Monthly Archives: November 2012

Willing | @dearbrucebanner

dearbrucebanner:

iamthefirechild:

dearbrucebanner:

iamthefirechild:

dearbrucebanner:

He moans softly as his hips move beneath her. Bruce then pulls her a bit closer as he starts to deepen their kiss.

She laughs, a throaty chuckle that turns into a moan as he draws her even closer. Drawing away tantalisingly slowly, she mouths along his cheekbone, whispering, “We can’t get much closer until you take some of that off, Bruce,” between kisses.

He nods and pushes his shirt the rest of the way off, then he reaches up and slowly traces her collarbone, sliding his finger along her shoulder.  He then places his other hand gently on the shoulder and pushes the straps of her dress down her shoulders and her arms letting the dress settle around her waist. Bruce leans in and slowly places a trail of kisses from her neck all the way down her shoulder and across her collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispers, smoothing fingers into his hair. “What shall I be for you, Bruce?”

Bruce pulls back and looks at her, “Yourself.” He nods then kisses her lips lightly.

“Gentle and simple. I like that.” She rocks a little, freeing one leg to wrap it around him. Her fingers slide out of his hair and down along his neck, shaping each muscle in his shoulderblades and back. Cool fingernails etch light patterns on his skin. “Do you even remember what you like, darling? What makes you excited?” she whispers in his ear, setting lips to the join of throat and chest.

Battle-burn | @mischief-mistress

mischief-mistress:

iamthefirechild:

Blinded with smoke and pain, Summer clutched one hand to the wound in her side, tried to call the fire again, and staggered in the air. A streetlamp blindsided her, forcing her into a pinwheel tumble, headlong to the ground. She crashed down, flaming wings setting a few small fires before vanishing utterly, and cried out once before falling unconscious. Even in her coma, muscle seizures shook her body.

A loud crash made Lex jump in her living room. She ran to the window, and saw a figure on the ground, covered in smoke— it was lying on the street just under her window. Frowning, her eyes widened as she saw the wings and perceived the aura… her aura.

“Summer!” Lex cried out, hastily opening the door and running down the stairs to help her friend. By the time Lex arrived, Summer wasn’t conscious anymore. She knelt beside her, whispering her name and looking for any sign of life in her. “Shit.” Lex cursed, gasping when she noticed her bloodstained hands. Now she had to act quickly. She scooped up the girl, careful about not damaging her wings, and took her inside, hoping nobody had seen this. In her arms, Summer was spasming, nearly causing Lex to fall over a few times.

Finally, they made it inside. She laid Summer down on the sofa, and darted off to wash her hands and pick up a spellbook. She’d need it for later. Lex knelt down again, removing the clothes that covered Summer’s wound and placed both hands upon it. Then she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Lex whispered a healing spell, hoping it would suffice for now. There was not enough time to make a strong potion without risking Summer’s life. Lex opened her eyes, watching how the wound was glowing, healing and slowly closing itself again.          

The magic slid in under her skin, stemming bloodflow and knitting nerve and muscle back together. Summer’s breathing didn’t ease, though, and even in the middle of the spell her back arched up off the sofa in a massive spasm, dragging a strangled cry from her lips. Her shields crashed and she began to broadcast emotion in odd spatters, pain and fear and anger and hatred and excitement.

Her eyes didn’t open, either. In her mind, she was still fighting the battle, dodging strikes and hurling fireballs, desperately trying to survive long enough for help to arrive.

Charity Ball | Open Starter

Summer checked herself over in the mirror one last time. She was never comfortable with the way she looked, far less when she dressed up. But the letter had specified formal dress, so formal dress it was, makeup, heeled shoes and all. She’d braided her long hair into a double coronet around her head and accented the burgundy dress with garnet jewellery.

Probably she ought to be grateful to have her work recognised, but then again recognition had very little to do with what she did as a heroine. It was simply something that needed doing that she was capable of doing, that was all. But the folk who had organised this charity ball didn’t seem to think so, and they wanted the empath Summer Rainault, who had, in their words, ‘helped save so many lives during and after the Manhattan Incident,’ to be one of their guests of honour while the rich and powerful of New York City celebrated the end of the cleanup.

Summer anticipated being largely ignored while the attendees swarmed around better known heroes like Captain America and Iron Man. Which, honestly, was fine by her. Making polite conversation with people who were largely unaware of her existence, all the while knowing just how little truth was in their words, had never appealed. She smiled, posed, and waved to the paparazzi on her way in, hiding how awkward and out of place she felt. Once inside the ballroom, Summer found a corner quieter than the rest, acquired a drink, and tried to ignore all the butterflies in her gut.

last-daughter-of-llyr encountered the firechild

last-daughter-of-llyr:

iamthefirechild:

last-daughter-of-llyr:

iamthefirechild:

last-daughter-of-llyr encountered the firechild

“And the neighbourhood gets active at night. Can I help you?”

Eilonwy smiled softly, “Hello. I’m Eilonwy.”

“Ooooh. Welsh. Very beautiful. Are you from there, or your parents are just into unusual names?” Summer smiled back.

“Thank you. I’m from Prydain.” she smiled, glad to see someone recognized the origin of her name.

“That’s incredibly cool. I know a lot of folk are worried about the language and culture dying out. So what brings you here?”

Shooting Star | @wordlesswarlock

wordlesswarlock:

iamthefirechild:

wordlesswarlock:

iamthefirechild:

Summer just dropped her face into her hands. “God help us all. Honestly, I just wanted it away from our lands before it did something like burn our crops to the ground or kidnap a virgin or something. Now I don’t even know how I’m going to get back, much less what to do about the dragon, if it /was/ a dragon.” She forced herself to take a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. There’s nothing else I can do about it right now.” Her tone was practical. “May I ask your help in finding a place to stay, maybe some more clothing, food? I don’t want to impose on you any more than I can help.”

Merlin thought for a moment. I’d be willing to let you stay here, but I’d have to run it by Gaius first. If that doesn’t work out, though, it might not be too late for me to rent you a room at the inn nearby. The inn would be a bit expensive, but he had been putting some of his pay aside for emergencies. In his eyes, this counted as an emergency. He hesitated for a moment before offering, I also might be able to help you with your dragon if you’re willing to let me try.

“That’s terribly sweet of you! All of it!” Impulsively she kissed Merlin on the cheek. “You, sir, are an amazing person. Is there anything I can do to help you out in exchange? I know some healing …” Summer tried to get up, but that turned out to be a mistake. Most of the muscles in her body screamed in protest, and a throbbing ache started in her head. “Or not,” she finished, falling back. “Sorry.”

An embarrassed blush spread across Merlin’s cheeks, and he wished that he didn’t have such fair skin. If you want to help, then please just rest for now. And you have nothing to apologize for.

Summer’s tone went wry. “It doesn’t look like I have any choice in the matter.” One hand rubbed at her forehead. An awkward silence fell. “Um … do you think I could borrow a book? Something to read, just to pass some time? I don’t want to keep you from anything you need to be doing.”

pleasureworkingwithyou:

iamthefirechild:

“My /preference/ is for bare feet, but that’s just not feasible in New York, really.” Socks! It was cute, a thing she hadn’t expected of Tony Stark. Summer followed him out of the elevator and paused at the expanse of window before her. She barely even noticed Tony taking off his shoes, drifting toward the glass.

“It looks so different from the inside,” she murmured, fingertips lightly against the pane. “No wonder I could hear your panic when you fell. It’s amazing you survived.” She turned, slowly, gazing up and around, noting the narrow window-slits, the ramp, the bar. “I love the openness of it,” Summer commented, after a long silent moment.

Tony gave a shrug. “I don’t go out much anymore.” He didn’t need to, really. Everything he wanted was in here. Well, shawarma had to be ordered from the outside, but he was fine with that. “Huh?” He questioned, turning to look at her before noticing where she was. Frowning at the memory, he hopped off a few steps before coming down to the lower part of the penthouse and stood next to her.

“I had my suit. And the bracelets.” He assured her after a moment. Tony was lucky he had thought of those before he came to New York. Now, he always kept them in his pockets so he didn’t have to run to his bar every time he needed them. “I do too. It’s why I designed it this way.”

“I know you did. Well, I know now. All I knew then was that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to catch you. Too much distance to cover, too many other people  who might be sacrificed if I tried.” Her voice was low, distant. Those memories hurt; she hadn’t been able to save everyone. The count of the living … 

But here was one of the living, and the ripples from him were enormous, and affected far more than her. She shook her head, shaking off the thoughts. A smile curled at her mouth when she noticed the sock feet. Why did his humanity make her like him even more? “Going to do the rest without shoes?”