#Red Rising Iron Rain

[m-check]

reposting some RR fanart and adding headcannons

hcs:

At some point Darrow got another scar that turned the slight curve of his Peerless scar into a slingBlade. Whether unintentionally earned in battle or intentionally marked by someone else, I'm not sure.

The curve of Darrow's slingBlade - the actual weapon and the icon - was designed with the proportions of a crescent. When held up, it directly mirrors the Lune crescent.

Sevro, of course, making constant jokes to Pax about "You've got your father's eyes - no wait, I do."

[panzerkatzee]

"When falls the Iron Rain, be brave. Be brave." - Lorn au Arcos

Darrow o' Lykos as The Emperor Card

A project I was toying with in my mind for a long time... a new set of Tarot Cards, inspired by Red Rising in the style of the Cyberpunk Tarot cards... for the second part of the series, bc @phantomrin already did an amazing series of tarot artworks for the first three books <3

[cinhomi]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: boyfriend's best friend Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you should've left your boyfriend sooner considering the man of your dreams, his best friend, has always been there for you... but the faithful event you were hoping for finally occurs and you find yourself at his house, in his arms, in his bed.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst?, smut, fluff, aquaintances to lovers

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cheating (but not really, you'll see), reader is in a toxic relationship, explicit descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex (it's sexy but use protection babes), fingering, pretty vanilla.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4K

I have a thing for sex while it rains, it seems... and like this I post something after months. I'll work this storyline in the future too for Hyunjin, but for now, enjoy!

It's strange how sometimes we believe to be in the right place to later find out we were living in a lie, a product of our fervid imagination, just to not accept reality and the fact that life, or even our past self, played a good and structured not-so-funny prank on us.

These lies we tell ourselves most of the time are a response to our awful experiences, but they can become harmful in numerous types of ways, and we should learn that instead of letting us be tempted by sweet beliefs. When we find ourselves facing reality it's hard to accept it, it's ugly, but ugly things are part of life and we should try and accept them nonetheless, they may reveal themselves as lessons or the best things that happened to us, with various meanings to that.

What pisses people off the most is the "waste of time". And that's how you feel too, like the rest of humankind, angry because you wasted time. You would very gladly prefer to be in the denial stage of the whole thing but it's so evident that you can't even pretend to be doubtful, to question what you saw, to give him a chance to explain himself.

The car is still cold even if you already reached the destination that popped in your mind right after what happened, salty tears adorning your eyes as they cross your freezing cheeks, collecting under your chin, falling on your scarf. The same damn scarf he gifted you after your first two weeks of dating, the one you didn't even like at all, the color you hated, a dull pattern over it… the urge to pull down the car window and throw it outside in the middle of the parking lot soon becomes reality. Wind starts to rise a bit, and you see it dance on the wet concrete for a while before a car passes over it and plasters it on the ground.

Ironic, right? You feel a bit bad after the impulsive gesture, but he didn't hesitate to make you feel the same, so, "screw it".

You shouldn't even be here. You should go to your own best friend, sitting on her way too low couch with its broken springs and cry your eyes out as she yells at you her usual "I told you so!" and "You're an idiot, I knew it from the start!" even if what you really need is comfort, and not to be scolded like a twelve years old while she offers you chocolates and tissues like in some chiché romcom.

That's why Hyunjin's place is just few meters and five floors away from you now. You're actually hesitant to get out the car but when you see your boyfriend's text appear on your screen, asking where are you, it's suddenly not so difficult to take your things and rush to take the elevator, and when you send Hyunjin a message telling him you're in front of his apartment he's quick to open the door. He doesn't say a thing, he doesn't even dare to, he already knows.

He delicately takes your hand in his and guides you inside with a saddened smile, his eyes soft as they watch you attentively trying to search for your tears. God, he wants to kiss them all away, he never wants to see you like this ever again, but he thinks it's probably not the last time… is it? Either way, he'll do anything he can to make the redness of your eyes disappear.

"Go sit on the couch petal, relax for me, hm?" he says in a hushed tone to not provoke your impending outburst. When you're finally hugged by his cushions you feel his presence behind you, his hands going on your shoulders to free you from your heavy coat and bag that he places on his forearm. When he reaches for your scarf his fingers are suddenly met with the cold skin of your neck and a startled "oh!" escapes from him because of the unexpected touch, making you giggle. If only you knew how his heart starts beating faster whenever he hears you like this…

"Where is your scarf? You always wear it, were you in such a rush to leave it at your place?" he's now lowered near your face, breath tickling your cheek as he adjusts your jumper on your shoulders ー the stained one you only wear at home, you didn't even change, how embarrassing. He touches you like frail porcelain and little bumps start to rise on your skin where traces of his touch linger, you wish his fingerprints could bruise your skin.

"I threw it in the parking lot…" you explain, looking at him trying to not make your lips touch while doing so.

A laugh that comes from his chest slowly builds up as he lifts himself and reluctantly distances from your face to go place your belongings on the hanger at the entrance. If only he knew how your heart twists in excitement whenever you hear him like this…

Hyunjin doesn't come back to you immediately. He always makes sure you have enough time to think by yourself first, to gather your words, to decide if you want to cry or yell, and then he sits beside you and goes along with anything you've come up with. It's always been like this until today, every time you came to his place after something happened between you and his best friend, every time he had to gather your broken pieces and try to put you together again. He doesn't know he's always done that beautifully though, making a breathtaking mosaic out of you, making you so splendid and wonderful anyone could say he's your creator.

You hear a distant rustling in the kitchen, the clicking of the bottles in the fridge as he closes it with a thud, two glasses colliding it seems, and his slippers sliding on the floor, approaching you.

"You're lucky petal, I have your favorite today." he proceeds to place the glasses on the way too elegant coffee table and pour the drink with all the calmness in the world. Time with Hyunjin stops. You think that every second spent with him is never wasted.

"I like this clip, it compliments your hair color." he says suddenly, snapping you out of your trance. How could he notice such a thing?

"Really? It's the first time I wear it…" you still mumble a bit, too shaken to let your voice take its natural timbre. Hyunjin laughs again, handing you the drink and carefully sitting so as to not spill everything on his expensive carpet. His body is completely facing yours, knee against knee.

"It's not true!" Hyunjin takes a sip and giggles at your confused expression.

"You had it the first time we met, too. It was perfect with your dress and necklace. Do you really not remember? You looked beautiful…"

What Hyunjin refers to is a random saturday evening of autumn. What day it was, what you were wearing, what you did before meeting in front of the restaurant, you can't remember… but what you can vividly recall is the stinging sensation of the first cold breeze of the season on your cheeks, how crunchy multicolored leaves swirled on the sidewalk, and the city lights beginning to be turned on a bit earlier than usual. Now that you think about it, it was around this period. You remember what perfume you wore, paying attention to what type of impression you wanted to give to your boyfriend's group of friends that you were about to meet for the first time, and you even remember what mascara you decided to use.

But what remained tattooed on your bones the most are the first ten seconds of Hwang Hyunjin taking possess of your vision, because you felt incredibly sick.

If you close your eyes and concentrate you can almost feel the same emotions, when your stomach swirled like it was a washing machine, your head light, and your legs almost giving in making you trip while standing still.

You felt incredibly guilty, disgusted with yourself, disappointed, a monster. Why the hell your first thought was "he's my soulmate" and not something along the lines of "nice, my boyfriend's best friend" you still don't know. Call it destiny, call it sixth sense, you immediately tried to suppress it all.

It didn't help that Hyunjin's slender fingers delicately took your hand to kiss your knuckles with his oh, oh so beautiful lips like an ambassador of chivalry itself, his siren eyes looking up at you sweetly but confidently, making you blush like crazy ー you later blamed your flustered expression to the restaurant's excessive heating.

On top of that, your boyfriend decided to sit at your side leaving Hyunjin in front of you, so you had his ridiculously handsome face in sight for the whole night as you ate your stupid california rolls and tried to elegantly slurp your noodles ー for as much as something like that is even possible.

You talked, a lot, even if you felt your face heat up at every strangely seductive giggling sound he made together with the little bumps his shoes would land on your naked ankles, toying with your heels from time to time. You had so much in common, and after that you only felt complete when he was near you.

Your boyfriend did catch on with the new dynamic though, so unfortunately considering how jealous and a bit possessive he is, you and Hyunjin didn't see each other as often as you expected after that, but you really didn't grasp that it was because he wanted you apart at first, just a series of unfortunate coincidences.

Hyunjin parted from you with a tight hug, lingering his hands on the smaller of your back, adjusting your shawl over your coat and twirling a strand of your hair behind your ear, the moment never fully leaving your memory. He was… perfect, really just perfect, and you couldn't help but feel nauseous when you got in the car with your boyfriend to let him accompany you to your apartment, the thought of another man being more suited for you making you feel like you were cheating. You only felt relieved when you talked about all his friends during the ride and he revealed that Hyunjin is "a bit of a player, y'know, he flirts with everyone and he has those french manners, but he's always been like this." so you thought that maybe your feelings would slowly fade… but they always, always rested down the bottom of your heart, even if you pushed them away forcefully, almost violently.

No one knows you two meet up from time to time now, because one time you found yourself crying in a corner on his shouler. No one knows that you always seem happy and carefree only because you talk with Hyunjin, because he comforts you when you need it without complaining. Not that it needs to be a secret, but you both are well aware that it may result suspicious to meet with your boyfriend's best friend late at night, best friend's girlfriend from his side.

And the fact that you two always seem to attract each other like magnets, so close, with instant connection, it doesn't let thoughts stray further from the idea of something tender existing between the two of you, everyone can see it.

It's just that it's prohibited. Or, to say it better, you were too caught in your lies to even contemplate the idea of leaving your boyfriend and Hyunjin simply didn't want to betray his "friend". But when you started to message him asking for advice, when you later had long calls together, when you crumbled in his arms crying almost weekly, he wasn't so sure about having a best friend anymore.

"I… you really think I was beautiful?"

Your question comes from the heart. The mixture of the memories of that night and his proximity makes heat rise on your face, shyness visible from the automatic action of your teeth catching your bottom lip and your gaze straying from his face to linger on the glass in your hands. The bubbles of the drink fizzle on the surface and for a moment or two that's all that can be heard in the room.

"You're always beautiful, y/n. I told you many times." he says cautiously, putting down everything to wrap his hands around your wrist.

"I don't know how he doesn't make you feel like you are, I don't know why he treats you like this but, petal, you're an incredible woman," he lowers his head to look into your eyes as he tries to explain himself further, "smart and strong. He's an asshole and you should stop doing this to yourself."

Does he know? Does he know what your boyfriend did? Probably not. Hyunjin would never hurt you, he would've immediately told you. You want to make sure though, in case everything that involves Hyunjin is a lie too.

"Why are you his friend then? Why do you keep coming to our house and have dinner as we fake not knowing each other like we really do? Why do you keep on hanging out with him? If you really think he's terribleー"

"Because I want to protect you."

His reply is fast, cutting you off. His stare bores into your eyes and drinks in all of your feelings, like he can see them displayed in front of him. A few seconds of silence fill the room and you suddenly gulp down your drink until the last drop, sprinting up from your seat and escaping his intoxicating presence that's almost engulfing you.

Hyunjin doesn't say a thing. He waits, he can sense that something big happened this time and fuck if he's going to kill his "friend" after this. You were never this silent, you usually would storm inside and throw yourself on him… for as much as he dislikes seeing you like this, he's grateful for your presence, for the feel of your body against his, the trust you put into him. He doesn't do all this just to be a rebound, he already knows part of him is yours and vice versa, so he's simply waiting. Everyone considers him being a romantic man, but really, he just believes in destiny. When Hyunjin first saw you every cell in his body started to boil, goosebumps rising down his nape, the world destroyed itself and was reborn before him, it's impossible that it didn't matter at all.. That was the day he realized he didn't know what "love" meant before.

He watches your silhouette get near the big windows that face the road, little droplets of water striking them. The sound of the rain reaches your ears only when you notice the detail, and soon you see how much water is actually coming down from the sky, your scarf already soaked and dirty laying alone between various cars. You take a deep breath, thinking about your next words, a way to tell Hyunjin what happened without sounding pathetic as you concentrate on the mesmerizing foliage outside, reds and oranges and yellows decorating the city landscape.

"He accidentally left his phone at home since he rushed to his office, I don't exactly know why…" you started to explain, hands fidgeting with your rings, heavy breath obstructing your throat, "and I heard a notification so I went to check right?"

Hyunjin slowly gets up and approaches you, his warmth radiating behind you now, hands resting on your shoulders and caressing them as he listens and slowly gets closer and closer until he's hugging you.

"So, petal? What was it about? Did you find porn?" he tries to guess, but when you shake your head as a 'no' a cold chill goes through his back. Oh, oh no…

"It… it was a message, a very sexual one, coming from a saved contact, I don't even remember the name." you pout, looking down almost in shame even if you're not the responsible one. Maybe it's the shame of having a cheater as a partner.

"I opened the chat Hyunie. They've been sexting for months and from what I could grasp they even met few times…" you can feel tears start to form on your waterline again, a deep ache inside your chest rises when you finally say it out loud. One thing was to acknowledge it, another was to tell everything to the man you've secretly been in love with for a year already. What were you doing exactly all this time?

"Am I really not good enough for anyone, Hyunie? She's… she's so different from me… Am I really a disaster as he says? Why would he do that to me? I've always been a good girlfriend, I even ignored all those mean words and his being immature and the shitty sex!! I put aside my needs to make him happy thinking I was the problem!" you turn around to face him and you're met with his serious expression.

You expected to find him at least slightly surprised by your sudden show of emotions, but he's calm, he radiates calmness. Hyunjin sighs and looks in the distance behind you for a second, blinking ever so slowly, his touch traveling up to cup your cheeks and wipe your angry tears with his thumbs.

That's the final stroke, the gesture that makes you sob and bury your face in his chest to hide.

You aren't broken yet, it's almost as if Hyunjin is physically holding you together. He's trying to smooth the new sharp edges that formed around your heart to not let it be isolated, while hugging you he's working hard to let it be still approachable to receive and give love, he's trying with all he has to prevent a horrible plague that's trying to approach you.

You hold his shirt between your hands, tightly, you're afraid you'll ruin it but you can't stop, you need to ground yourself and try to be strong, but it's so hard to not let him sway you around the room, lullying you as he hushes you and lets his fingers comb your messy hair.

"Leave him."

You freeze.

Did he really say that? Hyunjin never said it out loud. He did make you understand his vision about the situation, he did suggest it with hidden phrases, but so explicitly…

"It's time to let him go, don't you think?" he presses his lips on your forehead, continuing to mumble his real feelings, "You don't need someone who mistreats you petal. You deserve better." he closes them in a kiss that leaves a mark on your soul, making you gasp.

"Hyunjin?" it takes a lot of strength to look up at him. His eyes seem less gentle, brows forming a frown that's not his usual playful one, a bit scary even. The mole under his eye is contracted and his mouth is curved in disgust, just enough for you to understand he's furious.

"Why don’t we put an end to this farce? He didn't even deserve you in the first place, you don't love him, stop doing this to yourself y/n. There's someone who's the right one, for sure…" his tone is desperate, but you want him to say it clearly. You can't help it, if it's to be sure or to satisfy a need you've been having for a while you don't know, but you want him to say it loud and clear.

You know that if he says it now everything will change and it'll be scary as fuck, but if that's a premise for a better life… maybe it's not as scary as you think, it's Hyunjin after all, the man who's looking at you in adoration.

"And what man could possibly want me at this point?" your voice is shaky and uncertain as you tease the confession out of him.

Hyunjin looks away and smiles, a bit frustrated. He wipes another tear away from your cheek and then places his hands on your waist.

"Me?" he fakes the question, smiling softly; "Be mine y/n."

Breath gets caught in your throat as he finally says it. It's wrong that you waited for it, it's wrong that your first instinct is to say yes without thinking about it.

"Hyunjin Iー"

"Ooh don't say you don't reciprocate, petal. I know you too well." he interrupts you, his hold a little tighter. Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, few strands of black raven hair following the motion and slightly covering his eyes. He's beautiful now, even more than in any other moment you've ever been with him. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man in the world and he wants you.

Your phone starts ringing. It's a strange moment to realize your ringtone is kind of cringe, cutting the tension weirdly… but you can't laugh, not right now. Both you and Hyunjin know who it is.

He's right. You should put an end to all this and start to think for yourself, about what you really want, need. This is not wrong. To love yourself isn't wrong, and Hyunjin makes you feel like the person you want to be.

"Do you want to pick up?" Hyunjin takes his hand under your chin again and directs it up to make your eyes meet his, gaze frenetic as he tries to not look at your tempting lips. Everything will depend on what you decide now. And you think quickly, under pressure, and you don't know if it's a good idea or not but you shake your head and hold him tighter, hiding again.

"Y/n, please look at me…"

The phone eventually stops ringing and silence overwhelms you when you can hear his fast heartbeat right against your ear. And it's because of you, it's for you, your heart starts to adapt to his and you almost feel pain in your chest. It's too much, too much…

Ah, that's it.

You get on your tiptoes to pull him down by his collar and make your lips crash together.

Hyunjin drags you towards him as if you kissed thousands of times before, immediately, tongue slipping into your mouth as you grant him access, making it run along yours. You hold his shoulders trying to search for your lost balance and he's quick to walk you towards his bedroom, he isn't even slightly hesitant.

The desperate sighs you two let out add into the sound of your first kiss; it's a relief, something you didn't imagine to need so badly. Hyunjin pushes you further into the room until your legs meet the mattress and you fall on it guided by him, a knee starting to press beside you as he cradles on the bed on top of you. He can't stop kissing you.

Hyunjin clumsily reaches the lamp on the nightstand to turn it on and oh, oh if this is even better than any fantasy he's ever had… seeing you panting with that flustered expression, your legs already crossing beneath him, jumper half lifted up, your hair all disheveled since you quickly reached for your clip and threw it somewhere in the room. You just look breathtaking in his eyes, even more than any other moment he's ever thought about it. He has to let you know. You didn't think he'd turn on the light but maybe you can put aside your shyness for once if it means having this type of gaze reserved to you.

Your hands try to reach his shirt to pull him out of his trance and he resumes his kissing, hands flying on your sides as they slowly, painfully slowly slide down until he's hooking your pants. Hyunjin lowers down to press chaste kisses on the little part of your cleavage that is exposed, going down to your stomach, then your belly, until he darts his tongue out to lick a stripe just above your groin, leaving a longer kiss there while he proceeds to undress you.

The way you feel embarrassed when you remember you're wearing plain, white cotton panties… but it's honestly sending him haywire. The fact that you didn't expect to end up like this, a confirmation that you didn't plan anything to happen, it's making Hyunjin even harder in his confines. You're so wet your juices dampened the fabric, making it almost transparent, and he sighs at the faint outline of your cunt now puffy and pulsing… and he still has to touch you properly.

Hyunjin is honestly the same. You can't see it but waves of excitement run over him so violently he physically trembles and his legs give in from time to time.

“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't dare to come back to him…” it's whisperes, almost as if he's accidentally thinking out loud but it makes you clench. Hyunjin's fingers start to tease you on top of the fabric, seeing the wet patch getting larger and larger. You can't believe this part of him exists… how many things do you still have to learn about him?

Hyunjin keeps on touching you there but this time he starts flicking, snapping his fingers where you're most sensitive, the tingles that start to make you jolt are strong and they make your breath sharp.

“H-Hyunjin…” your stuttering voice slightly higher as you call for him, he rolls his eyes back.

“Hyunjin please…” you can't help but pant, wrapping your hand around his forearm to try and make him slow down. Is this what those stupid magazines talked about? That sex feels better when you do it with someone you love? So fucking true.

Hyunjin feels on cloud nine. He starts paying attention on your neck tenderly but still with open-mouthed kisses as his fingers subtly slide your panties to the side. “Yeah petal, let me hear you, let me…” his words get lost as he concentrates. Ah, it's uncomfy for him. Hyunjin lifts your legs and carelessly slides your underwear off with a hiss, his eyes closing like they've been blinded by the vision of the Virgin Mary for a second, then maniacally staring at your bare cunt, digits caressing your wet folds mere seconds before plunging into your entrance.

You can only let out a choked moan and push your head back onto his soft cushions, that smells just like him. You're completely surrounded by his presence when his scent is all around you, his fingers move smoothly to work you open and his mouth is now latched around your nipple, his forehead pushing your jumper further up. When the hell did he…

“Is it good?” his voice displaying signs of fatigue, urgency and need buried deep inside him. You know his fingers are long but God if they can reach otherworldly places. It's not the in-and-out motion but the brushing of your g-spot that makes your legs close around his sides and poke his ribcage with your knees; he doesn't mind, your tits keep him occupied enough to make him mindlessly keep going. Hyunjin decides that prefers your chest covered in love marks over any art piece he's ever seen these past years, so nothing can disturb his work in progress. Maybe the work itself.

“‘S good Hyunie, Hyun…” it's difficult to breathe, it's difficult to think straight as the bumps of his fingers touch your insides so precisely, as if you've always done this and he already knew your body by memory.

“Did his fingers ever make you feel like this? Hm?”

The question makes you sigh along with a moan. You shake your head.

“Did he ever kiss you like I do?” and Hyunjin kisses you again as the movement of his fingers fastens. His teeth catch your bottom lip and his tongue slides against yours before he sucks it, drool making it shine where you two meet; passionate and euphoric, it feels like experimenting fireworks. You follow his lips when he detaches, but he just smiles and starts pressing his thumb on your bare clit. “Tell me, petal.”

“N-no…”

Hyunjin feels it, the way you start clenching around him, hard. He almost can't move anymore. So he whispers, just above the squelching of his palm spreading your wetness.

“Wanna go to Heaven with me, y/n?”

How, how can you say no? You need Hyunjin, even more than oxygen right now, he already has you completely. Your hands hurry on the button somehow miraculously keeping his pants together, and you reach his zip and pull the fly, that struggles to slide down ー he's too full.

“Wanna try how a real man makes you feel?”

You nod almost too eagerly and he chuckles within a whiffle. Hyunjin deprives you of his fingers despite your whines of protest and spreads your juices all over his face, tongue swirling on his hand. A low groan comes out from him, his touch moving to your hips where he squeezes, plush skin bending under his grip. It's all in contrast with the look in his eyes as he stares at your face, your reactions, as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

You're so distracted that when you feel something poke your inner thigh you gasp, and can only stare… his cock springs free from his confines altogether, long, slim and leaking, underside vein pulsating under the pads of his fingers as he pumps himself few times, precum dripping on your groin. Hyunjin's eyebrows are knitted together as he grinds between your legs, his still sticky hand moving your lower body closer so that he lifts you back up to wrap his arms around you, hugging you ever so gently.

His full lips kiss your cleavage and he curses under his breath because of his choice to not take all your clothes off but there's not much time anymore. You close your fists on his shirt, the lines of the fabric changing their shape under your hold while you wait for him, subtly writhing impatiently.

“Hyun please hurry…” not once in your life you've been this desperate for a man to fuck you. It's not because of the wait, not because you're horny, it's just that it's Hyunjin.

“Say it.” his eyes are darker, but they shine with the yellow-ish light in the room. He clears your forehead by adjusting your hair away.

You know what he's doing and it's nothing different from what you did before, in the living room, so you're more than willing to satisfy his request. You try to regain a bit of composure and steady your breath before speaking up, his head twitching together with every movement of yours.

"I want you, Hyunjin. I want you, please.”

A big bright smile spreads on his face as his head drops low, in disbelief. Hyunjin didn't imagine those words would have such a strong effect on him but here he is, blushing and trying to hold back a giggle. When he looks back at you he's serious again, eyes piercing into yours.

“I'm going in, hm? I wanna hear you scream my name through it all. Is that clear petal?”

What you'd give to hear him call you petal until the end of time, he says it and it's like dripping honey, he says it and you melt. The warm pool of pleasure in your belly tightens again as you say a shaky “yes”. You're his delicate, fragile petal.

His tip rests just before your entrance for a second while he takes a deep breath, breaching you gently. It's not a big stretch but his veins are already making your eyelids flutter and your lips part. Inch by inch, Hyunjin makes sure you feel his cock going deep, concern showing on your features as he doesn't come to an halt. He does, eventually, but the time he took to do it seemed eternal. “Oh my- Hyunie-”

“Bet my dick feels better than his,” he smirks between the kisses he's leaving under your jawline, “I bet mine's longer too.”

His comments only add fuel to the fire. He's bigger, he's better, the curve of his cock lands exactly on the spot that makes you black out. As you remember that you're technically still in a relationship your phone rings again. It's a distant sound, it's in another room, covered by yours and Hyunjin's sighs and moans, but he hears it too. Hyunjin stops every movement, hips against yours as he's fully inside you. He lifts himself up just enough to check on you. You look at him too.

You don't exchange any word, there's no need to, because you both arch your lips upwards and meet mid-air for another kiss, tender but messy as he moves backwards to get a starting point to his thrusts. The ringtone eventually dies making room to the faint dripping of the rain outside.

You feel warm, squeezing his cock just right and he's sure he will never let you go, never let you change your mind.

“Pussy ‘s so tight petal, was made for me, ‘m sure,” and he starts moving with consistency, picking up a pleasant rhythm, “you're so fucking perfect.”

His necklace is cold against your skin as he keeps on holding you flush against him, as well as your rings leaving icy lines on his back when your hands slip under his shirt and hold onto his shoulder blades. Hyunjin throbs inside you, drawing loud moans out of you that someone will for sure complain about. He thrusts harder, faster, every second that passes and you can only call for his name, yours being whispered by him against your skin making you shiver.

“Waited so long, so fucking long-” a guttural sound interrupting him, “since that time at the club, wanted to make you mine.” he mumbles, words hardly making sense but you decipher them anyway and when you realize what he's talking about the confused memories of it flood your mind. You, swaying your hips in front of him, grinding your ass on his crotch following the music; Hyunjin's hands right under your breasts guiding you together with him, his breath fanning on your neck, drying your tears completely as those three drinks made your head light enough to not care about any problem you complained about minutes before. It was just you and Hyunjin, all this would've happened sooner if a series of coincidences didn't happen.

“You would've let me take you in the bathroom, isn't that right?” Hyunjin asks, not losing concentration even for a second. “I wanted to bring you here, and fuck the sadness away. Every time, y/n, I wanted to tell you to forget him and be with me.”

You feel him stretch his arm between your bodies, and you feel your swollen bud stimulated again, you both whine against each other.

“‘M with you now Hyunie, want only you, ‘m yours babe.”

He's so fast now, the snapping of his hips moving you up and down the mattress… your words affect him on a visceral level.

“I choose you, I'll leave him for you-”

“Fuck!” he's close, so, so close and your walls tightening more and more and more are making him go crazy. Little beads of sweat decorate his forehead, a caramel-like smell coming from him as the crown of his head dampens and some hair stick to his forehead.

His tip keeps abusing your sweet spot, the kiss you share is feverish, your nails dig into his skin and his hold bruises your soft one. Both your bellies contract and before you can process it you're coming, white pois pattern creating over your blinding vision. You say his name out loud, dragging it together with your last moan as the hardest orgasm ever washes over you. Hyunjin pulls out just in time, copious white ropes of cum landing on your stomach like dripping art. Hyunjin loses track of space and time for a few moments as he comes down from his high, then takes you close to him when he lays next to you. Your heavy breath fills every other sound in your ears as you get comfortable hiding in his muscular chest. Your body spasms, all energy left your body already and your chest rises and falls frantically.

Hyunjin caresses your cheek and kisses your hair. It's peaceful. You just had sex with your boyfriend's best friend and it feels peaceful. It starts to feel a bit cold so he grabs the soft sheets near him and covers both of you.

“When will you tell him, petal?”

The question floats in the air for a while. You start playing with his necklace, making it dance between your fingers. He starts to worry a bit, when you don't answer him, but he decides to be patient, like always.

“After we eat something, I'll send him a text.” you seem resolute, and he's convinced. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He's a bit taken aback, his eyes narrowing in surprise: “Wasn't it obvious? You'll stay here from now on anyway.” and he says it so naturally, you think he's thought about this moment a lot… it makes you smile.

Hyunjin rolls to the side briefly, taking some tissues to wipe yours and his stomach since his sticky cum was still there, and kisses the tip of your nose adjusting your jumper back to its original place before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his phone, after finally freeing himself of his shirt. His back is slender yet defined, long, his spine making a beautiful curve. Your eyes travel from his nape to his glutes, the ones of a dancer. There's a doubt still in the back of your mind, you need to make it disappear.

“Are you… sad, that you can't be friends with him anymore?”

He doesn't even bother looking at you to answer, he keeps scrolling on the delivery app searching for something you may want to eat, the words he's about to say seeming obvious to him.

“We haven't been friends for a while already. I understood he's not the guy I met years ago, he changed, and I don't like to be around him anymore. Don't worry petal, it's not entirely because of you, I already wanted to part from him but you came into our lives so I endured it some more to stay with you… and it was worth it.” one of his hands shifts position behind him and taps the covers to signal for you to hold it. Your fingers interlace and he looks at you over his shoulder, slowly turning around, his body twisting slightly as he leans back again and kisses you sweetly yet still with some need.

Your breath is now steady, you're relaxed and it feels like Heaven, just like he promised.

"Pizza?"

You giggle and he follows.

“I love you y/n. I love you.”

[icarusredwings]

What things smell like according to Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine. A series of smell based headcanons. Do with these whatever you want :)

People:

Ororo: burnt marshmellows, rain, chunky chocolate chip cookies, protien shakes, spansih rice, chillies, and cocoa butter. She always smells great.

Scott: cucumber shampoo, the remaints of a bonfire the next day, fresh dry cleaning, axe shower gel, lavender sheets

Jean: caramel latte, lavender sheets, vanilla spiced chai, books, mint ice cream, fruit smoothies, stinky hair product, lemon poppy seed muffins, sassafras

Hank: Books, sanatizer, various chemicals, a very specifc fur dander, kinda musky but in a 'im covered in fur and sweaty' kind of way.

Rouge: "Dolly Parton", brick and concrete dust, cherry blossoms body spray, freshly engraved wood, strawberries and milk conditioner, spicy gaucamole and freshly sizzled sausages.

Gambit: tv static, a fresh deck of cards at the casino, spicy jumbo, gin, lime jello, hair gel, "suprisingly good actually"

Kurt: brimstone, smoke from franckinsense, myrrh, a less smelling dander then hank, Holy chrism oil (olive oil and Balsam made by catholic priests), metal, and blue raspberry. Fur/ beard pomade sometimes for special ocassions.

Morph: even when changed he can smell is sandlewood shampoo, he smells like how "Jack Outta smell", latex, pine and cedar, clear nail polish, "that ugly quilt that your grandma kept on the back of her couch that was the warmest, softest thing you've ever slept with."

Charles: Old man fart, metal, chalk, shoe polish, nutmeg, wool, "a trusting hug", books, mahogany, expensive champagne.

Laura: "teen spirit", a shitty cheap "girl power" deodorant that doesn't do well hiding the sweat, apples and peaches, kinda woodsy.

Wade: Cancer, gun smoke, citrus dish soap, blood, oranges, taco sauce, infected skin once in awhile, red dye 40, slight over cooked and crispy apple pie, sugary cereal

Puppins: wet dog, dog dander, oatmeal senstive skin puppy shampoo, chicken, "the dirtest trash she can find to roll in on her walk"

Althea: Old lady, way too strong perfumes, butter biscuits, tea, peppermint candies, more cocaine, "baby powder", lanvender linens, cotton and daisy's Landry detergent.

Feelings/emotions:

Big/serious lies: smell like Gasoline and salty sand near the sea.

Small fibs/playful/ teasing lies: smell like Anise

Lies with decent intentions/are bent truths: smell like honey

Those two are easily mixed up.

Innocent (the person truly believes it. Ex. A child saying dinos are real) truth: smells like thick vanilla creamer.

Filling, whole truths (the person knows for a fact its a truth) smells: like fresh baked rolls/buns

Cancer smells vary like: urine, nail polish remover, some people have a pungent semi sweet smell like rotting fruit, and tar is another smell, depending on which part of the body. If already in late stages, one can smell like cadavers. Even spicy almost.

Pregnant people vary in scent but he can smell the rise of different hormones: Some hormones sweeter then other. If you asked him he would say cinnamon or dying roses. If you're later in your term the scents are more soft like lotion or custard. Lemon ussually.

Serotonin; cheese, lemon cakes, fruity, a bit light, and flakey like a pastry. Marshmellow fluff.

Dopamine; sweet fresh coffee, doritos(?), cocaine. Don't ask why he knows what cocaine smells like. He was alive during coke cocaine.

Endorphins; Sweaty Sex, mint, dark chocolate, violets, chemicals, varies by persons pheromones

Oxytocin; "playful cherries", freshly washed cotton pillows, the warmth of a bath, skin on skin hugs, strawberries

Joy/relaxation/relief: Jasmine, vanilla sugar cookies, fresh soup.

Anger/disapproval/hurt: smoke, the back end of a cigarette, spicy curry, iron, blood, "spoiled raw chicken left out too long"

Fear/excitment/anxiousness: Adrenaline smells like oil, paint, salty pretzels almost.

Tears: Oceans, lillies, fresh water lakes

[novaursa]

The Price of Fire (Final Chapter)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 17

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @mrsjohnnysuh @your-favorite-god

King’s Landing looms ahead, the sprawling city spread out beneath you like a sprawling beast, its narrow, twisting streets a maze of stone and shadow. Silverwing soars above it all, her powerful wings beating against the wind, her silver scales gleaming in the midday sun. The Sept below, a vast and imposing structure of pale stone and stained glass, stands as a symbol of the Faith’s influence—a symbol that is about to be obliterated.

You guide Silverwing down, your heart a steady, unyielding beat in your chest. The wind whips past you, carrying the distant sounds of the city—cries of alarm, the tolling of bells, the shouts of people fleeing as your shadow falls over them. You can feel Silverwing’s anticipation, the simmering rage that mirrors your own as she descends, her massive form casting a dark shadow over the grand edifice.

“Dracarys,” you whisper, the word a deadly promise, a sentence of destruction.

Silverwing’s roar splits the air, a sound of pure, unbridled fury. Her jaws open wide, and a torrent of flame erupts, a searing wave of heat and fire that engulfs the Sept. The stained glass windows shatter in an explosion of color and sound, shards raining down as the stone walls crack and blacken under the onslaught. The air is filled with the acrid stench of burning wood and melting metal, the screams of those inside drowned out by the roar of the flames.

You guide Silverwing lower, her claws tearing into the roof as she lands, the stone buckling and crumbling beneath her weight. The flames surge around you, the heat searing, the smoke rising in thick, choking plumes. Below, the once grand interior of the Sept is a blazing inferno, the pews and altars consumed by the relentless fire, the sacred tapestries reduced to ash.

Silverwing roars again, a fierce, triumphant sound, and you raise your sword, the blade gleaming in the light of the fire, a symbol of your wrath, your vengeance. “This is what you deserve!” you shout, your voice carrying over the roar of the flames, the destruction. “This is the price of betrayal!”

The city watches in stunned silence, the flames casting eerie, dancing shadows over the rooftops and walls. The Sept, once a place of worship and power, is now a blazing ruin, the Faith’s hold over the city crumbling to ash.

You pull Silverwing up, her wings beating against the smoke-filled air as she rises above the burning structure. Below, the flames continue to rage, the fire spreading, the screams of those trapped inside a haunting counterpoint to the crackling of the inferno.

Your gaze sweeps over the city, taking in the chaos, the panic. This is your city now. The city that once a cheered for you now screams. And you will drive every last remnant of the Faith from it, root and stem, until not even a whisper of their influence remains. And they will scream more.

With a final, defiant roar, Silverwing turns, her powerful wings carrying you away from the smoldering ruins, back toward the Red Keep, where the rest of this grim play is set to unfold.

Within the high, forbidding walls of the Red Keep, the atmosphere is charged, every face pale, every movement edged with fear. Rhaenyra strides through the corridors, her presence a storm of barely contained fury. Daemon walks beside her, his expression that of cold determination, Dark Sister at his hip, ready for whatever comes.

They reach the throne room, the doors swinging open with a heavy, echoing thud. Inside, Aegon sits slumped on the Iron Throne, his crown askew, his face drawn and haggard. Alicent stands before him, her hands clenched in front of her, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. Beside her, Helaena clutches her children close, her face pale and tear-streaked.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sweeps over them, her eyes hard, unyielding. She steps forward, her voice ringing out clear and cold. “It’s over, Aegon. The city is ours.”

Aegon lets out a bitter, broken laugh, his head dropping back against the cold metal of the throne. “Is it?” he mutters, his voice filled with a hollow mockery. “You have the city, but at what cost?”

Rhaenyra ignores him, her attention shifting to Alicent, who takes a shaky step forward, her face taut with desperation. “Please, Rhaenyra,” she begins, her voice trembling, her eyes pleading. “For the sake of my children, for my grandchildren—”

“It’s not up to me,” Rhaenyra cuts her off, her voice sharp, final. “I am not the one who will decide their fate.”

Alicent blinks, confusion and fear flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze is steady, unyielding. “It is for my brother-husband to decide. He will decide their fate as he decides the fate of those who betrayed him, who crowned you king in his place.”

Alicent’s face drains of color, her hands trembling. “Please,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “You must stop him. He’ll destroy us all.”

Rhaenyra’s expression doesn’t change, her eyes hard and cold. “He’s finishing what he started. He’s driving the Faith from this city, from his throne. And when he’s done, he’ll come here. And then we’ll see what justice is to be done.”

Daemon steps forward, his gaze locked on Aegon, his voice low, edged with menace. “You thought you could steal the throne, and there would be no price?”

Aegon’s eyes meet his uncle’s, a flicker of defiance in their depths, but it’s weak, hollow. “What would you have me do?” he mutters, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Kneel?”

Daemon’s smile is a thin, dangerous thing. “It’s too late for that, boy.”

The room is silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on them all. Alicent’s eyes fill with tears, her hands clutching at her skirts as she looks from Rhaenyra to Daemon, her voice trembling. “Please… please, I’m begging you…”

Rhaenyra turns away, her expression closed, unreadable. “It’s out of my hands.”

And as the tension thickens, as the silence stretches, you can feel it—the storm building, the moment before the strike, before everything changes forever.

And soon, very soon, the fate of King’s Landing will be sealed in blood and fire.

The heavy, iron-studded doors to the throne room creak open, the sound echoing through the vast, silent space. You stride in, your armor stained with soot and ash, the scent of smoke clinging to you like a second skin. The flames from the Sept still linger in your eyes, a searing, fierce light that draws the gaze of everyone in the room.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stand at the base of the Iron Throne, their faces a mixture of relief and resolve as they watch your approach. Behind them, Alicent and her children are gathered, their expressions ranging from fear to defiance. Aegon sits slouched on the Iron Throne, his face pale, his eyes hollow, his fingers drumming nervously against the armrests.

In your hands, held with reverence despite the blood and grime that stain your gloves, is the crown of Visenya Targaryen, its silver and black jewels gleaming dully in the low light of the throne room. You come to a stop before Rhaenyra, your heart steady, your gaze locked on hers.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, your voice carrying through the stillness. “I found this in the ruins of the Sept.”

Her eyes widen, the breath catching in her throat as she stares at the crown, a mix of sorrow and pride flickering across her face. You step closer, your hands trembling slightly as you raise the crown, placing it gently upon her head. The cold metal settles against her brow, the weight of it a testament to her birthright, to her strength.

“For you, my Queen,” you murmur, your voice filled with a fierce, unyielding love. “For Visenya.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes shine with unshed tears, her hand lifting to touch the crown lightly, her gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “For everything.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a fierce, protective pride, and then your gaze shifts, your eyes hardening as they fall on Aegon, still slumped on the Iron Throne. He looks up at you, his face tightening with fear, his body shrinking back as if trying to meld with the twisted metal of the seat.

You take a step forward, your gaze locked on Aegon, the silence in the room crackling with tension. Aegon’s eyes dart around wildly, his fingers gripping the armrests of the throne so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Brother,” he begins, his voice wavering, but whatever words he’s trying to find seem to choke in his throat.

You ignore him, your steps slow, deliberate, your gaze never wavering. You can feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, the air thick with fear and anticipation.

Alicent moves suddenly, her face stricken, tears brimming in her eyes as she steps into your path, her hands outstretched, a desperate, pleading gesture. “Please,” she begs, her voice cracking with desperation. “Don’t do this. I know… I know there’s still a part of you left from when we were young. I know you remember.”

You pause, your eyes meeting hers. There’s a flicker of something—an old memory, a distant echo of a time when things were simpler, when you were different people. But it’s buried beneath the weight of all that has happened, beneath the anger and the loss that have shaped you into the man you are now.

Your gaze shifts past her, to where Helaena stands, clutching her children close, her face pale and tear-streaked. The sight of them tugs at something deep inside you, but it’s not enough to sway you, not enough to pull you back from the path you’ve chosen.

“Step aside, Alicent,” you say quietly, your voice steady, though there’s a dark edge to it, a finality that sends a shudder through her. “This is not your choice.”

Alicent’s face crumples, her hands trembling as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, her voice breaking. “Please… they’re just children. He’s your brother.”

You pull away, your eyes hardening as you push past her, your steps sure, your gaze fixed on Aegon. The athmosphere in the room is suffocating, every breath a struggle as you ascend the steps toward the Iron Throne, your heart pounding with a fierce, unyielding resolve.

Aegon stares at you, his expression set in fear and confusion, his mouth working soundlessly as he tries to find words, to find some defense against the storm bearing down on him.

“Please, brother,” he finally whispers, his voice breaking, his body hunched as if to shield himself from your wrath. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted any of this.”

You stop before him, your eyes cold, unyielding. “And yet you took it,” you say softly, the words heavy with all the bitterness, all the betrayal that has brought you to this moment. “You took what wasn’t yours.”

Aegon’s face crumples, his body trembling as he shrinks back, his eyes wide with terror. “I was pushed… they made me—”

“No more excuses,” you cut him off, your voice a sharp, unforgiving blade. “You took the crown, you took my throne, and now you will face the consequences.”

The room is silent, the air thick with the weight of what’s to come. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you, can feel the fear and hope and anger swirling around you like a living thing.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you reach out, your hand closing around the armrest of the Iron Throne, your gaze never leaving Aegon’s.

“It ends here,” you say, your voice steady, implacable. “The time of the usurper is over.”

The silence that follows in the throne room is suffocating, each breath held in a suspended, uneasy stillness. Aegon sits rigid on the Iron Throne, his knuckles white as he grips the armrests, his eyes darting around the room, fear and confusion written across his pale face. Alicent remains frozen, her expression stricken, Helaena clutching her children, their soft sobs echoing in the stillness.

You turn away from Aegon, your voice carrying a calm, implacable authority as you speak to the guards positioned around the chamber. “Take them to their chambers,” you order, your tone brooking no dissent. “They are to remain there, under watch, until I decide their fate.”

Aegon’s breath leaves him in a shuddering exhale, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world has suddenly fallen upon them. He looks up at you, his expression a twisted mix of relief and resignation. “Thank you…” he murmurs, his voice trembling, but you ignore him, your gaze already moving to the next battle ahead.

Daemon steps forward, his presence a looming shadow of grim determination. “Aemond is still at Harrenhal,” he says, his voice carrying the barest hint of a challenge, his eyes fixed on yours.

You nod, your mind already racing ahead, the thought of your younger brother a burning coal in your chest. “I’ll deal with him,” you say, your voice steady, your resolve unyielding.

Daemon’s eyes narrow, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “You almost died last time,” he reminds you, his voice hard, his concern thinly veiled behind a mask of irritation. “You know what Vhagar is capable of. Let me go. I’ll handle Aemond.”

“No,” you say firmly, your gaze meeting his, a silent, fierce determination in your eyes. “I need you here, Daemon. To hold the city, to keep order. If anything happens to me…” You let the words hang, the unspoken possibilities stretching between you.

Daemon’s expression darkens, his eyes searching yours, his mouth tightening with frustration. “You’re risking everything,” he says quietly, the words almost lost in the cavernous silence of the room. “There’s no telling what that mad dog will do. You need to think this through.”

“I have thought it through,” you reply, your voice a low, controlled burn. “Aemond won’t stop. He’ll keep coming, keep fighting, until one of us is dead. This has to end. And it has to end now.”

The room seems to close in around you, the weight of your decision pressing down, the air thick with tension. You can see the worry in Daemon’s eyes, the anger, the fear he’s trying so hard to hide. But you also know he understands—better than anyone—the cost of inaction, the price of hesitation.

He exhales sharply, his gaze flicking away, his jaw clenching. “And if you die?”

“Then you’ll do what you have to,” you say, your voice softening, the edge of command giving way to something deeper, something raw. “You’ll protect Rhaenyra, the children, the throne. You’ll finish what we started.”

Daemon’s eyes snap back to yours, his expression fierce, almost defiant. “You’re not dying,” he says, the words a low, harsh growl. “Not like this. Not to him.”

You reach out, gripping his shoulder, the contact solid, grounding. “I’ll be careful,” you promise, a ghost of a smile touching your lips. “But this ends now.”

He looks at you for a long moment, the storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes, and then, with a reluctant nod, he steps back, his hand falling away from the hilt of his sword.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice thick with reluctant acceptance. “But if you come back with so much as a scratch, I’ll kill you myself.”

You chuckle softly, the sound incongruous in the tense, heavy air of the throne room. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a final glance around the chamber, your gaze lingering on Rhaenyra, who stands watching, her eyes dark with worry and understanding, you turn and stride from the room, your steps echoing through the silence, the weight of what you must do settling on your shoulders like a shroud.

This is it. The final move in a game that has cost so much, that has left so many scars. You know what you must do, what must be done to end this. To bring peace, or at least, something resembling it, to the realm.

And as you step into the cool, shadowed corridors of the Red Keep, the roar of dragons echoing faintly in the distance, you let yourself feel, just for a moment, the fear, the uncertainty. And then you push it aside, your heart steady, your mind clear.

This will end. One way or another, it will end. 

The sky above the God’s Eye is a vast expanse of dark clouds, roiling and churning like the surface of the lake below. The air is filled with the promise of rain, the scent of the storm mingling with the tang of smoke and ash still clinging to your armor. Silverwing’s powerful wings beat rhythmically beneath you, carrying you higher, closer to the heart of the approaching tempest. You know what awaits you in the storm—Aemond, Vhagar, and the final reckoning that has been a long time coming.

You spot them in the distance, a dark silhouette against the storm clouds, Vhagar’s enormous form dwarfing even the vastness of the sky. She is a beast of legend, her wings stretching wide, her body coiled with lethal strength, and Aemond, perched atop her back, is a small, dark figure, his gaze already fixed on you, even from this distance. The sight sends a surge of anger through you, but you force yourself to remain calm, focused. This is what you came for. This is how it must end.

Silverwing roars, her voice a defiant challenge that echoes across the skies, carrying through the thick, stormy air. She pulls back her wings, gaining altitude as you approach, your gaze locked on the monstrous form of Vhagar, her ancient eyes gleaming with a dark, terrible intelligence. Aemond’s face is set into grimace of rage and something else—anticipation, a fierce hunger for the battle he knows is inevitable.

You draw Blackfyre, the blade heavy and familiar in your hand, the dark steel gleaming in the flickering light of the approaching storm. The wind whips around you, tearing at your cloak, but you hold steady, your focus narrowing to the task ahead, to the fight that will determine everything.

“Come on, Aemond,” you mutter under your breath, your voice swallowed by the wind, the storm. “Let’s end this.”

Silverwing surges forward, her wings cutting through the air with a powerful beat, her body coiling and tensing, ready for the clash. Vhagar responds with a deafening roar, her jaws snapping open, flames licking the edges of her teeth as she dives toward you, her massive form a terrifying sight against the darkened sky.

“Dracarys!” Aemond’s voice carries across the distance, his command a whipcrack of fury, and Vhagar unleashes a torrent of flame, the searing heat turning the air around you into a furnace.

“Dive!” you shout, leaning forward, urging Silverwing into a sharp, gut-wrenching descent. She responds instantly, her body twisting and folding as she drops, the flames barely missing you, scorching the air above your head. The force of the dive tears at you, your vision narrowing as the ground rushes up to meet you, but you hold on, gritting your teeth against the pull of gravity, the force of the descent.

Silverwing levels out, her wings beating furiously as she skims the surface of the God’s Eye, the water churning beneath her, the spray dampening your face. You glance up, your gaze tracking Vhagar as she follows, her massive body plummeting toward you, a dark shadow against the storm.

You pull Silverwing up, her wings straining as she climbs, spiraling upward, the water spinning away beneath you. Vhagar follows, her roars shaking the air, her massive form closing in, her claws outstretched, her jaws snapping. You twist in the saddle, raising Blackfyre, the blade catching the dim light, a stark contrast against the darkness of the sky.

Aemond’s face is a mask of fury, his eye blazing with hatred as Vhagar closes the distance, her jaws snapping at Silverwing’s tail, her breath hot and foul. You can feel the heat of her flames, the searing intensity of her rage, but you don’t flinch, your focus locked on Aemond, on the end that is coming.

“Is this what you wanted, brother?” you shout, your voice raw, your words a challenge thrown into the wind, the storm. “Is this the price you’re willing to pay?”

Aemond’s laughter is a harsh, jagged sound, echoing through the storm. “You’ll die here, just like you should have above the Storm’s End,” he snarls, his voice filled with a cold, pitiless fury. “You’ll fall, and your family will burn.”

You grit your teeth, your anger surging, the fury of his words igniting something deep and primal within you. “Not today, Aemond,” you growl, your grip tightening on Blackfyre. “Not today.”

Silverwing roars, her voice a furious, defiant challenge, and she dives again, her body twisting, her wings folding as she drops beneath Vhagar, the wind whistling around you, the ground a blur beneath your feet. You shift in the saddle, raising Blackfyre, the blade gleaming darkly as you aim, your heart pounding, your mind clear.

“Dracarys!” you shout, your voice a command, a promise.

Silverwing’s jaws open, and a torrent of flame erupts, a searing, blinding wave of fire that engulfs Vhagar’s side, the heat of it turning the air to steam, the sound of it a deafening roar that drowns out everything. Vhagar roars, her body turning, her claws slashing through the air, but Silverwing is already moving, her wings beating powerfully as she pulls away, the flames still licking at Vhagar’s scales.

Aemond curses, his voice a harsh, guttural sound, and Vhagar lunges, her massive jaws snapping, her claws tearing at the air. Silverwing twists again, her body coiling, her wings beating furiously as she dodges, her movements fluid and graceful despite the size difference.

You see the opening, a fleeting moment where Vhagar’s massive body shifts, exposing Aemond, his face twisted with rage and frustration. You don’t hesitate, your hand steady as you raise Blackfyre, the blade poised, your heart a steady, unyielding beat.

“This is for my son you wanted to slay!” you roar, your voice carrying over the storm, over the chaos of the battle, and you hurl yourself from the saddle, the wind tearing at you, your body hurtling toward Aemond, Blackfyre gleaming in your hand.

Time seems to slow, the world narrowing to this single moment, this final, irrevocable act. You see the flash of shock in Aemond’s eye, the sudden, dawning realization as you close the distance, your blade aimed straight for his heart.

Blackfyre strikes true, the blade piercing Aemond’s armor, sinking deep into his chest. His eye widens, his mouth opening in a silent scream, his body jerking as the steel drives home. The impact knocks you both from the saddle, Vhagar’s roar of fury and pain a deafening, all-encompassing sound as you fall, the wind tearing at you, the world spinning in a dizzying blur.

You feel Aemond’s body convulse beneath you, his blood hot and slick on your hands, his eye staring up at you, wide and uncomprehending. There is no more hate, no more fury—only shock, only pain, only the cold inevitability of death.

The water of the God’s Eye rushes up to meet you, a dark, churning expanse, and you feel the impact, the icy cold engulfing you, pulling you down, down into the depths. You hold on to Blackfyre, the blade still buried in Aemond’s chest, the weight of him dragging you both down, the world fading to black around you.

And then, there is nothing but the cold, and the dark, and the silence of the deep.

An Excerpt from Fire and Blood by Archmaester Gyldayn

The Reign of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and the Aftermath of the Dance of the Dragons

With the death of Y/N Targaryen, eldest son of King Viserys I, in the skies above the God’s Eye, the Dance of the Dragons reached its final, bloody crescendo. His confrontation with his half-brother, Prince Aemond Targaryen, and the destruction that followed their deadly clash, marked the beginning of the end for the bitter war that had torn the realm asunder. Yet, the consequences of his life and actions would continue to ripple through Westeros for generations to come.

Rhaenyra’s Reign and Legacy

Following her husband’s death, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen held the Iron Throne, her claim uncontested for a time, though her rule was fraught with tension and unrest. The death of King Y/N left her heartbroken and enraged, but she remained resolute in her determination to rule in his memory. Rhaenyra's reign, while short-lived, was marked by a period of brutal consolidation of power.

The destruction of Oldtown, the ancient seat of the Hightowers, and the burning of the Citadel sent shockwaves throughout the realm. The loss of so many maesters and the destruction of centuries of knowledge left a scar that would never truly heal. The Faith of the Seven, deeply weakened by the annihilation of their central seat of power, was forced into a position of subservience, the remnants of their once formidable influence shattered.

For years, Rhaenyra ruled with an iron fist, her sons—Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys—by her side. It was said that she kept Visenya’s crown close, a reminder of the sacrifices made and the blood spilled for her throne.

The Fate of Prince Daemon Targaryen

After the tragic death of King Y/N Targaryen above the God’s Eye, Prince Daemon Targaryen, his uncle and closest confidant, was left to navigate the aftermath of the war that had claimed so many lives. Known as the Rogue Prince, Daemon’s life was marked by bold decisions, fierce loyalty, and unyielding ambition. The loss of his nephew and the violent end to their shared struggle left an indelible mark on the man who had once been the scourge of the Stepstones and the terror of Oldtown.

Daemon's Role in the Aftermath

With Rhaenyra on the Iron Throne, Daemon took up the mantle of protector and enforcer of her reign. As the queen’s most trusted general, he was tasked with maintaining the tenuous peace that had settled over the realm. His presence in King’s Landing, commanding the loyalty of the City Watch and wielding the fearsome authority of his dragon, Caraxes, kept potential dissenters at bay. Despite his age, he remained a formidable figure, his sharp mind and ruthless disposition ensuring that no one dared openly challenge Rhaenyra’s rule.

Daemon's ruthlessness in quelling rebellion, particularly in the aftermath of the war, became a source of both fear and respect. He was instrumental in crushing the remnants of Green loyalists and those who still harbored sympathies for the late Aegon II. His actions were decisive and often brutal, his reputation for dealing harshly with any who threatened his family solidifying his position as Rhaenyra’s enforcer.

The Decline of Daemon Targaryen

As the years passed, the fire that had driven Daemon began to wane. The loss of his nephew and brother-in-arms, combined with the weight of his own advancing age, left him increasingly isolated. Those close to the prince spoke of his growing melancholy, a shadow of regret that seemed to haunt him. The Rogue Prince, once so full of life and passion, began to withdraw from the court and the world he had helped shape.

In his later years, Daemon spent more time at Dragonstone, where he had first made his mark as a young prince. He took solace in the company of his daughters, Baela and Rhaena, and in the memories of his lost loves and lost battles. The fiery spirit that had once driven him to lead men into battle, to carve out his own kingdom in the Stepstones, and to burn Oldtown to the ground in vengeance, seemed to flicker and fade.

The Final Flight of the Rogue Prince

It is said that in the end, Daemon’s last act was one of defiance, an echo of the man he had always been. Mounting Caraxes one final time, he took to the skies above Dragonstone, his dragon’s roars echoing over the island. Where he flew and why is the subject of much speculation among the chroniclers of the time. Some say he flew to the site of the God’s Eye, the place where his nephew had fallen, seeking some form of peace or perhaps simply to rage one last time against the cruel hand of fate.

Others whisper that he flew west, to the lands beyond the Sunset Sea, chasing some distant, unreachable dream. Whatever his final destination, Prince Daemon Targaryen was never seen again in Westeros. Caraxes, too, vanished from the skies, leaving only rumors and legends in his wake.

The Fate of Alicent Hightower and Her Children

After the fall of King’s Landing, Dowager Queen Alicent and her remaining children were confined to their quarters in the Red Keep under constant watch. It was here that the woman who had once been the power behind the throne slowly withered away. Alicent, stripped of her influence and wracked with grief over the loss of her son Aemond and the destruction of her ancestral home, spent her remaining days in isolation, her pleas for mercy unanswered by Rhaenyra.

Aegon II, who had briefly held the Iron Throne, was imprisoned and remained a shadow of his former self. The torments of his mind, compounded by the separation of his dragon Sunfyre and the crushing weight of defeat, left him broken. He spent his final years in a gilded cage, watched over by guards who once knelt before him as their king. His life ended quietly, his body found cold in his chambers, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror resting beside him—untouched and unworn.

Helaena Targaryen, gentle and soft-spoken, was spared much of the cruelty that befell her mother and brother. Allowed to live out her days in the Red Keep, she devoted herself to her children, her love for them a rare light in those dark days. She passed peacefully, though some whispered of a sorrow that had never left her eyes since the day the dragons came.

Daeron Targaryen, the youngest and only survivor of the old king’s sons, was missing for years after the fall of Oldtown and the death of his dragon Tessarion. It was rumored that he had fled to Essos, the scars of war etched deeply into his heart. He never returned to Westeros, and his fate remains one of the many mysteries left in the wake of the Dance.

The Legacy of King Y/N Targaryen

The war on the Faith waged by King Y/N forever altered the relationship between the Iron Throne and the Seven. The destruction of the Starry Sept and the Citadel not only broke the Hightower’s influence but also diminished the power of the Faith of the Seven to challenge the Crown. His brutal campaign, while criticized by many as an act of barbarism, effectively cowed those who might otherwise have stood against Targaryen rule in the name of the Seven.

The maesters of the Citadel, decimated and scattered, struggled for years to rebuild. The loss of so many records and the erasure of much of their accumulated knowledge left a void that could never truly be filled. The Citadel became more cautious, its influence waning as the memory of dragonfire over Oldtown haunted its halls.

The smallfolk, left in the ashes of their burned city, spoke of King Y/N with a mixture of fear and reverence. He was both the dragon who had laid their homes to waste and the warrior who had avenged his daughter, Visenya. His legacy, like his life, was marked by fire and blood, his name etched into the annals of history as one of the most ruthless yet undeniably effective Targaryen princes.

The Line of Succession

After Rhaenyra’s death, her eldest son, Jacaerys Targaryen, ascended the Iron Throne as King Jacaerys I Targaryen. His reign, though challenged by those loyal to the memory of Aegon II, was one of relative stability. He was known for his efforts to heal the scars left by the Dance and to restore the fractured realm his parents had fought so fiercely to claim.

King Lucerys, Jacaerys' younger brother, succeeded him, and his rule was marked by a more peaceful consolidation of the Targaryen legacy, though his life was overshadowed by the tragedies of his youth. The remaining brothers, Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys, played significant roles in the court, their presence ensuring that the Targaryen line remained unbroken, their family ties unassailable.

Conclusion

The Dance of the Dragons left the realm scarred and divided, the shadow of the conflict lingering long after the final dragons had vanished from the skies. Yet, it also forged a new era, one in which the Targaryen dynasty emerged both weakened and strengthened, their hold on the throne unchallenged but their losses incalculable.

The legacy of King Y/N Targaryen, his war against the Faith, and the burning of Oldtown remain topics of fierce debate among the maesters and lords of Westeros. Was he a tyrant, a madman driven by grief, or the necessary fire that cleansed the rot from the realm? Perhaps he was all these things, and more.

But one truth remains unchallenged: the fire he unleashed, the blood he spilled, and the throne he fought to defend shaped the destiny of the Seven Kingdoms, and the echoes of his actions will reverberate through the histories of Westeros for generations to come.

[lalacliffthorne]

⚔️ I really don't think now's the best time ⚔️

Azriel x Reader

summary: battlefields are really not the right place for important revelations.

notes: like I said, this is totally inspired by that iconic scene in Pirates of the Carribeans. there's a shit ton of fighting involved, so prepare for graphics. if you want to go all in, listen to this specific part of the soundtrack over and over again and the vibes will be immaculate. now go and have fun, kids.

______________________________________________________________

The middle of a battlefield was arguably the worst place for any kind of not remotely expected revelation.

“Why,”, gritting my teeth, I swung my sword and neatly decapitated the huge, wolf-like beast, “do they,”, dodging a blow, I dropped to my knees, whirling through the mud and slicing open another one's belly, “keep,”, I slid to my feet and finished in an angry, “coming?!”

Slashing my sword across a soldier's throat, I turned around. A gust of wind sent a splatter of rain right into my face, strands of soaked hair clinging to my cheeks as I breathed heavily, my gaze darting over the world going to shit around me, my heart rising in my chest as I tried to catch a glimpse at the familiar sight of blue blazing siphons and leathally flowing shadows.

The battlefield was complete and utter chaos. The heavy rain that had set in only shortly after the fighting began had turned the land into one huge muddy puddle, dirt splashing and covering allies and enemies alike. Our defenses were close to being overrun. In the sky, only a few Illyrians were left fighting alongside Gwyn, the only Valkyrie on the northern flank, up against gryphons with talons like iron and blood red eyes. The rest of the Illyrians had taken to the ground, now fighting side by side with the Fae warriors left on foot, but more enemies seemed to just come flooding from the North, like a never ending stream of monstrous beasts and soldiers armed to the teeth.

Something churned in my chest, and I had to fight the surge of dread rising in my chest.

Unless Feyre turned up with reinforcements soon, we were dead.

There was a call of my name, deep and thundering over the sound of battle, and when I slashed my swords over one beast's throat and raised my head, my heart tilted in a wild flutter.

Azriel kicked a soldier back before turning to look at me over his shoulder. His dark hair was soaked by the rain, mud sprinkled over his armor, the sword in his one hand and Truthteller in the other gleaming with blood. His eyes looked wild, but something flashed through them for nothing more than a second when they found mine.

“I need to tell you something!” His deep voice reverberated over the battlefield.

I sent a soldier flying with a kick to the chest and caught another's blade with my crossed ones, yelling back: “I'm a little busy at the moment!”

Slicing my swords down, I dropped to my knees, sliding over the muddy ground and taking down a row of soldiers with blades to the back of their legs before coming back to my feet, and my breath hitched, my heart dropping out of rhythm when Azriel appeared right in front of me from a cloud of shadows, wet hair curling and mud and blood spattered over his face as his eyes darted over my face, wild and almost desperate.

“It can't wait!”, he called.

Breathing heavily, I stared up at him through the rain pelting down, feeling the ache of my sore body wash over me now that I wasn't moving, and my brows furrowed as concern tightened my chest; because I had never seen him so blatantly unguarded and expressive, emotions practically swirling in his eyes.

“What –“

Azriel pushed me back, and I whirled around, deflecting a blow of a soldier coming at me as the shadowsinger rammed his daggers into another one's chest in the place I had just stood, rain running over his face and shadows rising, wrapping around a third soldier's throat.

“I really don't think now's the best time!”, I yelled, the slight absurdity of Azriel of all people deciding he needed to talk in the middle of a battlefield making my voice dip almost comically.

"This might be the only time!” Azriel's deep voice vibrated over my skin, his rough shout audible even over the roar of the rain and the clashing of weapons, and I whirled around, sword flying down on a soldier's neck and sending blood spattering.

A hand closed around my biceps and pulled me back, then I was spun around, and my heart skipped into my throat when Azriel's chest pressed into mine and he dipped his head, his eyes flying over my face as streams of rain ran over his own, and something like desperation flashed through them when he called over the war cries and clashing of weapons: “I –“

His eyes darted up as my instincts flared in warning, and we moved at the same time, his shadows throwing up a wall against a wave of ash arrows as I slid past him and threw one of my swords at the beast, huge and bear-like, leaping at us. The weapon sank into its side, causing it to crash onto the ground, and I whirled around and rammed my other sword into its throat.

“I need you to know –“ Azriel broke off again, dodging a sword and gutting the belonging soldier in one smooth movement, and I landed a kick on another soldier's back.

“Are you sure this can't wait?!”, I yelled back, diving to avoid a blow to the head and rolling off over my shoulder, sliding through the mud and baring my teeth at a beast that growled back before jumping at me, and I dipped and slit it's throat.

Azriel stabbed his daggers into another wolf-like monster, siphons blazing as he beat his wings and a wave of shadows rolled away, drowning a row of soldiers as he turned, and something staggered in my chest at the sight of him; shadows shrouding his tall, lean body and curling around his shoulders, even broader under his black armor as a flash of lightning illuminated his face.

Even caked in dirt and blood, drenched by the heavy rain as drops of water ran from his hair over his cheekbones, he was utterly and annoyingly beautiful.

“Yes!”, he called back, and I whirled around, swords slashing and reflecting another strike of lightning as thunder rolled and I knocked a soldier to the ground. “I need you to know tha–“

There was a snarl, and I dove out of the way, rolling through the mud as a beast crashed into the spot I had been in a mere heartbeat before. I pushed myself up and slammed my swords down into its back with an angry sound, then I raised my head, my heart thrumming and adrenaline rushing through my veines, and my eyes met golden ones, desperate and wild and only hesitant for a second before the chaos vanished, replaced by something else, something deep and worldshaking. Then Azriel's deep voice rumbled over the noise of the battle.

“I love you!”

The world fell still for a moment. Became quiet and stagnant as my heart did one mighty leap.

Then time fell back into place, something staggered in my chest, and my eyes grew wide.

“What?!”

Somehow, I dodged a blow crashing down out of nowhere, parrying another and directing it to the side as I slid my other blade over the soldier's throat, ramming my shoulder into his chest to push him back before turning around wide eyed, and my gaze met another, shining like amber in sunlight.

“You –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made me duck, and I swerved, dropping to my knees and sliding over the muddy ground. Ramming my swords into two soldier's lower regions, I pulled them out and used the momentum to push myself to my feet. Then I whirled around and yelled, disbelief and sheer shock making my voice rise an octave: “You what?!”

A hand closed around my wrist and pulled me forward, and I stumbled into a solid chest, my heart jumping into my throat as my head whipped up and I could feel the sensation of shadows rising behind me and heard swords dropping and a struggle. But it all felt far away, because I could feel Azriel's body press against mine and his eyes were piercing, looking wild and desperate and pained when he called over the noise of the battle, voice rough: “I love you!”

My throat closed as I opened my mouth in shock; Azriel pulled me past him, and I whirled around and parried the blows of a soldier, slicing my swords over his arms before ramming my blades into his chest, then I threw my head around, my wet hair clinging to my face, and Azriel dropped another soldier. For a second, our eyes met, mine wide and completely dumbfounded, then he dodged a blow.

“You –“ I tried to get closer to him but almost got jumped by a huge beast. Shadows wrapped around me and pulled me back, and Azriel slit a soldier's throat before looking back at me, rain running over his face and desperation flashing through his eyes as he yelled: “I had to make sure you knew!“

A war cry made me spin around, and I dodged, swerving the blow of a sword and slashing my own across the soldier's throat, blood spattering as I yelled back in almost comical disbelief: “So you're telling me now?!”

A hand wrapped around my wrist, whirling me out of a beast's reach and right into the way of a sword crashing down, my own blades catching it effortlessly. A familiar scent rose into my nose, distinct even under the smell of blood and dirt, and my heart thrummed into my throat as I pushed, my swords sinking into the soldier's chest, then I spun around, rain dripping over my skin as I stared wide eyed at the male right in front of me. He was so close that I could hear the roughness in his voice even though he didn't shout, one corner of his lips quirking almost helplessly as his eyes dragged over my face like he wanted to ingrain it into his mind when he called hoarsely: “Better late than never.”

My heart skipped into my throat as I stared up at him, and my lips parted, but then Azriel's eyes darted up, and he pulled me out of the way, his sword catching the one of an enemy soldier.

“What –“ I gutted a gigantic wolf, widening my eyes as I threw the shadowsinger a disbelieving look. “How late is late?!” I ducked, swerving the blow of a sword and ramming my own blade into the side of the soldier's neck.

“I couldn't lose you! If you knew -"

"Azriel!" My shout made his head whip around, and I stared at him, breathing heavily, feeling an ache build under my ribs as I widened my eyes desperately. "Since when?!"

"Since the day you stayed up with me for first time!” Azriel dodged a blow. “Probably even before that.” He raised his head, and something rose in my chest when his amber eyes found mine, his voice raspy when he called lightly: “Probably from the moment I met you and everything went silent.” His gaze flickered over my face, and my heart skipped and tumbled at the emotion swirling inside as he added hoarsely: “I think it's always been you.”

My throat closed up, and I kicked a beast to the side and sliced through some soldier's necks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it's you.” Even though Azriel's voice was raised, I could still hear how unsteady it was, raw as the words tumbled from his lips as he called them over the raging battle around us. “From the day I met you, there was something about you that made everything wash away, that made breathing easier, everything easier, even though you drive me insane sometimes! Something that makes me want to be with you, all the time, that makes not being with you fucking ache!” His eyes flickered over mine, chest rising and falling quickly with his heavy breaths as rain streamed over his face, and his throat worked like he was trying not to swallow.

“And it scares the shit out of me, but I don't care anymore!” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine when his amber iris found mine. “You're it.”

Something rose in my chest, fluttering so wildly it felt a little difficult to breathe.

“Why the hell did you never say anything?!”, I yelled in disbelief, and Azriel's jaw shifted as he dodged a blow, slicing the soldier's throat.

“Because I was afraid you didn't feel the same, and I couldn't lose you!”

“What?!” Rain pelted down at me, my soaked armor becoming heavier with every moment, but for a change, I didn't feel any of it. Breathing heavily, I stared at the godsdamned beautiful male, and my heart rose, rose until it was in my throat and the world turned into a tilt.

“Of course I do!”

Azriel's head whipped up, and I kicked a soldier away and slashed his throat before turning around, feeling the words echo through me as I yelled: “I love you too, you idiot!”

As the last syllable left my lips, Azriel stared. Stared as something seemed to rise in his eyes. Then darkness wrapped around him, and he appeared in front of me like formed from shadows. His amber eyes were bright with desperation and something so much deeper, it caused my breath to simply still. Caused my heart to swell and time to slow as he took one last step and slipped his arm around my waist, his scent washing over me in an intoxicating wave, his movements never faltering as he leaned down without an ounce of hesitation, and something shifted in my chest, locking into place with a soundless snap when his lips crashed onto mine in a hard, desperate kiss.

My heart pulsed once. Twice, as something bloomed under my ribs, warm and rising until it thrummed through my whole chest, pulling towards the male pressed against me, body tall and solid and unwavering, and I sucked in a soft, trembling breath.

Oh.

Slowly, Azriel broke the kiss, like he had to force himself to pull back, his nose brushing against mine and causing my heart to miss a step. Then he slowly raised his head, and my breath hitched, gave out completely for a second when I caught the way his iris shifted like amber in golden sunlight, lips parted and gaze piercing mine.

There was a war cry behind me, and Azriel's eyes snapped up, sharpening.

My heart flew, and my instincts kicked in.

Azriel pulled me out of the way with a growl, and I whirled around, swords clashing with two others, blocking their blows as I dropped to my knees and turned, and the blades found their home in the soldier's stomachs. Pulling them out, I raised my head, and my throat closed up when I saw our lines slowly beginning to unravel while the steady stream of beasts and soldiers didn't seem to waver.

My gaze found Azriel, in a cloud of shadows, teeth bared in a snarl and blades flashing in a clash of lightning, rain pelting onto his shoulders, and that feeling in my chest rose until I was sure it had to be visible, like a golden light thrumming under my ribs.

“Azriel!”, I shouted desperately, and he slammed the hilt of his sword onto an enemy soldier's head before turning around, amber eyes finding mine.

My heart tightened almost violently, and before I could stop myself, before even really thinking, I called, my voice a little weak: “Marry me?”

Azriel froze. Stilled on the spot as shadows swirled around him, catching ash arrows and knocking out soldiers, his eyes piercing mine as emotions swirled through them like the storm above.

And suddenly I knew he felt it. Maybe not yet that the bond was vibrating in my chest, thrumming in synch with my racing heart. But that he knew.

Azriel blinked against the rain pouring over his face, and I could see how he suppressed the urge to swallow. Then he shouted, his deep voice causing my heart to flutter: “Gwyn!”

My breath hitched, and Azriel's eyes pierced mine, golden and bare and burning as he yelled: “Marry us!”

“I'm a little occupied right now!”, Gwyn shouted from high above us, cursing as her winged horse barely managed to swerve around a gryphon.

A soldier came at me, and I dodged his blows, sliding my sword over his chest.

“Gwyn!”, I yelled, my voice breaking, and somehow, she must've heard it over the noise and chaos, because she yelled back, only halfheartedly annoyed: “Fine! If I fall, it's your fault!”

I landed a kick on the soldier's chest and sent him flying backwards, then I turned around, and Azriel was there, his hand wrapping tightly around my wrist as he pulled me forward until we were chest to chest, and that golden thrum in my chest soared at the way his eyes pierced mine.

“Dearly beloved,”, Gwyn yelled over the roar of thunder, “we've gathered here today to pull every single one of your feathers, you miserable excuse of a bird!”

There was an irritated screech followed by a scuffle high over our heads, and Azriel pushed me back as two enemy soldiers came at us with swords drawn. Swinging around, I sent my blade down onto the right one's hand, severing it cleanly, and as he screamed, I shoved my sword into his chest.

Azriel called my name, and when my head whipped around, his hand closed around mine, pulling me out of the way of a beast and with my back into his chest, his deep voice rumbling through my body when he shouted over the rain: “Do you take me,”, I kicked out and the beast yelped, “to be your husband?”

Slashing my sword over the beast's snout, a laugh bubbled in my chest when Azriel spun me around, and my heart rose in my chest when I stared up at him, feeling pressure build in my throat as his eyes darted over my face, almost like he was expecting me to change my mind, pull back -

“I do!”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes brightened, became as radiant as amber held into the evening sun. Something shifted in my chest when a smile spread over his face, widening with every second, until creases formed in his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes, and I had to physically fight to keep myself from burying my fingers in his messy hair and pull him in to kiss him.

There was a war cry from our left, and I widened my eyes and jumped back, feeling the a blade whizz down where I had been standing just seconds before, and Azriel growled, wings flaring and sending out a wave of shadows that took down the row of soldiers behind him as I parried the next blow and slammed the soldier to the ground.

Whirling around, I grabbed Azriel's outstretched hand and yelled: “Do you take me,”, I ducked under his arm and blocked a blow, “to be your wife?” Azriel pulled me back, parrying the next as I stabbed my sword into another soldier's stomach. “On the good days and the bad; though,”, smoothly slicing the soldier's throat, I growled, “we might not see a lot more!”

Azriel's grip tightened, and he twirled me around, pulling me out of the way of another soldier, and my heart fluttered violently when my chest pressed into his and that golden feeling thrummed when Azriel nodded, eyes darting over my face and deep voice hoarse when he called over the rain: “I do!”

My breath hitched and heart fluttered, the feeling in my chest rising, and above us, Gwen yelled: “Then hereby, you may be bound! Bound by soul, bound by heart, bound to one!”

There was a flare of heat in the middle of my chest, and my breath hitched when Azriel's grip tightened like he felt it too; the burning of a tattoo appearing on his skin, the sign of the vows made visible in ink.

Gwyn's voice echoed through the skies when she yelled: “You now may –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made Azriel and me dart apart.

“You now –“

I dodged a blow, Azriel's hand closing around mine and spinning me around to parry another as his sword clashed with a third.

“You may kiss the –“

Thunder struck, I ducked under a beast's claw, then Gwyn shouted in frustration: “Godsdamnit, just kiss her!”

My heart surged and skipped and Azriel pulled me around; his arm wrapped around my waist as mine slipped over his shoulder and I could feel him dipping me back lightly as he leaned down, then he kissed me.

Kissed me as rain poured down our faces, my free hand slipping up to cradle the side of his neck and my breath hitching as I kissed back, deep and desperate, and a hoarse sound rumbled in Azriel's throat as he tightened his grip around me, kissing me like it was the first and last time.

The sound of a horn ripped me back into reality, reminding me that the world was close to ending.

Azriel pulled me back up onto my feet, breaking the kiss, and I was thankful that he was just as out of breath as I was, could feel his heart pounding just as quickly. Then he raised his head, and when I looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high as relief so kneebuckling washed over me, I was glad Az was still holding me.

The cavalry had arrived.

“Come on, you two!”, Gwyn yelled somewhere above us, sounding gleeful. “Let's finish this!”

I raised my head, and Azriel's arm slipped away from my waist, amber eyes finding mine. For a second, I could see something flash through his gaze, like he expected me to pull back, suddenly regret this.

But I just sent him a wide, wicked smile.

“Shall we?”

~

It was still raining, but the storm had moved on. In the west, the clouds were breaking up, allowing the light of the sinking sun to flood over the lowlands, making the light rain shimmer as a rainbow spanned across the sky.

Breathing in deeply, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes as I felt the rain drizzle onto my face and body, washing away the smell of blood from the air and only leaving the scent of wet grass and moss to fill my nose with every slow inhale.

Feyre's arrival with the reinforcements had turned the tide, every last warrior gathering all their remaining strength. Still, there had been many losses, even after our victory, and wandering through the bloody mud, paying respect to the fallen, had caused a weight to rest on my chest, one that could not even be brushed away by the knowledge that my friends, my family was alive; exhausted and strained and with quite a few scratches, but alive.

Which was why I was standing on a hill, a little away from the tents, just listening to the patter of rain and breathing in the clean air as I felt the tension slowly melt from my muscles, leaving only exhaustion and heaviness in my limbs and a feeling of being so tired, I felt like falling asleep on the spot.

I felt him before I heard the call of my name, the feeling in my chest that had shrunk to a small, warm hum pulsing and growing.

Tipping my head back down, I looked over my shoulder, and my breath hitched when Azriel came towards me.

Just like me, he was still in his armor, specks of mud and blood on his cheeks, hair damp and curling like he had attempted to dry it and then got distracted. His dark brows were drawn together as his golden eyes pierced into mine.

“What are you doing?”, he called, his low, deep voice sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

He looked so close to his usual scowl, I felt my heart rise and skip as my lips curved up.

“Cleansing,”, I called back, and Azriel huffed, but it almost looked like he was fighting to keep his lips from twitching as he crossed the last bit of distance.

Turning around, I squinted up at him through the drizzle of rain, the thrumming thing in my chest soaring at the sight of him.

Godsdamned beautiful.

Up close, I could see the signs of exhaustion. His shadows were lazily swirling around his feet, his wings were drooping so much they almost grazed the ground, and his eyes were tired. But something sparked in them when they moved over my face, my heart skipping when I could feel his warm breath brush over my forehead.

“You know we have this ingenius invention for that? It's called a shower.” His voice was so dry, my heart skipped, and a smile slowly spread over my face, wide and bright and freeing in a way that caused something to stagger in my chest.

Azriel's eyes narrowed in, and his shoulders seemed to sag a little.

“I know.” Squinting up at him, I felt my smile grow smaller as I shrugged softly, something tightening gently in my chest.

Azriel's gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, and my heart fluttered into my throat when he reached out, gently pushing a wet strand of hair out of my face. His fingers, out of his gloves, brushed over my skin, warm and rough, and my breath hitched, a shudder running over my spine.

One corner of Azriel's lips curved, and that thing in my chest pulsed and thrummed at the way his golden eyes started to shine.

The shadowsinger dipped his head, and my heart skipped and jumped when his lips brushed over mine. Then his thumb and forefinger gently closed around my chin, and Azriel tilted my head back to kiss me, deep and slow until I sank into his chest, my knees simply too tired to keep up with the way all of him made the world spin. My fingers curled into his sides, and Azriel's other hand rose to move to the back of my neck, gently tangling in my hair, and his thumb brushed over my skin until a soft sound broke from the back of my throat and my whole body shuddered.

Azriel's lips curved up against mine. Then he slowly pulled back, and my heart skipped when I saw his eyes, lids heavy and iris hazed over, the only thing betraying him; showing that I had more than the same effect on him that he had on me.

The thought made something rise and flutter in my stomach.

I blinked. Then I furrowed my brows and mumbled: “Crap.”

Azriel's gaze cleared a little, brows drawing together, and his hand slipped down to rest against the side of my neck. “What?”

I stared past him into nothing.

“I just realised we have to explain to Rhys and Cass that we got married without them.”

[freesia-writes]

Originating from this post, I'd like to offer a list of longfics featuring TCW/TBB characters for those of you looking for some good reads! Feel free to drop any others into my asks! Fics are general audience or PG-13 unless noted "Mature" at the end.

The links are mostly to the post with the authors' descriptions so you can get a better idea of what each one is about!

Crosshair

Sharp Edges - @spicy-clones and @lightwise - Crosshair x F!Reader - Mature

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy - @badbatchposts - Crosshair x OC plus Batch/others - Mature

When the Order Fell - @victimofdavefiloni - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Caught in the Crosshairs - @silverwings22 - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Half-Moon Glow - @moonstrider9904 - Crosshair x OC; TCW AU - Mature

Roasted, Brewed, and Served with Attitude - MelMorganne99 - Crosshair x OC in Modern Police AU

It Never Rains - @letsquestjess - Crosshair x OC

Sunflowers and Blasters - @523rdrebel - Crosshair x OC

Only What Burns You Back - @the-little-moment - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Tech

Tech and Vel - @freesia-writes - Tech x OC

Song of the Sea - @silverwings22 - Tech x Alien OC - Mature

Tech as a Father - @missfrieden - Tech and Batch

Gravitation - @moonstrider9904 - Tech x OC AU - Mature

Meltdown - @autistic-artistech - Tech x OC - Mature

Brother, Hold Me Up - @lifblogs - Tech, Batch, Others - Mature

The World Goes Cold - @lifblogs - Tech, Batch - Mature

Hunter

Beyond the Shadow of a Doubt - @freesia-writeswrites - Hunter x OC

Hunter and the Librarian - @clonethirstingisreal - Hunter x OC - modern day AU

Sun and Rain - @photogirl894 - Hunter x OC

As Iron Sharpens Iron - @arctrooper69 - Hunter x Reader

Echo

Not Just the Carcass, But the Spark - @the-little-moment - Echo x OC - Mature

Test Subject/System Upgrade - @just-here-with-my-thoughts - Echo and the Batch

Rex

Captain's Log - @rexxdjarin - Rex x OC - Mature

Wolffe

I Yearn, and So I Fear - enigmaticexplorer - Wolffe x OC - Mature

The Wolfpack Queen - @reader6898 - Wolffe x OC - Mature

No Strings Attached and Walk Me Home (sequel) - @cyarbika - Wolffe x F!Reader - Mature

Multiple Featured Characters

Rise of the Clones - @AmberOwl24 - SO MANY CHARACTERS!

Stars Beyond Number - @dystopicjumpsuit - Clone Rebellion Echo x Riyo, Gregor x OC - Mature

The Moonwalker Series - @moonstrider9904 - Batch x OC (love triangle then single pairing) - Mature

Line of Destiny: A Series - @ilikemymendarkandfictional - Multiple Stories: Rex x OC, Crosshair x OC, Clone OCs and Howzer

Same Heart - @dumfanting - F!Reader x TCW Echo, then Fives, then Echo/Cross Poly - Mature

Blood Daughter - @letsquestjess - OC + Bad Batch Adventure 

A Lupe of Faith - @lonewolflupe - Jedi!OC x Fives, later x Hunter - Mature eventually

Stronger Together - @cloneflo99 - Rex/Crosshair x OC - Mature

Other Clones

Quantum Entanglement - @freesia-writes - Howzer x OC

Martyrs and Kings - @dystopicjumpsuit - Post-Stasis Kix x OC - Mature

The Only Exception - @starqueensthings - Howzer x OC - Mature

Disillusioned - @amberskyyking - OC + OC Clone Squad Adventure - Mature-ish

The Helmeted Hunter - @jedimasterlenawrites - Boba Fett x F!Reader - PG-13

Children of Providence - @ladysongmaster - Din Djarin, TCW Characters Adventure

The Last Word - @ariadnes-red-thread - Fives x OC

One Step at a Time - @wild-karrde - Clone OC - Mature

Welcome to the Outpost - @just-here-with-my-thoughts - Mayday!!

[starsofang]

Call of Duty || Coraline AU || Part 3

Running away to start a new chapter and escape the troubles of your past, you find yourself in a darker predicament than you had hoped for.

Coraline with a twist. And COD men. Obviously.

PT.1 / PT.2

The world around you felt dark and cold as you found yourself trapped, alone, scared. It felt as if the weight of your past was heavy on your chest, pressing down, down until you were gasping for air. You pleaded for it to stop, for it to give you space to breathe, but when you opened your mouth to scream, nothing came out.

Your mind clouded with brooding colors of reds and purples – blood, so much of it, pooling around you as you screamed and screamed, only for it all to go unheard. The knots in your stomach tightened, the thick bile rising in the acids threatening to spew out as the sickening feeling of no escape settled over you.

This wasn’t right. You had escaped the talons of her, she did not have a hold on you anymore. She could no longer sink her teeth into you, like a deranged mutt in a state of ferality where she saw nothing but her own blinding hatred for the world around her. For you.

So why, now, could you picture her face right in front of you, her smile curving into something so malicious, you could practically see the pure venom dripping out of her mouth? To any outsider, one might’ve considered her smile motherly. Warm like a bright, summer day, the type of day where the breeze wisps through your hair, the sun beaming down on you like a loving embrace, where everything felt perfect. Right.

But you knew better.

Where people saw solace, you saw a prison.

The iron bars caged you in like a rabid animal on display. There was no escape, no way of scrounging up a key to let yourself free. You were stuck, forced to remain a forever prisoner in your own mind. You could do nothing in this cage, even as your skin caked itself in its own blood, forming crimson puddles on the cold, cold ground while she struck you – once, twice, and as many times as needed until she was satisfied.

But she never was satisfied. It was never enough for her.

Even though you had escaped and sought out solitude in a new home, far, far away, you could never truly experience sovereignty over your own life. You would always remain battered and broken, scarred with the remnants of the life you wish so desperately to rid yourself of.

Trapped, forever and always.

You startle in your bed with a sharp inhale, body sitting up on autopilot as you rapidly blinked away the tears you don’t remember forming. The room was cold and dark, just like your nightmare had been. But unlike your nightmare, it was quiet and tranquil, the light sound of rain pattering against your window with the faintest of moonlight peeking through the clouds to shine throughout your room.

You spent a few moments there, mulling over the storm cloud over your mind, willing it to go away.

You were safe here. Tucked away in a new town that nobody knew the name of, in a home you could call your own – the very first thing you could ever call your own.

Lifting a hand to rub tiredly at your face, you had failed to notice the pair of eyes watching you – mapping you out. Studying. Judging.

It wasn’t until you heard a pathetic meow that you realized, and when you looked up through the darkness of your room and to the window, you saw a familiar cat sitting along a small part of the roof that hung over the downstairs of your home. He sat patiently, staring at you with yellow orbs that seemed to pierce through you, black tail swaying lazily behind him. The rain did not waver his patience, and for a cat, he certainly didn’t seem to mind the waterdrops that soaked into his fur.

“Oh,” you breathed out in surprise. You pushed aside the wrinkled blankets of your bed, standing on your bare feet to pad over to the window. You tugged it open with a grunt, the old wood scraping along the frame.

The sound of the rain grew tenfold with no barrier to block out the noise, but you didn’t mind. Instead, you tilted your head down curiously at the cat as he tilted his in return, as if to silently ask if he could come in.

“Come on, you little minx. It’s cold,” you offered with a huff through your nose, stepping aside to allow him to pounce through the window. He came in, parading around like he’d been there before, and you quickly shut the window back up, shielding the both of you from the downpour outside.

You stood in place by the window as the cat moseyed around the room, little drops of water slipping off of his fur and onto the wood floor. He paid you no mind as he stuck up his nose, slitted eyes observing the room. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you dared not interrupt the furry thing.

For the first few moments of being in your room, he gave off the impression that he was growing bored. The way he carelessly walked around, tail swishing to and fro behind him, you felt as if he was unimpressed, which was silly to think. He was a damn cat.

Then, he paused in his motions right at the foot of your door, turning his head to stare at you expectantly from where you remained near the window. Raising your eyebrows, you glanced between him and the bedroom door.

“What? You want out?” you asked him. He stared. Annoyingly so.

Sighing, you retreated from the window and over to the door. It creaked as you opened it, filling the quiet, empty house with an eerie sound. He stood, curling out of the opening of the door, prancing down the hallway and towards the stairs. You were unsure why you felt the need to follow him, but you did. You told yourself it was because you didn’t want him accidentally breaking any of the few things you had as decor, and not because he seemed to be silently asking you to follow.

You paced behind him, eyes following his every move. He no longer spared a glance at you, even as he descended the stairs and made his way to the lower part of the home. Briefly, you wondered if he had lived here before with the previous resident. He knew his way around the home like somebody who had mapped it out in memory, but that wouldn’t have made sense. John and Gaz had made it clear that Laswell had closed the home up for quite some time, and you were the lucky girl who happened to score the lottery in being allowed to move in.

After some walking, you found yourself standing in the living room with Si. Your eyes drifted around the dingy, old room that had yet to be furnished and decorated with things other than the old couches and ugly paintings, until they landed on where he was sitting.

“What…?” you trailed off when you realized he was seated right in front of the small door you had found previously. He was facing the door, but his eyes were set on you, challenging you, urging you. “There’s nothing there, you dumb thing. It’s all bricked up.”

Si made no effort to move, and if you looked hard enough, you could see a hint of annoyance in those beady eyes of his.

The two of you sat in a staring competition for a moment in time. He was challenging you, you were challenging him.

“You don’t believe me?” you asked with a glare. Were you really arguing with a cat? “Fine.”

You spun on the bare heels of your feet to stomp into the kitchen. Throwing open the drawer, you rummaged your hand around until your fingers curled around the familiar, black key. Holding it up to inspect it, you shut the drawer once you confirmed it being the right one, before returning to the living room.

Kneeling in front of the door, you sent another glare in Si’s direction. He tilted his fuzzy head, ears pointed straight up, tail curling into a C shape on the floor where he sat.

You all but shoved the key into the hole, rattling and turning it until it clicked in place. When it unlocked, you tugged it open, once again turning to give Si a look of I told you so.

Except something felt different. There was never a rush of cold air before, nor did it sound so… hollow.

Looking back at the door, you nearly felt your soul leave your body. It was no longer bricked up and hidden away like it was before, no. Now, there was a tunnel. Bright colors of purples and blues, swirling into an illusion that had you hypnotized. You stared, and stared, until you felt like your retinas were going to burn from the sheer brilliance of the newfound discovery.

“How did you–”

You turned back to Si. This time, if you were seeing correctly, he looked like the one who wanted to say I told you so. Snarky minx.

When you made no effort to move forward, he did. Standing on his paws, he swayed forward and into the tunnel, luring you into the unknown abyss that looked straight out of a painting. It didn’t look real, not in any sense, nor did any of this feel real. Perhaps you were still dreaming, and this was your brain’s way of trying to protect you from the battering nightmares that had tormented you every night of your pathetic life.

You watched as he whisked away into the tunnel, deeper, and it was then you realized there was another door on the other end. An opening, but for what?

Si stopped halfway through the tunnel to turn to you expectantly. He wanted you to follow him, and he was making his impatience obvious. For a cat, he sure was a sassy thing. Smart, too, but you’d never tell him that, even if the damned thing didn’t know how to talk.

You bent forward to press your hands on to the floor, knees digging uncomfortably into the hard wood. Carefully, you moved yourself forward. The moment your hand planted itself into the tunnel, you realized it was oddly warm, like a comforting tug to entice you in further.

Unfortunately for you, it was working.

Continuing forward, Si seemed satisfied to see you following him. You remained behind him as he jumped around the soft ridges of the tunnel, easing yourself further and further into the unknown.

For a mere moment, Soap’s words replayed in the back of your mind. I’ll turn down the music if you promise not to go through the little door, Miss Caroline.

“Sorry, Soap,” you muttered to yourself.

After what felt like a lifetime, you reached the end of the tunnel and came face to face with the door on the other side. It looked just like the one in your own home, yet somehow, cleaner. Nicer. Perhaps you were just seeing things. It was rather dark, after all.

Si gave you one of those looks that you were beginning to learn was his way of encouraging you. Do it, stupid girl, you imagined him saying.

Stupid girl you were indeed, as you lifted a hand off of the purple flooring of the tunnel to cautiously press against the door. It opened with ease, like it was expecting you and welcoming you in.

Crawling out, your eyes took in the sight of what laid beyond the door.

It was your house – except, not. It was better. Much more clean, much more modernized, and a lovely smell of something sweet filled the air. It was much nicer compared to the dingy, mildew smell that filled your house on the other side.

This house felt like a home.

Standing up and brushing the dust off of your knees, you glanced over at Si to see him already staring up at you. You couldn’t read what he was thinking. His eyes were void of anything other than boredom, blinking slowly at you, and you knew that this time, he wouldn’t go unless you did. You weren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Taking in a breath of courage, you willed yourself into the home, passing by the furniture in the living room as well as the pictures that littered the wall. There was something wrong with those pictures. Something was off.

When you stepped closer to get a better look at it, you realized why it was off.

You were in the pictures. Smiling, happy, unbroken. There were no scars, no sunken eyes, no anguish.

Just like the house, it was you, but it wasn’t. It was who you imagined yourself to be if you life hadn’t handed you an unfortunate deck of cards and told you fuck you, you’re on your own, kid.

Entranced in the newfound version of you, you failed to notice the lingering presence in the house. It called out your name, and you knew something was wrong when they referred to you correctly. 

“Coraline!” the voice shouted, and your blood ran cold. “Is that you?”

As if sensing your discomfort, Si walked between your ankles, soft fur cradling against your skin. He peered up at you from between your feet, eyes now much softer looker than the previous times where he had looked at you with a hint of judgment and displeasure.

Taking a deep breath and staring down at Si for a long moment, you nodded to yourself, taking a step forward to venture out of the living room and to the kitchen, where you had heard the voice. Si followed closely by your side, tail whooshing in the air. He didn’t seem at all nervous, so maybe you didn’t have to be either.

“There you are!”

You felt the wind knocked out of your lungs when you saw who stood before you. The air grew constricted in your chest, blood running cold. Pure dread filled every fiber of your bone, so much so you could practically feel it vibrating and rattling from inside of you.

Beady, button eyes stared at you. An all too familiar smile beamed in your direction, teeth pointed and curving together, perfectly white and aligned. Skin rid of any imperfections, looking almost like a statue, one that you desperately wished you could hit and destroy, over and over, until it dissolved into nothing but crumpled dust and ash.

It was your mother. The very person you had escaped from.

But this wasn’t your mother. No. This was a distorted version of your mother that you felt like you were staring at through a broken lens. A bowl and whisk held in the crook of her arm, eyes void of any pupils and instead replaced by black, shiny buttons that felt as if they could pierce right through you.

That smile, that damned smile could send you into an early grave.

The only thing you could do was stare back, eyes glossed over with a darkening appearance of turmoil.

You were looking death right in the face, and it was smiling back at you.

—

cat simon 🙏🏻 also finally making progress, im so sorry the others werent in this chapter but they will be in the next, trust <3

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Petrichor

Summary: In which Gavin Reed is so boyfriend that I nearly gave myself teeth rot with them being stinking adorable and domestic.

Pairing: Gavin Reed x afab!Reader

Word Count: -3.8k (That got out of control so fast)

Content Warnings: Cuddlefucking 18+!, A Whole Lot Of Feelings, Angst, Mentions Of Blood, They Are So In Love With Each Other, Gavin Being A Massive Softy, Ye Good Olde Missionary (But Freak It A Little), Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Oral (F Receiving), Tongue Fucking, Funishment, Overstimulation, Soft Sleepy Morning Sex, L-Bombs, Internalised Self-Loathing/Affirmation

A/N: I appear to have very strong feelings about Gavin “Phck!” Reed.

Tagging: @ohlookapan @queer-crusader @somethingblu3 @blueberrypancakesworld

And just like the rain

You cast the dust into nothing

And wash out the salt from my hands

So touch me again

I feel my shadow dissolving

Will you cleanse me with pleasure?

- Rain By Sleep Token

The peculiar taste of iron slithered into your mouth and laced itself all over your tongue. In an absentminded movement, you swiped the tip of it along a hardly even there incision on your bottom lip where teeth had just nipped and torn at the sensitive skin, effectively reopening the frequently brutalized patch towards the right corner of your mouth.

Tiny droplets of red oozed out of the opening and you lapped it all up, just like you always did when the steadily lingering sensations of anxiety and nervosity roared up again, the constant white noise of emotional dread growing into the feeling of your ribcage painstakingly getting dismembered rib by rib until you insides laid bare again.

You only started biting right at your lip when the soft tissue on the inside of your mouth just wouldn’t cut it anymore, ceased to give you the sensory distraction you longed for so much.

You exhaled a shallow breath to not stir the already bubbling concoction boiling up right behind your sternum. However, the slight rise and fall of your chest were already enough to elevate the nervous buzzing to a beehive of paralyzing thrashing of existential dread that terrorized your mind with such tyranny that it sparked psychosomatic symptoms to ripple through your body.

Your upper lip twitched and you instinctively bit down on the patch of swollen tissue on your bottom one anew, suckling at the broken skin. The sharp little sting emitting from the scratch came as a strangely soothing sensation, strange not in the way that it soothed you but strange in the sense that you knew something like this shouldn’t be that calming to you for it was considered an unhealthy coping mechanism by many.

Breathe, just breathe, for this, too, shall pass.

You admonished yourself to not get lost in the rapturing sea of your own emotions. There wasn’t anything new to discover, no new island of calm to shipwreck upon that would suddenly shelter you from the chronic overthinking, no, you had to stay afloat until the storm eventually died down. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut as tightly as you needed them to be, you searched for something else to direct your focus to, and the low drumming of plump raindrops against the window caught your attention. Sunday morning, 9 am, heavy rain from dark, low-hanging clouds, truly a Detroit classic.

You liked the sound of rain, always enjoyed it unless you had to be somewhere else than hidden away underneath your duvet. It paired well with a steaming hot cup of tea or coffee when you felt good enough to risk the caffeine jitters, maybe a few cookies on the side to let your teeth sink into something other than the already thoroughly tortured skin of your bottom lip.

Later, you’d get up, later, once the vile concoction of should’ve, would’ve, could’ve had imploded into a gust of hot air, you’d treat yourself to those things and perhaps a comfortingly hot shower as well. You surely could use one after tossing and turning all night, only being able to slip into the twilight zone of not really being awake but also not properly asleep.

The tapping of the rain against the thick glass surface carried your thoughts away successfully, calmed them with every stiff breeze that intensified the rumbling outside your apartment. The more your thoughts wandered, drifted off into imaginary images about a breakfast to be had or the comforts of being able to stay in today, the more your breathing loosened up, the exhaustive tension simmering down until the very back of your throat fell into a state of such relaxation that a quiet and low snore hummed out of your mouth.

A desperately longed-for calm washed through your sleep-deprived body and with a faint smile tugging around your mouth, you stretched; one arm folding underneath your pillow and everything else spread out away from you, torso turned half to the side and half on your belly. Whilst a jawn rumbled through your chest, you arched your back, spine lightly cracking from not being moved properly for today.

As your statue was softly writhing underneath the cozy blanket, the curve of your behind pressed into a warm lap, ass rubbing over a ruffled waistband and soft cotton fabric. Immediately, a sleep-drunk Gavin behind you crooned against the back of your head. He uttered a breathy “Hey” into your hair, his voice still raspy as his broad hand snaked around your waist pulling you closer underneath the shared covers.

You hummed in return, body and mind not really there enough to form words out of cohesive letters. Instead, you followed his tug and shimmied closer, his front gradually pressing against your back, your bodies reacting to one another in this drowsy, sluggish haze of a slowly unfolding Sunday morning.

Every last bit of tension appeared to eventually leave your body as the warmth of Gavin’s skin seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt. Like a gentle, oversized heating pad, he cupped your body with his, inviting your muscles to relax in his hold.

Another little groan fell from his lips as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose stroking along the shell of your ear gingerly before warm lips left a gentle trail of kisses right underneath your earlobe. The sensation of his loving caresses sent a warm shudder all across your skin, egging you on to want to feel more of them, more of Gavin; with a lazy smile adorning your face, you rolled your hips back again, pushing and grinding yourself into his crotch as the wash of nipping pecks quickly caused you to throb around nothing.

“ ‘Ts mean!” It trickled from your lips in a quiet whine which was met by a snarky huff.

“Last time I checked, t’was your ass in my lap, babe.” The sleepy rumble in his tone made your skin pebble against his mouth.

“I dunno what you’re on about.” You stated in a whim of play-pretend innocence.

“Don’t mind reminding you.”, Gavin cooed right into your ear, his warm breath breezing along your neck as he jutted his waist against the round of your behind, “Got me all hard just like that already.”

Feeling his rigid cock pressing into your rear pulled a needy groan from your tongue, insides clenching down again with your hips instinctively pushing anew. The need to close the already sparse distance between your bodies, to feel Gavin thrusting inside of you to render your brain oh so beautifully numb for a while spread like wildfire, however, grinding on him like that already felt so good that it was hard to tear yourself away. Fortunately, Gavin picked right up on you shuffling away from him just enough to roll onto your back, nearly tearing off his shorts, the cloth already cracking and ripping dangerously at the seams. He paid it no mind, a sluggishly buffering brain way too busy with coordinating hands that helped to shimmy out of the fabric.

Following his lead, you rid yourself of the gradually dampening cotton from between your legs, discarding the slip to the floor with a swift jerk of your wrist, the lacey thing bunching up on the floor.

“Oh, sweets.”, Gavin’s half-lidded gaze dropped to your chewed-up bottom lip almost immediately after swinging his body on top of yours, hips dipping against the insides of your thighs gently, “That bad of a night?”

Upon his words, you couldn’t help but flinch a little, a sense of shame and discomfort taking brief hold of your features.

“Just…the last few days, you know?” You admitted, every word already beyond your comfort zone.

“I know.”, Your lover nodded his head softly in understandment, recalling how those past days spent with your family certainly did a number on you, “Want me to take care of that?”

“Uh-huh.” The coy mumble left your moth reluctantly because it still evoked some sort of embarrassment to admit that you needed him to take care of you in that peculiar way.

“Issok, babe. I know it’s been rough but you’ve been so brave and good through all of it.”, Gavin threw you a sincere smile before he leaned in, plush lips slowly kissing along your collarbone, “ ‘m so proud of you.”

His praise threatened to draw tears from your eyes, a certain wetness already prickling at your tear ducts.

“I mean it. ‘twas a rough one.” Lips wandered from your collarbone to the edge of your yaw, teeth playfully pulling and biting.

“Wasn’t that bad…” You tried pushing back in some sort of conditioned self-defense, not ready to admit just how much your family tended to fuck you up.

“Ay, shhh. Don’t wanna hear any of that.”; Gavin’s lips mouthed against the corner of yours, voice lulling you in gingerly, “No need to lie to yourself. Sometimes family is messy.”

You knew he was right about that, yet, the profound fact broke something within.

“Hey, I got you.” Gavin immediately took notice of your violently thrashing state of mind and pressed his lips right onto yours in quiet affirmation.

Your shaking hands shot up to find purchase with palms pressed against his shoulder blades, tugging at him in the still raging need to feel him more and your lover followed your demand; pushing himself into your wet and throbbing cunt in a slow thrust.

“Fuck…” You groaned out against his cheek before you hid your face in his chest, deeply chocolate-brown hairs tickling your chin.

“Too much?” It shot out of his mouth, Gavin being ready to pull back in this very second.

“No…you feel so fucking good.” Feeling him stretching you out like that coaxed a low hum from you as you savored the moment, reveling in being one with him.

“Hm’kay, how about that?” He bottomed out again, leaving just the swollen tip to rest within, teasing you before setting a slow yet heavy pace.

Gavin knew what he was doing to you - with you -, rendering your brain deliciously quiet with every rough roll of his hips, only the sound of skin slapping against filling your head as you allowed yourself to let go.

Dipping further down, Gavin drilled himself inside of you as far as he possible, shoving at your knees until they rested against his upper sides. He hit spots that you couldn’t possibly reach with just your fingers; not in that intensity and not whilst making you feel so fucking full.

“Love you so much.”, Gavin’s breathing started to get labored and a little shallow, “ ‘nd I know it’ll be okay. I’ll make it be okay.”

One of his hands slithered underneath your back, pulling you impossibly close, cradling you and effectively muffling your little cries and moans with his chest. Taking everything Gavin had to offer, you curled up against him, almost crawling into him if it wasn’t for the layers of skin and muscles not allowing you to, and from the very pit of your stomach you felt it rearing its ugly head again; dread.

A vile pang of worthlessness jolted through your chest and nothing could stop it from happening, making you wince against Gavin’s collarbone. It came as a high-pitched, ugly wail and Gavin sure knew you well enough to sense what venom your mind started spewing again.

“Nuh-uh, babe.”, He cooed, palm flat against the small of your back and never ceasing to hold you close, “You’re my favorite person ‘nd I don’t care if your family is too fricking dense to see how wonderful you are. I do.”

His pace eased up, thrusts coming softer and even slower than before, the dragged-out movements setting your body ablaze to counteract the ruckus that was avalanching through your thoughts.

“They don’t deserve getting to you like that, sweets. You’re simply too good for them and they know.” Gavin hummed to you, talking, guiding you through this truly awkward patch of arousal clashing with anxiousness until it was undeniable that the former one had taken over.

“Gavin…”, Your voice was nearly inaudible with your face smothered by his chest, “...need you.”

You couldn’t see it, but Gavin above you grinned, knowing he’d won against your head, for now at least, as he pushed both of you into the mattress, swiftly taking his hand from your back and instead throwing one of your ankles over his broad shoulder. He drilled himself into you with a kind of precision that you’d never encountered before, hitting spots that made you see white flickers behind closed eyes.

Your lover coaxed your body right to the edge and you felt the orgasm building with such ferocity that it had you trembling, everything else reduced to the rhythmic throbbing and clenching of your leaking cunt. You pulled him in, muscles rendering rigid and ready to snap at the very next thrust.

“Oh, fuck…” Gavin groaned, feeling you tightening around him and pushing him equally close to unloading himself as deep as possible within.

“Please, jus-”, You pleaded unto him to hold on for a tiny little moment longer, breath hiccuping in the back of your throat, “Shit-...fuck…”

You couldn’t even properly finish the sentence as thoroughly penetrated muscles started contracting, leading your whole body to flinch in a moment of blissed out ecstasy. For a fewheavenly seconds, your mind was quiet, the dark of your former thoughts getting shushed by a thrashing firework of synapses firing dopamine and oxitocyn in tandem.

Towering above you and pressing his hips into your ass as hard as he possibly could without seriously hurting you, Gavin grunted out and that noise alone made you throb once more for it was one of your favorite sounds to ever grace your ear. The sounds of Gavin unraveling nestled between your thighs in whatever shape or form filled you with a sense of pride and accomplishment but also love, sheer and unbridled love for the person you were with day in and day out.

“Ouw…” You muttered into the slowly forming space between your bodies as you pulled your face from his collarbone and realized just how hard you’d clawed your fingers into his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, y’know I like it when you do that.” He smiled down at you, gray eyes with just a hint of blue darting right at you with a gentle spark in them.

It was contagious, hopping right onto your face without a warning as your half-lidded gaze studied his features and eventually got hung up on the old, nearly entirely faded streak of scar tissue reaching from the bridge of his nose to the soft curve of his left cheek. You raised a hand to let your fingers trace the delicate skin, Gavin tilting his head into your palm at your gentle touch.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” That appeared to take Gavin by surprise because a faint hint of pinkish blush crept into his cheeks, one that wasn’t caused by physical effort.

“Naah- “ You interrupted him right there and then.

“I mean it, Gavin. You’re awfully handsome. Can’t even mope around in peace with having those pretty eyes on me.” It elicited a wide smile to form on his flushed lips that just proved your point.

“See? Can’t have a panic attack when you beam at me like that, love.” Your fingers wandered from his cheek to his head, eager to ruffle through the luscious and ruffled tufts of his soft hair.

“If that’s so I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse.” Gavin breathed deeply, openly enjoying how you toyed with his hair.

“Oh, how come?” You allowed yourself to tug a little teasingly, pulling a quiet moan from your lover.

“Well, I’m not only going to be all over you all day long with that stupid smile on my face, but I’m also going to serve you breakfast in bed.”, He leaned in closer, the tip of his nose almost touching yours, “And if you keep tugging at my hair like that, missy, I might just treat myself to breakfast in bed right about now.”

“You mean like that?” You were well aware that your body wasn’t ready for round two just yet, everything still overstimulated in the wake of a slowly fading orgasm, however, you couldn’t help but tug at his hair again, this time with a little more ferocity.

“Oh, don’t you cry to me, babe.”, Gavin mouthed out in a low groan, “You brought that onto yourself now.”

In a smooth and devilishly swift movement that told on him being a police detective after all, he pulled himself out of you, leaving you to ooze the amalgamation of your shared release onto the sheet below, but only enough to crawl back, seating himself on his heels and grab you by the thighs.

“Gavin!” You shrieked out, voice half gasp half laughter, as he yanked you with him, eyebrows cocking at you in that unapologetically arrogant way he mainly reserved for his colleagues.

“Nuh-uh!” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, ready to shove his head between your thighs the very next moment.

You squirmed in his grasp, the expected overstimulation rippling through your sore muscles as you felt the full width of his tongue lick against your soaked folds, tip parting them until it nudged against a still swollen clit.

His name fell from your trembling lips again and again but he wouldn’t budge and you knew that you got yourself into this position where pain and pleasure went hand in hand. The overstimulation had your muscles twitching but Gavin held you in an unyielding grasp as he lapped at your cunt like the man on a clear mission that he was; administering the threatened funishiment until you were nothing but whimpering putty in his hold.

As soon as the prickling discomfort of heavy overstimulation eased up, nothing but pure bliss filled every fiber, actively rendering any thought nill and void with Gavin gingerly closing his tender lips around your clit. He suckled carefully, attentive to not hurt you but to drive you wild just the right amount. You writhed, nearly thrashing and bucking your hips into his face whilst choked whines and whimpers stumbled out of your mouth helplessly.

Pushing you further and further got Gavin hard again, blood rushing down to a gradually stiffening cock but this wasn’t about him and he’d rather eat you out until his jaw rendered slack and sore before making it about him.

It was merely 10:30am by now and there would be more than enough time in this day to take you out for lunch and enjoy you on the sofa for dessert. Right now, all he wanted was to feel you getting off again, to feel it gushing onto his chin mixed with the salty taste of himself in between notes of the much sweeter you.

Just the thought of it caused his cock to twitch against his lower abdomen in a wet thud, maybe he’d really just stay like that for hours with you on his tongue, coaxing orgasms from your body until you couldn’t walk straight anymore, maybe. He’d like that, Gavin’s mind conjuring the mental image of you waddling to the bathroom on shaky legs as he doubled down and pushed this tongue into your clenching cunt.

The gentle stretch of his tongue had your head lolling into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, and lips agape to make way for a guttural groan to escape you. At this very moment, you could not give a single damn about anything besides Gavin fucking you on his tongue, the soft and nimble muscle massaging you from the inside whilst his nose flicked over your clit with every bop of his head.

The night before, you’d gone off on him leaving his things scattered everywhere all the time. You had berated him for at least a solid 15 minutes about how you’d grown very sick of his messy shit and how you were tired of cleaning up after him, however, right now all your anger had evaporated and you thought to yourself that you’d pack a hundred pairs of socks back together if he’d just never stop fucking you like this.

For a split second, you found yourself worried if you might have just dislocated his jaw with your thighs clenching down around his pretty face so hard as the second orgasm took you by storm. The new waves of spasming muscles rendered you incapable and tore the control over your body right from you, your insides throbbing around a still moving, still thrusting tongue that didn’t stop until Gavin had savored every last contraction.

You cried out to him, chanted his name like a prayer til your throat felt sore.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.”, Gavin huffed after releasing you from his grasp and pulling away from you to give you a chance to recover, “Can’t even describe how fucking nice it feels to have you all over me, babe.”

Through weary eyes, you squinted at your lover, chin glistening with your wetness and his thumb running along his bottom lip to capture a generous droplet before popping it into his mouth.

“You are such a horndog, Gavin Reed.” It rolled over your tongue in an amused gasp as you tried to prop yourself onto your elbows, muscles and bones feeling thoroughly wobbly.

“Guilty as charged but I don’t hear you complaining ‘bout it, hm?” With a wide grin on his face, Gavin tilted his head to the side, damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

“It’s not a complaint. It’s just a simple observation I was stating.” You smiled back.

“Uh-huh, alrighty then, how about I observe what’s in the fridge and make breakfast?”, Gavin wiped his face with the back of his hand, chest still rising and falling quickly to catch his breath, “Fancy a sandwich?”

“Fuck yeah!”, It just splurged out of you, post-orgasm munchies were certainly no joke with you this time, “Ham, cheese, chili sauce?”

“I see what I can do, chief.” He blew you a little kiss before grasping for his briefs.

[squiddy-god]

his ugly orange hair

This is a vent fix I wrote so please keep that in mind lol

CW : young! Konig (just joined the military) roommate reader, civilian reader, trans man reader, ftm reader, bad breakup, hurt comfort, panic attack,

1.4k

They had left. You had tried, Lord knows you tried. Again and again tears rolled down your face, cheeks red and eyes darkening with the slow flood of stains that painted you like glass after rain. Your chest heaved with the great weight of your lungs and the world, again… again… again again again Again Again AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN OVER AND OVER. until you choked on your breath and tongue, tears stinging until you gaged and sputtered. Left a hopeless sobbing puking mess on your bed. The bed was cold, soft quilted sheets like a prison. 

Several days were spent in a spiral of thoughts and flurries of emotions. You hadn't told your mom yet, didn't think you could bear to, but the long dragging scrape of your eyelids forced you to blink back tears. It had been a day and in cliche of a cliches you rifled the cabinets of your two bedroom apartment. Yours- you laughed, you had shared it with your roommate for 2 years now. A tall young man about 19 like you. Unlike your study abroad program that had accepted you on a small but feasible scholarship, he was a military man partnered with a pmc. Really it was his apartment. Over the years you grew close as friends when he was home for the time between deployments. You didn't even think in your delirium and haze that today was the day he'd get home. 

The sound of rustling cardboard and the gentle noises of bathroom products sliding against the shelfs of the small closet filled your ears. Half empty jar of manic panic sat temptingly in the back, behind body butters and discarded Colognes. Not what you where looking for. Finally you found it. Reaching in you grabbed a reflective box, iron brand permanent box dye. Better then splat red, you thought to yourself as you cut the box with your kitchen scissors. 

Looking down at your hands you felt the bile rise up in your chest, the burning in your eyes as you blinked back tears. Your hair had gotten longer, shaggy and slightly unkempt in the recent weeks leading up to the cat and mouse game that was scheduling a haircut. It brushed uncomfortably against your neck and that gnawing feeling from your childhood returned. It was like your face morphed in the mirror, hideously soft, lashes too long, and you wanted to look away. Lose ,bright shirt, the sleeves and neck cut off and the thing ruined by stains of black and red and blue. The dye shirt, a staple and testament to your love of this particular activity. 9pm bad decisions. Your chest is devoid of its usual bindings and it eats at you a little until you find yourself rifling to find a hair tie. 

Snip snip snip, clips of uneven hair fall until you are happy with the slightly uneven results and scraggly look it gives. It makes you smile.

First wash, then dry before you once again clumsily drag out a mixing bowl and brush fully determined to make this a masterpiece. But as you slipped on your blue gloves, once a pretty flower design now covered in blue and black from the last incident, you couldn't help but give into that child.the urge to dip your hands into the goopy mix. In goes the bleach, followed by a sloppy measure of vol. 20 developer. 

And the goop called your name- brush discarded as a mixing tool alone you slathered the goopy mix into the strands of your short hair, realizing in panic as you didn't mix enough. Struggling with your nemesis the gloves you cursed under bated breath before managing to get one off so you could once again arduously unscrew the caps and re-mix in another sloppy bit of measuring. 

The counter of the small bathroom was a mess. Neither you nor Konig were particularly neat- a mouth watch in the corner and on the other side a clear blue cup with two toothbrushes inside it. Behind the rim of the white sink were two razors, one missing its guard from frequent use and the other beginning to rust because you forgot to dry it. Sprawling in the mess was a small vial of your testosterone, and also the gell. Closest to the door was a box of tampons and- only now- vol. 20 developer. Ibuprofen next to Tylenol and a children's cough syrup that was God knows how old. Vix vapor rub and a tooth paste. Messy. The hair in the center of your head gradually turned a light blond as your sides and back didn't take the same. Disgruntled you at least hoped for a cool effect. Your scalped itched and nose burned at that familiar comforting smell that was hair bleach. Bowl and brush discarded into Water and sink, you braved the cold frigid touch of the shower head to rinse your bleach soaked hair. 

Should you be going into this right after bleaching and drying? No. But hesitation seems foreign to you as you take out a second brush and bowl, mixing the copper orange until your concoction looks about right. 

You look like a highlighter and it brings out all of your joy. You stare and wait as time ticks by with your head slathered in that ghastly orange. “Heilige Scheiße, sehr orangefarbener kleiner Herr” his voice heavy with his accent and light laughter. He towered in the doorway, arms raised as his large fingertips hug on the top of the frame. He leaned down slightly to watch you and your bright orange hair. Your position didn't go unnoticed by him, sitting on the floor by the tub and showering with a bowl of orange remnants on the toilet. It also didn't go unnoticed by the glassy look in your eyes or the almost imperceptible darkness forming around your waterline from the tears. Your chopped up hair and of course the slightly patchy orange. “I'll help wash your hair, ja Süße?” You smiled and he stalked off the few paces to his room in order to strip his tactical gear away. When he returned he wore a black compression shirt and plaid red lounge pants- the ones you got him last Christmas- and his mask, a nasty habit he picked up from his time serving. He almost never takes it off, when he has it off the gnawing feeling returns. That paranoia and anxious scratching that just won't quit. He doesn't go out much either, preferring to stay home where his face can be on display without anxiety overcoming him in that snippy aggression that seized him. You knew being at home in the little apartment would take a few day before the mask slipped off again, yet to your surprise as he kneeled down he pulled it off. His naturally ginger hair had once again lost much of the length it usually held, although somewhat more lax and not buzzed, you missed the usual small man bun that would hold back his deep auburn hair. His face was aged beyond its years by suffering and work, sharp angles and elegant defined slopes covered with the light scruff of his facial hair that he probably had not had a chance to shave in a few weeks. His cleft lip pulled slightly on the shape of his lips but blended in for the most part with the silver scars littering his face. Next to his mouth and along his jaw, under his eye on his cheek bone, threw his right eyebrow and most concentrated in the area of his mother and lower jaw the pale scars decorated his skin now don't peppered all across him. You smiled seeing his face, interesting and handsome. The latter a thought you beat down with a stick. “Want to tell me why you've been crying huh?” He asked as if he already knew. You nodded and squeaked out a strained yes before leaning over the tub to rinse the dye. His large palm cradled the back of your head as the cold water rushed past your eyes in a stream of orange. Thick fingers pressing ever so gently into your tender scalp scrubbing the remains of orange goop and leaving only one the patchy hair behind. He rubbed the dampening towel  against your hair as you explained to him you ex and how you where now on the hunt for a partner. He chuckled, that deep rumbling sound that was a endless source of delight. “kleiner Schlingel- you don't have to look far” he said confidently, yet his piercing green eyes normally devoid of much feeling searched yours for a sliver of Reassurance. 

You delivered, leaning against his massive shoulder as your ugly orange hair soaks his shirt. But he didn't mind. He loved your ugly orange hair. 

1.4k words

[bittersweetresilience]

author's commentary part one

now that we've reached the end of the fic, i will finally explain the beginning.

i named this piece after 大鱼, a song whose title means big fish. in the fic, jing yuan references void songs twice, which i imagine are the sounds that void song whales make. if you remember, yukong talks about these whales in her visitor dialogue. they swim freely through the stellar seas while their sibling species on the luofu has disappeared into history.

whale songs. dream fish. the call of the void. the language of longing. to me, renjing.

author's imagery only the most important bits

the sky is freedom and departure, and it is jing yuan, eventually. the sea is the dissolution of the self and the thing that will swallow him, and it is yingxing. the lightning is the portent of death, but also the electricity of being in love. the wine is the representation of shared wishes and togetherness and history. the starskiffs are the memorials of the past and the vessels into the empyrean. the fire is desire and destruction. the ink is the color of blade's hair and the sincerity of the letters jing yuan writes. the bandages and the iron are blade and the violence of his existence. the paper birds are the fragility of jing yuan's memories, which cannot be buried. the nightclothes are the vulnerability he will shed in the morning. the string is the red string of fate between renjing, but also the strings that tether jing yuan to the luofu and to his ending. the womb and the egg are the places of rebirth and the representation of returning to the beginning. the sun is the stellaron, and it is jing yuan before the sky and the sea consume him, and it is the end of the dream.

author's commentary part two

below is my translation of the song.

大鱼 big fish

海浪无声将夜幕深深淹没 the waves soundlessly submerge the night 漫过天空尽头的角落 rising over the corners of the edge of the sky 大鱼在梦境的缝隙里游过 the big fish swims in the rifts between dreams 凝望你沉睡的轮廓 watching your sleeping visage

看海天一色 听风起雨落 seeing the sky and the sea in one color, hearing the winds stir and the rain fall 执子手 吹散苍茫茫烟波 holding my son's hand, i blow away the hazy ripples of smoke 大鱼的翅膀 已经太辽阔 the wings of the big fish are already too vast 我松开 时间的绳索 i let go of the thread of time

怕你飞远去 怕你离我而去 afraid you'll fly far away, afraid you'll leave me 更怕你 永远停留在这里 even more afraid you'll stop here forever 每一滴泪水 都向你流淌去 every tear flows toward you 倒流��� 天空的海底 flowing backward into the ocean floor of the sky

(...)

看你飞远去 看你离我而去 seeing you fly far away, seeing you leave me 原来你生来就属于天际 so you were born to belong to the sky all along 每一滴泪水 都向你流淌去 every tear flows toward you 倒流回最初的相遇 flowing backward into our first meeting

without this song, this fic wouldn't exist. every part of the two was intimately interwoven. in particular, the line about the thread of time was what made me certain it would be a nonlinear narrative and the mixing of the sky and the sea was the image that created the entire story.

i further drew from the lyrics the most important imagery, the idea of ending on the beginning, and the son's hand as not only yanqing but everyone jing yuan leans on today in order to support himself against the weight of history. i drew the themes of dreams and reality, the dialogue on leaving, and the breathless, surreal atmosphere of melancholy and yearning. but in addition to all of that there is a double meaning in this song to me.

the first time you hear it, you think it's about jing yuan. and it is, of course. everything is about him. he is the holder, the sleeper, the one submerging. but by the last verse, you realize it is also blade, talking to him as he walks into scalegorge waterscape. trying and failing to call him back from within the endless dream.

both of them were born to belong to the sky. only one of them truly died in it.

author's dictionary

rèn, 刃, word for 'Blade' (lit. 'blade's edge') jiāngjūn, 将军, word for 'general' gānbēi, 干杯, word for 'cheers' (lit. 'dry cups') mèngdié, 梦蝶, word for the shortness of life (lit. 'butterfly dream') (this was not said explicitly but alluded to in the first dream) shīfù, 师父, word for 'martial master' bàitáng, 拜堂, word for the act of bowing to the heavens and the earth, the parents, and then each other in marriage (this is what the high-cloud quintet was joking about) yǐnyuè-jūn, 饮月君, word for 'Imbibitor Lunae' (lit. 'moon-drinker') nàihé qiáo, 奈何桥, word for the Bridge of Oblivion where souls drink Meng Po soup to forget the memories of their past life in preparation for reincarnation húlu, 葫芦, word for 'gourd' (this is what bailu uses to dispense medicine) qīng, 卿, word for 'senior official' (this is the honorific jing yuan uses for fu xuan in light of her position as master diviner) xiàngqí, 象棋, word for 'Chinese chess' (this is what starchess is based on, where my vision designates aurumatons as cannons, starskiffs as elephants, and cloud knights as pawns) gē, 哥, word for 'older brother' (this is a casual term of address for older men) shíhuǒ mèngshēn, 石火梦身, word for 'Starfall Reverie' (lit. 'sparks in stone, body in dream')

author's references

all of the xianzhou trailblaze missions. all of the relevant characters' character stories and companion missions. character dialogues. visitor dialogues. battle dialogues. battle mechanics. lightcones. relics. readables. item descriptions. character designs. character messages. the new trailblaze continuance. area maps. chinese voiceovers and their english translations. character trailers. combat guides. animated shorts. possibly more things i'm forgetting to mention. my wealth of insanity.

author's appreciation

wiki editors who came before me. people who upload youtube videos of different dubs of each trailblaze mission. spouses and ssswips. my beloved commenters. the composer of 大鱼. renjing.

[beebopboom]

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter

Yep! That’s right we are diving back into season 1, specifically with the last true witch, Agnes Nutter

This first part is mainly going to deal with what is in her book and is largely just a reference point. This will cover all the prophecies we know about and the images included in her book that I could find

Further analysis and theories will start in part two

-> which you can click here to read if you’d like

But other than that let’s just dive in

Prophecies 

Most of these we know and we see play out but there are a few stragglers- (which I’m not going to go into in this series just for the sole reason my very ill brain cannot handle them right now, maybe in the future)

Prophecy 1111: "An the Great Hound Sharl come and the Two Powers sharl watch in... Goeth where is its Master, Where the... Notte, and he shall name it, True to... and Hell shall flee it."

Prophecy 2214: "In December 1980, an Apple will arise no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes's machine, and good fortune will tend thy days."

Prophecy 2213: "I tell ye this, and I charge ye with my wordes. Four shall ride, and three shall ride the sky as two, and one shall ride in flames, and there shall be no stopping them. Not fish, nor rain, neither devil or angel. And ye shall be there also, Anathema."

Prophecy 2315: "Sum say It cometh in London Town, or New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, for the place is Taddes Fild, Stronge inne hys powr, he cometh like a knight innne the fief, he divideth the Worlde into 4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

Prophecy 3001: "Behind the Eagle's Neste, a great Ash hath fallen.

Prophecy 3007: "Prayers and hope ... / Brings forth sorrow and serpents reign / For the devil lucks in plain sight / Under an arc of pale moonlight."

Prophecy 3008: "When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold."

Prophecy 3009: "Seven who hold the Scepter shall be killed...of them shall become a saint."

Prophecy 3011: "The exer... and churches be laid open to ... oppressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruelty of foreigners. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his assistance, and trample their necks under his feet."

Prophecy 3012: "A shower of blood shall rain, and a raging famine shall afflict mankind. When these things happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his fatigue is over he shall recover his strength. Then shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon, and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down."

Prophecy 3017: "I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende and the Angells of Hell ride with them, And three shall Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four and the Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne sharl claim his Own."

Prophecy 3477: Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts en-join, there are othere fyres than mine; when the wynd blowethe the blos-soms, reach oute one to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and Whyte and Blacke and Pale approche to Peas is Our Professioune.

Prophecy 3817: "The Number of the Beast is in the Revelayting of Sainte John, call hym in Taddesfield. And ye will know hym by this sign, that when ye do call hym, the Lesser Beaste will walk upon his hind legs like unto a Dancing Bear."

Prophecy 3819: "When Orient's chariot inverted be, four wheles in the skye, a man with bruises be upon Youre Bedde, aching his hedd for willow fine, a manne who testeth with a pyn yette his hart be.

Prophecy 3988: "Whene menne of crocus come frome the Earth and green manne frome the Sky, yette ken not why, and Pluto's barres quitte the Light-ning castels, and sunken lands riseth, and Levia-than runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride; I tell you the ende draweth nigh."

Prophecy 3989: "He is not what he says he is."

Prophecy 4009: "Where the Hogg's back ends the young beast will take the world and Adam's line will end in fire and darkness."

Prophecy 4019: "When Orient's Chariot Inverted be a man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for willow fine."

Prophecy 4020: "Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another."

Prophecy 5001: "When the skies are crimson seen, then ye both must stand between the world of life and the world of war, where the iron bird lands no more."

Prophecy 5004: "When alle is sayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff, ye will be playing with fyre."

and that’s all of them I believe so let’s hop into the images I could find

Artworks

Starting out on the very first page we have this

Now I could not find an exact reference to this (I know starting out strong just stay with me) but between the examples I could find plus the four wings surrounding the head I would say this is depicting a Cherubim

This next one is from the actual book itself,

This is the piece, Saint John Devouring the Book by Albrecht Dürer (1498) which was published alongside 15 other woodcut illustrations in his book, Apocalypse, all covering events in Revelations

Now we are moving into pieces that we see in the little montage moments so the images are a little less clear

This piece, Saint Michael Slaying the Dragon, is by Martin Schongauger done sometime between 1480-1490

The next piece was actually a two for one which made my job a little easier and let this post only be one part *curse you image limit*

Chariot Vision, which is by Matthäus Merian depicting Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 1:5 (I couldn’t find when it was made -and now that I’m really looking at it the wheels are a little different but I’m confident enough to say it’s from the same story so the point will still stands)

and finally we have this one

With help from @gallup24 and some image manipulation finally found this piece, The Minde bould hare a fixed Eye On Objects, that are plac’d on High.

I believe to be published first along side other emblems by Gabrielis Rollenhagii in 1613 it was reprinted in 1635 with added hymns by George Wither in his emblem book

the hymn reads

A Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye

Wide open to the Sunne; by fome, was us’d,

When in an Emblem, they would fignifie

A Minde, which on Celeftiall Matters mus’d :

Implying, by this fame, that there is nought

Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can fee,

So fit an Object for manly thought,

As thofe things, which in Heav’n above us be.

God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)

A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,

(Among the reft of his peculiar Featares)

That he might lift his Countenance on high:

And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares

Within the outward Sights circumference)

That he might elevate above the Sphares,

The piercing Eye, of his tatelligence,

Then, higher, and fill higher ftrive to raife

His Contemplations Eyes, till they alcend

To gaine a glimple of thofe eternall Rayes,

To which all undepraved Spirits rend.

For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde

(Till fehly Thoughts corrupt it) to delpile

Thole Lufts whereto the Rody ftands inclin'd ;

And labour alwayes, upmard to arife.

Some, theretore, thought thofe Goblins which appeare

To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of fuch,

Who to thefe loathfome places doomed were,

Becaule, they doted on the Fleh too much.

But, ture weare, well-minded Men thall god

To live above, when others bide below.

(also if you want a really good breakdown of the publishers of, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, check out the one @i-only-ever-asked-questions posted one here)

————————————————————————

so yeah that’s all I could find and like I said this is mainly just a reference post

and yes I am aware that one very obvious piece is missing that seems to be made just for this book. I ran out of images so i’ll post it in a rb

[yronnia]

[Edit: check my reblog too, screenshots from the book kindly provided by spookydazechaos]

Agnesses Nyce and not so accurate prophecies with screenshots.

The full list below.

Some are unreadable (to me), so I inserted some X-es instead, where necessary. Interesting is, that Orient Chariot is mentioned twice, in prophecy nr. 3819 anf 4019.

Prophecy nr. 3012 is only one I cant allocate, dont tell me its about Aziraphale and Crowley, when Agness adressed Aziraphale by "angel" "thyf " and "principalitee", whats the bit about the dragons? Because they have wings?

1111- An the Great Hound sharl come

and the Two Powers sharl watch in V

Goeth Where is, Where they

Notte, and he sharl name it, True to l

and Hell sharl flee it

2213- I tell ye thyf, and I charge

ye with my wordes. Four shalle

ryde and Four shalle alfo ryde,

and Three sharl ryde the Skye

as twixt and Wonne shal ryde in

flames, and theyr shall be no stopping

themme, not fish, nor rayne nor rode, neirher

Deville nor Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also

2214- In December 1980 an Apple will arise no

man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes

thinking machine and good fortune

will tend thy days.

2315- Sumsay It cometh in Londo xxx or

New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, f xxx is

Taddes fild, Stronge inne hys powr, h xxxxke

a knight inee the fief, he divideth the xxx

4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

3001- Behinde the Eagles Neste a grate Ash hath fallen.

? 3007- Brings forth

For the devil lucks in plain sight.

Under an arc of pale moonlight.

3008- When that the angel readeth these

word of mine, in his shoppe of other mmennes

books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open

thyne eyes to understand. Open thyne eyes and rede

I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth

grow cold

3009- Seven, who hold the Scepther shall be killed,

xxx shall become a saint.

3011- xxThe?

and churces be laid open

opressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruen

foreginers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his

assistance and trample their necks under his feet

3012- A shower of blood shall rain and a ragging

famine shall afflict mankind. When dhese things

happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his

fatigue is over, he shall recover his strength. Then

shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon,

and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down.

3017- I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende, and

the Angells of Hell ride with them, And Three sharl

Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four, and the

Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne

sharl claim his Own.

3477- Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts

en- join, there are othere Fyres than mine, when

the wynd blowethe the blos- soms, reach oute one

to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and

Whyte and BLacke and Pale approache to Pear is

Our Professioune.

3819- When Orients chariot

inverted be, four wheles in the

skye, a man with bruises be upon

Youre Bedde, achinge his head

for willowfine, a manne who

resterh with a pyn yette his

hart be.

3988- Whene menne of crocus come frome the

Earth and green manne frome thee Sky, yette ken

not why, and Plutos barres quitte the light- ning

castels, and sunken landes riseth, and Levia- than

runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh

together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride, I tell

you the ende draweth nigh.

3989- He is not what he says he is

4009- Where the Hoggs back end the young

beast will take the world and Adams line will end

in fire and darkness.

4019- When Orients chariot inverted be a

man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for

willow fine

4020- Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts

enjoin, there are other fyres than myne, when the

whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

5001- When the skies are xxxx, then ye

both must stand between the world and life and the

world of wae, where the iron bird lands no more

5004- When alle is fayed and all is done, ye

must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff

ye will be playing with fyre

[janasrdhr]

Wait For Me - Geto Suguru

────────────────────────────────────────────

Warning(s): Blood, Mild Gore, Mentions of Death, Character Death

────────────────────────────────────────────

The Suguru you once knew no longer exists.

Blood trickles onto the floor, slow and deliberate, like a steady rain. The sharp scent of iron fills the icy air, making the atmosphere almost unbearable under the weight of his piercing gaze.

Your stomach churns. Bile rises, pressing against your tongue as you struggle to contain it. The sight before you is gruesome, the body mangled beyond recognition.

You’re frozen in place, unable to react, as Suguru ruthlessly slays a civilian—someone you once called a friend—right in front of you.

He’s like a predator, his eyes locked on you with a chilling, silent warning. They're devoid of the warmth that used to watch over you. The kindness that once made you feel safe is gone, replaced by a ruthless emptiness.

Blood stains your hands, dripping through the gaps of your fingers. Suguru kneels before you, indifferent to the thick, red liquid seeping into his black robes. His calloused fingers reach for your face, thumb and forefinger pinching your cheek with enough force to demand your full attention.

“I’ve warned you time and time again,” he murmurs, his voice as cold and final as death itself. No longer does he tease you with playful jabs or affectionate words that used to warm your heart like a fire on a cold night. “Stay away from them.”

This is your fault, Suguru tells you. You’re the one to blame for disobeying him. And now, look where it has led you. You stay silent, lips parted and trembling, your soaked body still as you stare ahead, the light gone from your eyes.

His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. His touch is cold. It's like the death of winter biting at your skin, and it no longer contains a loving and comforting warmth.

“Why can't you listen to me... you stubborn woman.” His voice is cruel and callous. His dark eyes bore into your own with a deep-seated anger. You let your tired eyes close, the familiar nickname echoing in your mind, once used in moments of comfort and joy, and now…

He grips your chin, forcing you to open your eyes.

“Don't you dare look away from me.” There is no affection in his voice. It’s dark. Cold. It feels more like a warning. “Open your eyes.”

He’s not asking. It’s an order. It’s a command.

You flinch ever so slightly, your lifeless eyes meeting his with a bleak, empty stare.

His grip on your chin tightens, but his expression softens ever so slightly at your dull reaction. There is a subtle change in his gaze as he notes your lifeless stare. He releases his hold on your face and instead, he grabs your shoulders tightly, pulling you up to your feet. He holds you steady, his grip is firm and unyielding.

“Look at you...” His voice is cold, but there is a hint of pity in his tone. “You disgust me."

You let out a dry, humorless chuckle, your chapped lips cracking into a faint grin.

He pauses for a moment, his grip on your shoulders tightening further as he takes in your broken grin. He hates it—hates how your smile was no longer filled with the warmth of joy or the sweet happiness he has grown adore seeing. No.

No, this was worse. So so much worse.

His lips pull into a frown, his expression darkening further. “What's so funny?” Suguru's voice is filled with disdain. His tone sharp and biting.

You let your laughter grow, the sound cutting through the rain as you tip your head back, the eerie echoes ringing out into the night.

Laughter.

Of all things—Laughter.

Suguru has never hated something more.

He grabs your chin once more, this time with a bit more force, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Enough.” His voice seethes with a cold fury. “The same eyes I once loved now look at me with nothing but disdain. The same lips I used to yearn for now call me disgusting. The same face I never grew tired of seeing now looks like it wants to tear my heart out. The person I fell so deeply in love with now wishes I were dead. It's almost funny, isn’t it?”

His grip on your chin grows tighter as you speak, his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched. The anger within him boils.

Those were the same eyes that once looked at you with fondness and adoration, the same lips that whispered affection and love, the same face that once gave you warmth and comfort. How ironic to see the very person who used to seek your company now wanting to take your life.

He's quiet. The only thing that is heard is the pouring rain, and his heavy exhale.

“Stop your nonsense,” Suguru warns.

“Kill me, Suguru,” you say, your voice steady, stripped of emotion.

His mouth opens. Hesitates. He's caught off-guard, surprised by your words. For the first time in a while, he is at a loss for words.

His dark eyes stare at you intently, his grip on your chin loosening. “...What?” Suguru's voice is low and quiet. A warning, but there is a hint of disbelief in it.

“You've killed me over and over, but just end it for good this time.”

His grip falls from your chin, your words strike him like a cold dagger.

Suguru remains silence, his expression guarded, his eyes cold and emotionless. His chest heaves.

“You...” He starts, his voice is harsh. “You don't know what you're saying.”

His expression softens. A flicker of hesitation can be seen in his eyes. “You... You don't really want that.”

“I do. I want you to kill me, Suguru. I want it to be you.”

“No.”

His response is immediate. Sharp. The word spoken with such conviction, such refusal, that you could almost hear the fear in his tone.

He clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “I'm never going to kill you.”

Suguru's voice is filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Why... Why would you ask me for that?”

“Why wouldn't I?” you ask, your tone genuine as you look at him with clear determination.

His expression shifts again, replaced by confusion and disbelief. He doesn't understand. How can you not see the weight of your request?

Suguru's voice rises, his anger and frustration evident in his tone. “Why would you, damn it?!”

He grabs your shoulders tightly once more, shaking you. As if trying to bring you back to your sense--back to him. His voice is filled with both desperation and disbelief.

“Why would you ask me to kill you? Answer me.”

You smile softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I no longer have a reason to live. Not without you.”

His expression falters for a moment, a small crack. Vulnerability.

Suguru's grip on your shoulders tighten, almost painful, but he keeps his hold on you.

“No- you-” He starts, his voice hoarse. “You can't-”

He pauses, taking in your closed eyes and gentle smile. All the anger and frustration that resided within him vanishes, replacing his expression with an unusual sense of fear.

“You...” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “...You really mean it. Don't you?”

You open your eyes, your smile lingering as you meet his gaze earnestly.

“Do you remember what I told you when we were younger?”

“Whenever you're in doubt, just look into my eyes. The answer will always be there.”

His eyes grow wide, the realization hits him like a bolt of lightning. The old memory resurfaces, almost as if it was just yesterday.

The warmth of his expression is gone, replaced with a mix of despair and heartbreak. His breathing is ragged, and his hands tremble as they remain firmly gripped on your shoulder.

Suguru remembers you so well. How can he not?

His eyes flicker as he gazes into your eyes. He swallows.

“How... How can you ask me to do something I can't do?!”

You keep smiling as you place your cold, icy hand on his cheek.

“You can. You will.”

His breath hitches, his eyes wide as he feels your cold touch on his cheek. It's so foreign. He's grown so used to the warmth.

Suguru grabs your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his face. “You don't know what you're asking.”

He whispers, his tone is soft. A small plea for you to stop. “You-”

He pauses. His eyes linger on you—on your smile—on your lifeless eyes—on your cold touch.

“We both know what I want, Suguru,” you say firmly, meeting his gaze. “Consider this my last wish from you.”

The last wish. How can he do this when all he ever wanted was for your happiness?

Suguru's grip on your wrist tightened. “No.”

He shakes his head, his voice hoarse. “I told you... I told you I'm not going to kill you.”

“If you love me, you'll do this,” you say, tone steady.

“You know I do.”

His voice cracks and quivers, and he lets out a scoff as he holds back the tears.

“You know I do love you, but I can't do this. I can't...”

His expression breaks, filled with both pain and grief. “You're asking for too much.”

You chuckle dryly, letting your hand drop. “You can't even do this one thing for me, Suguru?”

The silence is deafening. The rain feels heavier. The pressure feels heavier.

His expression wavers, his chest heaving. The anger in is tone vanishes, replaced by a mixture of resignation and despair.

Suguru grips your shoulders tightly once more, his voice low and hoarse.

“...Don't make me do this, please. Please.”

“I died the moment you left me, Suguru. When you told me I disgusted you, it felt like a knife drove straight into my heart. I can never live with that.”

Oh how the words tore through him like a knife to the gut.

His hold on your shoulder starts to tremble. He hates it—hates how your words affect him. Hates how it makes him question his own choices.

Suguru's gaze softens as his eyes flick around your face, memorizing the features that he's grown to love. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Please, don't do this to me.”

“I want you to do this because I love you, Suguru.”

His breath hitches as you speak, his heart skips a beat. Those three words—those god damn three words he has been hearing since the beginning—they sting, they hurt.

Suguru's expression starts to crumble. He's not one to show his vulnerability openly, but he's losing the battle inside.

His voice is filled with pain. “You can't say that. Not now.”

“I can’t live without you, Suguru. Please, just make this end.”

The grip on your shoulder tightened, and his jaw clenched tightly as he fights back the emotions welling within him.

Suguru's breath hitches, he stares at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of despair and pain.

His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “...This is all my fault.”

You stay silent for a moment before wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes closing as the rain continues to pour over you both.

He freezes, his body goes rigid at your sudden embrace. Memories of how you used to hug him floods his mind.

You're so cold.

His breath stutters, and he can feel his chest tighten. It almost aches, as if it's fighting against the lump that has formed in his throat.

His heart hurts, and it aches, and it breaks.

Almost on reflex, he wraps his arms around your waist, his grip is firm, his touch desperate.

“It hurts. So much,” you say, your voice strained.

His body shakes, his grip on you is almost like he's holding onto you for dear life.

Suguru's voice is strained, his words heavy as he holds you desperately, almost as if he needs you to hold him together.

“I know... I know.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath coming out as shuddering exhale. The rain continues to pour down on you, mixing with the tear that starts to slide down his cheek.

“I hope you know how deeply you were loved and how much we miss you each and every day.”

His body tenses at your words, his arms tighten around you.

“Don't do this.” He whispers hoarsely, his voice gruff with both despair and pain. “Don't... don't say things like that.”

Suguru pulls away from your neck, his eyes locking onto yours. His face is etched with guilt and remorse, and there is pain, oh god so much pain in his eyes.

You take his hands and gently place them on your cheeks. “I want to take my last breath in your arms… just give me that peace.”

His hands trembles against your cheek as it rests against your cold skin. So cold as if winter has consumed every part of your body.

Suguru's eyes fall on you. How could you ask something so tragic.

He hesitates, his breath hitches. The lump in his throat grows bigger.

“This... This isn't how it's supposed to go.”

“I-… I know, but life just couldn't stand how good we were,” you say, chuckling softly as your eyes lift to the sky.

Those words stung.

His eyes follow yours as you raised your gaze to the sky, his expression darkens as the rain continues to fall around you.

His hand on your cheek moves to your chin, gently forcing you to look back at him once more.

“Why...?”

His voice is hoarse, filled with both pain and despair.

“Because you're the last thing I want to see. If not in bed, beside each other in your embrace under the moonlight, then here, where you still look as beautiful as I remember.”

He looks at you. Really looks at you.

His jaw clenches as he processes your words. His eyes darkened, his breath grew heavier.

Suguru's mind is conflicted, but you always did say that you see through him and know what he's thinking.

His grip on your chin tightens, his voice is low and hoarse.

“You know... I can't say no to you, right?”

You break into a soft smile, nodding.

His heart aches at the sight of that smile. How he missed it so.

Suguru's expression hardens as he stares at you, his eyes flick around your face one more time, memorizing your features—again—one last time.

“I'll see you then,” you say, your voice steady. “I'll always be waiting, Sugu.”

His heart skips a beat, he falters for a moment.

Suguru's expression changes into something you've never seen from him before. A mixture of pain, love, and acceptance.

He nods, his hand falls from your chin and returns to your waist, his touch is firm, desperate—as if seeking the warmth and life that once flowed through you.

His eyes linger at you. Every feature of your face, the way the water drips down your skin, it's almost haunting, as if every moment spent is just his last memory of you.

His grip on your waist tightens as his hand move to grip the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling your body flush against his.

“I love you, you know that?”

You let out a shaky sigh, resting your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat one last time. The steady rhythm lulls you to sleep as your eyes flutter closed.

The feel of your warm breath against his chest, the weight of your head, it makes his heart ache and break.

But he endures.

He holds you like the most precious thing in the world, his fingers threading through your hair, his face buries into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent—memorizing it so that he'll never forget.

Suguru closes his eyes, his breath ragged and heavy.

“Wait for me.”

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masterlist - anime masterlist

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[mncxbe]

Jimmy,Jimmy cocoa puff☆

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡/ slice of life/ Dazai in Greece <little warning for mentions of scars> kinktober is here so ofc I serve Dazai fluff

Escapism.

That's how this could be called. On a deserted beach somewhere in Greece, far away from home. With you under a cheap umbrella bought from a store nearby.

Colours seemed to have been sucked out of the world: the jade green and deep blue of the sea and the sky above were replaced by silver grey. Even the golden sand had a muted colour, the shade of oat milk, and rain poured down from the clouds; steadily, never ending.

But you... you were as radiant as always. Even now in this pearly light your face was bathed in glow.

Your features stood out on the dulled background. The mocha brown of your hair and eyes; the latter dotted with specs of gold, your tiger stripe red nail polish (a silly design you picked as a joke after your visit to the Kanazawa Gardens back in Yokohama, two weeks ago) and the charcoal black of your bathing suit were all so vivid.

He watched as you rose a bottle of green tea to your lips and took a sip.

"So... what do we do now?" you asked suddenly, your words muffled by the sound of falling rain.

Dazai only shrugged in response, gaze scanning his suroundings. The sky seemed to melt into the sea before his eyes, lines of droplets connecting the above and below, forming a capsule around the two of you. And behind, the rocky road that went back to town, which seemed to be flooding.

"Leaving certainly isn't an option" he replied, pointing at the swamped road and you turned your head to take a look; letting out a disappointed huff.

"Guess we gotta stay here for a while."

You moved your deckchair closer to his in attempt to shelter yourself from the rain and reached for your bag, checking to see if your belongings were still dry.

Dazai watched your every movement the same way an artist looks at his muse; with adoration, longing and just a shadow of sadness. Still, he couldn't deny how ironic this whole situation was:

"Don't let the rain upset you bella. It'll pass soon" he cooed "Plus. It could've started raining when we were in town or something."

"Oh spare me love" you chuckled in response. "It's cold and my book and clothes got wet"

Despite your complains you didn't seem mad at all. There was a certain aura of peace surrounding you at all times, especially now.

"It is beautiful tho." you added, pointing a manicured finger towards the horizon "It's like the world caved in and now it's just us left."

The brunette reached for your hand and took it in his own, softly running his thumb over your knuckles. "That wouldn't be bad at all actually"

Suddenly you got up from your chair at tip-toed towards the water, pulling Dazai after you. Your boyfriend's lips curled into a playful smile as you stepped into the water.

"Bella... you know I can't-"

"Shut up 'same. Your bandages are gonna get wet from the rain anyway. Come on"

And indeed, the humid air and droplets of rain made his loose shirt stick to his skin and he felt his bandages dampen.

And so he followed you into the grey sea, water rising around the two of you with each step you took. Ankel level, knee high, to your thighs and hips and soon enough waist. Still, you didn't stop until you were almost completely submerged.

Just then you turned to face him, hair moist and sticking up from place to place, a wide smile stretched on your lips. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pulled yourself closer to him as his hands instinctively came to rest on your plush hips.

Before he got a chance to say anything you closed your eyes and tiled your head back, allowing the cold rain to dapple your skin.

And oh how beautiful you looked. In this very moment Dazai stopped paying attention to his slowly loosening bandages, to the cold breeze that made his skin tingle; it was only you and him now.

Soon enough you began humming a tune, a nostalgic melody he recognized but couldn't remember the name of. Lulled by your song he closed his eyes, lowering his forehead to yours.

Sweet minutes have passed like this, the two of you completely absorbed in one another until Dazai finally opened his eyes to meet your own and his heart sank.

Your expression conveyed an image of pure adoration and devotion which made his blood rush to his cheeks, a soft blush tinting his face.

"What you looking at me like that for?" he teased, doing his best to cover up his emotions but failing miserably.

"Like what?" you responded in the same mischevious tone, nails lightly grazing the back of his neck.

Dazai sighed deeply, inching closer to you until his lips were touching yours and he whispered.

"Like you love me"

You smiled against his lips. "Well I do love you Osamu". You spoked those words in a matter of fact way, like it was the most natural and obvious thing in existence. But they meant so much to him. No one had told him they loved him. Ever.

Closing the distance between you your boyfriend pulled you in for a gentle kiss, cold lips lingering against your own as he uttered a hushed "I love you too Y/N"; like a promise made to the Gods.

Just then a loud rumble sounded from somewhere above, causing you to pull away and swiftly swim towards the shore.

"Shit. Maybe we should get out of the water. I heard people got struck by lightning here."

"There's no way that happened." he chuckled but followed you close by.

"I mean technically it could happen. It's an open space"

"Whatever you say bella." he said back, amused by your pointless worries.

When you got back to the beach Dazai wrapped a towel around your bare shoulders and began pulling at the ends of his unraveled bandages.

"Guess that's it for them"

You watch him pull the soaked strings of cloth through the holes of his sleeve and did your best not to look at his skin which was painfully visible through the translucent material of his shirt.

Instead you handed him a towel and reached for the bottle of green tea.

"Want some too?" you asked when he took a seat on his chair, towel draped over his shoulders.

"Sure"

The rain showed no signs of stopping so you simply laid back and made yourself comfortable in the mesh fabric of your chair, gaze lost somewhere in the distance.

Dazai took a sip of the tea, the taste of synthetic sweetener and fresh tea lingering on his tongue.

He watched you watch sea, the horizon, the mass of grey that your world was and wished, for only a split second, that this moment would last forever. That the two of you could spend the rest of eternity on this forgotten beach, far away from your actual life, in this sanctuary of nature.

And by the look in your eyes when you finally turned to face him, he could tell that you wished for the same thing.

[firstelevens]

sambucus for demon summoning please

27. demon summoning

Lightning cracks across the sky and Sam winces as the rain gets heavier, glad that he made it back home before the worst of the storm rolled in. When Sarah had asked him to please pick up some supplies for the family's upcoming Halloween party, his quick trip into New Orleans had turned into an all day affair.

Not that Sam minds, really: he missed the last couple Halloweens, between Cap duty and being Blipped out of existence, so he's looking forward to making up for it this year. He even asked not to be on call for the day, so barring any universe-threatening catastrophes, he shouldn't miss a thing.

With his plans for an evening run decidedly rained out, Sam turns his attention to the bags of decorations that he'd picked up from town, deciding that the responsible thing to do would be checking to make sure nothing was damaged in the car. If the bags of candy make their way out along with the decorations, that's just because he wanted to check that they hadn't melted in the heat.

Sam is just lifting a ceramic candle holder--skull shaped, naturally--out of its bag when he feels a sharp but brief pain on his palm, a stinging sensation lingering in its wake. It's not until he sets down the candle holder and sees red at its base that he even realizes what happened: there must have been a chip somewhere on the base, and it cut his hand when he went to lift it up.

It doesn't seem serious, but as he looks at his palm, he sees that it was deep enough for some blood to well up, and as he turns his hand to examine the cut closer, a drop of it falls from his palm. He'd be worried about his carpet, but he's right above the coffee table, so the blood lands on the kitschy Halloween-themed kerchief that one of the stores had thrown in for free with his purchase.

Sam pulls a tissue from the box on the table to press against the cut, but just before he can turn to find his first aid kit, there's a boom that rattles the very walls of the house. Smoke is rising from the scrap of fabric on the coffee table, and suddenly Sam's nose is filled with the smell of burning leaves and the sharp cold of winter, of gunpowder and hot iron.

He would be reaching for the fire extinguisher, or his phone, or something, if the smoke hadn't dissolved in what Sam could only describe as a reverse tornado, leaving in its place a--

Well, Sam would call him a man, except that most men that Sam knows don't have horns. Or a tail. Or the ability to poof into places they most certainly have never been before. He's in a suit, though--all black, three pieces, tailored if Sam had to guess--so wherever this guy comes from, he knows what a person should look like.

It should be terrifying. It's certainly unsettling. But Sam's Captain America, dammit. He completed all his extraterrestrial interaction training modules, and passed the assessments on the first try. And though he knows Redwing has already clocked the presence of an unknown party inside the house and is ready to call for help, he also knows that leading with aggression is never a good idea, even if someone has all the appearances of a threat.

"Hello," he says, trying to project the same steady confidence that he does at press conferences. "My name is Sam, and you're inside my home right now. Do you know how you got here?"

The not-quite-man doesn't say anything, just tilts his head and looks Sam up and down, his blue eyes sharp and attentive. If he didn't know any better, Sam would say there was a smirk on his handsome face.

He tries again, bringing a hand up to his chest. "Sam," he says slowly, gesturing to himself. "What's your name?"

"Nice to meet you, Sam," comes the reply, in a drawling, somehow familiar accent. "That's a real funny question, by the way."

"What, they don't ask peoples' names where you're from?"

A snort. He crosses his arms and Sam notices for the first time that his hands are gloved. "Oh, my kind ask for names plenty. I meant you asking how I got here."

"How's that funny?" asks Sam, narrowing his eyes. Part of him is already debating what'll be more annoying, continuing this conversation or inevitably dealing with Dr. Strange when it goes south.

"Because you called me here," the guy says, and begins to look around. "Where is here, by the way?"

Sam opens his mouth to reply, but cuts himself off when the guy tilts his head towards the nearest window, like he's listening out for something. Between the storm and the double glazing, Sam almost tells him that it's hopeless, except then:

"Bullfrogs. Rain. Marshland," says the guy. Then he sniffs the air, and instead of describing the muffins that Sam baked, he says, "Magnolias and bald cypress. We're in Louisiana. I don't think I've been here before."

That, for whatever reason, is the final straw. "Okay," says Sam. "This is over now. I don't know if Joaquín set up this prank, or Rhodey, or if this is Thor's brother who's dead but not actually, but...whatever this is, it's over now. Get out of my house."

Suit guy looks over at Sam again, almost with that same lazy, assessing gaze from before, except that his eyes are sharper now. "This isn't a prank," he says. "How do you not know that when you're the one who just summoned a demon?"

"I did fucking what now?"

With an eye roll, the guy leans over and lifts the kerchief from the coffee table, gingerly pinched between his gloved fingers. There are a few drops of blood on it, almost dead center.

"You spilled your blood on a rune of binding," says the guy, frustration in his voice now. He points to a symbol on the fabric. "This literally has my name on it. It binds me to the summoner. You summoned me and bound me here."

"I didn't even draw those," says Sam. "I got that thing for free at some tourist trap. Maybe it was an accident."

"This paint was made of ground bones and cypress ash and earth from this city," he snaps, and suddenly the room feels just a little bit warmer. "Do you usually mix custom paint with ritual ingredients for an accident?"

Sam wants to brush him off, but now that he thinks about it, the young woman at the counter had dropped the kerchief into his bag without asking. She'd only explained herself when he asked about it, and though she'd said they were giving them to all the customers, he doesn't remember seeing any more anywhere in the store.

"Fine," says Sam. "Let's say I believe that you're a demon and somehow I summoned you. I don't want you around anymore. You're un-summoned. You can leave."

The--ugh, it hurts to say even inside his head--demon just blinks at Sam, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Shut up," Sam says. "I don't know how this shit works."

"Clearly," says demon guy. "Otherwise you wouldn't have been tricked into summoning an arch-fiend, now would you?"

"Stop saying that like it's a normal thing. I don't care where you're from. That's not a normal thing here."

"What, you were prepared for me to be an alien, but summoning a demon is too far?"

Sam grits his teeth. "Yes."

"Well, don't worry about getting used to it," says the--what did he call himself? arch-fiend? "Once I find this shop and whoever made these runes, this will all be over."

"I'm not letting you kill someone," Sam says immediately. "I don't care what she did. We'll figure out a way to deal with her, or get her to reverse it, but you're not killing her just for revenge."

For the first time, Sam's new demon friend glares at him, and suddenly it's a whole lot easier to believe that he's from somewhere infernal. "I wasn't going to kill her," he says, his voice soft but scarier for it. "I don't do that. But I can be...persuasive when I want to be. I thought I might try asking nicely."

Sam snorts. "Is that something you know how to do?"

The demon raises an eyebrow at Sam. "You want to find out?"

The room is still a little warm. Sam moves to open a window, not looking back at his houseguest until he's felt some cool air on his face. "I want to learn whatever it is I have to learn to get you out of my hair," says Sam. "I don't have time to keep a pet demon; I already have President Ross on my ass about what it means to be Captain America, and--"

"What did you say?" asks the demon, his eyes narrowed. "Did you just say Captain America?"

"Yeah," says Sam, pointing to where the shield rests against the couch. "I've been Cap for a year now."

For the first time since he materialized in Sam's living room, the demon looks troubled. "But it was someone before you?"

"Yeah," says Sam. "My best friend. Why?"

But the demon just shakes his head. "Just sounded familiar, is all. We have more important things to deal with."

"Well, nobody's dealing with those things at 7 PM in a tropical storm," says Sam. "And I'm starving, so I'm gonna eat. Do demons eat? You want some?"

The demon shakes his head. "Don't trouble yourself. You didn't mean to summon me; I'm not going to impose."

"Man, you really haven't been down here before, huh?" says Sam, crossing into the kitchen. He reaches up to open the cabinet for plates, then hisses in pain, remembering the cut on his palm only after it pulls sharply. "Shit. Forgot about that."

"Oh," says the demon. "Here, let me."

And Sam, for whatever reason, thinks that he's talking about the dishes. Instead, when he takes a few steps closer, the demon murmurs some words and waves a hand, and Sam feels heat wrap around his injured palm, the warmth of a fire just before it gets too hot. After a few seconds, the feeling goes away, and when Sam looks down at his palm, it's like there was never a cut there to begin with.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam can see the demon looking entirely too amused by what must be a look of complete shock on Sam's face. The only way he knows to move past it is to wash his hands at the sink, in spite of the lack of blood, and finish grabbing the plates from the cabinet.

"Grab a seat," he says. "And, uh- thank you..."

He trails off expectantly, waiting for a name, which he's just now realizing he never got. The demon looks at him for a moment, those blue eyes still just a little too canny.

"Bucky," he finally says. "Call me Bucky."