With his thumb, Homelander caresses your lips, following the line of them where they stretch wide around his dick. He’s entranced by you, watching with endless intensity. Your jaw is slack, drool coating his cock as he fucks your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck. Fuck, look at you. Wanted it all along, didn’t you? I can smell your pussy, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me.” He fucks deeper, and you stifle the gag this time. Your eyes well with tears that collect on your lashes, weighing them down against your cheeks. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels so good, you lose yourself briefly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be putting up a fight. This time, you let yourself gag when he pushes in deep, and you try to pull off of him, fighting back against the hand he’d flattened at the back of your skull. “No, no, sshh, not yet. Almost there,” he says, tightening his grip in your hair, his voice fraying as he begins to come apart. He starts thrusting faster, adjusting his hands to hold either side of your head, using you so thoroughly that you feel like a fucking toy in his hands. Your breaths become shallower, short little gasps between the frenzied snaps of his hips. “Aaalmost there. That’s it, take it, taking it so fuckin’ good. Knew you could, baby.” Between the praise and lack of air, you’re starting to feel lightheaded. You’re not fighting against him anymore, but instead gripping his thighs for dear life, eyes rolling back into your skull. You feel like you’re floating in and out of your physical body, barely tethered to reality.

Homelander comes with a choked-off noise, shoving you all the way down onto his cock. You don’t even taste the come, you just feel the heavy pulses of his cock against your tongue, the heat of it sliding down your throat, warming you from the inside out. Just when you’re starting to feel like you might pass out, Homelander pulls out of your mouth, holding you as you cough wetly. You gulp down breath after breath, gradually coming down from your delirium. Homelander strokes your hair through it, breathing heavily through his own aftershocks. “Now there’s a redemption arc,” he says through a breathy little chuckle. He lets go of your hair so that he can tuck himself loosely back into his pants. Before you can get any ideas, Homelander knocks you backwards, visibly pleased by the easy way you sprawl out on your back, still dazed. Crouching down, he gets a good grip on the hips of your pants, and with a swift outward pull on either side, rips them clean apart, along with your underwear, leaving just the scraps of them hanging off your thighs, fully exposing your pelvis. Inhaling deeply, Homelander’s smile is downright predatory. “My turn,” he says, hooking your legs up over his shoulders, leaving just your upper back touching the ground below. He takes hold of your hips, and lifts you up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moans like a man mad with hunger as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your cunt, closing his lips around your clit.

You arch your back with a cry, pushing into the wet heat of his mouth. He’s ruthless in the way he feasts on you, plunging his tongue into you and lapping up every drop he can coax out. When he’s gotten all he can, he goes back up to your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue over it, reducing you to a whimpering mess. He laps at your clit until there’s more sweet slick for him to drink up from your pussy, fucking you with his tongue, demanding more. Homelander gets his wish when you come, an explosion of pleasure that radiates through your entire body. Your thighs lock up on either side of his head, squeezing him tight, but all he cares about is the rush of your release that spills down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly the excess drips onto the ground below. He swallows every drop that he can. He groans with it, licking eagerly between the quivering lips of your cunt. Your orgasms have always driven him insane, the flood of endorphins making you taste fucking exquisite. Suddenly the ground falls out beneath you as Homelander stands up, leaving you hanging in his grasp as he devours you, your moans of pleasure rapidly dissolving into broken sobs, overwhelmed with sensation. “S-stop,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his wrists. “Too much, please, it’s too much.”

Homelander’s only response is a rough little shake of his head, nuzzling into your pussy, lapping up the aftermath of your orgasm and rapidly hurdling you hot and heavy towards another one, your hips convulsing against him entirely of their own accord. “Please, oh god, please stop!” You cry, voice raw. You hang helplessly in his grip, squirming with nowhere to go. He’s got you dangling precariously on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, the sensations so intense that they almost burn. “S-stop! It’s too much! Please!” You have a safe word, you and he both know you could save yourself if you wanted to, but the reality is that you don’t. It feels good to beg for what you know he will not give you. You’re starting to feel dizzy, hanging upside down, gasping for breath as he continues to gorge himself on you. He drags his tongue up and down, drawing deft figure eights before sucking your clit, pressing his tongue firmly to it. You come again, and this time the experience is so overwhelming, you scream.

Falling limp, all you can muster are weak, oversensitized noises. Your body spasms involuntarily while Homelander licks you through the aftermath of your orgasm, milking every last drop of it. He finishes with a refreshed, wet exhale, audibly licking his lips of the mess while you dangle in his grasp. Gingerly, he lowers you back down onto the grassy forest floor, slipping out from between your legs to loom over you. Your brain is so addled, it takes you ages to realize that he’s kissing you, licking your own flavor into your mouth. You whimper when you feel his ungloved fingers brush your overstimulated cunt, the contact making you jolt. He clicks his tongue softly. “Look what you did,” he murmurs between kisses, plunging his fingers into you, despite your weak protest. You’re so wet, the slide of them is a frictionless ache. You whine into the press of his lips. “You went and got me hard again,” he sighs, as if you’ve inconvenienced him. “Now I have to fuck your pretty pussy.”

Homelander’s fingers pump in and out of you, the sound of it obscene and wet. Your breath hitches, and you try to protest, but his gloved hand falls over your lips, silencing you.

“Shhh, shh. Save it, sweetheart. Save it for my cock.” His fingers sink in deep, and your lashes flutter, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull. Already, you’re aching to feel him deeper. All you can do is whimper into the warm leather of his glove, squirming under the weight of his hold while his fingers work you open. While it’s a reprieve for your thoroughly used clit, the expert way he crooks his fingers inside you already has you fighting the climb of another orgasm. So much so that when he slips his fingers out, you whine, the sound of it bordering on a sob. Nothing happens for the next couple of seconds. Uncertain, you open your eyes, and find Homelander staring down at you. There is a slight tenseness to his expression, an expectation you can see in his gaze as you meet it. His hand is still over your mouth, but his other hand has settled on your thigh, thumb stroking your bare skin in minute movements. You can see the question written in his eyes clear as day; You okay?

The way he looks at you settles something warm deep in your core, chasing the night chill and leaving only the heat between your bodies. You break character for just a second, and give him a slight nod. In an instant, Homelander flips like a switch back into a stranger, the change subtle and yet glaringly obvious to you. You gasp when he pulls his hand from your mouth to flip you over, the smell of fresh grass pungent as he pushes your head down, lifting your ass up into the air. “That’s better,” he purrs, effortlessly slipping back into character. The cold, dangerous edge to his tone makes your stomach clench in a giddy blend of anxiety and excitement. With one hand braced on the back of your head, Homelander grips his cock in the other, and guides it to the soaked, velvety lips of your pussy. He drags the head of his cock up and down, smearing it through the wet mix of his saliva and your own slick. You jerk involuntarily when he rubs it against your sensitive clit, whimpering.

You feel overworked, but Homelander has made it clear he’s only just getting started. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on the thick head of his cock, moaning a low cuss under his breath. His powers protect him from pain, but not pleasure, and you’re not the only one affected by the aftermath of your release. Regardless, he moves his bare hand to your hip, and holds you steady as he sinks the rest of the way into you in one slow, agonizingly good slide, finally reaching that aching itch deep inside you. “Nnnngh, please,” you moan, screwing your eyes tightly shut. “Please what?” Homelander prompts, giving a deep little thrust that startles another pitchy sound out of you. “Go on, beg for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock like a good little slut,” he says, the low snarl of his voice–his words–paired with the heat and weight of him inside you making you delirious. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, the wet slide of his fingers making you cry out, writhing against him. He rocks you back on his cock, fucking right into your cervix. “No sense denying it now. So goddamn wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a cheap whore. Beg. Beg me to fuck you stupid.”

Whatever few strands you had left tethering you snap. The degradation, the truth in his words, the transcendent agony of pleasure taken too far all tip you over the edge of sanity and reason. Shame and arousal burn you in equal measure. “Please fuck me stupid,” you obediently beg, tears gathering in your eyes not from pain, but sheer overwhelm. You barely get the words out. Homelander starts to fuck you in earnest, groaning at your plea, at the complete crumble of your resolve. “Use me.” The noise Homelander makes at that is animalistic, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl. He shifts his hand from your head to your shoulder and grips tight, gloved fingers biting into the meat of you as he yanks you back onto his cock, picking up a relentless rhythm that punches the air right out of your lungs with every snap of his hips. All the while, his fingers grind against your clit with every thrust, surging you up towards the release previously abandoned.

“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, practically trembling with restraint. Despite the brutal way he’s fucking you, you know it’s nothing compared to what he could do. You can feel pressure building rapidly between your thighs, each thrust like the strike of a match inside you, igniting more and more heat. You can’t move, pinned between his hand on your shoulder and the crack of his hips against your ass. All you can do is endure him as your orgasm builds, whatever scarce breaths you can manage to inhale leave you as sharp little whimpers. “Don’t fight it. Feels good, I know it does. You’re taking me so good. Fucking made for me. C’mon, do it. Let me feel you come on my cock.” Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice as wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure rolls through you. You hear Homelander give a choked off noise as he fucks you through it, your cunt seizing around him so tightly it catches him off guard. He doesn’t stop, instead moving faster, reducing you to a keening mess, limp in the grass. He uses you until on a final thrust, you feel him still, followed by a rush of heat so intense it nearly feels a burn inside you. Your whole body shudders, and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all.

Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of Homelander pressed against your back, sinking down against you, grounds you. You whisper the safeword you’ve been diligently holding onto, and just like that, the game is over. Homelander pushes a hand through your hair, kissing a trail from your neck to your ear, gently adjusting your head on the ground. He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, bent over you, the wet weight of his cock still buried deep and warm inside you. He’s panting softly in your ear between kisses, the breaths catching every so often, still reeling from his own release.

Tenderly, he lifts off of you, and withdraws from inside you, hissing a soft breath as he does. The mess he left inside you trails hot, wet streaks down your thighs. You wince at the loss of him, nearly collapse without his hands on you, but he holds you steady with a hand on your hip while he adjusts himself.

You’re practically dead weight as he rolls you over, hovering over you with a hand in the grass, next to your head. You smile up at him, lazy and still dazed. He returns it, the corners of his eyes crinkling generously as he strokes your cheek with his bare knuckles, analyzing your expression. “Was I good?” He asks, the tone of his voice leagues and miles away from what it had been. He sounds tentative now, curious, a little hopeful. “Good?” You echo, borderline offended he would use such a meager word to explain the most intense sexual experience of your life. “That was… you were… amazing,” you tell him breathlessly, mustering the strength to push a hand into his mussed hair, your lids feeling heavy as you blink. “I can’t feel my legs, and I think you bruised my cervix,” you admit, to which he looks sheepish, but you continue, “And I’ve never felt more incredible in my life.”

Homelander visibly preens at that, his eyes narrowing, lips curving into a small smile. He leans in to nuzzle at your neck, inhaling deeply. You offer a few more strokes through his hair, but the muscles in your arm protest enough that you drape it over his neck instead, sighing. He takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms, your limbs dangling like cooked noodles. He floats to his feet, settling back down on the ground with you nestled snug against his chest. “C’mon,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” ~~~~~~ Back at the cabin, Homelander is quick to start a hot bath running. The only garment of yours to survive was your bra, but even then, you and it are thoroughly grass strained. Homelander helps you sink into the oversized jacuzzi bath, chuckling at the exaggerated moan you give as the heat washes over you. It feels like heaven on your aching legs. The water sloshes to and fro as Homelander joins you, sliding up to you right away. Baths have always been both of your preferred methods of aftercare, where you can recover from his strength and he can luxuriate in this intimate form of pampering. Automatically, Homelander pulls you in to straddle his lap, the water making you both feel weightless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you go about wetting his hair, massaging his scalp. He moans when you begin to work in the shampoo next, dragging your nails all the way down to the back of his neck. He’s much leaner without the suit. You sweep your hands down his shoulders, following the trail of wiry muscle to his back. His body relaxes gradually beneath your touch, breathy little sighs escaping him. He makes you feel like you’re playing an instrument, and you know precisely where to touch to draw out the right note. Neither of you speak much during the bath. Your limbs are heavy, muscles tired, and the narrow space between your bodies feels too quiet and intimate for words.

You take your time conditioning his hair, and he wrings soft moans from you when he massages wash into your shoulders, mindful of how they ache. He’s deft with his hands, impeccably aware of his strength. It thrills you a little every time you remember how different he was in the woods, how wild and brutal he had felt. Once you’re both clean and satisfied, the bed calls your name as hypnotically as any siren. You’re the first to slip under the covers, immediately relieved to be off of your feet, your legs still shaky. Homelander follows shortly after. He’s always been clingy, but tonight especially, he’s practically glued to you. When he slides into bed, he doesn’t cuddle in next to you, but instead lays himself over you, nestling between your legs so that he can rest his head on your chest. You smile down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” he rumbles, moving his hand to rest near his face, just over the beat of your heart.

Silence hangs heavily in the air. Sensing there’s more to it, you press, “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

Homelander is quiet for a moment longer. “You were scared.”

“Being chased was scary, yes,” you admit, combing your fingers through his hair. “That was the intention, though.”

“Were you scared of me?”

You pause. There’s something vulnerable in his voice—anxiety, perhaps—that he’s halfheartedly trying to mask, but you see through it. You give yourself time, wanting to answer the question with the thought it deserves, but Homelander doesn’t take the silence well. He lifts his head to scrutinize your expression, brows pinched. “You were scared of me.”

“You scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of you,” you correct him, settling your hand over top of his. “I liked it. In the same way I like movies that make me scream, or roller coasters. You scared me, and I loved it,” you say, bringing up both hands to cup his face, emphasizing your words by pulling him into a kiss. He moves easily, pushing into the kiss, needy for the assurance you offer. Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you ask him, “Did you like it?”

Homelander licks his lips, sliding his arm under you as he settles back in against your chest. “Yeah. It was… fun. Raw. I didn’t know you could act like that. Might have to get you a role in Vought’s next production,” he says, giving your collarbone a playful little nuzzle. “No thanks, I’d rather be waterboarded,” you reply with a laugh, earning a low chuckle from him. You stroke him from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his neck, and then back up. “I’m glad you had fun. I know that I was asking a lot of you with it.” He’s quiet for a moment, head resting heavy on your chest. He rubs his cheek against your skin. “I really liked it. But if it goes too far, and you see something in me that you don’t like, and I see you scared of me, even when we’re not playing, it…” the sentence trails off. You feel his grip around you tighten reflexively, and you can only imagine what awful scenario he’s playing in his mind. “John,” you call gently, though your tone is firm, catching his attention immediately. He tips his head back to look up at you. “I promise you, there is nothing you would do to me that could change the way I feel about you. I love you. I worship you, John. That’s what love means to me. Reverence. You didn’t want to hurt me tonight, did you?”

“No,” he answers quickly, enraptured by you, by your words. “But I did.” “Only as much as I asked you to,” you soothe, stroking along the side of his face. “You would have stopped if I said the word, right?” Homelander nods, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You checked in on me, too. If anything, all tonight did was show me how much I don’t need to be afraid of you.”

Looking at you, there is a magnitude of emotion in Homelander’s eyes that is difficult to put into words. You realize immediately just how badly he needed to hear every word you’ve said. He has always thrived on your words, on your loving deeds, but tonight they scrape him particularly raw. There are times when you think the depths of his need for you scares even him. Homelander kisses a path from your collarbone to the space between your breasts, slow, deeply affectionate. Where you most easily show your worship in words, he shows his in touch. He strokes a hand down your side, to your outer thigh, squeezing it against him, like he simply cannot be close enough. “Come here,” you murmur, nudging him with your leg. “Let me warm you.” Homelander glances up at that, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirm, encouraging him with another little nudge. Of all the tricks you’ve introduced him to, this has been his favorite by far. Licking his lips eagerly, Homelander shifts, lifting himself to grab the lube from the bedside table, dispensing enough to slick his cock up. He uses what remains on his fingers in you, sliding his slick fingers into you with ease, earning a sharp little inhale from you before you relax into it. Once you’re properly wetted, he carefully slides his cock into you, less than half hard, but that isn’t the intent. Though you’re still tender, once he settles against you, the fervid weight of him inside feels divine. Having him inside always feels as though you are kindling a live flame within you.

“Mm, that’s it. Feel good?” You ask, kissing his forehead. Homelander nods, slotted against you as perfectly as a matching jigsaw piece. He turns his head to kiss your breast, transitioning quickly from that to closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently. You flex your grip in his hair, sighing in pleasure. “I still need to rest, you know. We can’t all have super stamina,” you remind him with an amused little smile.

“So rest,” he says dismissively, gaze flickering up to meet yours. He kisses your breast reverently before placing his head back down, staring up at you with such utter contentment, you feel the warmth of it to your core. “I can be patient.” In other words, he’ll wait as long as he can before the temptation grows too great. The thought of waking to him taking advantage of you like that broils a little fire of your own in your gut, and you laugh softly, nodding. “Okay. Wake me in a few hours. Be creative,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. Homelander’s lips curl deviously. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Eventually, your exhaustion wins over the giddiness of what’s to come. Homelander is a comforting weight against you, the heat of him chasing any and all chill from you, and you drift into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever known.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #smut #oh my god it's DONE #not to toot my own horn but i am supremely proud of this one haha #my writing #hide and seek

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tailschannel · 1 year

Text

Super Silver, Knuckles the Dread, Thorn Rose to debut in new Sonic Forces Mobile events

SEGA HARDlight, the developers of Sonic Forces: Speed Battle, shadowdropped new characters ahead of three scheduled in-game events throughout June and July 2023.

Speed Battle players will have an opportunity to collect cards of Knuckles the Dread and Thorn Rose from Sonic Prime, as well Special cards of Silver the Hedgehog's super form.

Knuckles the Dread

Knuckles the Dread, the Angel's Voyage captain, joins the battle! Unlock him in his brand-new event ‘Knuckles the Dread’!

Here are the in-game statistics for the pirate captain, Knuckles the Dread, scheduled to appear between 15 to 22 June 2023.

Fireball: Put the heat on the opponent in front of you with this ball of flame.

Invincibility: Run faster, safe in the knowledge that nothing can harm you. Just don't fall off the track!

Broadside: Summon a line of cannons and fire away to destroy your rivals!

Knuckles the Dread will be equipped with a speed and strength stat of 8/10, and an acceleration stat of 5/10.

Super Silver

Super Silver is charged up! With the ultimate power and unlimited energy, he is ready for battle! Join the event to gain Special cards for Super Silver!

Next, the in-game stats for Silver the Hedgehog's super form, scheduled to appear between 22 to 29 June 2023.

Whirlwind: Puts the wind up your opponents and steals Rings as it spins.

Super Form: After collecting enough Gold Rings, transform into Super Form and blast down the track at incredible speeds!

Tornado: Send your opponents into a spin and pocket any Rings they drop.

Super Silver will be equipped with a speed, acceleration, and strength stat of 6/10.

Thorn Rose

Thorn Rose, the defender of the jungle joins the battle! Unlock her in the brand-new event ‘Thorn Rose’!

Last but not least, here's the in-game stats for Thorn Rose, scheduled to appear between 13 to 20 July 2023.

Hammer Slam: Catch-up to your rivals with a short-sharp boost, then slam your hammer to blast them with a powerful pink wave of slow-you-down!

Jungle Run: A rapid boost which leaves behind brambles to trip up your rivals. Charge this up to drop even more!

Lilytrap: Opponents will have to time their approach just right or they'll be blasted into the sky by a jet of water!

Thorn Rose will be equipped with a speed stat of 7/10, an acceleration stat of 6/10, and a strength stat of 9/10.

(with files contributed by the Tails' Channel Newsfeed.)

#silver the hedgehog #super silver #knuckles the echidna #knuckles the dread #amy rose #thorn rose #sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sega #sonic forces #sonic forces mobile #sonic forces speed battle #sega hardlight #gaming #gaming news #sonic news

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

Time had passed since you last saw the Viking galloping down the trails, and in his absence, your heart grew steadily fonder of the stranger — of his kindness, his softness. Fate, however, knew of this and sent a gift of its own your way, in the form of a proud steed, ridden by your Viking.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇁ 2.6k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇁ Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ⇁ Full of bonding moments thanks to @sgt-seabass — thank you for the ideas, babe!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ⇁ Algir — Tognatale by Warduna

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ⇁ @the-slumberparty Week 2 Blast From the Past Challenge — Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Cycles and cycles of Sol and Mani passed after the hunter had taken your gift back to his people. You hadn’t seen him travelling or passing through your home, the small creek having ebbed and flowed in size in his absence. Many creatures had flitted about the trail where the Viking’s horse had proudly strode, though none lived up to the majesty of the steed that snorted like an ormslíki.

You knew it was forbidden - speaking to the hunter, the Viking, you risked so much to do so, but like a forbidden fruit, the longer you ignored the curiosity, the more it became unbearable.

The moss on the forest’s floor had grown and become spongy under foot, while ivy and bushes spread and grew to cover fallen trunks of trees, boulders, and stones. A small path was woven amongst the still standing trees that lead to the main trail and you followed it, wandering slowly and carefully amongst the brush and creatures that flocked to follow you.

It was peaceful. Quiet, hauntingly quiet, when all you wanted to hear was the sound of heavy hoofbeats and proud snorting, and the rich sound of the Viking’s voice.

Your dress flowed in the breeze as you walked, the hem never catching on brambles and weeds. It had been woven by your mother centuries ago, where magic and cloth could be combined as one - a tradition that had long since passed with the ages.

The song of your people left you in a soft hum and carried in the slight wind, but by no means had you expected it to reach as far to actually be heard by someone.

Hoofbeats pounded the earth in the distance and you froze. The animals at your feet scattered at the sound and bolted past the tree line, out of sight. There was no way to distinguish just who it was, and you were too close to the main trail by now to run to safety, towards home. You cursed and ducked behind a fallen limb of a tree - the advantage of being a descendent of Faefolk was that you were small, delicate, you could hide somewhat out of sight while whoever it was passed by.

However, fate was not so kind.

“Hey! Hey, I see you!” The voice was loud over the thunderous hoofbeats and proud snorting, the richness of the stranger’s tone familiar… “I thought I would never see you again, little Mouse.”

Mouse? Little Mouse?

You peered over a knot in the trunk and your eyes widened when they landed upon the stranger and his horse. It was him, the one human that had captured your train of thought and imagination since he had kneeled at your creek. He was back.

“Hello,” he said softly, smiling down at you in your not-so-hidden hiding place. You met his gaze, then glanced down at the flash of ivory in the sun; an animal’s skull was covering the fastening of leather and buckles for his bear skin cloak. Your gift. “I have been searching for you,” he continued and you looked back up to study his expression - it was open, kind. “Your gift was beautiful and I wanted to thank you–my people thought me mad going on constant hunting trips. I just had to find you.”

“Me?” You squeaked, widening your eyes and shrinking down into the soft, mossy forest floor.

“Yes, you, little Mouse.” He dismounted swiftly and eyed the trunk with amusement, a slight quirk to his lips. “Why are you hiding?”

“I was s-scared,” you tried, slowly getting to your feet and looking him briefly in the eye. His stare was too intense to hold.

The Viking frowned slightly, a line forming between his brows. “Your people are not very…”

“No, we are not.” Your tone was instinctually defensive and you winced, not wanting to offend him. Hearing the words from his lips, you feared, would break your heart. It was true, your people had been hunted for sport and taken as thralls for as long as the tales had been written. It had been a miracle, a gift from the gods, that he hadn’t taken you with him when he first saw you all that time ago. He had proven himself to be different to his kinfolk, and you maybe trusted him slightly more than what was safe because of it.

“Where is your home from here, Mouse?”

You pointed back through the trees towards a mass collection of boulders. “Over there.”

“I brought you a gift,” he continued, grabbing the reins of his horse and stepping closer. “I thought with the change coming so soon, you would need something…”

“Something?” You prompted; brow raised.

He looked to be considering his words. “I feel uncomfortable, Mouse,” he opted instead and you waited. “I don’t know who you are and yet… I am drawn back to you, and you don’t even know my name, nor do I know yours.”

The horse snorted and pawed the ground, and you swore if you looked closely, the steed was rolling his eyes in annoyance. It was an effort to suppress the laugh that grew in your chest. Instead, you prompted the Viking again, “No, I do not,” you said, smiling. “But you look like a giant bear.”

Laughter bellowed from the man and he was grinning, shaking his head in mirth. “A bear, you say?” You nodded and stepped over the log, forcing him to step back - you wanted to be closer, to investigate the craftsmanship of his armour, you lied. “Well, my name is Bucky, but you, you adorable little Mouse, can call me Bear–if you so wish.”

“Bucky Bear…”

Bucky just stared at you, his expression flat and unimpressed. “Very funny.”

“I know,” you giggled. “Come,” you said, grabbing his considerably larger hand in yours and offering your name. “Let me take you to my home.”

Both Bucky and his horse followed you through the trees, and you couldn’t hide the quick glances towards the steed. If it were even possible, his coat gleamed like freshly fallen snow under bright sólskin, and black dapples decorated his strong legs and proud face. Bucky seemed to have caught you in the act, however. “What is it, Mouse?”

You glanced up at Bucky and then back to the steed, when Bucky came to a stop. “Your horse,” you began, shuffling closer while the steed turned his head and looked at you, his eyes soft and calm. “What is his name?”

“This is Ragnar,” Bucky said softly. “He has been with me through many battles and carried me home wounded and at the door of Valhalla more times than I can count.”

Tentatively, you reached a hand out for Ragnar to sniff at, but the stallion forwent it and chose to nuzzle into your hand instead, a squeak of shock leaving you before you could master the impulse.

“Here,” Bucky started, stepping back until he stood behind the saddle. “Hop up.”

“I-I cannot-”

“Yes, you can,” Bucky assured, using the grip he had on your hand to pull you closer. Ragnar seemed to sense your unease and he stood still; a creature carved from stone. “I will help you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, standing next to the stallion and in front of Bucky. You couldn’t even see over the other side of Ragnar’s back. “What if I fall?”

“I will catch you,” Bucky said, incredulous, like it wasn’t obvious. “Now,” Bucky bent down and fitted his hands under your arms–you prayed he wouldn’t feel the hammering of your heart. “I will lift you up, and you just have to swing one leg over. Understood?”

You nodded and Bucky smiled. Air rushed around you as he heaved you up, and you swung a leg over the other side of Ragnar’s back, settling into the saddle with a shaky laugh. “Look at that!” Bucky cried; the pride evident in his voice. “You are a natural already! Hold on now, little Mouse.”

Bucky scratched Ragnar’s cheek and the steed nickered, an unspoken promise that he would not throw you - though you still held onto the saddle for dear life when Ragnar began to walk further into the trees.

“You can pet him, if you want,” Bucky said, falling in step beside you so his shoulder bumped your knee. “Ragnar would like it.”

“O-Okay,” you stammered. Ragnar’s coat beneath your fingertips was soft like a cloud, and the muscles in his shoulders rippled as he walked ever so slowly and carefully. “He is so soft.”

Bucky grinned up at you, and you smiled back.

The hill by the boulders proved to be a challenge, and the first few steps that Ragnar took tilted you forward. “Hold on now, Mouse,” Bucky reminded you, careful to stay right beside you while Ragnar navigated the rocks and branches.

“That’s it, boy,” Bucky said when Ragnar slowed his steps, his shoulders jarring and shifting with the steepness. “Easy now.”

Bucky’s connection with Ragnar warmed your heart, but a gasp of fear left you when Ragnar stepped too far down and you tipped sideways, only to land in Bucky’s arms. You looked around wildly while Bucky chuckled softly. “I told you I would catch you if you fell, little Mouse.”

“T-Thank you,” you murmured. It was nice to be held, you admitted - even in such circumstances.

“Do you want to try getting back in the saddle,” Bucky asked, still holding you to his chest. “Or do you want to walk?”

You shut down the thought that you wished he had offered to carry you instead. “I will walk, I think.”

Bucky nodded and placed you on your feet gently. With you in the lead, the three of you made your way down the steep hillside and towards your creek which flowed freely, lapping at the banks of grass on either side. Ragnar snorted once his feet reached even ground and you wandered over to pat him. “Good boy, Ragnar.”

“Don’t give him an ego, Mouse,” Bucky huffed before jumping down from a boulder. “I will never hear the end of it if you do.”

“How can I give a precious creature such a thing,” you fired back, holding Ragnar’s head in your arms while you stared at Bucky, accusation painted in your furrowed brow and deep frown. “Ragnar does not have a stórlátr bone in his body.”

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, and I’m not a hersir.”

Ignoring Bucky’s feigned annoyance, you ran forward and grabbed his hand once more. He startled but you shushed him, leading him further down the bank where a log rested by a heap of stones; a place where you spent time amongst nature and caring for creatures. “Come, sit.”

The sight made you giggle - Bucky, a literal bear of a man, sat on the log and took up over half of it with his bulk and cloak. “What?”

“Nothing,” you assured, sitting down next to him. Bucky raised a brow as if to question you. “You are just very… big. You are a bear.”

“You’re very funny, Mouse, you know that, right?” Bucky deadpanned. Though the slight curl of his lips in a smirk gave him away.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence while Ragnar wandered about behind you. Eventually, Ragnar finally came to a stop next to you and lowered his head so his cheek brushed your temple. “Hello, boy,” you whispered, offering your hand to pet his muzzle.

“Ah, I forgot,” Bucky piped up suddenly, moving his cloak to the side to reveal a satchel. “Your gift, I packed it into my bag, I didn’t want it damaged on my journey.” Curious, you watched Bucky release the fastenings and buckles until he paused, looking back up at you. “Are you going to close your eyes, or?”

“Oh,” you rushed, shutting them quickly. “I’m sorry, I thought-”

“Do not apologise, little Mouse,” Bucky interrupted. “I just wanted it to be a surprise.” There were sounds of rustling and suddenly, something soft, fluffy, and heavy was placed in your lap, your hands immediately and instinctively moving to touch and investigate. You weren’t the only one, however. “Ragnar, no, out of it, boy,” Bucky rushed, and you felt Ragnar’s head move from your side, though he remained nearby. “Nosey skitr.”

You laughed softly, still running your hands along the soft bundle in your lap. “Open your eyes, Mouse,” Bucky said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

Bright daylight blinded you for a second until you focused on Bucky’s face, his expression happy, eager almost, and then you looked down at your lap to find a wolf’s pelt, as white as Ragnar, tightly furled. “Oh, my- Bucky-”

“To keep you warm,” Bucky explained, shuffling closer to you and opening the fur so it could drape over your lap. “I hunted the beast myself; I knew when I laid eyes upon the wolf it would be perfect.”

You looked up at Bucky, eyes wide and glassy; no one had ever given you such a thoughtful gift before. Your heart was so full it was fit to burst, and an outpour of adoration manifested before you could stop it.

Bucky was knocked back with the force of your hug and he let out an, “oof!” of surprise. Your arms were tight around his shoulders and you buried your face into the crook of his neck, where intricate stories were inked into his skin. Your legs straddled his thigh, and you squeaked in surprise when Bucky moved you so he could gain his balance again, now sitting upright and holding you to his chest.

“I take it you like my gift, little Mouse?” Bucky said, his voice rumbling in his chest.

You nodded fervently, and pulled back to face him. Never before had you been so close to another person, a human, and the beauty of his face struck you. His eyes were even clearer up close, he had faint scars and freckles dotted along his skin, and his hair–you had thought it was black, but it was a dark brown. The urge to touch and run your hand through it reared its head, and you didn’t resist.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he smirked. “Mouse? Did you like it?”

Your eyes roved from his hair to meet his gaze, and you smiled softly. “Yes, I love it,” you said quietly, before moving forward to kiss Bucky on the cheek. “Thank you, my Bear.”

Not one to tolerate being left out, Ragnar snorted and pushed his face into your shoulder, making you cackle and Bucky groan. “Streð mik, get out of it, you skitr!”

You made to move when Ragnar sidled off with a definite pout, but Bucky held you tight around your waist, unyielding and unwilling to let go. “No, no, please,” he whispered, moving one hand to his cloak and draping it around you. “Stay with me a while longer.”

In lieu of speaking and saying how much you had wanted this, you shifted and cuddled into his chest, your forehead resting in the crook of his neck.

After a while, you spoke up quietly, afraid to shatter the illusion–it was hard to believe that it wasn’t a dream. “I am glad you found me again, Bear.”

Bucky’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle and his grip around you tightened minutely. A sudden pressure atop your head made you gasp sharply in surprise. “‘S just me,” Bucky soothed, rubbing a hand up and down your spine. The weight of his cheek on your head settled and you calmed, entirely wrapped in his warmth; the furs and armour were nothing to the heat his body warmed you with.

“Me too, little Mouse,” Bucky whispered. “Me too.”

Ormslíki = Dragon Sólskin = Sunshine Stórlátr = Arrogant Skitr = Shit Streð mik = Fuck me

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #viking bucky #viking au #fae au #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne's works #ABE

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brambletakato · 19 days

Note

Hey Bramble, did you ever extract Tiny Descole's victory animation/getting blasted by lasers animation? I forgot if you posted them or not :"^]

sorry for the late answer but i never did LMAO here you go (with the rest of his animations just in case)

#jean descole #bramblextracts #note that the model viewer metanoia is the only way i can get these rips but if i zoom out too far then theres some graphical issues #otherwise his victory animation would get clipped off

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crystalbeetle888 · 4 months

Text

Voyage into the Unknown Pt.1

Master List

Pt.1 - Pt.2

The cold wind nips at the back of my neck, as I trudge through the thick brambles whacking them out of my way with my machete. Dark clouds roll over the mountain tops, spitting down a freezing shower. I flip the hood of my poncho over my soaked head. My legs burn from hours of walking through the wild, my hands swollen from constant swaying, my lungs heavy from the frigid air. Relief washes over me as the sight of the wooden cabin finally breaks through the tree line. The howling wind almost knocks me over as I march up the steps and through the heavy front door, slamming it shut behind me. I exhale heavily, the warm air embraces me gently, the sudden halt of the deafening wind in my ears is a shocking contrast to the silent cabin.

I slip my day bag off by the door and make my way towards the bathroom, stripping off as I go, leaving a trail of sweat and rain soaked clothes behind me. Hopping into the shower the burning hot water washes the dirt of the day away, soothing my aching muscles. I grasp the soap and begin scrubbing the filth off. I gently run my hand over my left shoulder, the smooth ridged feel of the scarred skin no longer holds any feeling in it. I follow the mark down the length of my arm finishing at my wrist, the skin looks pink and agitated by the hot water. I open my right hand, branded with the same angry scarring on my palm.

I moan in annoyance finally hopping out of the shower and wrapping myself with a towel. I exit the bathroom and begin to dress in my thick nightwear. Suddenly, the cabin walls begin to shake loudly as the wind rages outside “Fucking hell” I mutter to myself. The wood creaks and groans a little too loudly for my comfort. Worried, I pick up my phone, no signal. “Shit” I toss the useless thing into my pack, it clatters loudly against the small handgun I've not so subtly hidden.

“I guess this getaway trip is going to be longer than expected” I mutter to myself in annoyance “The gallery is going to kill me” Another loud gust of wind shakes the cabin more violently than before. The ground shakes and the ceiling rumbles, picture frames on the hearth rattle and fall onto the ground shattering loudly. The bricks around the fireplace crack, dust falls from the rafters. “Shit! If the fucking weather doesn't kill me first!” I yell to myself over the roaring noise. Throwing my belongings haphazardly into my bag I shrug on my coat and bolt outside, making a dash towards the car. I only take a few steps across the grass before the wind throws me off my feet and across the clearing. I hug my body close to the muddy ground and scream in fear as the winds tries to take me again “FUCK!”. My screams are silent in comparison to the booming noise surrounding me. A faint chanting travels on the winds ‘What the shit?’ I think to myself as the chanting gets louder and louder until a man's voice is clearly heard above the belting winds. The foreign chanting strikes my body with anxiety “Fuck this fucking Blair Witch bullshit” I cry out, as I attempt to stumble towards the car again. A strong blast of wind picks me up, throwing me high up into the air before suddenly dropping off. My heart stops as I begin to plummet towards the earth “FFFUUUUUCCKKK” I scream before hitting the ground with a crack, instantly losing consciousness.

The first thing I feel is the burning ache across my back shooting up into my skull. I groan, opening my eyes slowly to the sun beaming down on my face. “Oh my god” I whisper airily cradling my neck as I sit up. Looking around at my surroundings, wood and brick debris lay scattered across the clearing, the whole cabin, including the foundations, have been blown away. I sigh in exhaust, still clenching my backpack tightly. The feeling of frustration and exhaustion from the previous day's travels overwhelms me, I let out some shaky breaths. “Easy girl, you're alright” I breathe “Keep it together”. I begin to break out into a sweat as the midday sun beats down on my miserable sitting form, still clad in my thick flannel pajamas. Huffing in frustration I shrug my jacket off and stand shakily. Life just seems to be throwing everything it can at me lately. Trudging towards the forest line I notice something eerie, the trees are a different now, the fucking trees are a different species! ‘How far did that wind throw me?’ I think to myself.

After changing into the previous days smelly damp clothes I begin to wander through the woods, hoping to find someone who can help. After what felt like hours of plodding through the creepy unfamiliar forest I finally stumbled across a dirt road. To turn left? Or to turn right? That is the question. I turn right “right is right” I mutter to no one. Fatigue rakes my body as I continue down my path, sookie that I had skipped dinner the night before. Eventually the sound of baaing animals breaks through the silence and relief washes over me. Shakily passing over the hill, I gaze out over a beautiful green valley. The houses are round and built into the hillside, adorned with lush gardens of flowers and fruit. As the sun begins to set, the sky is painted with vibrant pinks and purple, and glowing lights sprinkle the valley like stars across the night sky. “Oh my god” I almost cry in relief and happiness, completely delirious from hunger.

Floppily jogging down the hill and along the dirt path, I pass many homely houses. ‘I don't think I've ever seen houses built like this before’ I let my thoughts drift ‘Maybe they're some sort of commune’ I gaze in passing at the arched windows, and colourful round wooden doors that are unusually short ‘Maybe they’re a commune of little people?’ It doesn’t make any sense but neither does an entire cabin and car, flying away and leaving little to no trace. My patience is waning as it becomes the second night without food. Throwing caution, and pride, to the wind, I open the closest little picket fence and tiredly stomp up the stone steps towards a large green circular door. Knocking three times, I hurriedly rake my fingers through my hair and straighten out my jacket and shirt, anxiously waiting. The door opens with a loud creak, and behind it stands a surprised little man with pointy ears and wavy brown hair. ‘Definitely not a little person’ I think to myself.

“Good evening?” he says warily, straightening out his patchwork dressing gown.

“G’day, look this is super random but I think I’m lost” I swallow, the hard lump in my throat “And I haven't eaten since yesterday, and I don't know where I am, and I’m really fucking tired” I choke out, tears begin to well in my eyes as the stress from it all finally hits me. The mans eyes widen in shock, and my cheeks burn hot in embarrassment from unloading onto this rather awkward looking strange. The man shifts his weight uncomfortably “Well there's no need to cry Miss..?" He trails off, "Y/N" I sniffle, " Well Y/N, I'm Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” he bows “I suppose you can come inside, just till we’ll get you sorted out” he wags his finger, clearly flustered by my emotional outburst. The man steps aside and opens the door wide, I duck under the door frame and enter.

The entrance room glows from the candle lit chandelier, the air is warm and inviting. I hug my arms around myself tightly, shuffling out of his way as he shuts the door and potters past me “Come on Miss this way”.

I stammer uncertainly “Um should I take my shoes off?” I notice his comically large and oddly hairy feet are bare. He stops and spins around in surprise “Oh certainly, thank you” he smiles surprised. “You can store them behind the door”. Plopping myself on the floor I take my tan hiking boots off and stuff my socks inside, cringing at the smell and stiffness of my toes. “I’ve never seen such craftsmanship before, you must have a unique cobbler” Bilbo quips. I stuff them neatly behind the door “Ah yeah they’re alright” I stand brushing myself off, smiling at him awkwardly. He pats his hands on his sides like an awkward penguin before spinning round. “This way” He guides me through curved corridors into the kitchen. “Sit please” He pulls out the smallish chair for me, the matching table size makes it difficult to sit politely. Judging by Bilbo's proper gentleman nature he probably values good manners. I ponder to myself, shuffling uncomfortably trying to straighten my posture. Bilbo treads back and forth across the kitchen, setting a pan on the hot plate over the fire, “I bought some fresh fish today, I hope that's alright?” He turns to look at me. My stomach growling loudly at the thought, I nod, cheeks heating “That’d be great thank you”. He nods back, before turning round again. Bilbo places two whole fish, along with some vegetables into the hot pan before covering it with a heavy metal lid. The smell of cooking fish permeates through the room making my mouth water. I continue to watch the strange little man as he sorts out two tea cups and saucers “Chamomile or lavender?” he says over his shoulder “Chamomile please” He nods, continuing to make the pot. He rests the teapot on a hook over the fire before sitting down across from me.

“If it’s not too rude, may I ask where you’ve come from? You wear very peculiar clothes” My eyes widen, not knowing how to respond to that, I glance down at my dirty looking clothes. I was clad in a khaki green, slim fitting shirt, and a pair of long black leggings with my denim jacket tied around my waist. It didn't seem very ‘peculiar’ to me, but I suppose if I lived on a mediaeval commune filled with little gnome people, I’d find it strange too.

“Well, I come from a small outback town, though I moved around a lot when I was younger” He nods in understanding, hand rubbing his chin in thought “And where is the outback?” I stop, realizing the stark differences between our cultures “It means like, rural, or country” Bilbo ahs in actual understanding this time “Still, quite strange clothes for country folk” He states “Though I don’t travel much myself, so I suppose the race of man may have changed beyond my knowledge” He nods to himself “Yes that must be it” he trails off before the loud whistle of the kettle interrupts our conversation. Bilbo hops up and busies himself in the kitchen again, before coming back with the hot food and drink, placing it down on the table along with some ornate silverware and napkins. “Well, dig in”. Bilbo and I chatted idly over the delicious hot meal, it was exactly what I needed to regain my strength.

I sigh in relief, patting my now stuffed belly “That was amazing, thank you” I say gratefully. Bilbo nods, staking the dirty dishes in a pile “Well you came at the right time honestly, I’ve just restocked my pantry” He says placing the dirty dishes in the sink. I rise from my spot “Here I can help with that” I offer. “Oh no no no, you rest now Miss, I’ll handle it, you should bathe though” I frown, raising my eyebrow at him “I stink that bad huh?” He freezes, mouth agape and eyes wide, “Ah” he stutters. A smile stretches across my face “I’m just taking the piss, I know I stink” I laugh, as relief clearly washes over him, he lets out a gentle chuckle. “Ah yes well, the guest room is just through this hall, then left through to the very end, then left again, it should have everything you need” He says. I grab my bag from next to my foot, “Thank you again Bilbo, really, It’s very generous of you”. He smiles kindly “Yes well, what kind of hobbit would I be if I were to leave a lady in distress, Hmm?” I smile in confusion but nodded along ‘Hobbit, what the fuck does that mean?’. As he turns back to the dishes I walk down the hall following his directions “Taking the piss” I hear him mutter to himself, I chuckle quietly and continue on my way.

Opening the door to the guest room a gentle light emits from the dwindling fire on the left wall, across from it lays a medium sized bed, probably a queen or king size for him but it’ll do. A copper metal bath sits tucked into the far left corner. Dumping may bag on the bed I stride over and begin running the bath. ‘Hot water, thank fuck’ I think running my hand under the stream. Stripping down naked, I hop slowly into the tub, skin burning against the hot water. Despite enjoying the outdoors I can only tolerate so much of it for so long. I turn the faucet off and sink into the water until only my face peeks out. I hum in content before spying a supply of ornate bottles sitting on a shelf next to the tub. Picking one up I glanced at the label tied around it ‘Cleansing Ash’ it reads.

‘Pretty self explanatory’ I pour some of the contents out onto my palm. A floral smelling powder falls out, I hum curiously rubbing it into my scalp and across my body. The smell of roses and lavender permeates through the small room. Lines of dirty water run down my body as I scrub the filth away. I continue methodically scrubbing and rinsing until the water running off me is clear, and the water is cold.

Flopping out the tub, water splashing onto the floor, I wrap myself in one of the fluffy towels before heading over to my bag and pulling out the last of my clean clothes. A plain oversized shirt and hiking shorts. I throw them on before crawling into the warm bed. I snuggle tiredly under the covers ‘I’m sure Bilbo won't mind if I rest my eyes for a bit’ I think before drifting off into a deep sleep.

Master List

Pt.1 - Pt.2

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin #thorin oakenshield #bilbo #x reader #fili and kili #kili durin #kili x reader #bofur #fili durin #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader

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smallflyingbread · 14 days

Text

TFES AU where Rumble lives! (Writing + Art)

In Transformers Earthspark there’s a singular throw away line about Rumble exploding because SoundWave tried to transform when low on Energon after a fight. And that’s a shame, personally I believe they did that so they wouldn’t have to have another character to animate. Either way. There’s the story of how Rumble survived

Side note- SoundWave has telepathy, why? Because it’s f u n. Also, WARNING FOR ROBO GORE IN PHOTOS AND DESCRIPTION

\\————————————————————————//

Wood cracked and snapped as dark grey servos’s slammed a yellow autobot scout’s head against a mature oak.

“You’re supposed to be offline”, Sound’s gravelly voice echoed like the caw of a crow in Bumblebee’s processor as the yellow mechs optics flickered from the impact.

“Guess you can say I got better!”, Bumblebee shouted as his own servo shot out, his digits wrapped around a thick branch. With one solid motion he tore the branch from the main body and crashed it straight into the side of SoundWaves head.

Soundwave reeled back and a sonic screech left his speakers. Pain throbbed like a hot iron through SoundWaves helm. His servo came up to his long audial as he left something warm drip onto his shoulder, energon.

“Soundwave!”, Rumble shouted out in a panic as she scrambled for her electric keyboard that lay abandoned in the bramble that seemed to swallow it like it had just been waiting for the moment to inconvenience her.

This day had all gone wrong. Frenzy, LaserBreak, Ravange, and SoundWave were all low on Energon. SoundWave told the three to stay at their little hideout while he and Rumble went out to try to find where their sensors had been picking up nearby Energon traces. Unfortunately for Rumble, SoundWave stumbled across the thought to be dead Bumblebee who was very much alive and well.

“I told you this was a horrible idea!”, Rumble cried out at SoundWave who had recovered from being hindered and was going back and forth with the autobot scout.

“Shut up, I can handle this”, SoundWave shot back at the small femme whose metallic arms were digging her keyboard out of the thorns, scratching her arms up in the process.

With one final stretch Rumbles digits wrapped around the strap and yanked it out with all of her force, causing her to shot back and landed on her back. Scrambling to her feet she immediately pointed the blaster end at Bumblebee who had just dodged out out her fathers sonic blast that came from his hand.

Rumble didn’t even think, she just did. Her digits glided over the keys and she began riffing. Each key press strengthened the shot that was building up before she shot. The blast shot made direct contact with Bumblebee’s neck which caused him to stagger back and wince. Soundwave immediately took the opportunity and uppercut the distracted scout.

Bumblebee let out a strangled cry as he felt a heavy pede crush down on his chest, the metal hood on his chest cracking. “W-we don’t have to fight- I’m not with G-“. His reasoning was cut short by more pressure being applied to his chest. Bumblebee’s optics refocused and suddenly there was a palm infront of his face with sonic energy building up.

The yellow scout closed his optics tightly as the weapon, his stinger slid out of his arm compartment. Where was the ear-twisting sound of metal slicing metal before SoundWave stumbled back, a huge gash now in his lower thigh, painting the off-white paneling bright pink.

Bumblebee moved to thrust the stinger into SoundWave’s lower abdomen but suddenly he felt a fury of weak blasts on his side.

“N-NO! STOP! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”, Frenzy sobbed out as her fingers clumsily pressed the key’s, physically unable to form the powerful combo’s she once was sure she knew by spark. She couldn’t let her father die. No, not after everything he’d done for her and Frenzy. Not after he took them in after they were found frozen in long forgotten stasis pods.

Slowly the autobot crawled a bit away from the decepticon fugitive and Frenzy, his optics wide in conflicting. Bumblebee’s processor whirled at the choice to continue or to spare. Soundwave was hurt. This was his chance! It would surely make Optimus proud and prove himself after his fumble… but the war was over, Bumblebee firmly reminded himself. There had to be no more unnecessary death.

Suddenly the sound of approaching helicopters roared out in the sky. The figure of G.H.O.S.T copters loomed in the horizon.

“Slag, they must’ve heard us”, Bumblebee murmurs in a panic as he held his chest plate and got to his pede’s. The soreness already starting to leach into his every movement.

“Why are you worried?”, SoundWave sharply asked through the scouts mind as he stumbled towards a tree, using it to support his weight as Energon trailed behind him.

“Because I’m not with G.H.O.S.T! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! Why do you think I’ve been staying low?!”, Bumblebee anxiously shouted at the blue decepticon as his optics remained locked with the shadows on the horizon.

SoundWave’s optics widened behind his visor at that realization, they both were in deep trouble now. His optics flicked down to his leg as he felt something touching it. It was Rumble who was desperately applying an Energon coagulant to the wound which was slowing the gush down to a mere trickle.

Soundwave scooped her up in his servos and ordered through his link with her, “cassette, now”.

As Frenzy obediently transformed he immediately safely stored her in his chest cavity. Soundwave took a starting run, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh before trying to transform.

His body refused.

He tried again. His plates shifted but failed. Warning symbols popped up on his hub, his Energon levels were too low to safely transform so his frame automatically stopped the process… he manually overrode it.

SoundWave’s plates began shifting and sliding in all the wrong directions. His arms went all in the wrong order then they were supposed to. Panic prickled up in his system as he tried to stop it, but his body kept going. Suddenly there was a sickening crack and crush as part of his arm unrelentingly pressed into something, but it wasn’t his body that was cracking. He felt no pain as his parts slowly shifted back into place.

“…. Rumble?”, SoundWaves real voice slowly asked, rough from lack of use… there was no response.

Immediately she force started his body to transform out of its alt mode, energon that wasn’t his own leaking he between his his plates as he came to the horrific realization of what happened.

Soundwave collapsed to his knees and struggled to get his tape hatch to open. His digits clumsy in his panic. The hatch popped open and a small form tumbled into his hands.

Pink Energon costed his servo before he could even register it. Rumble’s face was half torn off, her pink visor halfway gone with it. Her arm was was completely torn off, taking a chunk of her torso with it. He could feel her ripped off parts inside his frame, pressing against his own innards. It was inside of him. He had done this.

“S…Soundwave?”, a choked voice echoed from Rumbles vocalizer. Her once bright pink optic was a dull glow now, her optic lazily starting at him as Energon bubbled from her nose.

“No- no- don’t talk, SweetSpark. I’m here, your sire is here. You’re going to be okay. J-just keep your optics online. Please.”, SoundWave couldn’t stop the desperation in his voice. He didn’t care anymore, his baby was hurt.

A gargle came from Rumbles throat as the energon nose her nose turned into a river, streaming down her lips and chin.

“I-It hurts”, she tried to say as dark spots freckled her vision, barely even aware of the fact that SoundWave was using his physical voice to comfort her.

“Shh- it’s okay, it’s okay. Just- just”, SoundWave felt moister building behind his visor for the first time in centuries. He stared at her butchered frame, his own optics struggling to focus on anything but the femme he raised since she and Frenzy were a small sparkling.

“Just keep your optics on- Rumble?… Rumble?!”., SoundWave shouted as he felt something in his spark shrivel. His hands trembling around her dying frame as her optics starting loosing their already dull glow. Then suddenly, she was still.

The helicopters were getting closer, their sound temporarily capturing SoundWave’s attention. His visor turned to the sky, blurry from the tears now dripping into his mask. G.H.O.S.T was coming.

His optics glanced at Bumblebee, he looked sick with horror. His optics shrunken into pricks and his jaw agape. His doorwings were even stiff with anxiety as he watched the scene

SoundWave’s mask clicked back, revealing his scarred lips, destroyed by a violent blast to the face. “I’m so sorry… my darling girl.”, SoundWave whispered as he held back a sob. As his final act of love he gently pressed his lips to her forehead. Would her spark find its way back to Cybertron? Or was she stuck on this hell planet just like she was in life.

Gently he laid her amongst the soft grass, it cradling her body and slowly turning pink from her energon. He couldn’t take her with him. Her energon would leave a trail back to where the others were hiding and doom them all… he had to keep the rest of his family safe. Even if it broke his spark to leave her in the woods.

With shaky servos he took her visor, a reminder to himself to never make the same mistake again, and a remembrance item.

Soundwave felt his spark screaming as he stood up, he wanted to hold her a little longer. To prey to Primus if he was even real to spare his youngling… but no. He bolted, he bolted into the woods, away from the pain he’s caused and from G.H.O.S.T.

Bumblebee slowly approached the offline body. G.H.O.S.T was nearly here but it felt… wrong to leave a body out in the open. Especially that of a youngling, even if it was an older youngling.

He reached his servo out to wipe away the energon when he noticed something. From the huge open tear he saw some light. Rumbles spark dully burned in her spark chamber, like the last ember of a fire. It had condensed itself into a tight orb, keeping itself alive when the body was heavily injured.

Without another thought he scooped Rumble up into his arms, he wasn’t going to let someone die on his watch. Screw what Optimus thinks. Bumblebee was an autobot, not a G.H.O.S.T agent.

\\————————————————————————//

Might add onto this AU later! And post a reference for the Rumble design.

TL;DR- SoundWave picks a fight with Bumblebee while weak. Ghost comes and makes SoundWave run. SoundWave tries to transform with Rumble in his chest and accidentally crushes her. Soundwave leaves frenzy thinking she’s dead, Bumblebee takes her in when he realizes she didn’t dead.

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violetlunette · 22 days

Text

Runaway Chapter 12: The Phantom and her Blade

Summary: The Disomnia crew fight to save Silver. But can they?

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

Lilia couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Malleus?!”

Malleus’ dragon form appeared overhead in all its glory. It swept towards the Phantom and landed between her and Lilia, who was still entangled.

“Master Lilia!” Sebek slid off of Malleus’ back and landed by Lilia. He tried to free Lilia with his hands, but just ended up cutting his fingers.

“What in the--” Sebek’s words came to a sudden halt. His eyes focused on the phantom. They grew twice their size as they focused on the bleeding Silver.

“It can’t—is that Silver?!” His skin grayed with horror. “Is he--”

“No.” Lilia interrupted, still trying to free himself. ‘Not yet.’ There was a green flash of light as Malleus returned to his humanoid form.

“He will if we don’t get rid of the blot,” he announced. He waved a hand, and a green flame burned away the threads, allowing Lilia to stand. Or try to.

“Ack!” Lilia’s knees buckled, and Sebek had to catch him. Apparently Lilia’s body was reaching its limits.

“D-dammit!” Lilia cursed. Of all times for his body to fail--

The Phantom hugged Silver close to her, as if she were a frightened child holding a doll for comfort. She backed away, and the thicket of thorns grew thicker. The black mist began to swirl. Lilia’s heart jumped.

“No! She’s going to disappear again!” he cried. This lit a fire in Sebek’s eyes.

“He won’t! I won’t let him get away this time!” The retainer declared.

Sebek used his unique spell—living bolt—and his body took the form of lightning. He soared across the area until he blasted into the phantom breast. This slammed her into the bramble, where she was tangled up.

Sebek's form returned to normal as he now lay above Silver’s form. Desperately, he called out to him.

“Silver! You have to wake up!” he yelled. “Pull yourself together! When the other failed to respond, Sebek growled.

‘Of all the times to be asleep…!’ Deciding that he should try to separate Silver from the Phantom, Sebek grabbed the hilt of the blade.

“AUGH!”

It was as if the opposing elements of ice and fire had joined together to burn his hand away. Sebek was forced to withdraw his hold. He nearly fell away, only managing to hold himself around Silver’s neck, where the other’s head dangled lifelessly. Sebek cursed.

“Damn--”

“Ahhhhhh!!!” The Phantom’s screech filled the air, and Sebek winched. He looked up and saw a hand made of black threads ready to tear him away from Silver when--

Rawwwahh!

“Lord Malleus!”

Mallues’ dragon form attacked, pinning the phantom beneath him with his claws. The Phantom thrashed, her blue dress turning bright red. The threads from her hands crawled up Malleus’ dragon form. They then grew long thorns that pierced through the dragon’s scales, causing red to flow and Lilia and Sebek to cry out.

Malleus winced but easily tore the threads by flexing his muscles. He didn’t even need to release his hold.

Sebek was horrified that his prince was hurt, but realized that the other shouldn’t be his focus right now. If he wanted to help Malleus, then his attention should be--

Sebek turned his gaze back to the blade. With determination, he grabbed the hilt once more. It still burned against his palm as he struggled to pull it out. Every time he moved it even a centimeter, it would push itself right back into Silver. With sicken, “swssh!” On top of that, the Phantom’s form made it near impossible for Sebek to keep his grip. The teen cursed.

“Come...on…!” The half-fae gritted his teeth against the strain and pulled harder.

ZZZAPP!!

“Yeow!” Black lighting appeared as Sebek pulled the sword out three inches. He nearly lost his grip from the literal shock, but forced himself to keep pulling.

Above, the Phantom wailed again. This time, the cry summoned several black birds the size of butterflies. They surrounded Sebek’s arm in a swarm, cutting and tearing at his skin until Sebek thought his arms would fall off.

“Nghh!!” He clenched his eyes against the tears that formed. The pain in his arms was like nothing he had felt before and nothing he could describe. He wanted to let go and curl into a ball, as if that would somehow ease the feeling. But then Silver...

“AAAUUGH!!” With a loud cry, Sebek gathered all his remaining strength and yanked the sword, finally freeing Silver.

Screeech!!

The Phantom let out an inhuman shriek as Silver and Sebek began to fall away. She shoved Malleus away into the distance, and the dragon disappeared into the wood of thorns. The spector swiped at the teens to catch them but missed. She then vanished in a burst of birds.

Lilia watched the scene from the sidelines, his mouth agape.

“Silver! Sebek!” The man rushed forward with all his speed but knew he would be unable to reach them in time. Knowing this as well, Sebek grabbed Silver and turned midair just before--

CRACK!

A sickening crack filled the air as Sebek slammed his back onto a boulder, followed by a thud as the teenagers rolled to the ground. Lilia’s expression was filled with horror.

“Sebek!” Suddenly, his body slid to a halt.

Crick, crack, crick, crack , crick...

Silver’s body moved like a puppet on strings.

Each movement made a ‘krshh, krshh’ sound, as if glass were breaking. Dark ink poured from Silver’s chest like blood, a dark gaping wound where the boy’s heart should have been.

Lilia’s breath caught in his throat as the horrified man stared at Silver. The human looked like a corpse dragged from the grave.

“Oh, Silver…” Silver didn’t even lift his head; his hair, which had lost its shine, hung around his face, hiding his features.

Black pooled on the ground around the boy, growing larger and larger until it coated the entire area, even the ground beneath Lilia. Lilia hadn’t decided whether to move forward or back when red vines emerged from the ground and wrapped around his legs, causing him to yelp in surprise.

“What in the world?! Again?!” He tugged at his limbs as the vines surrounded him, coiling like snakes when--

Swsshh...

Lilia whipped his head around at the sound. The ink had reached the fallen sword, giving it life.

The silvery blade sang a wicked tune as it pulled itself from the ground. The pitch hurt the fae’s ears, making him wince as he covered them.

It floated for a beat before it pointed itself at Silver, who stood stiff against the wind. It shot towards him.

“No!” Lilia tore himself from the inky thorns and grabbed the red hilt of the blade.

Zzzing!!

“Argh!” Black lightning zapped him, but Lilia held on with all his strength. However, it wasn’t enough, as he was dragged forward. The vines reappeared, climbing his form and wrapping around his arms. They tried to pull him back and release the sword, the thorns digging into his skin, as if the pain would relent his grip. It did not. If anything, it made Lilia grit his teeth and hold the hilt tighter.

“Ngh! Silver! Please, stop this!” he cried. “I know you blame yourself for everything that happened! But it wasn’t your fault! None of it was!” His eyes shone with tears, shining like rubies, as shame twisted his features.

“It took me a long time to realize that myself,” he admitted, shame thick in his tone. “I’m ashamed to admit that, but it’s true.” His head dropped, and a few tears were released as he recalled his feelings back then. The feeling he had when he realized that Silver was the child of the Dawn, Malenore’s enemy, that dark feeling of anger and loss, needing a direction, and how Silver provided it. Even though...

“No. Even back then... Even then, I knew you couldn’t be blamed. That it wasn’t your fault. You were just a baby. But even so, I had so much hate and pain—I needed someone to blame. It was either that or blame myself.” His head whipped up, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“But I was wrong!” he cried, trying to be heard over the sword’s song. “I was wrong, and so are you! So please, Silver! Don’t destroy yourself over this! Don’t—Ah!” The hilt slipped from his hands. Lilia tried to grab it, but the vines yanked him back, pulling him away. “No, no, no--!!”

Krlshh!

Lilia’s expression was contorted with horror.

“MALLEUS!!”

Malleus held Silver to him as the blade pierced through both of them. He let out a small sound as the world turned red. He barely noticed as they fell forward and over the cliff.

“Ugh!” The sound escaped his lips with a bloody cough as they hit the cold stone below, which turned black from the ink that spilled from Silver, whose body made sounds like porcelain hitting the ground.

Malleus lay there for a moment as ice pulsed through his veins, making it feel as though the cold of winter was trying to devour him.

Slowly, he lifted his head and stared into Sliver’s ashen face.

“Ah…” Black flowed from empty eye sockets like tears, which stained his beautiful face. There were cracks in his skin, as if he were a broken doll.

As if he were broken.

“Silver…” Malleus’ heart ached to see Silver like this. While others saw Silver as stoic, Malleus always saw his passionate and determined nature. That was gone now.

Malleus slowly cupped the other face. He saw the baby who stumbled during his first steps, the child who caught on to magic quickly when he taught him, the teen who worked hard to protect him, and more.

Whispering the lad’s name again, he dropped his forehead to the other’s.

“Silver, I…” The words faded on his lips, his heart unable to voice them. Instead, he chanted a spell.

Fwoosh!

A green fire emerged and surrounded them, lighting up the darkness.

It burned the blot away until it was all gone. Even the sword that stabbed them both had melted away.

Then both the human and the dragon fell into darkness.

Next chapter

a/n:

*Hm, I think I said Silver wouldn't die but what about Malleus...

*I wasn't able to do anything special for Silver's birthday, so I decided to post this instead. In my timezone I still have a day, but everyone else is already posting stuff, so I'll follow suit. Anyway, enjoy!

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