#Slow Flame

[mimiyanna]

Am I delusional? Yeah! Of course I am, have you SEEN the kinds of things I post?? But that’s hot right? That’s what the people are into these days, RIGHT??

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: After parapet, Aaric discovers his best friend followed him to Basgiath. (set during Iron Flame, no Onyx Storm spoilers)

Warnings: angst, swearing, Aaric POV

Author’s Note: onyx storm made me write fanfic & there isn’t enough Aaric fic out there

Posted on AO3

Part Two

Masterlist

————

-Conscription Day-

Oh, shit.

Aaric’s eyes widen as he watches the last person he’d ever expect to see at Basgiath storm across the courtyard.

No. Please, Zihnal, let it be anyone but her.

A prayer to the god of luck feels like a waste as he senses his imminent doom the closer she gets. Waves of rage seep off her like a tidal wave, forcing cadets to dive quickly out of her way.

Aaric tries to blink the image away, hoping this isn’t real. Maybe the exhaustion of climbing those never-ending stairs and crossing the parapet did something to his mind. This has to be a hallucination.

“You fucking idiot!” She’s suddenly before him, shoving him hard against the stone column. He barely registers the impact as he stares down at her, feeling her erratic breathing against his chest. He’s so focused on how she’s standing in front of him that he misses her hand sailing towards his face before it’s too late. The immediate, harsh slap swings his head to the side.

“I’m going to kill you,” she seethes.

Yep. This is real. And that is definitely who he thinks it is.

Working his jaw as the sting reverberates across his skin, he turns back to face her.

Y/N. She’s here. She’s actually here. By the looks of it, she made it across the parapet. Which means…

Aaric would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel the sudden weight of dread crushing him as he stares at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

If he thought he knew what Y/N was like when she was angry, it’s nothing compared to the fury rising in her eyes.

“Are you kidding me?! What am I doing here?” She shakes her head, gripping his leathers as she crowds closer. “You’re an arrogant asshole if you thought you could disappear so easily. If you think, for one damn second, that I would let you do this alone, Cam-“

Aaric quickly slides his hand over her mouth to stop her. Noticing the crowd around them, he rushes to pull her away from prying eyes. With one hand around her mouth and the other arm around her waist, he pulls her behind the column. She begins to yell at him from beneath his hand before bucking and kicking as he makes his way down the corridor. Aaric curses as he holds her tighter against his chest. This is starting to look way worse than he hoped it would as he drags her away from the courtyard.

When he finds a secluded alcove away from everyone, teeth sink into the skin of his palm.

“Fuck!” He pulls his hand away with a hiss, stepping back as she twists out of his reach. “You bit me!”

“You were practically kidnapping me!”

Aaric rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

She raises an offending brow. “I’m dramatic? Says the prince who just up and left in the middle of the night to fulfill some childish fantasy that he can go get himself a dragon and some fancy magic to save the kingdom. Really?”

He stiffens. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She laughs, cold and bitter. “Don’t I? I’m pretty sure I know you better than anyone. Hell, maybe even better than yourself.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms. “Your father is going try and find you. He’ll send everyone, tear this place apart-“

“No. He won’t.” His jaw flexes as he glances around, ensuring no one can hear them. “He might try, but it won’t matter. He can’t do anything. Especially after threshing.”

Her face blanches at the words. “Threshing… Oh gods, Cam.” She falls back against the wall, her earlier anger slowly dissipating. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

A wave of voices rises from around the corner, making Aaric step closer to her. Once they drift further away, he relaxes. Blowing out the breath he held, he stares into the eyes of the one person on this damn continent that he can trust. The one person he would never ask to join him. The one person he chose to lie to, to manipulate and betray in order to do what was necessary.

“I have to do this.”

The confession weighs heavily in his sternum. Solidifying his rattled nerves. The guilt he’s collected over the years still eats away at him, but now, without a shadow of a doubt, he knows this is what he’s meant to do. The second he stepped onto the stone parapet, he knew he had to be here. Cowering in the palace wouldn’t do anything. Being here, training, fighting, working to help their kingdom- it’s all he can do.

Her eyes soften from his words as if she can hear his thoughts. Understanding his worries and doubts, as she always has. The two of them grew up alongside one another. Her father is a trusted advisor to the throne, allowing him the privilege to have his family join him at the palace. Aaric has known her for as long as he can remember. And just like when they were kids running around the palace gardens, he’d do anything for her. Except for stay as far away from Basgiath as possible.

Of course she knew he’d come here. She wasn’t lying when she said she knew him better than anyone. It’s something he now wished wasn’t true. Her being here was proof of it. By the looks of her fighting leathers that outlined the dips and curves of her figure, she planned on this.

His chest warms at the thought, but he tries to push down the overwhelming need to touch her. He’s suddenly all-too-aware of how close they’re standing. How much his fingers itch to reach out and hold her. To hide her from all of this and keep her safe.

The thought of her following him down this path scares him more than his father finding him.

“Go home,” he quickly steps away. The longer he stands near her, the more she’ll convince him he’s making a mistake. He can’t let that happen.

The softening of her features is gone. The sympathy she was feeling is now replaced with that earlier anger. She clenches her jaw as she stands straight, glaring up at him.

“I’m staying. I crossed the parapet. I deserve to be here just as much as you do.”

Aaric shakes his head. “You can’t-“

“I can and I am.” She steps into his personal space again, and for a moment, he wonders if she’ll slap him again. A strange, small part of him wants her to. He shuts that thought down immediately.

��If you want to go be some sort savior of Navarre for your ridiculous hero complex, fine. You’re a grown man. You can do whatever you want. Especially as the prince,” she narrows her eyes. “But I’ll be damn sure if you’re gonna try to play the hero, I’m gonna make sure you don’t kill yourself doing it. Someone has to.”

He flinches. She must’ve caught the reaction since her face softens, as well as her tone.

“I’d never let you go through this alone, Cam. You know that.”

Flashes of whispered promises under a rose trellis as they pricked the skin of their palms come to the forefront of his mind. Their blood welled in their tiny hands as they made vows to one another. To always have each other’s back. To always be there for each other, no matter the cost.

The scar on his palm burns as he watches her storm past him, determination setting her shoulders straight. Gods, he wish he didn’t know her as well as he did.

The crowd of new cadets cheer in the distance, the hum of their voices growing louder as Conscription Day comes to a close. The shadows on the wall move in the afternoon light as he watches the one person he cares about more than anything walk away from him.

That guilt stings in his gut now, adding another person to the list of people he has to protect. If she’s here, he can’t make this all about his kingdom. He can’t even make this about himself. He has to ensure she stays alive. They both have to get through this.

There’s no turning back now.

Part Two

[pricetagged]

Part 2 of that wifehunter john piece instead of working on my wips 💖

Masterlist l Previous l Next

Warnings: implied stalking and voyeurism. Nothing too bad...yet.

Unedited, typed on my phone during break, abrupt ending (part 3 ig?)

_________________

He thumbs at the book, tracing the swirls of your penmanship until the ink fades off and the paper turns to felt. It leaves his fingertips stained, dark as indian ink, and he can't help the satisfied burr that catches his breath as he presses the sticky whorls of his prints into the pages.

Stained. Blackened.

Imprinted.

It's what he wants to do to you in something more indelible than ink, something that would burrow under your skin and linger. (This parasitic desire, he'll bury it in you, make you feel his presence deep in your guts, squirming and wriggling at the back of your mind-)

Of course he returns the book. Returns it to you marked and dogeared and of course you're grateful for it. Tripping over your words and choking on the thanks that build up and tumble from your delicate throat, feelings and words too big for you. 

He knows that, sees the slight hesitance in your eyes as they flit to the window where he knows your useless Buck is ambling about. Shambling. (This marriage is a sham, his claim on you is a sham, one that John is more than willing to seize upon and squeeze until it all crumbles and all that is left is you malleable and soft in his hands).

"Where...where did you find this? I thought-" He sees how you choke down condemnations, not wanting to crack open that door that leaves your husband exposed.

Is it loyalty? Obedience?

Whatever it is, he wants it. Wants to redirect it his way. It itches at him, sits awkwardly like a broken seam, seeing you waste this fidelity on something still wet behind the ears.

On a man who can't even protect his own home, can't even cherish his own wife and has to call John in to pick up the mantle-

"It's good work. Shouldn't leave it lying around, sweetheart," he raps against the front cover, needs to do something with his hands before the impulses take over and he does something hasty. Something that would send you darting back to your husband's arms instead of in to his. "Would be a real waste if it got lost. Taught me how to transplant herbs, now I've got some parsley on my windowsill that's still alive."

It's a lie. He must have strangled the roots, harvested it too soon, something-

But it makes you happy. He can see the glow that warms your cheeks and brightens your eyes. They way your face plumps up, softens, due to your shy smile.

"You should've tried mint, first. It grows like crazy, basically does its own thing. Basil, too." You're grinning, in your element out here. Surrounded by green and the rich, earthy scent of the soil that you till. Geosmin. Oakmoss.

"I'll have to get you over to show me sometime."

He plays gallant so well, offering to help you with the weeding and trimming. It wouldn't be the first time he got down into the muck and the mire. Wouldn't be the first time he stuck his hands in, got them caked and dirty right up to the elbow in order to get what he wants. In order to do what needs done. It's as familiar to him as the uniform he wears.

And your company makes it so much more pleasant.

You smile at him, glancing up from the flowerbeds each and every time he passes you a tool. Eventually you feel comfortable enough to call for him - John? - to tap at his wrist and redirect his hands around the roots and stems below you both. It's a beautiful symbiosis: you, who are so good at wringing life and he who is so good at taking it.

He catches the way the living room curtains twitch, the shadow of the young buck pacing and pawing just out of sight. Too much energy, not enough courage. Not seasoned enough to come out and plant himself between the challenger and his wife. It's stable vice, sending him spinning, uselessly watching as John sidles in and digs his paws into the very foundations of the house. It makes him smile, big and broad as he tugs at a particularly stubborn weed with a grunt.

And when you can't quite get the rubber of the yard gloves to slide over your wrist, he just has to help you. Has to grip at your soft forearm, cooing as you wince.

"Big pull, that's it sweetheart."

You brace yourself so well, pulling back in a counterweight that just digs his fingers in tighter. Blinking back tears, you laugh a little awkwardly. A little thrilled.

And you thank him for it, shaking your arm out and stretching your fingers. All damp from the soil and your sweat.

Unoticing uncaring of the ring that's no longer on your finger.

He has the urge to shake it out of the glove onto the dirt. To burry it and trample all over it until it's dull and forgotten and dead.

But -

But it's still warm from your hand.

It's so fragile, too small to fit properly over his thick fingers and swollen knuckles.

He thumbs at it on his drive home, plays with the smooth face and angled edges as he thinks.

He won't give it back, the thought draws a scoff as he signals into his driveway. No, the only way you're getting a ring from him is on the same day that the ink dries on your marriage license.

But there's the matter of that ugly possesive thing that lives in his ribcage, so close to the surface that the lines blur and shimmer until he's not sure which skin he's wearing. It has him feeling hot, burning up and itching to watch the fall out.

He settles on the settee, cigar in one hand and your wedding ring in the other.

It sits tight just barely at the first knuckle of his forefinger. The screen in front of him illuminates it, makes it glint cold and sharp as it moves lower and lower, over the slight give of his stomach until it reaches the bulge pressing into his zipper. He palms himself, hisses as he feels the metal dig in a little to the sensitive, aching flesh.

With another slow drag, he flicks open his fly and settles in.

Even the slight pixelation of the monitor can't disguise how pretty you are.

_________________________

Someone with a big brain please help me to name this haha 💖

Sorry for the delay. Been super demotivated lately. Still got several k of wips that need attention :/

[heartnosekid]

johnderting on ig

[mellowmusings]

coffee for your head | part 3

part 2

Azriel x reader A/N- highkey dead rn, wanna kms :) let me know if you wanna be tagged. my dumbass confused it with blessed mistakes first lmao Summary-After loosing his mate Azriel falls into severe depression barely living and eating at all, his entire life had fallen apart and even after a century of grieving he still couldn't pull himself up to the surface, but in his hole of self pity a ladder reaches down to him.

part 3- The healing The nights were still hard. Shadows curled restlessly around Azriel, whispering fragments of his past and pulling him toward the memories he couldn’t escape. He didn’t sleep much, haunted by dreams that left him cold and aching. But lately, there was something—someone—that offered a reprieve from the endless cycle of guilt and grief.

You.

It wasn’t as though you had come into his life and magically made everything better. The ache of losing his mate didn’t vanish overnight, nor did the guilt of allowing himself to feel something new. But your presence was steady, warm, and—most importantly—patient.

That patience was what terrified him the most.

Azriel noticed the little things first. The way you brewed his tea just how he liked it, even though he’d never told you. The way you left space for him at the dinner table but didn’t press when he chose to sit alone. The way you laughed—soft and sincere, as if the world hadn’t left its scars on you the way it had on him.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

The first time you sat beside him in the garden, saying nothing but letting your presence fill the silence, he found himself gripping his hands tightly in his lap. The urge to speak warred with the urge to push you away, to tell you that you deserved someone less broken.

But you didn’t ask him to speak. You just stayed. And something inside him cracked.

The journey wasn’t smooth. Healing rarely was.

There were moments when Azriel felt like he was suffocating, the weight of the past pressing down on his chest. He’d wake in a cold sweat, his shadows coiled tightly around him, and he’d remember her—his mate. Her laughter, her voice, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then he’d think of you. The way you smiled at him, the way your eyes softened when you looked his way. It was different, softer.

It wasn’t wrong, was it? To find comfort in someone else?

But comfort didn’t always come easily.

One evening, you had invited him to join you for a walk along the Sidra. It wasn’t unusual—walking had become one of the few ways Azriel could clear his mind. But that day, he was restless, his shadows unusually loud, their whispers biting at the edges of his thoughts.

“Come with me,” you said, your tone light, though he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, his voice sharper than he intended.

You blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t back down. “Azriel, you’ve been sitting in this room all day. A walk might help—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, the words cold and biting.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You stood there, your expression carefully blank, though he could see the hurt flicker across your features before you masked it.

“Alright,” you said quietly, turning to leave.

The door closed softly behind you, and Azriel sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The guilt was immediate, suffocating. He hadn’t meant to lash out, hadn’t meant to hurt you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know how to let someone in without fear of losing them.

He found you later that night, sitting by the fire in the House of Wind. You didn’t look up when he approached, your focus on the flames, but you didn’t tell him to leave, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.

You turned to him then, your eyes searching his face. “I’m not upset because you snapped at me, Azriel. I’m upset because you keep shutting me out.”

“I don’t mean to,” he admitted, his shadows curling around his shoulders like a shield. “I just—this isn’t easy for me. Letting someone in. Letting myself feel…” He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

You softened, your gaze steady. “I know it’s not easy. But I’m not asking you to do this alone. I’m here, Azriel. For as long as you’ll let me be.”

Something about the way you said it, so quietly but with such conviction, unraveled him. He sat beside you, his shoulders brushing yours, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself lean into someone else’s strength.

The fights were never explosive, but they were frequent enough to be a reminder of how much he still had to learn.

There was the time he forgot to meet you for lunch, lost in his own thoughts, and you had spent the afternoon pacing in worry.

“I thought something had happened to you,” you’d said when he finally returned, your voice tight with frustration.

“I didn’t ask you to worry,” he’d replied, defensive.

“No, you didn’t,” you said, your tone sharp. “But I do. Because I care about you, Azriel. And if that’s going to be a problem, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t say that.”

The tension hung between you like a fragile thread, but eventually, you both stepped back, your anger cooling. He apologized, and so did you, and the rift between you mended just a little.

There were also moments of quiet understanding, of small victories that felt monumental.

The first time he reached for your hand without overthinking it, you’d smiled so brightly he felt like the sun had come out just for him.

The first time he let you into his room, the space he had once considered sacred and untouchable, you had treated it with the reverence it deserved.

The first time he laughed—truly laughed—at something you said, the sound was so foreign to him that it startled both of you.

And through it all, you stayed.

It wasn’t until months later, as you sat together in the same garden where this journey had begun, that Azriel truly let himself acknowledge what he felt for you.

You were reading, your legs tucked beneath you, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow across your face. His shadows were unusually quiet, as if even they recognized the peace of the moment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you looked up, your lips quirking in a soft smile. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his voice betrayed him.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “You don’t have to say it, Azriel. Not until you’re ready.”

But he was ready.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face before it softened into something warm and radiant. “I love you, too.”

And for the first time in over a century, Azriel felt something he hadn’t thought possible.

Hope. Beautiful radiant hope.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3 @inkedinshadows @thesunloveschips

[ooeygooeyghoul]

"Just sit tight and I'll have you good as new in no time."

AU in which Shiun is an android and Thancred is mechanic that found him in the dump and dragged him to his shop to fix him.

Solution Nine, along with the Arcadion, has an active robot fighting ring and Shiun quickly becomes a rising star with Thancred's help.

[cherriesandsulphur]

The difference between Raphael's old (first gif) and new transformation into his cambion form. The look on his face is different in the new one (second gif). That smile behind the flames...

[benz12313]

Surface Tension - Ridoc x OC!Doll

|Images are not mine|

Description: Despite wanting to be anywhere but the rider's quadrant, Daisy Jenkins loves her family, and so begrudgingly, she volunteers herself to go and throw herself to the mercy of dragons. She struggles with her confidence, but will a certain man with a penchant for mischief and a flirtatious attitude show her that she doesn't have to hide? That she too has a voice that can and should be heard? Will she be bold enough to claim him as her own? Or will she let him slip through her fingers, forever just out of reach? {Slow Burn/Mated Dragons/Friends to Lovers}

Warnings: violence, death, swearing

Next Chapter

Chapter One - Encountering Death

“Daisy Jenkins.” I tell the scribe taking names, silently cursing myself for the shakiness in my tone. To be fair I didn’t want to be here to begin with, but coming from a line of riders just famous enough to have a reputation to uphold, I’d had no other choice without dishonoring my family. Especially as an only child. It didn’t matter that I’d rather have been a healer, I’d been training for this since I’d turned six under the instruction of my parents and their closest friends. 

“Jenkins? As in Mikael and Raya Jenkins?” I nodded and the roll keeper smiled gesturing to the line of potential cadets waiting to go up the tower. “Good luck, I’m sure we can expect you to be a great rider.” 

“Thank you sir!” I said, nodding my head in acknowledgment before I made my way to the line, taking my place behind a mouse of a girl who had to be just below five feet tall and had little to no muscle, who was nervously twisting her hands and eyes darting around to anyone who’d gotten remotely close to her. She met my eyes for a moment, but before I could even shoot her a friendly smile her eyes widened in terror before darting away again, and I sighed. 

“Allies, no friends. Friends don’t exist among riders, at least not until after graduation. Death is far too common to be making friends among cadets.” My father's words rang in my head as I stared at the back of the girls head as we inched forward. She had long brown hair, that unlike my own amber-brown waves, wasn’t pinned in a braided crown atop her head. No, hers flowed freely, and I couldn’t help but frown. She wasn’t going to make it across the parapet. Between her shaking, her hair, and her severe lack of size, she had no chance. 

Not that I was much taller, but I still had more than thirty pounds of muscle and a couple inches on the girl. Not to mention the hundreds of hours of winter training across practice boards outside my parents home nestled in the mountains I’d undergone. If I fell off today, I’d just be an embarrassment. 

“Damn! This line moves so slow!” A playful male voice rang out behind me and I turned, heart launching into my throat as I schooled my features, fighting off my reaction to gape at the man. Standing behind me was a man that had fallen out of every wet dream and spicy fantasy I’d ever had. Brown, curly yet unruly locks that he ran his long fingers through, trying to get them out of his shining dark-brown eyes that were dancing with mirth. Sun-kissed skin, and tall, though admittedly not the tallest around (there’s an obscene amount of giants in this quadrant just from looking at this years applicants). He had to be close to six foot, and still towered over my five foot two self. He was lean, but I could see where muscle was beginning to form, and I could only imagine what a few years in this place would do to him. He winked at me, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked me up and down in a matter of a second, before a mischievous glint settled in his eyes. “What’s your name Doll?” 

“D-Daisy Jenkins.” I silently cursed myself for stuttering but he didn’t seem to mind, in fact it seemed to fuel something within him, and he just grinned wider. 

“Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.” He said, voice just a hair deeper than his first sentence and I hastily turned forwards, hiding the immediate blush heating my cheeks, neck, and ears. “Aww, don’t be shy!” He poked my side, and I squeaked in shock, jumping slightly and causing him to chortle with laughter that made my chest squeeze. I shot him back a glare with no heat as we entered the tower and I looked up the seemingly endless stairs with no protective railing. No doubt a ploy to weed out the pathetically weak. I gulped, hoping I didn’t fall into that category. 

“What’s your name?” I called over my shoulder to try and distract myself from the fear starting to lodge itself in my gut as we began the ascent. 

“Ridoc Gamlyn.” He said, male pride dripping off his words and I rolled my eyes, but found myself smiling softly anyway. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a quadrant like this?”

I snorted, ignoring how my cheeks flared despite the ridiculous attempt at a pickup line. “Rider parents and family lineage. Reputation to uphold and all.” I waved my hand in a dismissive way and he chuckled lowly. “You?”

“Can you imagine me in the infantry? This handsome face? Nah, too straight laced for my taste. Besides-“ He paused and then suddenly I felt his warmth next to my ear. “All the glory is with the riders. And I want a dragon of my own.” His voice was downright dripping with sex appeal, his tone low and breath fanning across my neck. I shivered and he let out another low chuckle before he backed out of my space again. “Hmm, you’re too cute for this place, you know that?” 

“You don’t even know me.” I shot back, even though it was mostly bluster, “How do you know where I should be?” He laughed lightheartedly as we made our way up the steps. 

“Fair enough cutie, I bet those thick thighs of yours could crush a mans skull.” He was teasing now, and my heart raced at the traitorous thought of him nestled between my thighs. 

“Are you volunteering?” I used every bit of confidence I had to send back that retort, and it seemed to work because when I glanced back his entire face was lit up, like a kid on Winter Solstice. He grinned, meeting my eyes and sending me a playful wink. 

“Most definitely. I’d die that honorable death.” He nodded eagerly, and then laughed as my cheeks reddened. 

“Oh shut it Gamlyn.” I shot back, groaning as I turned forwards again. 

But he most definitely didn’t shut it. In fact, by the time we reached the top I found he was incapable of any sort of silence, prattling on and on. If it wasn’t teasing and flirting with me, it was him making comments about those around us, how many steps there were, how excited he was to get a dragon, lamenting the start of classes, and seemingly whatever other random thought happened to pop into his head. 

I couldn’t say I wasn’t grateful for the distraction though, as by the time we’d made it to the top, my heart was light, fear nonexistent. A far cry from the dread that had begun to settle in my heart at the bottom of the stairs. I watched in silence as the girl ahead of me went out onto the parapet, which was mid-thunderstorm, shaking like a damn leaf. 

“Name?” I turned to see three hulking guys, all intimidating as hell, looking like gods amongst men. Two of them were marked ones, holding the dark, swirling relics inked into their skin. Children of traitors. Hot, but definitely more terrifying than my taste. I looked to the one holding the scroll. 

“Daisy Jenkins.” I said, keeping my voice steady as one of the men motions me forward, looking bored as hell.

I did as motioned, as Ridoc called out encouragement behind me. I’d missed the words though, because as soon as I’d stepped out onto the narrow stone, all I could hear was the howling of the wind as rain pelted my skin. It was cold and biting, each drop trying to pierce my skin with the force of little needles.

“One step at a time.” I nervously muttered to myself aloud, the habit I’d never quite kicked no matter how much my mother had tried to train it out of me. Adrenaline raced through my veins as I took a careful step, then another, and another. It was harder than usual with the pelting rain, but the hours of training had done me well. In regular weather, I could probably stride across the parapet with ease. 

I glanced forwards, heart stopping as I watched the girl wobble, only halfway across now. Then she dropped to her knees, hair clinging to her skin, unmoving and clinging to the stone for dear life. Three steps forward, and she still hadn’t moved. Four more steps and she was still huddled, unmoving and white knuckling the parapet. I stilled, half a dozen steps from her, my own panic starting to set in. I couldn’t move around her, I had to wait for her to move or fall. But she’d stopped not only me, but Ridoc and the rest of those behind us. Someone was bound to get sick of it and start chucking people off. 

“You need to move!” I yelled over the rain to her. Her terrified eyes flung to mine and I knew in a second that she wouldn’t, couldn’t,as fear had completely paralyzed her. She shook her head in fear as her hair partially blocked her vision. 

“Doll’s right!” Warmth settled itself near my shoulder as Ridoc was suddenly behind me, his body giving my own just enough space to not send me out of balance, but giving me warmth that I relished in amongst the bitter cold. “You need to start moving or we’re all dead!”

Movement ahead of her caught my eye, and fear sank into my gut. A damn ox of a man with bright red hair, obviously dyed, hulking muscles and an irritated expression was stalking towards us. He was the volunteer who’d been in front of this girl the entire way up the staircase, who’d been absolutely silent, other than a scoff or two at something Ridoc had said. 

“Shit!” I hissed, immediately palming a dagger off my hip and holding it at my side tightly. I couldn’t back away, so fighting was my only option if he decided to take us all out. “Get up!” I screeched but she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and having no fucking clue her death was about to be handed to her. 

“Sorry Doll,” Ridoc hissed, and before I could question him, he pulled one of the daggers off my chest brandishing it in front of us as his other hand wrapped around me, hand splaying over my armor covering my stomach, quickly steadying me as he backed us up three steps, putting more distance between us, the girl, and the monster stalking towards us with murderous fury in his gaze. 

“MOVE!” A male voice bellowed from behind us, no doubt one of the men who’d been taking names at the entrance. 

“Get up!” I called, desperation lacing my words. He was only five steps away now. 

“I can’t- AHHHH” I watched in horror as he lifted her like she was a damn rucksack and flung her off the side effortlessly. I forced my own terrified scream down and Ridoc tensed, pulling me tighter against his body as her screams were consumed by a crack of thunder. 

The murderer stared calculatingly between me and Ridoc before taking two steps towards us. “We’ll drag you right down this mountain with us!” Ridoc bellowed, voice sure and steady. The man stopped, and rolled his eyes before turning forward, stalking back to the other side, ignoring us once again. 

I let out a shaky breath as I waited until he was off the parapet completely, and then sheathed my dagger once more. Ridoc relaxed too, gently sheathing the dagger he’d borrowed, before his hand moved from my stomach to my waist, still steadying me. 

“Are you good?” He asked, his voice too close and I nodded. “Okay Daisy, you need to start moving for me, alright?” His tone had an undertone of teasing that snapped me from staring where the girl had disappeared off the side. I gulped as my vision turned watery and my eyes burned. 

Training was a lot different than the real thing. 

I fought off the tears, vision returning to normal as I nodded to him and myself, not trusting my voice to work without breaking. Ridoc’s hand left me, and I took a shaky step away from him, immediately missing his warmth amongst the biting cold. I was in a daze as I made my way across the rest of the parapet, not slipping once, but painfully numb, both literally and physically. I was drenched from head to toe, cold, and all I could picture was that girls face as she’d screamed. As she'd fell. As she'd disappeared into the haze on the cliffside.

It was only when I’d dropped onto flat ground that my stomach eased and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Name?” A woman asked, giving me a small sympathetic smile. Her eyes were bored though. No real comfort. 

“Daisy Jenkins.” My voice was hollow, barely over a whisper but she nodded, seeming to hear me. I moved away, barely making it a few steps before hearing Ridoc give her his name, and I felt his presence beside me. 

“Hey doll, see ya around, yeah?” He asked, shooting me a heart stopping smile that made my breath hitch. But it wasn’t his carefree smile that caused my heart to ache, it was the barely concealed terror in his gaze, flickering just underneath his guise of flirtation. The way his eyes raked over my form like I meant something to him, like he’d almost lost something important. 

But that was fucking ridiculous right? He’d known me all of an hour or two. There was no way that much emotion was simmering just below the surface of his gaze. I had to be imagining things. Right? Right? 

“Sure.” I whispered, voice cracking and he nodded, backing away slightly, giving me more space than he had all afternoon. 

“Good.” He muttered, and then he was gone. A crack of thunder sounded, and I immediately missed his radiating warmth. Nothing but a chill I couldn’t shake remained, like he’d taken the last bit of light with him. I blinked, silently cursing myself for letting him weasel into my psyche in such a short time. 

C’mon Daisy, you’re better than that. Sighing, I stepped into the crowd that had gathered, neatly locking away every emotion I’d gathered since ascending the steps. Time for the next challenge. 

Authors Note: AHHHHHHHH! It feels so good to be posting again, and I have SO many ideas for this story. Let me know if you liked it! Next chapter will be posted in the next few days. ☺️☺️ Also if anything is spelt wrong let me know, I only have the audiobooks currently so I'm relying on google for name spellings and such.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Big Name Feelings

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

Length: 103,997 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn, Fake Relationship, Pick-me-up

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

*Minor Spoilers* It's here! The finale of one of the most entertaining and immersive fanworks that I have ever experienced is finally upon us! I feel like most of you who follow me here are aware of this fanfic or have read it. However, for those who haven't or might come across this post later: I'm begging you to read this one. Buckle up; it's a long post today.

So, if you're not aware, this fanfic involves writer Crowley and fan artist Aziraphale. Crowley, being ace, seeks a boyfriend to shield him from unwanted attention during an upcoming convention. Aziraphale, smitten, agrees to be the fake boyfriend. This Arrangement is sure to work out exactly as planned!

Every one of the author's stories feels cinematic to me. The worlds are always so real and immersive, but this one, in particular, will have you feeling like you're actually watching the story unfold in real life. Some of that is achieved through embedded media like chats, artwork, and Tumblr posts, bringing a sense of reality to these conversations. The rest comes from really rich prose. You'll flow through it very easily, yet deeply.

The use of fandom and a convention as the backdrop for this fic was, to be honest, genius. I've seen attempts before, but none captured the spirit quite like this one. The fandom lore for The Nice and Accurate Prophecy (the in-universe fandom they're in) was rich enough for us to fully grasp the shape and feel of why they loved it so much, yet it never impedes the ongoing story. This story perfectly captured what it's like to be a fan: how friendships develop, how ideas and fan theories are freely discussed, the passion for a shared topic. The con, in particular, will fill anyone who has ever attended a fan convention with a strong dose of nostalgia and love. Oh, and having them in their 50s? Thank you! There is no age limit to fandom!

Having Aziraphale as the artist and Crowley the writer was not the most obvious choice, but it's one that worked amazingly well for the story! Crowley struggles with words and expressing his feelings in real life. However, in stories, he can build his own world and express whatever emotions are on his mind. Aziraphale, who does not wish to draw attention to himself in real life, expresses himself through his bold and beautiful artwork. His specialization in traditional, physical artwork is so fitting for him, though he's not unwilling to try new tech. There is a scene where they stumble upon some street art that Aziraphale had done. I teared up at that scene, and it's not even angsty! Just the casualness of it, how it's not Aziraphale but Crowley who boldly leads them to it, how Aziraphale doesn't sing his own praises. He's not self-deprecating, but he doesn't celebrate his work. He's still learning that he has value that's worth celebrating. At least now he has Crowley to teach him to be proud of himself.

They are both beautifully written characters. It's a real testament to the skill of the author to bring these characters into such a different reality and have them be unmistakably Aziraphale and Crowley. Sure, they're updated for the time and setting, but their souls are still the angel and demon we know and love. This setting is an amazing way to explore the different sides of their personalities. Crowley's asexuality, in particular, was one of the best depictions I've ever read. It brought a new level of understanding to me, and I'm sure many of you will feel a kinship with him. Really pay attention to what's being said here, there's some really deep and insightful passages that are worth analyzing. Like this moment, which may have been a subconscious thought, but again speaks to how deeply the author understands the characters.

This was such an amazing experience as a fan. I've never had a fic feel like this much of an event before. Every chapter drop was so exciting; I never knew what exactly to expect. And now, with the end being over 100k words?? Where did that word count come from! That's insane! I'm sad to leave this iteration, but I'm so excited for what's to come next. So please, if you haven't read this, give it a try. It's such a impressive work, so much time and effort was put into this and you can tell. It's not only a love letter to Good Omens, but one to fandom and fanspaces as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this journey

There are some explicit scenes towards the end, but they are all marked and skippable, so I'd say you're perfectly fine reading this in public.

Edit from after actually seeing the finale: no I’m not tearing up it’s just really dusty in this room. I’m being so normal rn 🥹🥹🥹

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

[pwettysoul]

clairo and bernie sanders at coachella!!!!

[savethedots]

rykter - 2x10

[howtomakeyousee]

[pit-and-the-pen]

My Sisters Keeper- PT I

Summary: Rose has protected Violet for as long as they've been alive. But in the riders' quadrant, you live to be a rider or die trying.

Content warning: Cursing, canon level fighting.

WC: 6.5k

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

I stood outside of my mothers office, ringing my hands. I had stopped minutes ago. Working up the courage to walk in there and give my mother a piece of my mind. Through the thick wooden door I heard exactly what I needed to. That tone my mother so often got. The one that I fought to make sure she never used with Violet. I shoved through the doorway, ignoring the tingle it shot through my arms. 

“You can’t let her go through with this mom.” 

“Rose!” Mira scolded me immediately. But I kept my eyes locked on my mother. General Sorrengail. 

As I held her glare, I heard the faint rumble of thunder. 

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do with my daughter.” She spoke slowly, eliciting every word,

“I will if you’re sending her off to get killed.”

“Sorrengail’s are riders. You’re a rider.”

“Brennan was a rider too.” Her face fell for a fraction of a second before she stood up a little straighter, squaring back her shoulders. 

“She is going. End of discussion.” I opened my mouth to speak. “End.Of.Discussion.Rose. Now get out.” Her nostrils flared and I clenched my hands into fists by my side. Sensing that I was about to really lose it, Mira tugged on my arm. Pulling me from the room with  Violet walking behind us. 

“Do you have a death wish?” Mira scolds me the moment we’re out of earshot from the door.

“If it keeps her safe.”

“You keep her safe by surviving the parapet, not by pissing off the general so much she kills you before you can.”

“Mira-”

“Stop. I’m right here.” Violer cuts me off and I feel shame heat up my cheeks.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t think you can protect yourself…” I grapple with the words, they come out too fast and everything sounds wrong.

“I get it. But I need you to believe in me. I need someone to think that I’m going to make it.” The words cut through me. Sobering my rage and I nod. Mira rolls her eyes at the two of us.

“Now, if we’re done being so sentimental. Here.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out two matching vests. 

“Are those…” 

“Dragon scales. Yes. Got them from Teine during his last molt. Put them on, and don’t take them off. Both of you.” She hands Violet and I the vests and helps Violets into hers. I study mine as I slide it on. A simple vest but the scales extend up higher on mine, right to the base of my head. It would completely cover my neck. Mira sees me struggling to fix the top part in place and comes over to give me a hand. 

“It ties down into the vest, that way no one could cut it or untie it if they get your hands on you.” She pulls the leather ties into two holes on the top of my shoulders. I give my neck a twist back and forth. Surprisingly, it doesn’t cut off my movement. It fits perfectly snug.  She gives me a proud nod and I try not to blush under the weight of her gaze. 

“Now, other matters. This bag weighs nearly as much as you do, Vi. What the hell is in here.”

“Just stuff that I’ll need.” Violet answers as Mira starts pulling book after book from the pack.

“You’ll still have access to the archives. You don’t need all of these.” Violet starts to protest. 

“I’ll keep these with me. I promise.” Mira continues before Violet could interrupt her. “And you need to change. Those robes will become a sail up on the parapet.”

Mira quickly shoves some riding leathers into Violet's arms. Gesturing for her to change right there. She does and I get a view of just how small my sister is. She was trained to be a scribe. She hasn’t had years to build the muscle that I have. The gray tips in her hair tell just how much the fever affected her more. 

“And if you won’t cut your hair, at least tie it back.” Mira says. I sigh and motion for Violet to turn around so I can braid it back. She finally gives her a once over and makes a content grunt. “Better.”

She looks over at me and doesn’t seem to find anything she needs to change. 

“As expected. Although you should cut your hair too.” 

“I’d have to shave half of it to get rid of it, ya know?”

I know she’s talking about the silver streak that starts from my scalp. Only about the width of my hand but enough to let people know that both twins were affected. 

“Let them know, I don’t care. It’ll just make it better when I beat them all.”

“She’s got a point.” Violet murmurs in agreement with me. Mira rolls her eyes more dramatically this time. She looks like she is about to say something before a bell cuts off her words. 

“Shit. Okay, one last thing for both of you.” She reaches into her sheathes and pulls out three daggers and slides them into Violet’s vest. Then she hands me my sword. 

“Both of them are balanced for you. I know you’re used to that sword Rose. It’s better than any stock you’ll find in the college.” I put it in place on my back and the moment it’s settled Mira sweeps both of us up in a bone crushing hug. My hands go numb but I force them to hug her back anyways. She releases us as a second bell tolls and she walks us only to the edge of the steps. 

“Don’t make me an only child. Or make me live with only one twin.”

And that’s all we get before we start climbing the stairs, watching Mira disappear around a corner. I grab a hold of Violet's hand as we start climbing, my arm out behind me. Eventually we reach the rest of the group. The others that are waiting their turn to cross the parapet. The line is longer than I imagined. 

Violet and I are sandwiched in between a girl with dark skin and curly hair tied up against the crown of her head, and a blond boy who is fiddling with a golden ring on a chain around his neck. 

“I’m Rhiannon.” She says to me, I almost flinch. Not expecting her to talk to either one of us. When I don’t respond fast enough, Violet reaches past me to extend her hand to the girl.

“I’m Violet and the grumpy one is Rose.”

“Twins?” She says, eyeing the both of us. We nod. 

“Cool.”

“I’m Dylan.” The boy behind us chips in and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Dylan goes on about the girl he’s engaged to back home. “We’re waiting until I graduate but the first thing I’m doing is marrying her. We wanted to do it before but she told me she could wait.” 

Violet nods along and I try to look interested. Don’t make friends. That was what I’ve been told for as long as I can remember. You don’t make friends here. Because it will only hurt that much more when you have to watch them die. Violet apparently didn’t get the memo. 

Violet is quiet for a little bit and I can finally see the parapet ahead of us. 

“What size shoe do you wear?” She asks the girl in front of us, Rhiannon. I’m trying to forget her name but I just can’t for some reason. 

“Eight.” She answers, seeming a little confused.

“I’m a seven and half so it’ll be tight, but you need to switch shoes with me.” I snap my head back to Violet. 

“Are you crazy?” I hiss in a whisper to her. She ignores me. 

“With those shoes, you’ll slip right off the edge.” And she’s already taking off her shoe, holding it out for the girl to take. Rhiannon does the same. Whispering her thanks. 

We finally get to the front of the line. Rhiannon gives her name before the two of us. 

“Name?” The rider at the parapet asked the two of us. 

“Rose Sorrengail.” 

“Violet Sorrengail” The rider snapped her eyes up. Studying both of us. 

“As in General Sorrengail?” 

I rolled my eyes as I looked back at Violet before I quickly nodded to the rider in front of us. 

“The one and only.” 

“I thought there was only one coming through this year?” The rider quirked an eyebrow as her gaze fell to Violet. I felt that oh too familiar bubble rise in my chest. 

“Well there's two. So are you going to let us go now?” I crossed my arms, almost daring the rider to say something back. 

“Come on, some of us actually want to get through this thing. Are you both going to keep yapping or cross?” A voice from behind Dylan calls, and I turn my head around to see glacial blue eyes filled with so much pure loathing that it almost makes me flinch. “No one cares what your last name is. Either get moving or get out of my way.” I snap my jaw shut. 

“Go ahead.” She waves Violet through, giving my sister's hand one last squeeze. . 

“See you both on the other side.” Violet says as she takes her first step onto the parapet. It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught. Keep Violet safe. That was the reason I was the rider and she was the scribe. My breath catches as she stumbles for half a second. She’s nimble but I’m scared she'll be knocked over with the way her arms are limply held out beside her. 

Finally, she’s far enough across that they let me go. 

Mira was right, the wind was wicked up on the wall. The stray bits of my hair whipped around my face, luckily I had the sense to tie it back or else I wouldn’t be able to see a damned thing. I take a steadying breath to try to calm my raging heartbeat. I’m a Sorrengail. I am a rider. I was trained to be a rider my whole life. I will not die today. The words Violet said earlier echoes in my ears. Neither of us will. I keep my eyes trained on my sister's braid, the silver hair peeking out through the woven strands of hair. She stumbles again and I bolt a step or two closer towards her. Catching up to her as much as I can while still keeping my own footing. It’s slicker than mud up here on the smooth stones. I’m close enough to Violet that I could reach out and grab her if need be. But I know she needs to do this on her own. She’ll never let me live it down if I help her get through this. But she loses her footing as a strong gust of wind blows and she almost goes over the side. 

I curse and beg my feet to move faster. I swore I heard something pop as her knee landed on the hard ground. She’s half hanging on and I can’t catch up with her. No matter how hard I clench the muscles in my core, the wind is too strong to fight against so I’m forced to sit and watch as Violet scrambles to pull herself up. 

“Come on, Vi.” I shout and I see her rolling onto her back, safely on the parapet again. Well as safe as she’s going to get up here. I let out a relieved sigh and focused on the path in front of me again. 

But before I can pull my focus back to me, I hear a curse then a yelp from behind me. I risk a glance backwards just in time to see Dylan go over the ledge. My body acts faster than I do, leaping towards the spot where his foot would have just been but I’m too slow. Too slow by a long shot and I see his panicked look as he realizes he’s falling. I close my eyes before I can see him land. Damn it Violet. 

That move wasted strength and I have to push myself off of my stomach. Wobbling ever so slightly as I lock eyes with the boy from earlier. Jack Barlow, I heard him when he gave his name loud and proud for everyone to hear. He smirks and puts his head down like a bull as he starts to charge at me. He doesn't miss a step. Doesn’t stumble for a second as he closes the gap in between us and it’s my turn for panic to wash over me. I force my muscles to work, to turn in the opposite direction and run. I can’t make out the words Jack is screaming at me over the wind but I know that look. Jack is ready to kill me and my sister. He turns around and pulls another person over the edge of the parapet as if to prove his point. 

My side hurts, my calves are screaming at me as I put my weight into my thighs, forcing my center of gravity lower as I break into a run. 

“Violet, move.” I shout as I almost catch up with her. “Move. faster.” I grit out when she doesn’t speed up. She glances backwards and I know she sees the same thing I do. Jack barreled towards us at a breakneck speed. Her eyes go wide and she, thankfully, picks up the pace. We have less than a third of the parapet left in front of us but it’s more than enough time for Jack to catch up with us. I’m basically pushing Violet along with me, my hands on her back. Praying to Z that she moves faster. 

I feel the air whoosh around me as I push her towards the other side. Towards whatever semblance of safety becoming a cadet will grant us. And I almost sigh with relief as I see Violet land on the other side, rolling on her shoulder in an unnatural angle, but safe nonetheless. My feet leave the ground to leap and I feel someone’s arm wrap around my waist. Years of training make my body move faster than my mind. I push all my weight forward. Just barely wiggling out of the grip on my waist and feeling all my breath get pushed out of me as I land on my back. I fight back the yelp as I feel a stone press into my neck. Sending a wave of pain so sharp it brings tears to my eyes. I scramble to my feet just in time to see Violet with a dagger aimed right between Jack’s legs. 

“I’ll kill you.” He spits out. 

“No you won’t. Because the way I see it. You’re still on the parapet and she’s a cadet. And she literally has you by the balls on this one.” The rider at the ledge says and I see Violet’s hand push just a little further and I see a tinge of green color Jack's face. I fight the smirk off of my face. Maybe Violet will survive after all. He snaps his teeth at her and I’m beside her instantly. 

“Let me down.” He grits through his teeth and before I can protest, Violet is sheeting her dagger at her side and steps out of the way to let Jack step down. I gawk at her, but she avoids my gaze. Keeping her eyes locked on Barlow. 

He steps up to her, chest almost touching hers. “When I get the chance, you’re fucking dead. Both of you.” I push Violet out of the way and tuck her behind me. I make myself as tall as possible as I force venom into my words. 

“She might be our fathers daughter. But me, I got stuck with my mother.” I bit out. “So if you want to fuck with her, you go through me.” My fists balled against my sides.

“Bitch.” Jack spat near my  feet. I fought the urge to strangle him right there. But Violet tugged on my arm, pulling me away from him.. 

“At least think of something original.” I  muttered under my breath, letting my sister lead us closer to the college. 

The rider at the edge doesn’t look the least bit surprised at this interaction as she asks for our names. 

“Sorrengail?” She all but shouts and I wince. Suddenly feeling every set of eyes on us. I want to wrap myself around my sister. Shield her away from the wandering eyes of the other riders. And as I look around, there's only one that shakes me to my core. The dark hair, a rebel relic snaking along his neck. 

I watch his tan skin flush with anger for a mere second before his face becomes ice cold. I know exactly who it is. Xaden Riorson. And before I can spit out anything to him. A warm hand wraps around my arm. Tugging. I go to push whoever it is off and am met with familiar brown eyes that almost make me melt. Dain. 

“Shit.” He says under his breath as he looks from me to Violet. Violet who is desperately trying to hide the way she isn’t putting weight on her left leg. 

“Dain.” I fight to keep my voice neutral. To keep the way I’m swooning out of it. And he tugs both of us over to the side, out of hearing range from the other riders. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” And I know he isn’t asking me. His eyes are only on Violet, concern laced on every feature of his gorgeous face. I shake my head, trying to calm my mind. 

He’s changed in the last year since I saw him. His hair is a little longer and stubble covers the sides of his face. No longer the clean cut boy he was before he left for the riders quadrant. And I’m shocked at how…good he looks. Dressed in rider black, a sword peeking over his shoulder. He turns to me and I know he asked me something. Something that he’s expecting me to answer. 

Violet nudges me with her elbow and it snaps me back to where we are. I just got caught gawking at my best friend. My best friend who not so subtly told me he’d be counting down the minutes until he saw me again. My best friend who I may or may not have been in love with since he started sprouting like a weed when we were fifteen. 

“Sorry. Adrenaline.” I force the words out, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry. 

He sighs but a hint of a smile plays at the edge of his mouth. 

“Did you at least try to talk your mother out of it.” His words pull a snort from me. 

“Have you met my mother?”

His hand runs through his hair and I try not to think about how soft it must feel. Gods I need to get it together if I’m supposed to join his squad. 

“Listen, there's still time that we can sneak her into the scribes quadrant. They haven’t submitted the names and I know they would take her in a heartbeat.” Violet is already shaking her head. 

“She would just drag me back by my hair. She promised me as much this morning.”

“She’ll get over it. Once you’re in she can’t make them take you.”

“Dain, face it. I’m a rider now despite you being less than thrilled. I made it across. Doesn’t that count for anything.” I see the internal war he’s fighting as he chews on her words. Letting them sink in. 

“We’ll figure out something.” He says and Violet stalks away. Ready to give our names to the rider, not so patiently waiting for them. Leaving me alone with Dain for the first time in a year. 

He smiles my smile. The one that makes one side tug up higher than the other and makes  his eyes crinkle around the edges. Fuck it. I think and launch myself into his chest. Arms wrapping around his neck. He doesn't hesitate to squeeze me back, arms wrapping around my middle tight enough that my toes are the only thing touching the ground. He smells the same, cedar and wind and something that is utterly Dain. He releases me and holds me at arms length, looking me up and down so intensely that I fight the urge to look away. 

“You look good. And in one piece.” He puts another step in between us as I nod. “Tell the girl to put you in my squad. Flame section, second squad. Tell her this is me cashing in the favor she owes me.” He shots me a wink before he walks away, joining the rest of the riders who are looking at us with varying levels of confusion. Let them think what they want. I’m not here to make any friends. I repeat the words to the red-head taking names. And she nods. 

We wait for the rest of the rider candidates to make it across or fall. Once the formation is called, we find out that we lost almost 20 percent. The highest in the last decade. I blame the rain. 

We stand in a rough set of lines, Violet and I falling into near perfect formation as we guide Rhiannon behind us. Then I see him, staring directly at Violet and I with a look that roots me to the spot. He whispers something to the rider calling names, Nyra I think her name is. 

“Dain Aestos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s.” All Dain does is nod, his face tense. Violet and I share a glance that lets me know neither of us know what is happening. 

But as we passed the next squad, I sucked in a gasp. We’re being moved to fourth wing. Xadens wing. Xaden just stands there with that smirk that makes me want to push him over the edge. But I can’t. Infighting is strictly prohibited according to the codex. Of course, unless it can be excused as training or punishment. Which is exactly what Xaden will be able to do now. Xaden nods at Nyra and steps forward towards all of us. 

“You’re all cadets now. Take a look at your squad, these are the only people who aren’t allowed to kill you, per the codex. You want a dragon? Then earn one.” 

Cheers erupt around us. Violet and I just  glance at each other. I break formation to grab my hand in hers and Dain looks back, looks down at our joined hands and shakes his head. I don’t let go as Violet goes to pull her hand from mine. 

“And I bet some of you are feeling pretty bad ass right now. You made it into your first year, right? The elite, the chosen. Invincible even?” 

More cheers but the tone of his voice makes my stomach curl. The cheers get louder but over them I can hear the telltale sound of wings. 

Rhiannon gaps besides me. I lock my muscles into place to stop from fleeing as the riot flies right towards us. Instead I keep my head held high. Forcing my heartbeat to slow. Dragons can smell a coward from miles away. 

They land mere feet from us, the force enough to shake the ground. Screams rip through the air, but I keep my gaze ahead of me. 

I hear the sound of footfalls as people start to dash out of formation. I don’t close my eyes in time as I see the curl of flame reach out. And that smell, the smell of burnt flesh is one that I know I’ll never forget. It’s enough to make me gag. Violet squeezes my hand but says nothing. 

“Anyone else feel like changing their mind?” Silence. “No? Well then, half of you will be dead by the end of this year. Another third the year after. And even fewer will make it ‘til graduation. No one cares who your mommy,” He stares right at Violet and I. “or you daddy is here. Here you’re nothing more than a cadet. So who here still feels invincible.” More silence weighs the air like a blanket. “Good. Because to them you’re not, to them you’re just prey.” 

We’re left to our own devices for the rest of the day. Dain quickly pulls Violet to somewhere deeper into the college once they dismiss us from formation. I don’t wait around for them, instead going up to the dorms to sit for a second. The dorms are already noisy. Full of cadets talking over each other and I just lay down in my bed, pushing my pillow over my ears to drown out the noise of people I don’t want to get to know. People that will most likely be dead in the next couple of months. The thought shouldn’t bother me. I was trained to be a rider. And the only thing a rider cares about is their squad and their wings. But that doesn’t stop the single tear that drips down my face as I recall the way Dylan looked at me when he realized he was going to die. When he realized he would never get to marry that pretty girl back home. I lock the thoughts away into some deep vault in my mind. I don’t have time for weakness. I grant myself the moment to feel and then sit up in my bunk. Rolling my shoulders back with a deep breath. I stretch out the tension in my neck. Feeling the nerves protest against the movement but ignore it. 

I stay in the barracks until it’s time for dinner then head back right after I’m done. Violet lingers, talking to Rhiannon and the rest of our squad. I have no interest in fighting through the awkward glances and down right hateful glares of some of our fellow cadets. 

The next morning we’re called to formation after breakfast. Then comes the worst part of the day, the death roll. Name after name is called. Not enough time to process them, let alone mourn. 

Suddenly the names just stop. And that’s all there is before squad leaders turn to talk to us. Dain only gives Violet and I a quick once over before his face takes on that neutral look that has something inside of me clawing to get out. 

“I expect to see you all alive when we get to the sparring gym later.” And I feel Violet tense beside me. Right, the first day meant we have trials. A simple way to assess where all of us are with fighting. This will determine who we are put up against throughout the year. Do well and you put a target on your back, do poorly and you get an even bigger target on your back. Either way you’re screwed. 

“Sawyer” Dain calls to the boy beside him. 

“I’ll get them to class.” 

Sawyer shouts out the instructions on how to get to the classroom and I try my best to picture the steps. Storing them in my memory in hopes that I won't forget them within twenty minutes. 

Rhiannon, Violet and I walk together. I really hoped she would let h er go after the parapet. But it seems she’s intent on keeping her around, so I’ll tolerate her for now. 

A faint bird whistle has my head spinning. I catch that familiar tuff of brown hair and hook my arm around Violets pulling us away from Rhiannon. 

He ducks into a corner, hidden from sight. 

“How’s your knee?”  

“It hurts but I’ll live.”

“Good. Did anyone try to screw with you two last night?” He’s scanning us for injuries. We both shake our heads. 

“No one tried to kill us last night, if that's what you're asking.” I cross my arms, already annoyed by his hovering. 

“Dain. Take a breath.” I snapped at him. 

“You should both cut your hair.” He points to both of our braids. 

“Don’t you start with me now.” Violet  groans. 

“Why were we moved to fourth wing?”

It’s Dain’s turn to groan. His hand went to the side of his face, rubbing the stubble. 

“Dain?” Violet presses expectantly. 

“Fine. Riorson want’s Rose dead. Well both of you. But when he heard Rose was joining this year, he never shut up about it. It’s common knowledge and you just so happen to make it even more fun for him. Two birds with one stone or something.” 

“He’ll have to get through me first.”

“And that’s exactly what he wants, Ro.” He snaps back at me. “Just try to avoid him. As best as you can. He’s a wingleader so he is personally allowed to make your life a living hell. So please.” He turns to me fully. “Please don’t give him a reason to.” 

I roll my eyes and he grabs my hand. I flush from head to toe. “Rose. I’m serious here. Don’t give him more of a reason. Please.” And it’s that hint of concern. Concern so deep it makes my face hot that has me nodding my head. 

“You’re thinking like a rider now.” Violet mutters to herself. 

“I’m still me. Promise.” he taps his shoulder, where his signet patch should be. “I just have this now.”

My eyes go wide as I realize what his patch means. Classified. What signet does he have that warrants that? 

“I can read a person's recent memories.” And it’s whispered like a confession. I feel a frisson of fear. 

“Dain, that’s illegal.”

“Not like that. I can’t hear them from across the room. I have to touch a person’s face and it’s incredible.” 

“Okay, we’re going to be late if we keep talking.” I say as I hear the noise above us grow louder. 

“Just remember, stay away from Xaden. Low profile. Both of you.” He points to us and we both nod our head before we part ways.  But as we do, I see Xaden leaning over the railing to shout down at us. 

“I knew your parents were close but this is something else.” He shakes his head. “Tell me which one of you is he fucking?” 

If I wasn’t blushing I am now. Even the tips of Dain’s ears tinge with pink.

“He can’t hurt you right? You’re a squad leader and he’d have to call a quorum?”

“Yes but he can hurt you two.”

“I expected better from you Aestos. Should learn to hide your friends better.” He locks eyes on me. He was trying to bait us and I gave him all the ammunition he needed to make my life hell. 

“Run. Now” Dain orders and I grab Violet's arm and we bolt. 

My brain is mush throughout history, but of course Violet is the star pupil without even trying. We just barely make it to battle brief. Stuck in the first row thanks to the seats Rhiannon saves for us. 

Professor Markham stands at the front of the class as Devra steps aside to make room for him. His eyes soften as he lands on Violet. Of course he would recognize her. She trained under him for most of her life and he was certain she would be the best scribe in years. And she would have been. Still is. 

We launch right into the first question. No preamble to get us ready, straight to business. My eyes cloud over as I try to study the map, trying to focus on the details. This was always Violet’s strength not mine but I fight to keep up with her as she mutters to herself. 

Markham pushes us for questions and I hear Vilet mutter something to Rhiannon who calls out loudly. 

“What altitude was the village at?”

His eyes flicker to Violet who makes a point of looking anywhere but him. 

“A little less than a thousand feet. Why?”

She shrinks into herself a little. I don’t blame her, MArkham is intense when he wants to be. 

“Just seems a little high for an attack.”

“Keep going.” Markham pushes and Violet chimes in when Rhiannon pauses. 

Question after question and my head is reeling trying to keep up. I’m trying to connect the dots that she’s already seen. Jack eventually cuts her off and I clench my hands by my side. Finding something to twirl between my fingers so I don’t choke him for the tone he uses with Violet. That self-righteous, pompous tone. The asshole has the nerve to try to talk down to her when she easily knows more than even the second years. Devra scolds him for it. And I only give him a small smirk as I turn back to the front of the room. 

We’re dismissed shortly after and we all file into the gym. Now this. This I’m ready for. Violet may have me beat in academics But I can run circles around the first years in the gym. 

We’re called to the mats in pairs. 

We all watch in shock as Jack Barlow snaps the neck of his opponent. The sickening sound of bone crunching threatens to bring up my breakfast. He lets go of the limp body as the instructor rushes forward. Shouting at him. Barlow just stands with a shrug as he looks towards Violet and I. He’s strong but he’s big. Uncoordinated. He’d go down easy but Malek help you if he gets his arms around you. 

I’m finally called to the mat after a flawless victory from Rhiannon. Stepping onto the mat, I will my focus on the person standing in front of me. I didn’t listen to their name. I don’t care about their name. I care about the fact that when they lunge at me, there's a slight twitch in their left shoulder. I dodge it easily enough. Side stepping out of the way. I catch their still extended arm between their wrist and elbow. He tries to swing out of my grip but I only use it as leverage to twist his arm behind his back, palm facing up. I don’t hesitate to bring my elbow down on his extended arm. The telltale crunch letting me know I broke some bone. He cries out and I follow him as he falls to the ground. I have to keep him from hitting me.

“Yield damn it. I broke your arm.” I grit out. But he doesn’t. Just swings widely, trying to find any purchase as I pin him on his side. And I’m suddenly more grateful than words can explain as his hand makes contact with the back of my neck. I tense for a second, expecting the wash of fire to explode from every nerve in my body. But there's nothing. Another heartbeat and nothing. I’m so happy I could cheer, but I only put more pressure onto his broken arm and he cries out again. I twist his shoulder back slightly, knee resting in the hollow of his armpit and I can feel the muscle tense under me as I place myself to dislocate his shoulder. 

“Fine. I yield. I yield.” He yells as I still my foot. Stopping just in time for me to push him off of me. My shove knocks him onto his back and I can see the way he’s fighting the urge to cradle his arm. I sigh and stick my hand out for him to grab. He shoves it away and struggles to stand, slightly off balance. 

Someone escorts him to the menders and I file back in line. 

“He didn’t even touch you.” Rhiannon gasps out when I stand next to her. I shrug. Little does she know I’ve spent my whole life avoiding that very thing. Because if they do, I’m down. If I’m down then I’m dead. And no one here needs to know that. It’s bad enough they seem to be able to sniff out Violet’s weakness. But seeing mine. That might just be a death sentence for the both of us. 

One more fight and then I tense as Violet’s name gets called. She paired up against a pink-haired second year and I freeze completely when I see the rebel mark on her forearm. Shit. 

The two circle each other on the mat, whispering to each other too low for me to hear over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. 

Imogen is fast. Faster than humanly possible. 

“You can’t use your powers here.” Dain shouts. As Imogen flips Violet onto her back, my hand shoots out onto Dain’s arm. My fingers digging into the skin on his forearm to keep me from sprinting into the ring to pull Imogen off of my sister. A quick flash of metal makes my blood pressure skyrocket. She tried to use a dagger. I don’t feel relieved as Violet sends a punch that I know messes up her hand. Her thumb tucked in at just the right angle for the ligament to pop. 

Imogen is a blur once again and has her pinned before the instructor can scold her for using her powers. “Yield” She calls as she shoves Violet’s face into the mat. She doesn’t and I watch in horror as Imogen pulls her arms further behind her back. Further than arms should bend and I lunge forward at the same time as Dain. 

“Damn it, Violet, yield.” I call out. My voice died down just in time to hear the sickening crunch of bone again. This time followed by a cry I’m too familiar with. 

Emetterio calls for the end of the match as Violet goes limp in front of me. 

I’m rushing past Imogen, shoving her out of the way as I grab Violet. Shaking her slightly to try to get her to come back around. 

“Oops.” Imogen says in a sickly sweet tone. She walks another step before I trip her, leg hooking against her ankle. She topples to the ground and I roll myself onto her. Straddling her hips, and pinning her wrists to her sides with my knees. She thrashes in my hold but I just place more of my weight on her, pressing harder with my foot. 

“Try that shit again and you’re dead.” 

“Not if I kill her first.” She snarls at me. And I push until I feel the bone move in her hand. 

Suddenly I feel someone lifting me up by the collar of my shirt. Dain’s brown eyes stare into mine. 

“She’s in your squad. Back off before you get in trouble.” He whispers as I try to squirm out of his hold. 

“I don’t care.” I hiss back. 

“But I do. Stop. Or are you going to make me pull rank?” I stopped squirming. Pushing myself out of his grasp. 

“Go calm down. Now.” Dain hisses when I find my footing.

 Imogen is smiling up at me. Like I did exactly what she wanted. And I probably did. But as I walk out of the gym, I realize I don’t give a shit what they think. Not if it means protecting Violet.

Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @sarawritestories @milswrites @daycourtofficial

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird — Chapter 11 sneak peek

“What do you say, Y/n?” Azriel murmured softly. His words were for you and you only. “Where would you have me touch you?” His hazel eyes caught the light before scattering into a thousand brilliant colors. 

Author's note: I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow evening and I'm so excited for this one guys. Get ready for some tooth-rotting, heart pounding, screaming-into-your-pillow fluff!

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

[x-fireheart-xx]

trying to speed run the FUCK out of iron flame so i don’t see any onyx storm spoilers before i can get to it but gah damn, this book is ~eventful~

[theespressooqueen]

Flames and Feathers

Mira and Drake fanfic

These were all in my head and I just write them. Obsessed with them so here you go.

What i think they would look like

Chapter 1: Gaze in shadows - Drake goes to boarders to catch a glimpse of a certain rider.

Chapter 2: Sorrengail, an ally - Drake's reaction having the Sorrengails as their ally.

Chapter 3: Quite a sight - Drake landed on thee Tyrish outpost to see Mira.

Chapter 4: Drawn a crowd - Mira asking about a certain a gryphon rider & impatient Drake spar with Garrick.

Chapter 5: Notice the gryphon captain - Riders talks gossips about Drake & Drake finally was introduced to Mira.

Chapter 6: More than concerned - Mira is injured and Drake made sure she is attended.

Chapter 7: Possessive whisper - Drake stake his claim.

Chapter 8: Relentless advances - Mira is irritated to Drake's antics.

Chapter 9: Crumble walls - Mira is starting to accept Drake's advances.

Chapter 10: In your dreams - An intruder was caught in Tyrrendor.

Chapter 11 : Your heart is betraying you - Mira's hand warmer and she unleashed her fury.

Chapter 12: When you’re ready - Drake has some revelations

Chapter 13: Winged pests - Mira is scared of something

Chapter 14: Evaluating his form - Mira found herself ogling a gryphon rider.

Chapter 15: Get a grip, Mira - Drake's acts of service is tearing Mira's walls even further.

Chapter 16: Moment of peace - Mission in Breavick

Chapter 17: I don’t bite -

Chapter 18: She should be earned

Chapter 19: We just did

Chapter 20: I’ll protect you anyway

Chapter 21: You won’t bat an eye

Chapter 22: