#to be loved by him is like jumping into an endless flame

[witch-hazels-musings]

Why would Diluc recognize your footsteps??

Because he's terrified.

He's memorized so much about you. Your habits and when you need your focus, your tone of voice that tells him when you need his full attention or your putting on airs, the rhythm of your breathing when you're asleep so he knows when to hold your hand during a nightmare

He knows the sounds of your footsteps and the words they tell him are as loud as the beating heart in his chest.

He knows these all so well because every morning when he wakes up, for a split second he thinks you're gone. Terrified and unsteady, it's only when he sees you that he can breathe again.

He knows your footsteps because the sound brings him unbelievable comfort, and reminds him that his heart alive, beating, and is wandering through the halls of the Dawn Winery

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part3

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: arguing, mentioning of using drugs and alcohol, mentioning abortion,

previous - next

It was harder than you'd thought. Rejection wasn’t something you’d faced often in life. You’d had flings, breakups, even heartbreaks, but nothing like this—nothing that tore you apart quite like this. You weren’t feeling the sting of a simple breakup; it was closer to betrayal. There was no cheating, no outright cruelty, but his words had cut so deeply, you would’ve chosen physical pain over this if you could.

You felt abandoned. It wasn't just a feeling; it was the reality now. But it wasn’t an ordinary sense of abandonment. This wasn’t a wound you could mend or a heartbreak you could simply heal from.

The regrets wouldn’t stop circling your mind. If only you’d been more careful. If only you’d taken the pill. If only we’d been more cautious from the start. If only you hadn’t told him.

If only you weren’t pregnant.

There weren’t many people you could turn to. Who could you trust with this? Who could be your confidant if not him? And if even he wouldn’t support you—your boyfriend, your best friend—then who would?

The regrets wouldn’t let you rest. You hadn’t even wanted this. You hadn’t considered the possibility, hadn’t imagined it. You’d dreamed about marrying him, maybe— just maybe, in some future vision of your life. You’d daydreamed about your future together on quiet nights, but that vision had never included getting pregnant at twenty.

So why was this happening to you? Why you? Why hadn’t you just taken the pill like you were supposed to? Why hadn’t you protected?

The questions were endless, and though they came from you, you already knew the answers. The truth was, you felt like a fool. Only a fool would forget to take her pills.

Even if you had been careful, you would’ve still needed to do more. And now, there was a child growing inside you.

You hated blaming yourself entirely, but you couldn’t help it. If you hadn’t taken your pill, he hadn’t used protection either. You were both at fault. If he could so easily shrug off responsibility, why should you be the one left to bear it?

Why did it have to be you carrying this?

Why was everything so difficult? The relationship had been good, and you loved him—even now, you still love him. So, why? Why couldn’t fate, life, or whatever this was, ever go your way?

You could’ve brushed this off as fate, but that would’ve been too easy. You knew the responsibility lay with you and him, both.

You should’ve known better. You knew right from wrong. It was a simple rule: if you can’t swim, you’ll drown. If you jump off a balcony, you’ll fall. If you play with fire, you’ll get burned. If you don’t use protection, you’ll get pregnant.

It was the same story. So why had you thrown yourself into the fire, knowing full well what could happen?

Each breath felt tighter. Every second, the ache in your chest seemed to grow, like it had taken up permanent residence there.

His words wouldn’t leave your mind. You didn’t even know if it was his words or his expression that hurt more. He hadn’t even responded. You understood he wasn’t ready to be a father. But you weren’t ready to be a mother either. So why were you the one left bearing the weight of this?

If you shared the blame, so did he. He hadn’t been thinking of fatherhood when he chose not to use protection, so why should you be the one now to face the consequences alone?

He should’ve been here for you. Despite everything, he should’ve been here, by your side.

You could get an abortion. You hadn’t decided yet. But shouldn’t he have supported you in that? It was his child too, wasn’t it? So why did you feel as though you were going through this alone?

He said he wanted you… How generous of him. Thank you so much.

He wanted you but not what you came with—not what was his too.

That was one of the hardest parts. You’d loved all of him. The good, the bad, the fights, the drinking, the highs and lows—you’d seen it all. And you’d never left— though maybe you should have.

You were pregnant. This was the child you’d created together. How could he leave you like this, knowing he was your whole world?

That was the truth. He was the one who made you feel human. You weren’t just a precious jewel in his eyes—or so you’d thought.

But at the first sign of trouble, he ran. He was a coward. Yes, a coward. There was no other word for it. He hadn’t become a man; he’d stayed a boy. And he was the reason your heart ached, the fire in your chest.

You couldn’t believe it. Would he really just leave? If you decided to have this child, would he really not be there? Would he really not want his own child?

And what would you tell the baby? What would you say to a child growing up without a father?

You’d picked up the mess. You’d put back the furniture Rafe had thrown around, cleaned everything up. It all felt worthless now, like it held no meaning. Your heart was already broken enough. Hours had passed, but you hadn’t left the couch. You’d sat there, facing your heartbreak, thinking, trying to decide—trying to act as if you were prepared to make such a choice.

You didn’t know if you wanted this or not. There were pros and cons, sure. But you couldn’t even think straight. Your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to the look in his eyes as he spoke, to the way he’d hinted at an abortion, as if it were such a simple thing.

As if it were easy.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, in the darkest place you’d ever been. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to pull yourself out of it. And you still had to tell two more people. Your parents.

You decided to end it today. You were exhausted and overwhelmed, but you wanted this off your chest. You couldn’t handle any more secrets, any more uncertainty. Whatever their reaction, you didn’t feel strong enough to care. You’d been hit once already; you could take a second blow and get it over with.

At least then, one more worry would be gone. Maybe the weight inside you would lift, even if only a little.

Even if it just made room for more sorrow.

It was fall, but despite the warm days, your body felt frozen. Your hands clenched tightly, fingers interlocked. In the middle of a sunny day, it was as if you were standing alone in a snowstorm. There was no one to save you, no one to listen.

Maybe you didn’t even deserve to be heard. You’d made a mistake. But did you really have to be the only one to carry the blame? Would Rafe even tell his family?

Of course not. He barely existed in his father’s eyes already. He could stay silent forever if it meant he wouldn’t fall even further in his father’s esteem.

Coward.

You were a coward too. But you didn’t want to be one anymore. You hated it, but you needed someone by your side. You needed someone to support you. You were alone.

When you heard the door open, your eyes shut instinctively. They were finally home. You’d say it quickly and be free. You didn’t want any more lies, any more secrets. Let them know, and let this be over.

You hated every second of it.

It felt like the world had slowed down. They called your name, walked over to you, asking if you were alright, and you grew weary of hearing it. Because you weren’t, and they could see it. Their daughter was breaking down in front of them, and maybe she needed to be.

Everything happened so quickly. They asked you a few questions, trying to get some answers. Your dad leaned in, tightly clasping your hands together—so tightly you hadn't even realized it.

Your mom stood a little behind him, watching you with anxious eyes. Her brows were raised, her tear-brimming eyes wide with shock. She knew you were going through something. Anyone would have noticed; they just hadn’t spoken to you about it. They’d only ever discussed it amongst themselves.

“Should we call 911?” your mom asked. Your eyes were on her. They probably still suspected you were using drugs. You weren’t sure how to say it, but this couldn’t stay inside you anymore. Whatever was eating you up had to come out.

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” your dad responded firmly. He hated hospitals, and the idea of his daughter going to one over an overdose scared him more. As he asked you a few more questions, his brow furrowed, and you took a deep breath.

You needed them to be here with you. You needed your family’s support. You prayed. You begged God to keep them by your side, to have them say, ‘We’re here for you.’ You needed someone at your back. Kids don’t fall when their father’s behind them. And so you prayed, without stopping.

As your eyes started to fill with tears, your dad’s stern expression softened. He said your name with such gentleness, trying to understand what was happening. He gently rubbed your palms as your chest heaved with deep, shaky breaths.

When tears started streaming down your face, you lowered your head involuntarily. The sound of your sobs became the only noise in the room, and your family stared at you in surprise.

‘Please,’ you thought. ‘Please be on my side.’

Your dad held your hands tightly, while your mom’s eyes began to fill with tears too. You hadn’t always been such a loving family. You’d barely managed to express your love to one another, but this had to be your chance. This had to be your chance to feel like a family again.

“I’m pregnant.” The words slipped out again, for the second time today, interrupted by your sobs. Your eyes shut, and tears rolled down your cheeks. You waited for their reaction, but there was only silence.

The room fell into an eerie stillness. Your mom’s eyes widened, and then a look of disbelief spread across her face before she let out a short, harsh laugh.

“Pregnant?” Her tone was mocking, her mouth twisting into a bitter smile. She turned away, took a deep breath, and reached for the clip in her hair, letting it fall loose. Her head was already beginning to ache. “Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”

When you finally opened your eyes, you felt your dad’s hands slip away from yours. Your hands trembled, and you felt that same sinking feeling—that you’d lost something. You were losing the other most important people in your life.

Shaking your head, you denied that it was a joke. Pulling your legs up onto the couch, you hugged your knees tightly, took a deep breath, and used your hands to wipe the tears from your cheeks. When you looked up, you met your father’s disbelieving eyes as he quickly stood, took a few steps back, and turned his back to you, as though he couldn’t bear to look.

He didn’t turn back. He didn’t speak. Your mom’s angry chuckles filled the room. She couldn’t believe it. How could her daughter be this reckless?

Finally, your dad turned to you and leaned forward, his expression hard and resolute. “How could you be so careless?” he demanded, his tone sharp with disappointment that made you wince. “What were you thinking!”

His raised voice made you close your eyes. Hugging your knees even tighter, you buried your face in them. Stupid. That’s what you were.

Couldn’t they just be there for you? This hurt so much.

Your mom shook her head in disbelief, still mocking. She’d always tried to look out for you, but you’d found a way to mess things up again… She just couldn’t believe it. “Honestly, what did you expect would happen? This isn’t some minor mistake. This… this changes everything. How could you be so thoughtless?”

Her voice wasn’t just filled with horror—it was laced with bewilderment too. With all the options for protection out there, how could you let this happen? Hadn’t you thought at all about yourself, about your future?

Your cheeks flushed as you struggled to pull yourself together. What could you even say? No matter what, you were wrong, and stupid. “I didn’t plan this,” you whispered, barely audible. You were terrified, but you couldn’t show it. You were so afraid you were shaking, feeling like if you tried to stand, you’d collapse. “And I don’t even know what I’m going to do. I haven’t decided yet…”

Your mom’s eyes widened in a mix of horror and disgust. She couldn’t believe her daughter had done something like this. Sex was one thing. She’d done it herself in her youth, but getting pregnant? At your age? You hadn’t even decided what to do with your future, whether to go to college, whether to take over the family business… and now you were pregnant? Already? “You don’t know? You don’t know!” she repeated, her voice rising. “How can you not know? This is serious! You can’t just get pregnant and then—and then not have a plan. What were you thinking?”

Tears kept rolling down your face, but you held on tightly, determined not to crumble under her harsh gaze. You lifted a hand to your mouth, and once you managed to gather yourself and take a deep breath, you spoke again. “I’m trying to figure things out. I… I don’t know if I’m ready— Mom—please…”

You just needed her to be there. Just her, no one else. That would be enough. With her and your dad by your side, you felt like you could handle anything. You were an adult now, but in your heart, you still longed to be a child again, to be held, to have your head stroked for hours as they told you it would all be okay. 

You’d settle for even one hug.

All you needed was for her to be there. Just them, no one else. That would be enough. You felt that you could face anything with their support. You knew she didn’t see you as a five-year-old girl anymore. You were an adult, but you needed them to hold you, to stroke your head for hours and tell you everything would be okay. Even one hug would have been enough.

Your father’s lips tightened into a thin line, his voice cold and full of disappointment. He looked angry, his face flushed red as he took deep breaths. Rolling up his sleeves as if to calm himself down, he finally spoke. "So what’s the plan? Just toying with the idea of motherhood to see if it suits you? This is real life. You can’t just keep making stupid decisions and expect us to pick up the pieces.”

Your mother’s eyes gleamed with sharp disappointment. She’d expected better from you. She would have even accepted you saying that you wanted to become a tattoo artist, but you had already done the worst thing you could to yourself. She was already afraid to ask if the father would even be in the picture. "You should have thought about this before. And now you’re dragging us into this—what do you expect? That we’ll support you in a decision you haven’t even made yet?"

You couldn’t say a word. You had truly expected that. You had wanted them to be by your side. You had prayed for it, but it hadn’t come to pass. This was the second blow you’d taken in a single day. Who knew how much more you could endure. When your hand went to your stomach, the tears in your eyes blurred your vision as your lids shut tight.

The fact that there was a baby inside you had already caused an explosion in your life. The people you had were no longer beside you—they stood across from you. They weren’t supporting you; they were opposing you.

Your mother took a deep breath, turned around, and pulled out her phone from her bag. “You’re getting an abortion,” she said without even looking at you. When you quickly turned to face her, she didn’t meet your gaze. Your father sat in an armchair, rubbing his temple. Neither of them looked at you. “I’ll change countries if I have to! I’ll even change your citizenship if necessary, but you’re getting an abortion!” Her voice was harsh, almost too rapid to understand.

That decision should have been yours. You should have been the one to make it. You didn’t want to be forced into it because someone else told you to—you wanted to do it because you wanted it. It had to be your choice. “No—”

“I didn’t raise you to be like this!” The moment you started speaking, she raised her head from her phone and yelled. The skin under her eyes was red, her hair disheveled. She didn’t look well. She seemed out of it. She threw her phone onto the couch beside her, thumping her chest with her hand. “I—” Her eyes filled with tears. You were the one who had brought her to this state.

“This is reckless! Beyond disappointing! What are you going to do? Stay home forever and take care of a child? And what—have four or five more? What’s going to happen to your future? You may think of… of keeping that thing, but I also have to think of my own daughter!” She pushed her hair back as she sat down, her eyes fixed on the floor as she tried to catch her breath.

“What about the father—” his voice was harsh, as if he were struggling to contain herself. He already knew it was Rafe. He just didn’t want to say his name, especially since he hadn’t been by your side as you told your family. “What does that son of a bitch think about this?” Her eyes turned to you.

You couldn’t answer. Your lips started to tremble even more as you looked away. Your father, as if he could read your mind, seemed to understand. His eyes narrowed, and he let out a bitter laugh.

“Of course,” he said. If he could have, he looked like he’d choke Rafe with his bare hands. He was probably forcing himself not to head over to Tannyhill right now.

"I can’t believe it… I really can’t. I didn’t raise you like this! Do you understand? I didn’t raise you—" You couldn’t take it anymore. Everything was crashing down on you. Why couldn’t they just hold you close and tell you it would be okay? You just wanted to feel safe, to have them tell you it would all pass. But the words hurt, and you wiped the tears from your cheeks, interrupting him.

You tried to swallow the pain, but the sting of rejection lodged itself deep in your chest. “I’m not perfect!” you shouted, your voice shaking. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Sitting up straighter, you looked at him. "And maybe I don’t know what I want yet. But that doesn’t give you the right to make me feel worthless."

Your mom’s expression softened slightly, though a cold edge still lingered in her gaze. “We’re not saying you’re worthless. This isn’t a fairy tale with a happy ending where everything magically works out. You have no idea what you’re doing.” She took another deep breath, reaching for her phone again. “You’re getting an abortion, and—” Her words hung in the air as an overwhelming numbness washed over you, pressing down until you could barely breathe. A weight settled on your chest, filling every part of your mind with a relentless sense of shame.

“This is my life! Whatever I want— that’s what will happen! It’s my choice!” The room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing closer, each word echoing mockingly in your mind. Every bit of support or warmth you’d hoped to feel dissolved, replaced by the harsh realization that you were utterly alone in this.

“Are you stupid? What are you going to do with a baby that has no father? You’re twenty!” You hadn’t even said you were keeping it. All you wanted was time. You just wanted to choose for yourself. Your hands started to shake, and you didn’t even notice when your nails dug into your palms. You’d braced yourself for disappointment, but nothing could have prepared you for the cold, piercing rejection you were facing. The air felt thick, heavy, saturated with the lost hopes you could almost feel slipping through your fingers. Each word felt like a blow, sinking deeper until all you felt was a dull, aching emptiness.

“A baby at twenty is disgraceful! People will talk behind your back! They’ll judge you! Do you really want to—"

You couldn’t listen anymore. You just couldn’t. You’d braced yourself for anything, but you hadn’t known it would feel like this. You just wanted to leave, and so you did. Standing up, you headed for the door without looking back. You heard your mother and father’s voices, but you didn’t turn. The sun was still shining outside.

You’d heard every word you were going to hear. They didn’t want it. Your mom didn’t want it. Your dad didn’t want it. Rafe didn’t want it. End of the story. You wouldn’t listen anymore.

But what about you? Everyone had said everything they wanted, but what did you want? What would make you happy?

You walked, breathing in the fresh air without knowing where you were going. Your tears had dried on your cheeks; there wasn’t a single drop left in you. You looked around, listened to the birds. Your feet carried you forward, without thought or direction.

You should be the one making decisions about your life. So why did everyone in it feel entitled to take over? It was your body, and only yours. You weren’t sharing it with Rafe, or your parents. The choice was yours to make.

Couldn’t they just listen to you, for once? They’d assumed you wanted this baby— all you wanted was time.

When you reached the beach, you slipped off your shoes without a second thought, walking barefoot in the sand. You sat down in the first spot that felt right, letting yourself just feel. You soaked in the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the slight chill of the breeze— basking in that pleasant mixture of coolness and warmth.

You just wanted to be alone. All the hits you’d taken today weighed heavily on you. You just wanted to hear yourself think, for once. Not in a dark room, but with the sun on your skin. Not in silence, but with every sound around you. The sea, the birds, the children’s laughter… you wanted it all. You wanted to be greedy.

“Sunbathing?” At the sound of the voice, you opened your eyes and looked up quickly. Blond hair dripping wet, water streaming down his whole body— JJ. Of course he’d show up right in this vulnerable moment, right?

He walked toward you but stopped just short, as if maintaining some distance. His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischief, and he lifted his hands as if to keep you at arm’s length. “You’re not, like, covid positive or anything, are you?” The same old joke, asked again weeks later, completely shattering any peace you’d started to feel.

You rolled your eyes and got up to leave, and he fell into step behind you immediately. “Okay, okay, okay! I’ll shut up.” When he reached out and lightly grabbed your arm, you flinched from the coldness of his hand. You turned to face him, catching the grin on his face as he pushed his hair back.

A quiet pause fell between you as you glanced toward the ocean. He must’ve been out surfing. The sun was nearly setting, and the water was getting rougher. But you could feel his eyes on you, never wavering for a second. “Do you always cry this much?” he asked bluntly, and your eyes closed in frustration. Only JJ would ask something so stupid questions.

What did he expect you to say? Yes, JJ, I cry all the time?

JJ watched the scenery with raised eyebrows, looking amused. Whether you’d answer him or not didn’t seem to matter to him. He enjoyed getting under your skin. After all, you were a Kook. It wasn’t every day he got to see a Kook in tears. 

"Yeah," you finally said. The word slipped out with a touch of sarcasm. Turning to leave him behind, you added, “Another story you can go tell your friends and laugh about.” Let them make fun all they wanted. You weren’t going to let this get to you. Somehow, you’d get through it, and you’d never give this fool the satisfaction of seeing you so vulnerable again. But the thought of him sharing your moment of pain with his dumb friends… it stung more than you wanted to admit—

“I didn’t tell them.” His words stopped every thought in its tracks. Didn’t tell them?

He’d seen you crying, and— he hadn’t said a word? Those idiot pogues— everyone but him— they didn’t know, then…

“I mean…” he said, and you saw his shadow as he approached from behind. Slowly, you turned to him, noticing his usual smirk softened by something almost resembling sympathy. Maybe, if you didn’t know who he was, you’d believe him. “Your covid test.” He had crossed his arms, glancing around and lowering his voice as if taking precautions to make sure no one else heard.

And the fact that he kept calling it "covid"— what was he doing?

What was even going on?

“Positive or negative?” You couldn’t tell if he was asking out of curiosity, genuine concern, or a bit of both. How many more times today would you have to say, 'I’m pregnant'?

You didn’t want to answer. It wouldn’t change anything if he knew or not… he wasn’t anyone to you. But would he keep it quiet? If his friends knew… would others find out, too?

“You didn't tell them? Really?” you asked, trying to sound skeptical as you looked away when he laughed. Trusting someone shouldn’t be this hard. He shook his head and gave you an approving nod. “I’m not that much of a jerk.”

You knew he wasn’t a bad person. You’d never really thought of him as terrible, but… he was still JJ. He’d just always been the idiot in your mind.

“Positive,” you said without thinking. Maybe you should’ve thought twice, but you were exhausted. Worn out. How long could someone live like this, carrying a secret like this?

You wanted to let go of the weight inside. You were tired. Drained. And somehow, JJ felt like someone who wouldn’t judge you. He wouldn’t pressure you to have an abortion, wouldn’t insult you, wouldn’t tell you he wanted you but not the baby… He’d know, and maybe he’d tell someone, but in the grand scheme, even if he did, it would feel like a mosquito bite in comparison.

"Even I," he began, taking a deep breath, his eyes scanning your face. He looked at your red eyes and flushed nose, taking another deep sigh. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from your arm and gestured to your face with a finger. “Even I know better than to upset a pregnant woman. What kind of people are you around? Seems like they’ve got you wandering around with tears pouring down all the time.” He kept his voice low, only loud enough for you to hear.

You took a deep breath and tore your eyes away from his, looking quickly at the sea as your eyes began to fill with tears again. You just wanted this day to be over. To be done, so you could just sleep.

“It won’t last long,” you said. It’s what everyone wanted. Maybe they were right. Maybe ending the pregnancy was the best choice. Maybe it was you who was wrong. Who knows? Maybe hearing the same words from three different people was the universe sending you a sign.

“Do you want it?”

JJ’s question hit you hard. Do you want it? All you’d heard was ‘I don’t want it.’ Not once had anyone asked if you did.

You didn’t want to break down in front of him. You didn’t want to collapse and cry. As your legs shook, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, keeping your eyes on the sea. The tears felt inevitable, as if they were determined to fall, slipping down your cheeks despite your efforts to hold them back.

“I don’t know,” you managed to say. Your voice was so soft, even you barely heard it, but JJ was completely focused on you, catching every word. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, aware of your tears without a word.

You felt his hand lightly on your back, a gentle, steadying touch. “Then don’t let anyone else sway you. Eventually, you’ll know what you want…” His tone was calm, like he was offering a suggestion. He didn’t look at you, either, keeping his gaze on the ocean just as you did.

Closing your eyes tightly, you drew in a deep breath, letting the scent of the ocean fill your lungs. “No one else thinks that, though…” Opening up to him was a mistake, you knew it. You were seeking the support, the respect he offered from a stranger you hardly knew. But somehow, he understood. He seemed to know just what you needed, as if he could tell exactly what words would help you most.

"Are you," His voice was barely a whisper. There wasn’t a soul around, no one remotely nearby, but he still chose to whisper. "Are you the one having the baby, or are they?"

As the sun slipped lower, you continued staring out at the view. You took a shaky breath, feeling like you might collapse. JJ’s hand was a light presence on your back, yet it felt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

You lifted a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks, grateful that he was standing behind you. The last thing you wanted was to fall apart in front of him. The tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, refusing to let yourself break down. Your last shreds of pride wouldn't let you. But the pain was overpowering, the shame too deep, like something was twisting and hollowing you out from the inside.

He was practically a stranger. JJ wasn’t in your life; you didn’t even see him regularly. You barely talked. And yet, here he was, offering you a kind of support you couldn’t even get from your family… How?

“Do you have a place to stay?” JJ’s question pulled you back. You wiped your tears again and turned to face him. His gaze moved from the scenery to you as your eyes met. Now that you were looking at him, you really saw him. The first time you’d seen him, you’d been so hurt, you just wanted him to go away. You hadn’t thought he’d follow you; you just wanted him to leave. And now— it was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

When you’d first crossed paths weeks ago, he’d been bruised up, his face covered in cuts. He’d probably been there to get some bandages or meds, but you hadn’t given it a second thought. The bruises had faded in the past two weeks, though a couple of scabs still lingered.

“Looks like you like what you see…” he smirked, jolting you out of your thoughts. You took a quick step back. If he didn’t say such idiotic things, you might have thought he was actually kind of human, but he was still the same idiot he’d always been.

You cleared your throat, annoyed at his bluntness. "No," you said. Technically, you did have a place—you could go home. But you didn’t want to. They hadn’t told you to leave, but you just couldn’t take another lecture. "No, I don’t have a place to stay."

JJ smirked again, and a hint of laughter crossed his face as if something had just occurred to him. He looked out at the sea and said, “Good.” That was all he said before glancing behind him. “I don’t have a place either. C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking ahead, and you looked at him, confused. If he didn’t have a place, then why had he asked? Idiot.

He turned and looked back at you. When he saw you hadn’t moved, his smirk widened, and he spread his arms, walking backward. “Come on! Let’s go!” Then he turned back around and kept walking. You didn’t understand him, but you started to follow.

He walked to where his things were, threw on a shirt, and picked up his bag. He glanced back to make sure you were following and grinned again. “I know a nice spot. You’ll probably hate it, Princess. But I’ll take you there.” As he grabbed your wrist to tug you along, you paused for a second to put on your shoes when you reached the edge of the beach. “Your face— it’s healed up,” you noted. JJ just grinned and tossed his still-damp hair back, giving you a look that hinted he’d taken your words another way.

“I know I’m handsome. Thanks for noticing.”

A true idiot shows his colors anywhere, anytime. Never forget that.

And yet—as annoying as he was, you kept following him, completely sure that wherever he was taking you, you were going to hate it.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 :: part 1

꧁ eddie x female reader :: part 2 here

a multi chapter mini series— based on thoroughfare by ethel cain

listen here (apple music) + here (spotify)

summary: jumping into his truck at seventeen, eddie takes a journey in hopes to find love. years pass with no such luck, along the way he stumbles across you, a timid drifter who reluctantly agrees to join him, heading west. you’ve never trusted men, but something in those kind, deep colored coffee eyes stirs up a feeling you’ve never felt before. strangers to lovers trope, one bed trope.

triggers: 18+ smut

author’s note: no upside down, eddie was raised by his mom and dad in florida and they were in love.

The wet shell of a sunflower seed stuck to the tip of your finger. Slicked with salted spit and the tart bite of cherry chapstick, you hung your hand out of the passenger window, waiting for the western wind to blow the husk from your finger.

His thumb rubs against the rough edges of the flint wheel of his zippo, the sweet tang of tobacco invading your nose as the flame sparks leaving a burning cherry on the white paper. A slight chap to his lips from too much sun yesterday at the motel pool in BullHead City, you had supposed. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The only time you could was when his eyes caught yours, daring you to look away.

The way he stared at you with a smirk twisted on his mouth took every bit of breath from your lungs. Holding your gaze in a cozy embrace with the deep warmth of his russet colored eyes until you finally forced yours to break away and look out the window instead. Bottom lip bit between your lips as a growing heat travels over the apples of your cheeks.

If you would have looked back at him you’d have noticed the way he licked his lips as he watched you sigh as if you hadn’t been breathing. Snapping another sunflower seed between your teeth before putting them on the crest of your lips to put them out of the window— he had your movements memorized. Each more tantalizing than the next.

Neither of you were able to deny the tension between you lately, letting it build and fester, aching for relief in the form of pleasure.

The last eight weeks had started to wear heavy on your chest, and you found yourself daydreaming about the beginning of this adventure, like a record on an endless spin to your favorite song.

Not a single radio station would come in wherever the hell it was in Texas he was right now. With every crank of the tuning dial, only the agonizing noise of static strained through the speakers to keep him company as he drove along this highway that never seemed to end.

He cursed himself for not buying a map at the gas station he filled the truck up at this morning. His gut instinct usually guided him on which roads to take, and today was no different. Only today felt like he was pulled by something else, something deeper within himself.

The sky was a mix of cyan and cotton clouds, already hot for May, he was just about to give up on the radio before he popped over a hill and an oldies station came in clear as could be. And something else came into view, plenty far away yet.

Hot wind whipped at your shirt, providing next to nothing for comfort as you trudged along the broken asphalt. You now understood why this place was called the Lone Star State, because you haven’t seen a damn soul in miles. For today, you didn’t mind the loneliness. Leaving home, years ago, you didn’t have a destination in mind, only the knowledge that you needed to get the hell out.

Whatever highway you were on looked to be deserted. As if the state built a multi-laned monstrosity elsewhere and gave up on this slow, lonely stretch, leaving it to the elements. Prairie grass poked through the splintered road, tumbleweeds swayed in the ditches, collecting and tangling as one like a tawny bundle of barbed wire.

Looking behind you, a vehicle showed in the distance like a wavy mirage in the desert. You had half a thought to stick your thumb out and catch a ride to the nearest bus station, but when the vehicle got closer your conscience took over, and anxiety thumped in your chest.

Please don’t stop, please please.

The engine hummed to a lower gear, and you automatically put a hand on the pistol at your waistband. Moving further over to the side of the road where whoever was driving could see that you weren’t interested in their good deed, you kept your head down and kept walking.

Tires slowed and you went into a small panic, wishing you had something sharp to hold between your fingers, but the barren highway offered no such vice.

You heard faint music as the vehicle got closer, crawling almost to a stop as you quickened your steps hoping they would just keep going and leave you be.

“Pretty hot out today… need a lift?”

The voice felt like velvet on your skin, a warmth you’d never known. Endearingly charming, no southern twang like someone from Texas would have. You ignored him, letting the crunch of gravel on your worn boots answer instead.

You had never been given the luxury to trust someone, and you’d be damned if you were gonna start today with some stranger on the side of the road. Heart rate kicking up, you all but bolted to avoid him.

“Baby don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere,” his drawl wrapped around you like a vice, soft and pillowy, and finally your curiosity got the better of you, as you came to a halt. You wanted to look this asshole in the eyes and flash him the pistol you kept, maybe fire a warning shot over the hood of his truck so he’d get the message. That no, in fact you did not need a ride, not from him.

Stopping so his passenger window lined up with you in the center you eyed the only other beating heart on the side of the road.

His hair was past his shoulders, brown and wavy, more than likely frizzy in high humidity. Eyes that were shaped like Bambi’s colored like a bottomless cup of coffee without creamer. His nose sat with a fading sunburn painting along his cheeks, each dwelling a poked dimple in the center. And you swore the key to Heaven was buried in his smile.

When he spoke it was clear that his intentions weren’t to cause you any harm. Minutes ticked by as he waited for your answer.

“Hey, do you wanna see the West with me?”

It was a simple question asked from the quirked mouth of a guy you’d never met before, you would have remembered those eyes in any setting. He leaned an elbow out his window as he threw the truck in park, twisting in his seat to face you a little more. A cigarette dangling from his large hand.

The butter colored sun shone against his caramel curls like a breakfast roll full of sticky sugar, the same light changing his eyes into a whiskey auburn.

He was a complete stranger, but what was even stranger was your one word answer that spread that million dollar grin further onto his face than you thought humanly possible.

You moved your hand from that handle of the gun in your tattered jeans, bearing more holes than actual threads of denim. It was meant for situations just like this, and you had nabbed it from your dad right before you walked out the front door for the very last time.

Instinct told you to run, but something in those dark eyes brought you a wave of calm, whispering out as if you’d known him for years. Your boots had already blistered your heels from walking this far, so what the hell?

Pressing a thumb into the release of the door handle, you swung yourself and your knitted bag into the moth-bitten navajo rug that covered the seat.

His smile didn’t fade, never so much as creased into a frown as he waited for you to get situated. Before he put his truck into drive he explained where he was going.

He was making the grand gesture of looking for love like the kind he grew up watching with his own mom and dad. Explaining that love like that was out there waiting for him, and he was determined to find it, no matter the distance.

Suspicion jumped to your brow, and you tried to stifle the scowl on your lip. “What?” he chirped, a little twist to his lips, “don’t believe in stuff like that?”

This bastard clearly didn’t know heartache the way you were practically related to it. You sigh lazily before looking over at him. Trying not to break his dreams before he even had the chance to realize what a waste of time it was, you simply murmur, “honey, love’s never meant much to me, but I’ll come with you if you’re sure that’s what you need.”

After years of living and growing without being loved, it had become almost useless, something heard in songs or read in books, surely it wasn’t real. But hell, you’d humor this man whose smile danced like a western sunset against a salty ocean breeze, what was the worst that could happen?

A large calloused hand reached across the cab of the truck, and you shook it with a small grin as his voice rubbed like silk across your soul, “I’m Eddie.”

And so it began, the journey to find a love daring to be something greater than anything he’d ever known, hell bent and determined it was out there, wherever that may be.

He had asked about your life. Never pushing when your answers were too short, or ended the conversation entirely. Letting you have your space, he built a trust between the two of you that you weren’t sure about at first.

The roads were desolate, and you couldn’t imagine walking along them alone. You thanked whoever cared that your thoroughfare crossed into his, almost as if destiny had placed you there. Knowing you needed a friend after leaving the only thing you’d ever known and not having a single soul to rely on.

But as time went by, you realized just how much you could rely on him.

That first day, he drove until the windshield bled to ink. Stars dotted across the sky once the sun went to rest, and he encouraged you to follow suit, pulling a hooded sweatshirt from behind his seat and tossing it towards you. Your hesitation told him all he needed to know, that the uncertainty of him was rooted deep. Too deep for you to let your guard down around him.

That pearl handle poked out from your hip and his kind eyes met the scared look in yours. He rubs his lips together before he speaks calmly, “you uhm,” he looks over at you to show how serious this was to him, even if you couldn’t see it in the dark, “you don’t have to worry about using that with me… I’m not that kind of guy.”

His innocence spoke through his eyes in words he hadn’t said, showing you that he wasn’t lying, that you could trust him. You took a deep breath, wondering if you were insane for feeling comfortable with a guy you just met, but it wasn’t long before you whisper, “okay.”

When you snuck a peek over at him, his face was lit by the dim lights of the dash, a smirk nestled on his lips, cheeks welled with the deepest dimples you’d ever seen, and your shoulders eased for the first time since hopping in.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. Your head resting on the window, his sweatshirt rolled under your neck as you fell into a sleep so tender and warm you felt like a baby being lulled to bed as he sang along to the radio.

The heat from the window warmed your cheek when you woke, leaving a less than glamourous mark. Letting out an embarrassingly long yawn, you stretch your arms above your head, feeling your back crack into submission.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, how long did I sleep?” you ask, covering your mouth again from another yawn.

Eddie smiled tiredly, his hair was wrapped into a bun at the base of his neck, sunglasses topping his nose, pushing up from his cheeks as he grins, “don’t apologize for sleeping when you’re tired,” he said, shrugging, “besides, you probably would’ve woken up if I crashed.”

A chuckle hits your dry throat and you cough, “where are we?”

“Still in Texas believe it or not,” he groans, turning it into a long yawn, holding a hand to his mouth, swallowing a bit, “I hoped we could’ve made it to New Mexico before I pulled over but I’m starting to think that ain’t gonna happen.”

You figured he would have stopped to sleep at some point in the night, even if it was just for a few hours. Guilt throttled you at the thought of him staying up while you were asleep. “I can drive while you take a nap.”

“Nah,” he says with a lazy smile, looking over at you, “not that I care if you drive my truck or not, I just think we could both use some decent sleep, watch a little tv, eat, plus… I need a shower.”

Taking a whore’s bath in the gas station sinks had kept you clean, but you almost cried outright at the thought of water, cold or hot you couldn’t care less, running down the length of your body. But the lack of money burning in your pocket stopped that dream in its tracks.

You had a couple hundred bucks left after selling off your car before leaving home. The cost efficient option would be to drive while he slept. “It’s really not a big deal, I promise I’m a good driver.”

The charm you tried to emanate when pulling out your license to show him that you indeed weren’t lying, fell flat as Eddie waved you off, “deodorant only lasts so long before we’ll have to ride with our heads outta the window.”

He laughs in your place as you stare out of the windshield, mind racing over the trouble of being able to afford a motel room.

“C’mon,” he smirks, that same lazy smile stretched on his face, you wondered if he ever got mad. “We survived almost a whole day together, if I was gonna rob you I would’ve done it already.”

“It’s not that,” you say, picking at your nails, fighting the urge to bite them to shreds, “I wasn’t walking because I wanted too…”

Wheels turn in a tired mind as Eddie nearly chokes when he realizes what you meant.

“Don’t worry about it,” he confirms, brushing you off as if it wasn’t a big deal that you’d be bunking with him for free, and when your facial expressions didn’t change, he lowered his voice, and took off his sunglasses, “seriously sweets, you’re doing me a favor keeping me company, ‘m not gonna make you pay for a trip you didn’t plan, okay?”

You sighed, and shook your head yes.

The nearest motel was a hole in the wall type of place. Adhering to the kind of people that either paid by the hour or stayed for weeks at a time. The perk being it was next to a gas station where you refused to let Eddie pay for the armful of snacks he had carried to the counter. Including two hotdogs that you couldn’t be bothered wondering how long they’d been spinning in the warmer.

His boots clunked against the sidewalk as he jumped from the bed of the pickup hauling his duffle bag over his shoulder, the hotel keys wrapped around his forefinger. Outside of you both relieving yourselves on the empty shoulder of the highway last night, this was the first time you’d seen just how tall he was.

He squints in the sun and cocks his head, “bet you a dollar the carpet is orange.”

Room 8 consisted of two full sized beds, a lamp between the two, an arm chair and a small television. A stiff neon brochure for adult channels lay next to the remote, and you scrunched your nose as Eddie pushed it to the floor with the heel of his boot.

Laying out the snacks neatly on the table, you hand him the other hot dog, licking a drop of mustard from your palm. He thanked you, and took a bite consuming almost half of it before dropping onto the bed closest to the door, laying flat on his back.

Having four walls around you gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t been expecting. Slipping off your shoes you wiggled your bare toes and sat on the bed facing away from him, rolling your socks into one another.

“How’s the hotdog?” you asked over your shoulder, moving your bag between the side of your bed and the wall for the bathroom.

A muffled sound comes from the other side of the room as he shovels another bite in, “rubbery, but not too bad for having been made at midnight.”

You snort and swing your legs into the bed. Grabbing the hotdog from the comforter and peeling back the white paper around it, taking a small bite. It was warm, and tasted a hell of a lot better than the moldy ham sandwich you ate yesterday. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and you giggle.

“Hotdogs for breakfast… don’t think I’ve ever had this before.” You laugh again before taking another bite of the squishy snack. Eddie looks up as he chews the remaining bite, realizing this was the first time he’d ever heard you laugh loud enough for him to hear, what a beautiful sound.

“Stick with me, we’ll have breakfast for dinner, too,” his tongue pokes out to lick a smear of ketchup from the corner of his lip, and he yawns loud and proud.

You cross your feet beneath your legs, a content little smile on your face. “Do I still owe you a dollar if the carpet is also brown and green?”

Your combined laughter echoes across the wood paneling and the pictures of dogs playing poker. The two of you joke about the severely dated room, agreeing that this was probably the place to stay in its prime. But the sheets were clean and that’s about all you could ask for at this point.

Eddie’s eyes were nearly closed as he scrubs large hands down his face, his voice strained, “mind if I shower ‘fore I fall asleep?”

“Not at all,” you say, jumping from the bed and looking through the snacks to find the licorice, “take all the time you need.”

He tosses the remote to your bed and unzips his bag, pulling out a toothbrush and a clean pair of boxer briefs, a minute passes and he scratches his head before diving back into the bag, yanking out a folded pair of sweatpants.

Sighing as he peels off his boots, he walks to the bathroom door and before shutting it, he pokes his head back out, a curious little grin on his lips as he asks earnestly, “you’re not gonna run away, are you?”

You swallow the bite of licorice and smile back, “think you’re stuck with me, if that’s cool with you?”

His grin broadens to a cheshire smile and he says he won’t be long, promising to save some hot water.

Neither of you can quit the grin on your lips until the door unlocks, and Eddie mutters “cool,” to himself before leaving the steamed bathroom.

Diners with smudge stained windows and siding that was warped from the sun's rays, came few and far between on those lone, dust covered roads. Eddie had pulled into almost every one. “Never know when the next one will pop up, sweetheart,” he smirked, sending a wink your way that had your stomach fluttering.

Each menu, although stickier at some places than others, was relatively the same. Eggs, Bacon, Toast. Waffles at the fancier joints or maybe a bowl of fruit alongside a flapjack.

He watched you intently as your eyes scanned the menu, keeping his promise of having breakfast for supper a few week into your trip. His own stomach had been grumbling since you packed up from the last motel somewhere on the border of Oklahoma and New Mexico. A wrong turn near McCamey had taken you North to Amarillo, three hundred miles in the completely opposite direction.

Instead of screaming about the wasted fuel, Eddie had only shrugged. He was excited to cross into the panhandle, and to make a check along the list of states you’d scribbled onto a napkin a few days into the trip to cross off as you came through them.

That quiet, suspicious drifter he had picked up three weeks ago seemed to blossom with life the more he peeled back the bricks that you had surrounded yourself with. But Eddie was charismatic, easy to talk to, and you found yourself deep in the throes of explaining things to him you haven’t talked about in years.

When your cheeks would heat and embarrassment creeped up your neck, you apologized for talking too much. He only shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he said that he didn’t mind, he wanted to know more.

The waitress strolled back over with a cigarette hanging from her lip, a gray ash practically a mile thick on it as she grumbled about the specials and set glasses of water on the table—ice already melted besides a sliver of a stubborn cube.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee,” he charmed, folding the menu placing his hands on top of it, “two eggs hard fried, a couple of sausage patties and wheat toast, also one of those slices of lemon meringue pie I saw in the display window.”

Without so much as a grunt, the waitress lifted her eyes to look you over. Setting down the vinyl menu, you place your order and lick your lips at the thought of the homemade lard crust on the rhubarb pie.

Looking out the window to the dry landscape, you sigh with a breath of content. You had never been this far west before, never been anywhere really besides the small town you grew up in.

Two coffees sit in front of each of you and Eddie thanks the waitress, a dimpled grin on his cheeks as he opens a packet of sugar. Warm eyes look at you as he stirs the coffee into a swirl, “Nothing like home, huh?”

A smile presses to your lips and you sip the bitter liquid, chipped porcelain against your front teeth, “definitely not, the air is dry here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, slipping the spoon into his mouth to clean the coffee up, taking a big gulp of the burnt— probably microwaved— concoction, “it is, but that’s the beauty in the journey, exploring different places, meeting new people.”

He tucks a curl behind his ear, a tiny silver hoop in his lobe, you hadn’t noticed before and you ask, “you keen on picking up strangers on the side of the road?”

A laugh bubbles from his throat, and he smiles big showing all of his teeth, “in all the years I’ve been on the road, I never have, not until you,” he takes a sip of his coffee, a pretty blush rides on his cheeks, “guess I haven’t run out of luck just yet.”

You hide your own smile, itching your nose, “how long has it been?”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “well, I left Florida when I was seventeen..,” he adds up the years on his fingers with this thumb moving to each one, “… shit,” he says with a smirk, “almost nine years now.”

He was older, not by much, but you had both left at a younger age. Calling the open road and warm air home for years. Living like a Steve Earle song sporting a two pack habit and a motel tan, it seemed like fate put you on the same road that he was traveling that day.

But you push that thought away, Eddie was looking for love, and you were just tagging along like a pet, a friend at best.

“Do you ever miss it?”

He stretches himself across the booth, arms on the back of the peeling seat, pearl snaps straining against the denim from the broadness of his chest, and you find it hard not to look, “Nah, I’ll go back someday, me and my girl.”

That flutter happens again in your stomach and you feel almost nauseous at how infectious his smile is.

You spend the rest of dinner that way, trying to shove down a grin with each bite of breakfast food as the sun fell behind the mountains. Letting the butterflies swarm, with each time he looked into your eyes.

Not knowing that Eddie was also slowly losing his own battles, leaving with something more in his stomach that was sweeter then the stiff meringue on that damn lemon pie.

🌵 taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @micheledawn1975 @dashingdeb16 @hereforshmut @welc0me-t0-hellfire @aropodcastfuck

[momolady]

Sirion the Vampire

-Patreon - Ko-Fi - Commissions - Masterlist - 3K words - Trans-Male Reader x Male Monster Forbidden Love - Elopement - Vampire Feeding - True Self

Taking hold of that hand, you held it close, unafraid of the dark and certainly not worried about the cold. You looked into the darkness of his eyes, assured of what he said. 

“Then let’s go.” Your breath came out in thick, curtaining billows. “Take me there, we can’t leave soon enough.”

A smile spread across his face and he leaned in to kiss you. You had vowed long ago you would go anywhere with him, do whatever it took to stand by his side. When he saw you, truly saw you, there was no turning back. Forever you two were locked together.

The night you ran, he made quite the grand spectacle of it. Of course Sirion had to let the whole world know, that was never a question in your mind. He took you from your home, glaring deep into the eyes of your family who had been holding you captive in your own home all this time. He stared at them, wishing them to burst into flames, but instead he let them live, peacefully as you had requested. Even as your father’s old gun rang through the streets, all you wanted was for them to be left alone

The carriage was an ornate one, one harkening back to the old days when the vampires had once ruled this land. There were no windows, so you could not see outside to where you were going. But there were jewels, or at least where jewels had once been. The empty settings seemed to plead for something to hold. The seats were luxurious, silk and down you assumed.

“It will take us a while to get there,” Sirion murmured. 

You looked up from your exploring, catching the somewhat grim look upon his face. He raised his hand, showing the blood on his palm from where you fathers’s bullet grazed him.

Jumping up from your seat, you rushed to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is nothing to worry about,” he growled as you sat beside him, peeling away his cloak to inspect the wound. “I will heal fast. After all, at the moment, I am still full of you.”

Placing your palm over the wound, you glared into his eyes.

Sirion laughed. “Don’t give me such a look.” He languidly placed his hands over his face, hiding but a slip of his eyes. “Not when we should be celebrating.”

You huffed. “You haven’t rested either.”

Placing his long, heavy arm around you, Sirion pulled you in close. “I was far too excited.” He relaxed his body as yours drew closer. “It will be just us now. No hiding, no secrets, no shadows.” His eyes gazed up to the roof of the carriage where a starry night scene was painted. “A place of moonlight,” he breathed.

You were exhausted as well, and resting your head upon his chest was the most sumptuous pillow you could find.

When you woke, the carriage had stopped. You raised from the seat, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around. Outside you heard voices, Sirion’s was among them. As you opened the door and peered out, you saw a dark, endless scene of pillars and dark. The air was musky and cold, and echoes of water were all around.

“There he is.” Sirion’s voice guided you to his visage, standing in the light of a torch. “Come,” he beckoned to you. “They will be taking care of you.”

“For what?” You frowned, looking at the tall, pale woman before you and her short, somewhat hairy companion.

Sirion held onto your shoulders and chuckled. “To prepare you for your new life, of course. To be my groom.”

Your heart pounded, taking another look at the couple before you.

“I’ll be fixing your hair,” the man said and spit to the side.

The woman smirked, amused by the man’s behavior. “And I have clothes for you, Sirion requested a lavish wardrobe for you, my lord.”

The pulse of your heart was likely noticed by everyone in your presence. “Really?” You looked up at Sirion in awe.

“Really,” he chuckled. He pushed against your back. “They will take care of you, and I will rest.”

You followed the man and woman, taken to a bunker-like building. Inside was lavish in a pauper type of way. Things that had once been grand mixed with others that looked stolen or upgraded. 

The man had you sit in a chair while he took out a glimmering silver razor and scissor set. In a rage, your father had lopped off your hair, leaving it uneven, in hanging chunks, and skin close patches. You were relieved to feel the hairy man’s scissors snip away and the cold of the razor against the back of your neck.

Meanwhile the woman pulled out a trunk, an extra package set aside upon the top which she opened. Inside was a dark red and black suit. The material looked familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it.

“There now,” the man turned you in the chair. “How does that look?”

The mirror was broken, but you still appeared in it just fine, unlike the man and woman. Your hair was masculine, swooped to the side and the flowing front tucked behind your ear and the sides shaved short due to your fathers assault. It was how you always wanted to look. You looked like the man you knew you were.

“That’s amazing,” you whispered, touching your face.

The woman then approached from behind. “And your new wardrobe is even better!” She said excitedly. “Come, come, you must get dressed.”

The man walked off, going to prepare something in the corner while the woman dressed you.  She took note of the bite mark on your thigh, giving you a wink and a smile. She dressed you in the fine suit, making sure the hems set right and everything fit. 

“Perfect! The measurements were precise.” She moved you to the mirror again, showing you yourself. The suit hugged what it needed and hid what you didn’t want. You looked like the vision you saw in your head, the one that never had appeared to you before. Tears came to your eyes.

“I knew it! I did it!” The woman clapped her hands together then turned to the man, taking from him a silver clutch. She opened it, showing you the needle inside. “Sirion will know the rest,” she whispered to you. “He always provides.”

Still in tears, you weren’t sure how to respond.

The man and woman finished your meeting by giving you food, which seemed a bit jumbled, but you were hungry so the meal didn’t matter.

Afterwards, you were presented to Sirion, whose grin could have matched yours. He ran up to you, scooping you up and tossing you about in the air.

“My dashing prince!” he announced loudly and proudly. “Look how you shine!” He hugged you to his chest, his long fingers grasped around your head. “I knew you were meant for the finery of the vampires.” He smoothed his palms down your collar. “I had her make this from the suit I was wearing when we first met.”

That’s where it seemed so familiar! You beamed from ear to ear, even larger than before. “I love it,” you breathed into his chest. “Thank you!”

He stroked your hair, feeling the closely shaved sides with a delicate touch. “From now on, you will be seen. I promise. Where we are going, you will only see your best self.” He then laughed. “We don’t use mirrors much, but I have one just for you.” He bent down, kissing you. His lips were cool, but you had grown to love that feeling.

Once in the carriage again, Sirion had you in his lap, his hand in your pants touching you, feeling your desire from him grow.

“Seeing you like this, it makes me feel alive again,” he chuckled into your ear. His voice was breathy, deep, full of longing. “I cannot wait for us to make love for the first time.”

You moaned, fidgeting a bit in his lap. His fingers curled, eliciting a deep moan from your lips. “But we have.”

“Not like this,” he growled. “Not in freedom.” His fingers were slick, making wetter sounds as he moved. “I doubt I can hold myself until we reach safety.”

“You don’t have to,” you gasped. “We can-” You kept losing your breath from his touch. “We can do it now.”

Sirion breathed something of his old language into your ear. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Enjoy the rest as a free member over on Patreon!

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

Uhh no thoughts. Head empty. Take this Scarian being soft in a modern AU.

-

"Scar." He expels the name like one would a curse, lungs still reeling from the sprint to the man's flat. Taking a second to breathe some air and give Scar a deadly glare for good measures, Grian continues. "When you called me saying there was an emergency I thought it meant you were dying."

There's a single meow as Scar gets up from the couch, cradling Jellie like she's something precious. Which she is, of course, but given the adrenalin coursing through his veins, Grian thinks he's allowed a little leeway. 

Scar pouts. "It is an emergency! Look at how cute she is with her little bow! I might have a heart attack from it."

Grian's still standing in the doorway. The wind gets to him through the cover of his wings, and he can't suppress a shiver as he decides whether Scar deserves that he leaves without any words or not.

There's a look in the other's eyes, soft and warm - like Grian is the sun coming back home after the endless gray of winter. "Close the door after you. You'll let the cold get in." His voice sounds certain, as if Grian couldn't do anything else but stay. And moth to the flames, he shrugs off his coat after the sharp click of a lock.

"You owe me for this." A traitorous yawn escapes him halfway through his sentence. "I was in the middle of something."

Scar rolls his eyes. "You were studying yourself to death." Jellie jumps off his arms to rub herself against Grian, probably taking offense that he's still standing there instead of joining her human. He gives her a little scratch behind the ears, before leveling Scar with a look. "Finals are next week."

A laugh, and Grian rediscover the sound of Scar's joy every time, brainwaves rewriting themselves so he can hear those little wheezes and never grow tired of it.

Icy attitude melting as Scar grabs his freezing arm to manhandle him to the couch - wings puffing out when the man steals the equilibrium from him - Grian lets himself sink into it with a sigh. A few minutes with his boyfriend won't make him fail his year, he supposes. 

"Make me a coffee and we're even." He says, hooking up his head on the top of the couch so that he can see Scar get to work. 

"Of course, of course." Scar hums while turning on the coffee machine. "Wouldn't want you to fall asleep." There's a twinkle in his eyes that Grian doesn't especially like.

The couch is warm - holding the impression of Scar's body heat even though the man is no longer there. Grian curls on himself a little tighter, and misses the touch of Scar's fingers on his skin. It might be a little needy of him, but it's been two days since they've last seen each other, and he want nothing more than to wrap himself around Scar and bathe in the comforting scent of his after-shampoo.

"Here." Scar hands him the fuming cup of coffee, startling his brain out of the fantasy world in which there was no work to do and no lesson to learn.

Selfishly, Grian wants - in the crystal clear moment where Scar sits on the couch next to him, legs glued together like they were always made to be close - the world to stop, time to slow, the incessant noises of life to reduce into this moment where the only audible thing is their slow breaths in the wake of a slow love. He just wants.

But the world is cruel, and Grian a bit of a coward, which leaves him sipping on his cup - righting his tired brain from where it's strayed, lost in exhausted thoughts and warm hands.

"Stay." Scar pleads, gently arranging his wings out of the tangled position they're in. The unfortunate consequence is that it has moved Grian's head close to the other's shoulder, and the half-smile lighting his face tells Grian it might not be so accidental.

"Half an hour." Grian allows, resting his head in the crook of Scar's neck. It's almost too comfortable - familiar and safe, with just the two of them sitting in the tiny living room of Scar's flat - and Grian feels his eyelids droop against his will. He just has- He just has to hold on until the caffeine kicks in, he reminds himself. It's only a matter of minutes now.

"Oh!" Scar exclaims suddenly, almost making Grian jump in surprise. "Sorry." The other giggles at a much lower volume. Gods above, Grian loves this man - with his smiles and his jokes, with the crease in between his eyebrows whenever he's worried about something, with the way his tongue slips out of his teeth just the tiniest little bit every time he makes a mistake and tries to solve it. 

Most of all Grian loves the way Scar loves, and that's something he's not yet ready to admit out loud. (Sometimes, when Scar looks at him with a whole galaxy in his eyes, Grian wonders if Scar doesn't already know.)

"Do you wanna see all the pictures of Jellie I took?" He's doing it again, watching Grian like he could win the world just by looking at his face, and with a tongue too heavy to form any sentence, he simply whisper a quiet sure that might sound a little weak.

Scar lights up, and within seconds he's already opening his gallery to a multitude of Jellie pics.

Still fighting the strong pull of sleep on his bones, Grian crumbles a little, letting his wings drop and his legs tangle with Scar's own - it kinda looks like he's melting, if Scar's amused smile is of any indication. 

Time passes like that, as sweet and slow as honey, and Grian finds his vision blurring into a sea of white and gray that is interspersed with ever-increasing long black pauses.

Half an hour has probably passed by now. He should- He really should get up and go back to work, but the sleepiness weighting on his body has grown too strong to ignore, so he simply curls up against Scar's warmth and lets the blue of his phone screen lull him into a pleasant nothingness with a sigh.

From behind the pink of his closed eyelids, Grian can see the phone screen turning off, and Scar's breath tingles against his ear when he whispers. "Grian."

Half-asleep and well on his way to a complete fall, he simply croaks out a little "Uh?" That would have made him embarrassed if he had any brain cells left to use. 

"I have something to confess." Grian blinks drowsily. "I replaced the coffee with decaf." Scar murmurs, with something like guilt in his voice, if guilt sounded a lot more happy than it should be.

The thought connects, but the muscles don't, and Grian stays slumped against Scar's side despite his terrible betrayal. "You cheater." He mumbles, before deciding this whole problem is relegated to tomorrow's Grian.

Scar snickers, before jabbing a gentle finger into his ribs. "C'mon sleepy bird, you're gonna fuck up your spine." His underhanded tactics, his problem. Unless signs of catastrophic disaster - and Grian doesn't mean anything less than an earthquake or a tornado heading their way - he will not get up. Serves Scar right.

There's a sigh, the feeling of a soft kiss on his forehead, and then, as if an afterthought, Grian slips into nothingness.

[wayward-dreamer]

New Blood

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Supe!Reader

Word count: 4,750

Summary: The executives at Vought American are enamoured by the new supe at the annual shareholders party, hoping to make her a new addition to Payback. Soldier Boy isn't pleased with the idea, as he's the only one who gets to decide who joins his team. He tells her this fact, and braces himself for a fight, but gets something much better out of their encounter.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Swearing, angst, SB being an asshole, misogyny, smut: dirty talk, rough sex (like insanely rough, they're supes after all), using powers during sex, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex.

A/N: I got an anon Soldier Boy fic request to write something similar to the Homelander/Stormfront sex scene from 2.05, so here it is. It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I just hope it reads well. I may even be up to writing a part 2. Happy reading! :) @that-sarcastic-writer for your kinktober writers list ;)

Vought never really needed an excuse for a huge party.

With the company gaining more stock in the last few years, there were plenty of things to celebrate. There had been talk recently that there was a chance for them to become an international corporation, as more supes were added to their registry and employees of Vought American were being promoted around the clock. The annual shareholders party kept getting bigger and bigger with every year the company was earning more credibility, and the year of 1984 was the most decked out the foyer on the 40th floor had been in recent times.

The champagne was free-flowing, the hors d'oeuvres were endless as waiters walked through the crowd, and all the shareholders had their attention on the supes in the room. The members of Payback were scattered around, some in deep conversations with the higher-ups in Vought, and others that cared more about finding a way to entertain themselves for the night.

Y/N threw her head back with an exaggerated cackle, taking a sip of her champagne as she turned her face away from the shareholder she was talking to, rolling her eyes. She faced him again, a smile plastered on her face as her hand smoothed down the shoulder of his charcoal suit.

“So, how much control do you have over those powers?” he asked, a slick grin pulling at his lips.

“Well sir, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking… I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love it when things get a little heated,” she replied, as she lifted her hand, a small flame appearing between her thumb and forefinger. Gently, she hovered her fingers close to the skin of his jaw, causing him to jump at the faint burn.

Their eyes met as they both laughed, his hand sliding down her back and resting on her hip. Y/N tried not to show her disgust as she continued to smile, a few more of the shareholders and members of the board joining them, all of them intrigued by the newest supe to join the Vought family.

“You certainly have a better handle on things than those fucking twins,” another one of the suits stated, briefly looking back at the TNT twins across the room before he turned to her, “you’d make a better contribution to Payback than they are right now.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, clinking her glass with his.

In truth, she had no desire to be on the team for any personal gain, but if being a part of it offered greater benefits for her family back home then she was more than willing to do what needed to be done.

Soldier Boy leaned against the high-top table as he sipped his whiskey, his line of vision directly on the woman across the room at the bar, surrounded by all the corporate fuckers that had barely spoken two words to him all night. The only thing he had heard was an earful from Stan Edgar about the last mission he had gone on, but it was all a bunch of hypocritical bullshit. He continued to ignore the man as he stood in front of him, his eyes focused as he watched her, observing her every move as she practically threw herself at all of them.

“We need to do some damage control before you head off to Nicaragua,” Edgar added, stopping as he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere. “If you want to stay relevant, Ben, I suggest taking some of my advice on board.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Soldier Boy asked, a quick glance at him before he nudged his chin towards the woman in question.

“Ember,” Edgar replied, curtly. “Y/N. Promising up and comer from Detroit. VPs think she might be a good fit for the team, that we need some new blood around here.”

“My team?” Soldier Boy turned towards Edgar, jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrowed into a glare. 

“I believe you mean Vought’s team,” Edgar countered, unfazed by the way the supe was staring him down. “But she’s no one to concern yourself with. Leave that to us.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, taking another sip from the tumbler in his hand as he looked back at Y/N. She stood in the middle, champagne in one hand and cigarette in the other, charming the men that circled her, and even a few women. His scowl deepened as he watched her laugh, show off her powers and flirt with them. They were all hanging on every word she said. Usually it would be him cracking jokes with all the suits, inviting them to after parties with the best drugs, booze and women. They hadn’t even looked his way this entire time.

He didn’t know much about Y/N apart from her supe name, Ember, but there was no way she was getting into Payback, into his team, without his approval. He smirked in as he saw her excuse herself, strutting away from the group with an exaggerated swing of her hips, the tight latex bodysuit accentuating the curve of her ass. He threw back the rest of his drink, leaving the glass on the table as he adjusted the front of his suit, walking away from Edgar and whatever lecture he was about to continue.

The smile grew on his face as he saw her walking down the hallway, the heels of her thigh-high boots clacking against the marble floor. He shook his head as she took one last puff of her cigarette and threw it on the ground, putting it out with the toe of her boot before she made her way to the restrooms.

She definitely needed a lesson about who was in charge around here, and who she needed to impress to be in the team.

Y/N stepped out of the cubicle, blowing a large bubble of her gum and popping it, washing her hands under the gold and ivory tap of the black marble skin. She turned the water off, shaking the drops off her hands before she reached for the paper towels, wiping them thoroughly. She threw the paper in the trash along with her gum, turning on her heel to look at herself once more in the mirror. She placed her hands over her covered chest, pushing her breasts up slightly, giving herself more cleavage in her tight suit before she headed back to the party. She opened the pack she had attached to her hip, taking out her silver cigarette case and opening it, grimacing when she found it empty.

“Fuck,” she breathed, as she snapped it closed and shoved it back in the small pack.

With one last look at her figure in the mirror, she turned towards the door and walked out into the hallway. Her heels clicked against the floors for a couple steps before she stopped abruptly, her sight fixed on the man leaning against the wall, who’s own eyes drifted up the length of her body, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he placed a cigarette between them.

“Got a light?” he asked, winking.

With a playful roll of her eyes as she clicked her fingers, a tiny flame igniting. He leaned forward, the tip of the cigarette burning as he inhaled, pulling it out as he blew the smoke out in rings. Their eyes met as neither of them made the move to step aside, staring each other down. Y/N knew exactly who he was, and she even had a feeling she knew what he wanted, but there was no way he was going to get it so easily. She wasn’t going to hold out completely, she was far too curious about him for that to happen.

“Ember… right?” he inquired, even though he already knew.

She gave him a firm nod, boldly reaching for the cigarette between his fingers and placing it to her lips, taking a large drag herself. She blew it out slowly, right in his face, slightly annoyed that he didn’t react. “Whatever you want, Soldier Boy… you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“Oh come on, doll, I just wanna talk,” he reasoned, shifting closer to her as he gazed into her eyes.

“I have a name,” she stated, her features void of any emotion. She wasn’t in the mood for whatever he was trying to do.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and husky as he uttered the word.

She felt a shiver run down her back as she heard him speak her name, but she tried not to show the sudden effect he had on her. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we talk?” he asked, nudging his chin in the direction behind her. “Somewhere private.”

She took another pull from the cigarette, blowing it out as she dropped it on the ground, putting it out with her boot again. She glanced up at him with a smile, tilting her head with curiosity. “Only if you got something stronger.”

His smirk widened as he offered her his arm, waiting for her to take it. She lifted her eyebrows in an amused, silent ‘really?’, before she stepped forward, her heels echoing on the floors as she walked towards the elevators. She stepped in and waited for him, feeling her stomach turn as he pressed the last button, ‘50’ for the penthouses. They stood in silence as the elevator moved up the floors, but she was very aware of his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking. The doors opened to the 50th floor, letting them walk out into the short hallway to the door that had “Soldier Boy” in shiny gold letters. He tapped in a few numbers into the keypad, the green light allowing him to open the wooden door into his loft.

Y/N sauntered in, taking in the décor around her and noting the theme was of course the same as his look and aesthetic. Dark shades of green in the rug and the cushions on the black leather couch, gold flakes in the black marble of the bar in the corner of the room, a gold bust of a Bald Eagle with its wings spread as the centerpiece on the surface. It was his all-American hero persona all over the apartment, and if she wasn’t itching to find out what he wanted she’d be impressed. She watched as he walked over to the bar, his suit tight and accentuating all the right parts of him. He picked the decanter filled with bourbon and poured a generous amount into two tumblers, reaching under the bar to retrieve the small bag of coke he always kept there.

“So… you wanted to talk?” she asked as she wandered over to the bar.

“All that fun you were having back there…” he started, as he made short lines of coke with his knife across the top of the bar. “It’s a fucking problem, and we’re gonna do something about it.”

Their eyes locked briefly as he offered her the rolled up dollar bill, before she bent down and snorted the first line, throwing her head back to inhale it properly. She did the same with her left nostril, wiping up the remaining powder that had fallen on her lips and rubbing it on her gums. She picked up the tumbler and took a sip, moving away from the bar and taking in the view from the floor-to-ceiling window.

“The crab cakes were fucking better than this coke; not such a crime to enjoy that,” she stated.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me, sugar.”

She turned around, staring him down as he did the same with her, both trying to figure each other out and as quickly as possible. The air around them was thick with tension, and it was going to go one of two ways.

“I wasn’t doing anything other supes haven’t done,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders. “Give these guys a great pair of tits and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of and they’re drooling like dogs with a fucking bone.”

His expression was blank, completely unimpressed with her pretense. He leaned down towards the bar, pinching the side of his nose as he dragged it across the surface, snorting up the white substance. He leaned back as he sniffed, humming softly as his eyes opened, glancing back at her with a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Whatever you’re tryin’ to get outta those shareholders back there, tryin’ to convince them by letting them put their hands all over you… they just want a couple hours between your legs and won’t give you what you want.”

“And you know what I want?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“You want to join Payback,” he replied, as he walked towards her, slowly. “And there’s only one way you can.”

“Really?” she scoffed. She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes, knowing what he was implying, but choosing to rile him up. “How?”

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” he thew back, his features pulling into a deep glare. She was hitting a nerve already.

“No, what’s obvious… is that you’re fucking jealous of all the attention being on me,” she replied, calmly. She squared her shoulders, unafraid of him even as he stood taller than her. “You can’t stand the fact that someone might take your spotlight. That you don’t get a say about what happens with Payback anymore. Everyone knows Noir’s the only valuable player for Vought. The rest of you… you’re gonna end up C-listers, with crummy deals at amusement parks and running Herogasm into the fucking ground.”

“Watch it, Y/N,” he warned.

“And as for you…” she chuckled. The sound was almost evil. “You know they’re all just humoring you, right? Countess, the twins… I mean fuck, even Edgar just gives you shit to do so he doesn’t actually have to deal with you. He’s probably got a replacement lined up for you already.”

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched as he scowled down at Y/N, reaching forward and grasping her arm in his tight grip. The glass fell out of her hold, shattering on the floor as he pinned her hand to the wall behind her, pressing his body into hers to keep her from escaping. She growled as she struggled against his strength, lifting her free arm to swipe at him, but he was too quick for her, repeating the action and holding it to the wall. She glared up at him, breathing heavily as her forearms started to heat up, her skin covered with an orange glow. He grunted as it singed the flesh of his palms, but he made no move to let her go.

“Are we gonna fight or fuck this out? ‘Cause I’m getting some really mixed signals here,” she snapped between gritted teeth.

The heat under his palms became overwhelming, causing him to step back as he groaned. Y/N raised her curled fist, ready to strike him but a gasp escaped her as he pushed her back against the wall once more, his hand around her neck. Their gazes locked as they glared at each other, an eerie silence falling between them, both of them waiting to see what the other was going to do. It seemed they both had the same thought, their lips meeting in a rough, searing kiss as her hands fell to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Their mouths moved together, each of them fighting for dominance over the other, her grip tightening as she tried to get control over him. She bit down on his bottom lip, her teeth nipping the skin hard, a growl leaving him as he pulled back. He swiped his thumb across his lips to check if he was bleeding, seeing a spot of crimson on the tip.

“Oops,” she whispered, smirking at him.

“Is that all you got?” he questioned, his eyes darkening as he pressed down on her neck.

She wheezed slightly, chuckling as she scowled up at him. “I don’t think you want to see my worst.”

She lifted her hand, the tips of her fingers lighting up with embers, slowly developing into small flames. She raised an eyebrow as they continued to look at each other, the flames diminishing as he eased his grip, his hands landing on her hips. He turned her around and slammed her down on the bar, the decanters of liquor falling off the surface from the force of her landing and smashing on the ground. Their lips met again, just as rough and frantic as before, their hands snatching at each other’s suits trying to get them off. He pulled down the zipper of her latex bodysuit, peeling it off her shoulders and down to her hips, his mouth traveling down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts, his teeth nipping harshly at her skin. She let out a guttural moan as her hand pulled at his soft hair, a frustrated growl escaping him as she forced his eyes to meet hers.

“I think I’d rather have that mouth between my legs,” she ordered.

He snatched her hand away, gripping it tight between his fingers, slowly twisting it back as his green orbs blazed with anger. “I don’t get on my fucking knees for anyone, doll.”

“Too hard at your age?” she mocked, cackling.

Soldier Boy glared down at Y/N as he pulled her fingers back, a harsh grunt passing her lips at the force, fearing he would snap them clean off. She squared her shoulders, tugged her hand out of his grasp, pressing both of them against his clothed chest and pushing him back with all her strength. He yelled as he skidded across the marble floor, his back hitting the leg of the dining table, causing it to shift back several inches. He stared back at her as his rage continued to grow, watching as she sauntered over to him, half-naked, the broken glass on the ground crunching under her heeled boots. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she wriggled her fingers, small embers turning into short flames as she rubbed them together, taunting him.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that,” he threatened, slowly rising to his feet.

She moved closer to him, tilting her head so that her mouth was inches from his. “Let’s see you fucking try.”

 She reached for the tactical vest he was wearing, unbuckling it quickly before ripping open the gathered collar of his suit just as fast. He flicked her hands away, grabbing her by her hips and taking control, turning around and pushing her down on the table. She grinned wickedly as her face pressed into the wooden surface, letting his hands roughly peel her suit down her body, her boot-clad legs and tossing it aside once it fell around her feet. He removed the top of his suit, kicking her legs apart as he unzipped his pants, stroking himself as he lined up to her entrance. He placed his hand between her thighs, his fingers feeling how wet she was already, bringing a smirk to his face as he brought them to his mouth and sucked at her arousal.

In one quick thrust of his hips, his cock was sheathed by her walls, a loud moan escaping her as she felt the stretch. He wasted no time, setting a brutal pace to his thrusts, fucking into her hard and fast. He grunted as his fingernails dug into the skin of her hips, his pelvis smacking against the curve of her ass as he continued to pound into her. The table shook under their weight, the creaking getting as loud as the sounds of pleasure coming from both of them, the wood starting to crack at the legs.

A squeal left her as one of the legs gave way, the table tilting as it broke from the force of their rigorous movement. He caught her in his arms just in time, her back pressing into his bare chest as he pulled her back. She laughed as she shook her head, rolling it back onto his shoulder as his hand slid up the front of her body, his fingers curling around her neck. She moaned wantonly as he applied pressure, his hips unrelenting as he felt the way she clenched around him so perfectly.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around her hips to keep her close. “Stretched so perfect around my-”

She reached back and smacked her palm around his mouth, rasping short breaths leaving her. “Shut up.”

He suddenly pulled out of her, causing her to whine at the loss of him. He grabbed her by her arms and walked her towards the wall, pushing her up against it. He held both her wrists together in one hand against her back, leaning over her as he smirked, his cock teasing her folds.

“You fucking ass,” she muttered, sending him a glare over her shoulder. “Just put it back in.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “That kind of talk’s not gonna cut it if you get on my team, Y/N.”

His deep and husky voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and he no doubt noticed. “Last I heard, it’s not your decision.”

“You couldn’t be more fucking wrong, doll,” he whispered, the words sinister as he leaned further into her.

He took hold of his cock and pushed back into her, his head tilting back with a grunt as he felt her walls around his shaft once more. A loud whimper fell from her lips as he kept the same pace as before, his hold still on her wrists as his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pressed her against the wall. She tried to free her hands from his grasp, but he was far stronger than her. He was the strongest of all supes, so it wasn’t a surprise. She had caught him by surprise a couple of times, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“You like that, sugar?” he asked, smirking as he nuzzled his nose along her jaw. “Like the way my cock fucks you hard and fast, fucking deep into your tight little pussy…”

“Fuck,” she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to ignore his words. She couldn’t let him know just how much she was truly basking in the feel of him inside her. “I-I…”

“Come on, doll, use your words,” he taunted, his breath fanning against her ear. “You’re gonna cum so hard on my dick, I can feel it. I can feel the way you’re squeezing around me right now, it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

She whimpered as she tried to hold herself back, but he was right. She was already close and she needed that euphoric release from him more than her own dignity in that moment. She managed to tug her hands out of his hold, one of them reaching up and cupping his jaw tight. She dug her nails into his skin, a pained growl coming from him as embers singed his flesh. He recovered quickly, the skin healed as he lifted both her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head, his hips smacking harder against her. She moaned as she felt the heat blaze deep in her core, the coil ready to snap at any moment.

“Better play nice, Y/N,” he husked, holding her hands in a death grip as he pressed his forehead against the side of hers. “Be a good girl and I just might take you in… I can fuck that attitude outta you everyday, it’ll be our little secret…”

She felt him deep inside, the head of his cock pressing against the wall of her cervix with each thrust. She turned her head back to stare up into his green orbs. His pupils were blown wide from the drugs and the pleasure coursing through him, and she knew they both couldn’t hold on much longer. One hard snap of his hips against her had her cry out, her walls contracting around him.

“Fuck, please,” she panted. “Please make me cum.”

He grinned as he heard the desperation in her voice. He knew he had her.

“Cum for me, doll,” he groaned, one of his hands slipping down her arm and into her hair, tugging the strands tight between his fingers. “Fucking soak my cock.”

Soldier Boy’s words were all Y/N needed to push her over the edge. A string of moans turned into a loud shriek as she felt the coil snap, her arousal covering his shaft. His own release wasn’t much further behind her, his neck strained back as his cock pulsed inside her, a drawn out “fuckkk” escaping him, spurts of seed coating her walls. He breathed heavily, trying to come down from his high as he pulled out of her, turning away to pick up the top of his suit and dress himself. She hissed as she felt the ache between her legs, pressing her thighs together to keep his cum in. She moved away from the wall, finding her suit on the floor and picking it up. She got ready quickly, zipping herself up and fixing her hair before she faced him.

They stared at each other as she felt his seed inside her, her mind making a quick note to stop at the restrooms again before heading back to the party. She spotted his drink still sitting on the bar and walked over, ignoring his gaze as she moved past him. She picked up the drink, turning around and finally meeting his eyes.

“I don’t need your approval to be in Payback,” she began, tossing back the amber liquid in one shot. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Mr. Edgar.”

“You’re wasting your fucking time with him, Y/N,” he stated, glaring back at her.

She scoffed, sauntering over to him, her heeled boots echoing on the marble floors. She looked up at him, a silence falling between them once more as they continued to figure each other out. A mischievous smile pulled at her lips as she lifted her hand, round and small embers glowing on her fingers as she smacked his cheek. He jolted slightly at the brief sting against his skin, causing her to giggle as she stepped back, relishing in the way he scowled at her.

“See you around, Ben.”

Without another glance at him, she left the glass on the bar and walked towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. Soldier Boy shook his head, his rage getting the better of him as he picked up the glass and threw it across the room, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces as it hit the wall. He had no desire to return to the party, his mood completely soured now, thanks to her.

He picked up the bottle of bourbon and the bag of coke, walking back into his room. They’d be a better use of his time than talking to any of those fucking suits at that party.

Six weeks later, Y/N AKA Ember was named the newest member of Payack. She accepted the new position and all the congratulations with a huge smile on her face, shaking the hands of her new teammates and bosses, members of the board and shareholders in Vought American, soon to become Vought International.

No matter how wide she grinned, however, she couldn’t enjoy the accolade. It was all tarnished by the events that came before, in honor of Soldier Boy’s heroic sacrifice in a nuclear blast. She wanted to be able to rub it in to him, making him jealous of all the attention she was getting and get him riled up, in hopes they’d have a repeat of what happened that night of the shareholders’ party.

It was a strange feeling, to wish that he was there. She just had a feeling that Vought wasn’t being completely honest about what happened to him. She couldn’t think about that, though.

She had a country to protect, people to save, and an image to uphold in order to help her family. That had always been her top priority.

No matter how much the greatest supe of all time plagued her thoughts.

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[darcydarlingdabbles]

Born to Survive (1/2)

Astarion x f!Tav (tiefling), Canon Compliant,

Astarion's Romance, Act 1

1.8k of about 6k

part 2

Astarion's perfect little plan to seduce and manipulate Tav goes awry the first night he spends with her. But he should have known from the moment she agreed to meet him in the woods. // Part 1 of 2 cause this was longer than I planned for (heh). Astarion's dialogue is as close to the game as I could manage, with some embellishment. CW: Astarion's v healthy approach to sex/intimacy. MDNI This part is not explicit but part 2 is only that. Song Rec: Natural (Cover) by Kristen Collins & Kurt Hugo Schneider//

Astarion from the growing darkness watched as Tav knelt by the campfire, fighting with the instincts honed over centuries. 

Tonight, she was going to feel their razor’s edge—except she was going to live to see the morning. 

Maybe that was why the vampire was feeling a little bit of…hesitation, for once. He’d done this song of seduction and dance of deception more times than he could remember. It would be easy as any night on his back. She would be no different. 

So he thought. 

Tav was paying all of her attention to the fragrant herbs she’d gathered into neat bundles, binding them together, singing their edges to combine them, and deftly blowing them out again. 

It made Astarion scoff to think the tiefling had time to be concerned over such trivial matters. Tadpoles in their heads. Death stalking them at every corner. And here was the ranger, worried about potion ingredients camp supplies. 

And here he was, charming a mere ranger. 

Astarion watched as she brushed her long hair over her shoulder and out of her way to continue focusing on her task. His eyes traced the marks still visible on her neck. The twin punctures were worn so openly, brazenly advertising that she’d so willingly let a vampire feed from her. 

That was his way in. Because he remembered how…intimate that encounter was. A foreign concept from a life of feeding on rotten rats—but he was more than familiar with the way her body trembled under his teeth.

Astarion rolled his shoulders back to relax, composed his face into a charming smile, and sauntered over to the fireplace. 

“Darling, there you are.” 

“Astarion!” Tav jumped, nearly dropping the herbs into the flames. “Gods, you’re quieter than any prey I’ve tracked.”

He gave a flippant wave to ward off her comment. If only she knew how groomed he was to stalk the most clever and dangerous of prey. 

“I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we shared…”

Tav straightened up from her crouch at the fire. She arched an eyebrow, and rested her hand on her cocked hip. “Astarion, if you need blood—” 

“I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours,” he interrupted smoothly. He made a point of his eyes traveling over her figure, wondering what was hidden under supple leather armor—worn, well-used armor.”I’m growing to like the whole package.” 

“Really?” Tav asked, her tone dripping with a skepticism he didn’t appreciate. “I didn’t think a little dirt would do it for ya.” 

Her bright eyes raked over his impeccably kept appearance, which he had still managed after an abduction and days out in the wilds, thank you very much. 

But then Astarion noticed the slight swish of her tail. Though tieflings weren’t as common among his targets, he’d charmed and manipulated a few in his endless nights on the streets. 

Tav was either irritated…or interested. 

And Astarion knew just how to tilt that reaction into his favor. 

“Honestly,” he protested, stepping a bit closer to her. “And, you clearly like me too.” 

Her tail slashed back and forth, disturbing the dust near the fire. Even as she wore that face of suspicion and doubt. Cute little thing. Like a kitten who thought her mewling was a roar.

 “Come now, don’t be coy.” Astarion stepped artfully into her personal space, crowding her against the log that Karlach had placed as a bench before the fire. “Your body has already given you away…I could feel it.” 

Tav swallowed, and his eyes were drawn right to the graceful slope of her neck. 

As if she needed any more reminding of the night he first fed from her. How she had laid her head back into his hold. How he nearly lost control when he tasted the sweet nectar flowing through her veins—he almost forgot how she squirmed under him, but didn’t push him away. Then, that traitorous tail of hers curled up at the point. 

She may as well have broadcast her arousal to the entire camp. 

Astarion raised a hand, ghosting his touch along the defiant line of her jaw, down to her throat and the fading marks his fangs had left behind. She didn’t flinch at his almost-caress. In fact, she was already tilting her chin to it. 

“The little shivers, when I was getting lost, in your neck…”

Some feeling bubbled up unbidden from within the vampire. That moment, his first time taking blood from a thinking creature, well he couldn’t help it if that was special to him too. Astarion could still feel her fingers coiling at the small hairs at the back of his own neck.

It was…intimate. Like hadn’t known before. 

No. 

He quickly buried the foreign desires and slipped back into the persona that never failed to stoke them in others. Want was a weapon in his arsenal, one that he could wield with lethal dexterity. 

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” 

Tav’s teeth bit into her bottom lip, and she must know that she’d been caught. The agitated flicking of her tail slowed. Astarion knew that he had her when the pointed tip began to curl. 

“So I did.” 

A triumphant grin tugged at the corners of the elf’s mouth. He, deliberately, tilted his head to her, so the setting sunlight might catch his gleaming fangs when he grinned. 

He was always so careful to conceal his nature from unsuspecting prey until he could pull them into the shadows. But Tav’s obvious attraction to his vampiric features was something he fully intended to exploit. 

Such a wicked weakness for good girl. 

“So did I, more than words could say.” He let his rich voice drip with honey as he finally let his cool fingers touch her heated skin, skimming deftly over the fading twin marks. 

Tav shivered under his hand, but didn’t pull away. 

He had her now. 

Astarion loomed closer, his cool breath ghosting over her pointed ear. “I was so…very pleased with what you gave me, darling. You deserve a reward.” 

He expected her to melt into the caress of hand and his words, but Tav stiffened under his attentions and pulled back. Confusion flickered over the elf’s face before he could conceal it behind an innocently wounded expression. What did he say wrong?

“I don’t need a reward, Astarion.” Tav’s tone was firm, but irritatingly gentle. Which just made him want to snap his fangs in frustration. She ducked back to pick up her abandoned herbs, bundling them up neatly, and literally slipping right out of his fingers. “Some people help just for the sake of helping, you know?”

Astarion bit back the scathing retort that rose to his lips. 

It wouldn’t do him any good in his current objective, and might just shatter the fragile mood he had so carefully constructed. 

Instead, he forced a disarming chuckle and slid onto the log seat next to her. “Of course dear, I simply meant we could take an evening to ourselves.” Her tail twitched next to him. “Get away from camp, get some…privacy.” 

Astarion’s silver tongue was not about to fail him now. Tav’s back was to him, taking her time packing her herbs away, a tension lingering in her shoulders that he wanted to sooth away with his hands—or his mouth. 

She was proving to be more of a challenge. No matter, he enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse. Though he had no intention of being the mouse. 

Tav turned back to face him, those jewel-like eyes scrutinizing his face, like she was trying to pierce the winsome smile he plied as a well-worn mask.

She leaned closer, bringing her earthy smell of herbs and leather and something wild that made something in him ache for more. To have her closer—to feed, obviously, nothing more. 

For a fleeting moment, Astarion was certain he had Tav ensnared at last. 

“We don’t need to leave camp for you to feed on me, you know?”

Gods dammit. 

There it was again, that insufferable, good-guy tone that made him want to tear his perfect curls—he’d already seen Tav run headlong into danger over some undeserving wretch just under the pretense of doing the right thing. It might just make Astarion ill. 

“And you don’t owe me for it, either.” The sincerity in her voice was making his cold skin crawl. 

Astarion had lived long enough to know that altruism was a myth. Benevolence was meant to beguile. And anyone offering a hand would want their palms greased. 

Tav was either a fool, or the trickiest devil he’d tangled with yet. 

The misunderstood outcast card was not his favorite hand to play, but it worked so well on those with a savior complex. 

“Oh, I understand.” Astarion said softly, arranging his face into a petulant pout. 

Tav’s brows furrowed, and she finally looked back up at him. “You do?”

“I do. Stealing off into the woods with a vampire…” He let his voice trail off, oh so hopelessly. “It is a lot to ask you to put your faith in me.” 

“Astarion, that’s not—” 

He cut her off with a wounded sigh. “You do not trust me.” 

Astarion stood and turned away, shoulders slumped in feigned dejection, waiting for her to take the bait.  She would get to her feet and follow. He could count it down in his head. 

Three, two, one…

“I do trust you.” Tav’s soft voice was almost pleading. 

A slow, satisfied smile curved Astarion’s lips, surprised she’d yet to faint from that bleeding heart. 

“Then, trust me.” Astarion purred, closing the distance between them in one sinuous stride. He loomed over her, feeling the rush of her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck. 

Tav reached for his hand, but the vampire deftly bypassed it. His long fingers encircled her wrist, the heat of her skin sinking into his palm and warming him already. 

Her eyes were wide, nearly luminous in the gathering dusk, but he let his gaze linger on her mouth, his own lips parting ever so slightly. 

“Trust me, when I promise you a night you will never forget.” He lowered his voice and let shadows fall over his crimson eyes. 

Tav shivered, and Astarion knew it had nothing to do with the temperate air. He could smell her arousal, heady and sweet, as obvious as the almost perfect curl her tiefling tail was making. 

“Okay,” she breathed, her word a little more than a sigh. “I trust you.”

A victorious grin spread over his lips and through his veins. He finally had her right where he wanted her. Under his hand as he cupped her cheek, drawing her close, his breath ghosting over her lips before finding her pointed ear.

“See you there, lover.” 

part 2

[annoyinglyhardsong]

Codywan Week 2024: Day 8 Five Year Anniversary

Author Note: We have reached the end of Codywan Week this year! Thank you @codywanweek for putting on such an amazing event. This is the first time I've participated in something like this and it has been so amazing getting to see all of the amazing things you guys have created and sharing the things I've been able to create with all of you. Here's my day 8 prompt fill I just really wanted to write something cute and cozy of Obi-Wan and Cody just enjoying some peace together after the war in the fix-it au that these boys live in. (Sorry I love them both too much to let them suffer through all the angst that they go through.) As always likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Divider by @saradika-graphics, if you are looking for any cute graphics or dividers they have tons of amazing ones!

Tags/Warnings: SFW, cozy Codywan, sweet, kisses, a little bit of that's not how the Force works but go with it for me, slightly force sensitive Cody, soft Obi-Wan, anniversary celebrations, cozy morning meditations

The war had been over for three years, and after the chaos of cleanup and reparations and peace talks had finally been settled it had been three years of almost domestic tranquility for Obi-Wan. 

The Jedi had worked with the clones and the senators they knew would support them to get multiple bills passed that recognized them as sentient beings and therefore deserving of all of the same rights as every other human in the galaxy. Like pay, the ability to vote, to get married, the list was almost endless.

 The Jedi had also offered up the option to the clones to apply for transfers to continue their work alongside their Jedi in the temple. After all the Jedi that had been lost in the war they needed all of the help they could get, but more than that after years working alongside each other during the war many of the generals and their troopers were anxious to keep working together in any capacity and seeing as how integrated the two had already become it wasn’t much of a stretch to apply their current working arrangements to times of peace instead of war. 

Cody had almost immediately jumped on the opportunity to transfer to the temple and continue working with Obi-Wan. Personal relationship aside the two worked well together and couldn’t imagine not at this point. They were two halves of the same coin, what one didn’t think of the other probably did. 

Today was an average day in the temple. Nothing extremely pressing to deal with that day, just a few meetings. Obi-Wan had woken early that morning and was settled comfortably in front of the window in the main portion of his quarters, sinking deep into meditation. 

During the war the force had been so turbulent and he and some of the other masters had been able to feel it growing weaker and more distant. But now that the Sith Lord, Chancellor Palpatine, and his minions had been dealt with, the Force had come back stronger than ever. Things felt right in the galaxy again. 

Eventually he felt a familiar force signature flare nearby. Rousing from a deep reddish orange, to something brighter like the colors of the sunrise, bringing a small smile to his face. Cody was awake then. Obi-Wan reached out towards his partner through their budding force bond, he had always suspected Cody may be just a little Force sensitive and this was all but confirming it, and sent a small nudge of greeting towards the other before entwining his own force signature with his partners’. 

Cody’s force signature had always been strong. A light in the dark, and a shelter from storms when racing thoughts and self-doubt wanted to consume him. It was warm, inviting, and steady just like Cody. This early in the morning he couldn’t help but be drawn to that warmth, like a moth to the flame, and just observed Cody going about his morning routine. 

Using Cody’s force signature as an anchor, Obi-Wan was able to fully relax into his meditation letting the force swirl around him in a familiar manner, always keeping Cody’s wearabouts in the back of his mind as he padded between the bedroom and the main living quarters finishing the task of getting ready for the day. 

Eventually the warmth that was Cody settled next to him, placing a warm cup of tea near him, drawing him out of his meditation finally. 

“Good morning my dear,” he said, opening his eyes to give Cody a warm smile before picking up his tea and taking a careful sip, relishing in the warmth the beverage provided against the chill of the morning. 

“Good morning,” Cody replied softly, shuffling a little closer to Obi-Wan to gently lean his head on the other man’s shoulder, Obi-Wan bringing an arm up to wrap around Cody. A familiar embrace as they watched the sun crest over the horizon on Coruscant. Sunlight slowly reaching across the land to glint off of buildings and vehicles. 

They had spent many mornings like this, and had seen far more beautiful sunrises on planets far across the galaxy. But this one felt a little more special. Today marked 5 years since he and Cody had started dating. 5 years since Cody had officially asked him to be his cyare. And Obi-Wan had never been happier. 

Being with Cody was as effortless as breathing. That’s not to say that they didn’t disagree on occasion or butt heads over matters, but with some time to think and cool down they were usually able to resolve things quickly and come to some kind of agreement. But day to day life was seamless. They had gotten along well professionally and the transition to forming a relationship in their personal lives just made sense to them. He was the other half to Obi-Wan’s soul, and he would forever be grateful that they had met. “My dear, do you know what day it is?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, still watching the sunrise over Coruscant. 

Cody gave a thoughtful hum. “No?”

“Happy Anniversary love,” Obi-Wan murmured into Cody’s hair pressing a kiss into the curls. 

“Is it really? Already? It feels like we just celebrated our anniversary. Happy Anniversary!” Cody responded, panicking for a second before settling. 

“That it does, my love.” Obi-Wan replied with a smile and a small chuckle. Turning more serious he said, “Thank you for the most wonderful last 5 years. You have made my life truly magnificent, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of it with you.” He finished, cheek coming off of where it was resting on Cody’s head to meet his eyes. “I love you Cody, till the ends of the galaxy.”

“I love you too Obi, to the ends of the galaxy and beyond,” Cody responded, hand coming up to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek before pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips.

[grey-and-green]

Ineffable (pre-2000's) Timeline

Before the Beginning 

We don’t know how long before The Beginning this was, or how long they may have known each other in ‘heaven’ before Eden. We don’t know if one (or both) of them had their memory of the other erased (I think there's quite a lot of speculation about this, so I can't link just one example).  

Angel!Crowley is the most adorable thing in all creation, but he asks some very innocent and appropriate questions and Aziraphale is scared for him (and maybe scared of him?) 

Crowley shelters Aziraphale with their wing. Adorable. Love it. 

4004 BC: Eden 

Aziraphale gives away his flaming sword in his first official act of doing-good-against-God’s-wishes and Crowley immediately fucking eats it up.

"You're an angel, I don't think you can do the wrong thing" is well-intentioned but probably sets up a less-than-helpful anchoring point for Aziraphale's morality (see various points below about Aziraphale's moral evolution trajectory and rationalising Heaven's actions).

Aziraphale shelters Crowley from the rain (and the best part is that Crowley moves in, closer to Aziraphale, BEFORE Aziraphale puts his wing up. Fucking lovebirds. Ridiculous) 

3004 BC: The Flood 

Crowley seeks out Aziraphale at the flood. Essentially just shows up to flirt.

Aziraphale clearly doesn’t like the flood-and-death plan but he also isn’t ready to speak negatively about God. He defends the flood as “not that bad” and goes all “no comment” about killing kids (because he can’t actually defend that bit). Not a huge fan of heaven already by this point, but either too brainwashed or too scared (or both) to actively say anything non-conforming out loud.

Crowley is appalled by the idea of killing children, has always been a rebellious little cinnamon roll.

“You still have one [unicorn]” implies that Crowley either doesn’t know the point of the Ark (unlikely, he didn’t show up here by chance) or he doesn’t know about the birds and the bees. (Is it at all possible that Bildad The Professional Cobbler/Midwife still didn’t know what sex and childbirth were? No solid evidence that he had any plan other than pulling the ribs out. He’s so stupid)

(Theory: Others have considered that this meeting was more involved than what we’ve been shown so far because 1- by the Job incident Aziraphale is real damn convinced that Crowley won’t hurt the kids and 2- “sudden rainstorm forces them together under a canopy” doesn’t actually fit with either of the times our lovebirds sheltered the other under their respective wings, because neither time was sheltering “together”. So maybe this sudden rainstorm is what Crowley is actually referencing and there’s more here we haven’t seen). (Theory 2.0 is this wildly long meta that basically is a dissertation on why the kissed during the Flood and I’m here for it).

2500 BC: The Job Incident 

Ugh, I love this episode. Nothing but endless love for our baby Bildad.  

Appears to be a chance meeting between them.

They BOTH DEFY ORDERS to save the children.  

When the bird-goats make a noise, Crowley turns around before Aziraphale says anything. He was HOPING that Aziraphale would catch on, he was baiting his Angel to see that he was going to save the kids. Which, I mean, we all already know Crowley is a softie and he’s not really tried that hard to hide it from Aziraphale in the history we’ve seen so far, so…tone down the evil demon cosplay, babe. We’re past that.

Crowley saving the kids isn’t surprising. But we actually have a big jump for Aziraphale here. When we originally only had the Flood and the Crucifixion in S1, the evolution of Aziraphale’s “defence” of Heaven seems subtle and slow between those two short scenes. But throwing this epic story in the middle? Genuinely a MASSIVE shift from rationalising Heaven’s plans for the flood to assuming he knows what God is thinking + actively collaborating with a demon and trusting a demon more than his fellow angels + willing to be literally damned to save three random kids. (Could easily argue that this seeming anachronism in Aziraphale’s arc [along with Bildad’s stupid hair] makes it all the more plausible that there is a magic trick happening here).

Aziraphale says that Crowley is “technically” a demon. (I see what you’re getting at there. I see you, Aziraphale) 

Aziraphale tries human food for the first time. Odd sexual tension. I won’t elaborate.

When Aziraphale is sitting by the ocean, he’s waiting to be punished and thinks that’s why Crowley came over. But Crowley doesn’t know this. He was just coming over to spend more time with Aziraphale for totally platonic reasons.

Crowley has the chance to take Aziraphale to hell as a demon, and declines (hmmm, foreshadowing us all getting our hearts ripped out a few short episodes later???) 

Crowley’s appearance: people have speculated on why they look so different here compared to the Flood and the Crucifixion. My theory is that the other to flashbacks (seen in S1) are Crowley going about her life and just popping in to flirt with Aziraphale, whereas with Job, Crowley is showing up to work. The Bildad getup is a work outfit, demon cosplay. Long hair and no sunglasses is Crowley being himself, and silly hair silly glasses is creating a character to play while hiding his eyes because humans are around AND he’s vulnerable when hell is watching.

Bonus happy thought: when they get the kids in the cellar they start bickering like an old married couple/BLATANTLY flirting and the kids are just...so confused. Fucking delightful.  

33 AD: Crucifixion 

Crowley seeks out Aziraphale.  

Crowley has changed their name.  

By this time, when Crowley says “Heaven’s being a bit shitty” Aziraphale doesn’t actually defend Heaven? “I’m not consulted on policy decisions” is much closer to “I know they’re awful but I can’t change anything” as opposed to trying to rationalise that heaven must, by default, be good. (See note above about Aziraphale’s non-linear moral evolution).

Not much else here except Crowley looking their absolute most gorgeous in all of history.  

41 AD: Rome 

Crowley having a bad day. A lot of people have written about how after the Crucifixion and everything else that has happened so far, baby bean is fucking disillusioned as all hell.  

Crowley makes obvious ploy to get Aziraphale to ask him on a date, and it works. Delightful.  

Bonus happy thought: the little pins each of them is wearing on their togas? The fucking angel wings and the snake? Nothing but love for the Good Omens costume department.

537 AD: Wessex knights

No idea if they’ve met between Rome and now, but I’m pretty sure they have? Aziraphale recognizes Crowley’s voice immediately, I feel like they’ve talked sometime (oodles of times?) in the previous 500 years.  

Proposed Arrangement. Aziraphale very dramatically declines for corporate reasons. Not so much “working together is wrong” but that “working together is against the rules”.  

Could possibly argue that this feels like a step backwards for Aziraphale since the Job incident. But I think, no? With Job, the stakes were high and they were literally saving innocent lives. Here, The Arrangement is presented more like cheating on homework. Like, this is just a report for work, I’m not going to risk being reprimanded for something trivial like faking a sick day. Because Aziraphale still wants Heaven’s (God’s) approval quite badly: he’ll risk his life to save human lives, but not to save himself a trek to a castle.

1601: Globe Theatre 

By the now The Arrangement is well established. Aziraphale puts up a very lazy fight against it, but caves almost immediately.  

We can see already that Aziraphale is concerned that Crowley could get in trouble over their relationship, but I don’t think he has really realized how much danger Crowley is in? Like, if he genuinely thought destruction was on the line, he might have protested more. But it’s still important here that Aziraphale is concerned with Crowley’s safety above his own.  

I believe Aziraphale asked Crowley to meet up at the theatre from what Crowley says about “you said we would blend in with the crowds”.  

Bonus happy thought: I’ve seen people speculate about whether the coin toss was rigged. I choose to believe they BOTH rigged it so that Aziraphale would go to Scotland bc Crowley didn’t want to go, and Aziraphale knows that Crowley can’t ride a horse so was totally keen to save him from that ordeal.  

1650: not shown

Something happens and Aziraphale does the “I was wrong” dance 

I wrote elsewhere that this could be a promise of something we will be shown in Season 3 -OR- it could be a Clue that memories are missing (see The Magic Trick You Didn’t See)

Also, despite all the wonderful suggestions people have from actual history about what these two might have gotten mixed up in in 1650, my personal prediction is that if we see this in Season 3, the actual Thing that led to the dance will be extremely trivial, like Aziraphale knocks over Crowley's drink or something.

1793: The Bastille 

Aziraphale gets himself in a damsel-in-distress situation and Crowley “has to” save him. Obvious ploy to go on a date. Flawless.

Crowley is clearly following Aziraphale around, since he showed up at exactly the right time. Zero coincidence detected.

Aziraphale has absolutely no issue with the executioner being beheaded in his place. Bit ruthless to sacrifice a random stranger for the cause of taking your crush out to lunch.

At some point, Aziraphale does the “I was wrong” dance here. Hopefully over crepes.  

1827: Scotland 

Crowley essentially just takes Aziraphale on a date to a graveyard. Such a mood.  

Some obvious moral struggles for Aziraphale starting to realize that good and bad are not black and white and that extenuating circumstances exist.  

Whether or not you believe that this memory was tampered with, when Morag is dying, Aziraphale essentially asks for Crowley’s moral guidance. He could have just healed Morag, but he defers to Crowley for ?permission...I don’t know for sure, but it feels significant that he wants Crowley’s approval here before doing ‘good’. That has to mean something.  

“Last I saw of him for some time” is, at most, 35 years between here and St James Park, which means they are meeting up a lot more frequently now. We’re not regularly going decades/centuries between dates anymore. 

Edit: As others have noted, the wording in this diary entry is actually odd because when Aziraphale is writing this, he MUST have already seen Crowley again for that last bit to make sense. Which means we actually probably have quite a lot of “us time” between the Elsbeth flashback and St James park.

1862: St James Park 

Likely Definitely not the first time they have met up since the Scotland flashback (see edit above).

I THINK this is the first time we see Aziraphale’s personal tartan show up? He’s now officially created his own clan on Earth and is NOT wearing the official tartan of heaven. He later gives this tartan to Crowley which is Significant. 

Since our last meeting, Crowley has been dragged back to Hell and, presumably, punished, for what he did with Elsbeth/Morag. (The time spent in Hell was likely not necessarily a LONG time but still seems like it was a sobering event for Crowley where he seems to catch up with Aziraphale about how much danger they might be in).

Crowley asks for the holy water because he now realizes that he may need to protect himself (and Aziraphale?) from Hell if and when they figure out the scope of his ‘breach of the infernal code’ and retaliate.

1941: London Blitz 

Accepted by fans as likely the first time they have met up since the breakup in St James Park. As with the Bastille scene, it’s very clear that Crowley has been keeping track of Aziraphale (if not actively just following him around).

Obviously, canonically, the moment when Aziraphale realizes he is in love with Crowley.

Immediately after this realization, Aziraphale also realises how much Crowley is at risk from Hell by continuing to associate with him. This does not stop them from having a romantic glass of wine back at the bookshop.

Photograph of Crowley and Aziraphale exists, no clues as to what happens to it/who keeps it after the events of this night. I hope it’s in the photo album that I assume Aziraphale keeps with his diaries and little drawings of Crowley he’s made over the millennia.

At some point, presumably on this same night, Aziraphale does the “I was wrong” dance, but we don’t get to see that. Yet.

(Side note: I feel like by this point in their relationship, it’s really got to sting when Aziraphale assumes Crowley is the cause of whatever horrific thing humans are doing. I mean, what in the past 6,000 years would point to Crowley wanting to actually help nazis? It’s not funny anymore, Aziraphale, stop re-traumatising your boyfriend with baseless accusations.)

1967: Soho Heist 

Crowley plans the heist in the pub that is literally across the road from Aziraphale’s book shop 

Aziraphale finally gives Crowley holy water – whether this is because he’s actually worried about the danger of the heist, or if he has just come to his senses about the fact that Crowley is in mortal danger from Hell and may actually need a way to escape them if things go pear-shaped, or whether he’s just acts-of-love reaching out....could speculate for days on that.

He gives Crowley the holy water in a thermos with his personal tartan on it. 100% on their own side. Adorable.

Aziraphale isn’t wearing his bow tie in this scene. He still has his tartan, but he’s wearing it as a cravat instead, with his shirt unbuttoned at the top. I genuinely don’t know what this is supposed to mean, but the costume department is too good for it to be random. (It supposed to be flirty? Like, ooh, top button undone, basically naked? And that just necessitated losing the bow tie? Is there sartorial symbolism here about a cravat vs bow tie that I’m missing? Tell me what’s going on!?!)

“You go too fast for me” (ugh, gutted every time) 

Additional event: year unknown

In their earlier flashbacks, we see them travelling the world for their jobs.

At some point they both end up permanently stationed in London.

My assumption is - that originally it was just the two of them on earth, possibly for thousands of years. Then their territory was limited to the British Isles, and eventually, when there were too many “oodles” of humans, they both ended up just looking after London.

So, who was assigned to London first? Because it’s not a blind coincidence they’re both specifically in London - one got assigned to the London first and the other one deliberately FOLLOWED.

I am still updating this as I re-watch and read other folks’ posts.

These are mostly my observations with a few additional things thrown in that I’ve seen people discuss already here on Tumblr. I will try to link to them best I can, but my Good Omens saved posts are massive and I’m not sure I can find all the original posts who's theories I’ve mentioned here

[themareverine]

Mare & the Wolverine ▹masterlist | Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: The Northern Territories were the last place Mare McAffery ever imagined herself, much less a prize fighting bar with characters the likes of the one they call the Wolverine. A logging community and living out of a Motel 6—it wasn’t exactly Shakespearean. But sometimes, survival calls for a tooth and nail fight—even for a preacher’s daughter.

warnings: AU, age gap, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, eventual romance, violence, angst, trauma, religion, self-insert, self-esteem issues, chance meetings, alcohol, grief/morning, mutual pining, falling in love, slow-ish burn, fluff and angst, canon-typical violence, virginity, reposted from my old account.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | NEXT

PROLOGUE

“—don’t touch me, Logan!” 

Shoving his hand off her arm may as well have been shaking off the weight of the sun. To his credit, his hand lifted away at just the moment she spun away, chest heaving as the burn for oxygen seemed to almost bleed from between her ribs. Tripping over her own feet she stumbled against the rear fender of her Jeep, grounded by the steel. Cool to the average touch, but inferno fire to her flaming skin. 

“Listen, kid, I–” reaching for her again, his eyes are hard. Deep. Pleading as his hand extends to her, bridges the gap hanging between them like an endless abyss. It would take a lifetime for him to cross it, she knew—a lifetime he couldn’t give. Wouldn’t.  

“Don’t call me that, Logan—I am not a child. I am not one of Charles’ students you get to lecture, to correct,” her voice cracks under the effort of containing a sob, but tears were a giveaway long before the rage in her voice. Betrayal—it bites like a whip. “I’m not on your damn grading curve, Logan!” 

“I don't—”

“Shut the hell up!” 

A single finger flung his direction pulls him up, to a stop. Brows raise in surprise, at her language no doubt. Akimbo, his chin levels with the floor. Hands find his pockets, lost for a moment as they sink low into the leathers. A six foot frame always meant he was peering down at her, but it was more than that—Logan had been looking down his nose at her from the first moments, the heartbeat of their relationship. From the jump, the gap between them had always been galactically broad—two surviving suns, revolving around the other. Fighting for gravity. For purchase. For life. 

Charles had only made it worse. 

“Mare,” he hesitates, she can almost feel him breathe. “You’re gonna regret leavin’ things like this, bub.” 

Her name, soft and considerate from his lips like it never had been—it…it makes it worse. Slap of reality that cuts like a knife. The sting of what wasn’t, couldn’t ever be. Churning like a tidal wave in the base of her gut, it simmers low. Systolic in her chest, it spikes up to kiss the base of her ribs only when he takes half a step forward to her. 

An effort to meet her halfway—halfway to somewhere. Halfway to anywhere that wasn’t here. 

“There’s a lot of things I regret.” 

Heart ricocheting off the bones in her chest, her eyes moved beyond him—beyond him, the mansion. Xavier. Jean, Scott, Hank, all of them. Beyond them, to the darkness; midnight abyss that seemed to spin in and out of itself in a way that sent shivers down her spine. The river of sweat racing down her spine was cold, raising gooseflesh to her skin even beneath her jacket. Jeans and boots—see-ya-later, hit-the-road clothes.

Ironically enough, the same ones she’d arrived at the mansion wearing. 

Turning to throw her purse over the side of the open-air Jeep door, it hits the seat with a muffled thud as she all but rips the door open. Eyes not moving from him, she takes his frame in, head to toe. Toe to head and back again—and he looks so good, standing in the growing darkness. Under stars cut in the sky, maybe just for her. This moment. Maybe just for right now, to lock this in the vault of her memories she know she won’t be able to shake here to eternity. 

Heel of her boot grinding into the gravel of the drive, she hesitates. Hand on the frame of the Wrangler, they curl around the cool steel, already slick with evening dew. It cuts right to the bones in her hand, the ache in her joints that burns like volcanic poison. Waiting to explode, to corrode the rest of her time had all but forgotten. Gnawing at the inside of her cheek, she swears to God any moment she’ll taste the spring of copper on her tongue, the blood she wills into her own mouth with every inhalation of life-preserving oxygen. 

Pushing her weight off the frame of the Jeep, she turns to face him. Shoulders back, chin squared. Breathing hard, breathing slow—any kind of breathing to keep her two feet under her on earthquake sands. The lump forming in the back of her throat threatens to throttle the steel will dropping into her spine like an eye beam, and before she can even recalculate, think it through—she’s crossing the night between them. Grabbing the front of his flannel shirt, she’ll never forget how the brush of her fingers against the peek of hair on his chest feels for all the rest of her living nights. 

Kissing him—quickly, roughly, hard—has never felt so wrong. Or so right. It solidifies every thing. Shatters every other. Unable to think straight, unable to breathe beyond the taste of him, she releases. Let's go when that thing that everyone talks about—when he breaks, when that every-so-little shift of his jaw—tells her, for the first time, that he’s hungry. Hungry for this, for her—

—for what can’t be. 

The arch of his hand from the corner of her eye is possessive, wanting—she ducks, backstepping away before he can reach her. She’s already flicking the keys of the Jeep forward, feet planted on the brake and clutch, when he comes to a stop at her door, hands on the frame. 

Her name from him, a second time. “Stay.” Stay, stay, stay. 

I can’t, Logan. "No."

It’s painful between the mesh of her ribs, the one she’s missing. The one that belongs to him, had belonged to him since the beginning. God’s design.

Damn him for being so stubborn, so—Logan. 

“I’ll see you around, Logan. Take care of yourself.” 

He won’t.

And, a faraway part of her knows that. Another part wills that it won’t be–can’t be–her problem anymore. She has to stop caring about him, about his life. Where he goes and what he does, whom he decides to love and where he decides to stay. 

She has to stop loving the Wolverine. 

contents ▹ good poison

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[reneeluv154]

Anger

I hope you enjoy it!!!🤍🤍🤍

In this imagine you made it to the safe haven and newt helps you through your emotions while your still struggling with the loss of the others.

(More on my profile if you enjoy this one.) 🫶🏼🫶🏼

⚠️Tw: mentions of suicide⚠️

I stared at Newt, glaring at him through the flames of fire between us. We were finally in the safe haven and everyone was happy, everyone but me. I couldn’t remember the last time I truly smiled, or really felt anything for that matter. How could they be smiling and laughing?

We lost so many wonderful lives and they were just over it? I didn’t understand. Having Gally back was relieving, he was never the nicest person, to anyone, but he had grown, and it showed.

“Y/n, you good?” Minho questioned, Newt’s eyes locked with mine and I quickly looked away. “Yeah.” I sounded cold and mean, I held a little bit of anger against them, I just didn’t understand how they were okay. It was selfish, the others would have loved to be here. Yes, we carved their names on the rock but it just didn’t feel like enough. They deserved so much more.

I stood grabbing one of Gally’s drinks while walking towards the beach. I made it to the shore leaving the dancing and laughter behind. I sat down and stared out upon the endless ocean. I wished I could dig deep into my heart, take my pain, and let it drift out into the sea.

“I miss you guys, It’s not the same without you here.” I scoffed, taking a swig. “I’m so fucking angry, why not me. I wanted to die.” I said looking from the sky to the ground.

I whispered, “I still wanna die.”

“Pretty isn’t it?” I jumped hearing the all too familiar voice of a brown-eyed blonde-haired boy. He sat down beside me staring up at the starry sky.

“Yeah, gorgeous.” I agreed.

“I heard you talking.” I was drowning in embarrassment and grief.

“I just want them to know.” He nodded now it was his turn to take a swig. “They know Y/n, they're watching us every day.”

I shook my head.

“That’s supposed to make it easier?”

He shrugged, “Maybe a little, yes. I’m not saying you can’t mourn, because you can, but you’ve gotta learn to move on.” This made me angry.

“Like you? Five fucking day’s after they were gone.”

He looked at me, clenching his jaw, his eyes were angry. “I had to stay strong for you and the others, I’m bloody hurt Y/n. I’ve been hurt for a long, long time! You don’t get to tell me I was a bad person when I was just trying to keep you and the others alive!” He blew up on me, his voice louder and bolder than ever.

I couldn't look at him, the tears in my eyes rolling down my cheeks. Maybe I should kill myself, He would stay strong so the others would be okay, right? They wouldn't miss me, not like I bring anything good to the group. I would get to see the others as well. “I know that look Y/n, I can see it in your eyes, I’ve seen it in your eyes for a long time and I promise you it won’t make anything better.”

How did he know…

“I’m sure y'all would be fine.”

He shook his head. “Nope, we wouldn't.”

“I’m just so angry.” I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I sat for a minute looking at the sky when I realized. “It’s like I’m the moon and the stars are everyone in my life.” “

“I think you’ve had a tad too much to drink Y/n.”

“No. The moon and the stars adorn each other. Without the stars, the moon is just the moon.”

“Follow me.”

He stood and began walking, I walked up and stood beside him in front of a cluster of rocks. “I want you to throw that bottle as hard as you can, letting it shatter against those rocks.”

“What?” I asked

He nodded, “Scream as loud as you want, you can even cry if you’d like. Here I’ll give you my glass too.”

I shook my head. “The others will think something is wrong.”

“They can’t hear you from here.” He handed me the glass and backed up sitting on a log behind him.

“Go on. Let it out.”

Taking a moment I took the glass throwing it as hard as I could at the biggest rock there was, it shattered.

A tear ran down my cheek as I grabbed the other glass watching it fly through the air and shatter just as the other one did.

It felt too good tears now pouring down my face, I searched for anything to throw picking up smaller rocks and shells.

“Aghhhhhhh!!!!” I screamed as loud as I could feeling a sharp pain through my head, but I couldn’t stop,

“They should be here!!!”

“I loved them!!!”

“I should have hugged you when I had the chance!!!” I sobbed, still throwing whatever I could find before I ran out of breath and fell to my knees. “It should have been me!” I felt a gentle hand on my back, another on my cheek pulling me into himself.

“Shhh, that's not true love.”

I cried for a long time, even after Newt carried me back to my hut and tucked me in before he sat down in a chair beside my bed to keep an eye on me and calm me down.” I eventually fell asleep having a strong headache but also a sense of emotional relief.

[sw33tsnow]

You want me exclusively

Dilf!König x Mechanic!Curvy!F!Reader (18+)

Summary: All thanks to your sister and her part-time job, you’ve found the man - your man. 

Warning: NOT FOR MINORS, age gap (late-20s & mid-40s), size difference, single dad (König is depicted without a hood), slight angst, smut, pussydrunk!König, possessive!f!reader, praising, boobs sucking, blowjob, dick slapping, cunnilingus, face sitting, fingering, flatiron position, unprotected sex, confession, etc. Word count: 6k6

NOTE(s):

In Badjhur we trust: better imagination (the scenario was different)

Just my dirty thoughts in the middle of the night :3

I'M TERRIBLY APOLOGIZE FOR ANY GRAMMAR AND LANGUAGE ERRS

His teeth were clenching and his eyes were wandering between the front door and the small, flaming cocoon in his hand, König was indeed panicking. With the phone pressed against his ear, he endlessly paced back and forth in the room, her heavy breathing made him lose his composure.

'Hello?' After a seemingly endless ring, a hoarse yet gentle voice spoke up from the other end of the line, causing relief washed over König.

"H-hey, it's me, I'm...I'm so sorry for calling you this late....." König stammered.

'Not at all, is everything alright?' His anxiety rocketed when the rustling sound of the mattress and your uneasy voice reached his ear. The man felt even more miserable for bothering his nanny at three in the morning like this.

"Jütte has a very high fever, I've tried to....I don't know...." Interrogation or generating briefing has never made him so nervous but in this current situation, his daughter was the only priority.

'I'll be there in a minute, the sweat might make her uncomfortable so you need to change her clothes' You calmly instructed König and patiently waited until he answered before hanging up and quickly stormed out of your flat. 

The firm knocks seemed to pull König out of the abyss, he marched to the door and opened it, maybe you overlooked ringing the bell due to such a rush. You stood there with your quickly combed hair, a spaghetti straps tank top stuck to your frame and a pair of rumpled dark loose jeans that’d definitely just been pulled out of your closet. The thin overshirt jacket with both sleeves rolled up and flops made you look so….accessible. The man jumped aside when he realized he was blocking the entrance.  Swiftly took the steaming little thing into your arms, you handed König the bag of medicine as if telling him to prepare it for her to drink. Both of you didn't say a word to each other, the only audible sound was the spoon hitting the cup on the kitchen island beside the difficult breathing of the cotton ball in your embrace.

After putting the girl in the crib with a chill towel placed on her forehead, you gently walked out to the living room where the man was sitting. His hands were clasped together so hard that knuckles were white, eyes closed as a mountain of man sat immobile on a stool in the kitchen.

"I've already put her to sleep, she’ll be as good as new tomorrow" You gently approached, afraid of startling him.

"Mir geht es gut, I really owe you a lot." König's eyes opened to look at you, wrinkles in his eye sockets appearing as he smiled at you, "How about a drink?" The man stood up and turned towards the cabinet to take out the booze and two cabernet glasses.

"Don't think I should be wasted while at work, sir" You teased.

König just laughed and cocked his head at the empty space next to him. You both started drinking and chatting, he once again apologized for bothering you because the grandparents weren't here to help and you’ve to give him the look so he’d stop his guiltiness.

You understood that this little girl is indeed the light of his life, the sweet angel that god brought to him. König always reminded himself to love and care for his child until the day he no longer existed in this world. But you did not expect the man to open up about his last lover to you, have you managed to put him at ease?

As a Colonel in the military, with such a prestigious title, it's clear that his job is quite typical. Not just sitting at a desk with hundreds of paperwork with confidential stamps on or training rookies, deployments that last no less than a couple weeks and returning with new wounds without dying on the battlefield certainly not simple tasks. But that didn’t mean König lacked regard for his ex-fiancee because whenever possible, he always tried to spend all his time with her. About three years ago, returning home exhausted, König was given a big surprise - an ultrasound photo. Nothing could describe the man's explosive happiness at that moment. The colonel picked her up and twirled her around, unable to wait to marry her.

Baby, a baby 

The first time you met König, besides his broad shoulders and impressive height, you were truly captivated by those mesmerized gray-blue orbs. And to this moment, they seemed to be chosen as the stars’ new home when the visible spark glistened because of recalling beautiful memories.

Ironically, what she said extinguished everything, she did not want to marry him and couldn't take the baby with her either. She wanted to abandon the child, their child, and left him with the baby. The man was devastated, yes, the efforts to comfort and tried to overcome difficult stages when he couldn't accompany her only received scolding in return.

Could not salvage, König agreed to let her go and raise his baby all by himself. He loved his daughter more than anything, the little angel was his only connection with the woman he used to love, naming her Jütte - the bright gem. Sleepless nights to lull the baby to sleep, the confusion and stress that occurred to him when she cried due to hunger. You heard him scoff at mentioning sometimes he was afraid that his rough frame or the deep, husky voice were too intimidating for his little princess but every time her eyes lit up and those small hands firmly held his pinkie, all his fatigue vanished as if they never existed. 

He stopped and whipped his head in the opposite direction. You remained silent but moved a little closer, letting him know you were nearby and that he’s not alone. Even though you've only known each other for more than two weeks, you think you've aroused some inappropriate feelings for König, not sure whether to ignore them or let them grow.

The grandparents were delighted to look after their small sweet girl but they’re over the hill now, couldn’t wipe them out like that so the man decided to send his little angel to kindergarten in the morning and hired a nanny for his family when he's on deployment. That's the reason why you're here, no, your sister was here.

_-_-_-_-_-_

“Sis, please please please please…..please” 

The petite girl kept shaking your thighs no matter how clearly the signs of irreversibility appeared on your face. A small sigh escaped your lips, placing the takeout on the table, then you turned your head to where the constant pleading from. Sound of the wheels rolling on the floor and the squeaking sound as you leaned back against the chair made the girl stop rambling.

"Have you asked for the father’s permission yet?" Continue spinning the fork in between your pointer and middle finger. You raised your eyebrows but your face looked helpless, not disappointed. 

"Of course I did, but ’bout your...." A silly smile that perhaps was supposed to save the awkwardness.

"For fuck sake, I should probably call mom to be sure that you’re my sister?" You huffed with an irritated tone. 

Your sister was in her final year majoring in visual arts and she needed to concentrate fully on her upcoming graduation project. You knew how important this was to her and that your sister was indeed a talent. Of course you supported her wholeheartedly, she’s staying at your house, you cooked every meal, and also picked her up at the campus and drove her to work. You told your dumb sister that she only needed to focus on studying and didn't require any help though she’s begging you non-stop, but instead of just doing the laundry and sweeping your house as a gratitude, she found this babysitting job that’d definitely kill her after the whole-goddamn-day at the university. 

“C’mon sis, I’m beggin’.....beggin’ youuuuuu~ ” God this horrible sound, if it weren't for your sister's best friend performing with electric guitar in a band, you wouldn't have your ears tortured like this every single day. 

Your face scrunched as you carefully considered what your sister put in an offer of a few past seconds. It's not that you wanted to refuse her but - a nanny, not only for a nearly four years old little girl, but also for the endearing old spouses. You all have met a couple times when you came to pick up your sister, sometimes your sister was walking the little girl home after going to the park, other times the grandmother had to bring your sister stuff down to the lobby while she rushed down after your phone call. Interacting with strangers ain’t your forte at all but this baby seemed quite well-behaved and the grandparents were also very pleasant, or simply because your sister was more approachable than you. 

“Guarantee they’ll love your cooking” Your sister gave you a mischievous wink and you shook your head in defeat. 

“The problems ain't that simple, sweet pea” 

"Ahhhhhh, you know better than I do that your job isn't supposed to be down here in the garage, plus none of your tattoos are notable" You kept silent and only gazed at her.

Hated to admit but it’s true, you could’ve just sat in the office and accounted for your garages' finances but you chose the opposite. You loved the pleasant jingling sound of wrenches every time you worked with dusty engines and the feeling of adrenaline when you concentrated on some sophisticated details. Frankly, you highly doubted that the smell of lubricating oil that for sure always lingered on your skin mixed together with your sweat would be welcomed by elders and small kids. Being an owner not only gave you a stable income but also helped you meet plenty of friends with similar pursuits. 

Your sister's truly a minx because long pants would fix that tiny issue perfectly.

“You know I wouldn’t ask you if I had another choice” She gave you those puppy eyes, knowing it wouldn’t work but still could make you find it difficult to say no, “You don’t need to do anything specific, just have to pick the girl at six in the afternoon, make sure she's fed and bathed before nine, that's all" You haven't gone out before ten since forever, “Then prepare breakfast and lunch for the grandparents and remember to check for groceries”. What’s more? The nutrition and seasoning have to be noted down and dinner would definitely be served directly. Man, you'd rather lay on the creeper and drain your arms under some random cars for hours than this job.

"Two months" You held up two fingers as if confirming with your sister.

"Yes, only two months and I'll come rescue you" She postured a superhero pose and the two of you burst out laughing, "Only my ass" She's so lucky you love her.

During the first week, everything went smoothly. Jütte and her grandparents absolutely adored the meals you cooked for them, the grandmother even whispered to not telling your sister that she loved your cooking more than hers didn’t fail to make you laugh at the sweetness. You asked your sister if you were allowed to ride the baby on your bike and she agreed without hesitation, also recalled the squeal and the delighted face that she showed every time your sister mentioned you and your bike. No proof needed because the little girl couldn’t stop her curiosity to swirl around and sing happily with a small helmet settled on her head, making you couldn't help but snigger all along the way.

Your office’s door opened and timid footsteps led behind you as if not wanting to disturb. Slowly sitting up straight, you nodded in approval for the person behind you to continue.

"You got a message, Mama" 

Cracked your neck and motioned for the girl with an orange messy bun to take your place before excusing yourself to your customer. Mama, a nickname given to you not because you're the oldest but you're always thoughtful, treating everyone equally, and always responsible in your doing. Or based on your sister, you're the boss. Massaging the girl's shoulder as a thank you, you grabbed your phone and went straight outside to pick up the call. 

"Get off work early, Mama?" That snarky voice caused you to smirk, glancing over at the boy in the tank top who’s looking at you with teasing eyes. You didn't say anything but held up the phone, showing your sister's name on it, making the boy immediately shut his mouth and went to the hook to bring the jacket and your keys to you with the most respectful gesture. 

‘Hey, sorry for the sudden call’ Your sister's voice rang out through the phone’s speaker

“You need me at the campus?” You asked without breaking eye contact with the younger one in front of you, could totally tell he’s so tense right now due to a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. 

‘Oh no no, the father just texted, he'll be home for a few weeks, you can discuss the work with him after dropping Jütte home, bet she'll be so excited to see her father." Her giggle sounded like an early bird’s chirping, so joyful that it made the dumbhead before your eyes almost turned to a ripe tomato.  

“Loud and clear….speaking of which, you’re free this Saturday, yeah?” You used your casual flat tone, ‘Yep, need to unwind a bit’ then you two said a couple more sentences before hanging up.

The lad dramatically collapsed down on the ground and hugged your leg, thanking you profusely. You just pouted in contempt and shot him a mocking side-eyes, feeling powerful being able to command someone so easily. You retreated your foot and shooed away the heavy bastard with one kick, swiftly put on your coat and went down to the basement to hop on your bike.

Entered the code on the lock and pushed the door in, a pair of massive-size boots with mud caked on the doorstep attracted you and the little girl in your arms.

"Papa?!" The girl called out in excitement and surprise.

Not long after, the man in a plain green t-shirt and cargo pants appeared with a bright smile causing the little one in your arms to jump down and run into the arms lowering only for her. You swore the sight was so alluring that you stood like an idiot, that’s apparently the father and he's a lot more attractive than you expected. Sturdy torso with muscles flexed at any of his motion, bulky arms and broad chest, you couldn't get the view of those thighs but fuck, they better be meaty as your mouth watering of the thought. Some milky scars on the man's masculine face and body, he is a Colonel and a soldier, not so surprised.

"You must be the sister"

König and his daughter turned in sync to look at you, they looked exactly alike. You gave a friendly smile and walked over to greet the man, not being pushy so he wouldn't feel cringe, after all that's not who you are. Having the conversation with him, you realized he’s quite reserved but definitely a gentleman, it’s also undeniable that you’re fascinated by his accent. 

"I won't keep you here all afternoon for now, but do you mind if I ask you to pick up my kleines lamm and spare one more dish?" He spoke shyly, "Hate to admit but I'm a pretty bad cook." 

"No worries, that’s not any difficult task, you just saved my time though" You gave him a toothy smile and König's eyes responded back with clear appreciation.

_-_-_-_-_-_

You two exchanged phone numbers and the following days went as planned, you picked his daughter at kindergarten and rustled up meals in that spacious kitchen for them. The man's family has invited you to stay and dine with them, but you don't want to break the atmosphere and you shouldn’t get attached. Seemed strenuous when you both have an invisible bond because what kind of nanny sleeps in the guest room and makes breakfast for the host?  

You regretted drinking too much liquor last night and this splitting headache wouldn't spare you any mercy, decided to get up early and went to the supermarket to buy some toiletries. Cool water laved your entire body, quickly brushed your teeth before entering the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the two sleepyheads. If someone didn't know better, could assume you're König’s housewife.

The smell of sunny side-up eggs and crispy toast aroused König's nostrils, waking him up. Slowly getting up from the bed, he gently opened the door to his daughter's room to see her still sleeping soundly.

"Good morning, süßer engel" His big hand easily picked her up, the man rubbed his nose against the pretty little one below and whispered.

The baby stirred and frowned, oh my, her angry expression at being woken up made König chuckled delightfully. He carried the little girl to the living room and saw you behind the kitchen island, you raised your head and met his eyes.

"Mornin’...." You said as he sat down on the stool, even your weary grin was so beautiful.

“Good morning” Jütte squealed happily before her father could say anything.

"I'll feed her, here….bon appétit" you placed the plate down in front of the man and moved over the table. König's face flustered as your boobs might spill out of your low-cut shirt and his crotch stiffen immediately when your lower belly fat was exposed as you leaned over to take his daughter from his arms. 

"Have you eaten yet?" The man swallowed hard and pressed his hand against the bulge in his pants, "Already, sir, take your time" Sir, thank god he wasn’t standing, otherwise this’d be super embarrassing.

König thought you’d be the same as your sister, always dynamic and lively, but no, totally the opposite. You’re collected and tender. At first, when he didn't know you well, he thought you were stony and unapproachable, but turned out you’re not. You’re very thoughtful and responsible with your work, especially when you smile, your face lit up differently than usual. You respected König's private space and that of his family, perhaps  keeping a safe distance, but he knew there’s something unspeakable between the two of you. The fleeting touches that you both ignored, the soft glances with a hint of lust, and the attachment between Jütte and you was also unlike your sister or previous babysitters. 

This was the last day you took your sister's place as his nanny, but everything was fast as a blink and König’s still confused with his own feelings. If he made his move, would you agree? Or did you simply only see him as your sister's boss?

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the man's thoughts. He quickly stood up and got to the door so you could peacefully continue until Jütte finished her soup. Unpredictably, König never thought he could see this face again on his doorstep, the face that he once loved so passionately and cruelly left him with his child.

A mellow female voice called the Colonel's name, causing you to turn your head. You were on pins and needles when the man did not move after that call, hugging Jütte tightly and carefully walking towards the open door. There stood a splendid woman with gorgeous glassy eyes and her outfit, although not flashy, was certainly top-shelf. The woman's attention turned to you, or rather to the little girl in your arms. A tear strained down her thin cheekbone before she captured and pressed the baby's head to the crook of her neck, the man didn't stop her and you figured out who this woman was. The little girl stared at the strange woman in bewilderment but didn’t scream or cry, perhaps she felt a sense of familiarity, and when the woman approached König - it was like a missing piece of the puzzle - a complete family.

You stood rooted to the spot, deadpan eyes stuck on them and realized how inessential your presence was. What were you even fantasizing about? The baby, who has never met the woman and wasn’t crying, what right do you have to interfere? Even if the mother did not return, such a person would be worthy of standing next to König, not you, sketchy and way too young. 

Moving the dirty dishes to the sink, you grabbed your keys and briskly exited the apartment. Drawing in shaky breaths, your chest tightened and the bridge of your nose began to sting, your brain couldn’t function proper and your heart sank as the elevator doors closed. You could hear every single piece inside you shattered, not a single sob escaped your lips but the tears refused to cease, you weren't planning on stopping them either, this was your way of releasing. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable, allowed your flesh and bones to work the way it's naturally supposed to, then got over shits later. Verbal abuse was forbidden on your tongue and insulting others just to satisfy your immediate emotions made you feel not so different from a failure. 

It's raining but you're not in the mood to care anymore. Observing the surrounding scenery of the city you lived in, your mother was right, Austria is indeed a divine country.

_-_-_-_-_-_

I'm so sorry, sir, but it’s an urgent call from my teacher so I left Jütte at my sister’s place. I promise to text you sooner next time!!!!

Attached below was the address and one of your garages’ location. König's restlessness was so evident that his colleague was too worried to let him take the wheel. It was impossible to describe how much this mountain of man regretted not catching up with you the last time you two saw each other. Though he tried to ask about you through your sister, the young lady always politely refused; the man came to his conclusion that your sister did not know how the incident happened because strictly speaking, there was nothing binding between you and him. No confession had been spoken yet. 

“Sitrep, Colonel” The man with an erotic face went by the callsign Horangi opened his mouth, it's hard to tell if he's joking or serious.

König answered his sergeant with a heavy exhale, his patience was about to run out. In his mind, there were only your lifeless eyes as you paced past him to the door and the frantic calling of his daughter's mother - the woman who gave birth to his little angel, not the one he used to love. He stood dumbfounded at that time because he couldn't explain why after all this time, she chose to come back to look for him, plus he thought this woman had changed. Well, reality hit hard, when she saw König chasing after you, she started shouting at him out of the blue and accused him of sins from god-knows-where-they-came-from. At least the woman made the right choice to shut her filthy mouth as soon as he shot her a deadly glare, she had no authority to say those words after giving up König and his little girl. As for you, the woman did not dare to split anything, the man knew you're too nonchalant to care about bullshit stuff, but he’d not allow anyone who didn’t know you well to offend you.

2200, too late for any service shops to be opened but your garage lights were still on. Carefully parking the truck in the cul-de-sac right next to, the men walked over to the half-closed sliding door and bent down to enter. At the reception desk was a girl with shiny orange hair who was applying lipstick, her back was facing them but her eyes were looking at two men through the mirror she’s using.

"You are Jütte's father, right?" The girl asked with the typical salespeople’s voice. König nodded and the girl immediately picked up her phone to type something, “Mama will come down in a minute, have a seat” she spoke after receiving the message. Horangi raised an eyebrow at him, his intentions clearly written on his face. Mama, maybe that's your intimate name, but it's way too intimate. König darted his eyes around, your garage was indeed large, divided into two sections. One was for cars and the other was for bikes, which can be known by the spare parts and dozens of license plates hanging on the walls. And he saw you, holding his little daughter as you gingerly took your leave from the office above.

Speechless, the Colonel was speechless, unable to take his eyes off you. A long sleeve turtleneck body dress only reaching mid-thigh, delicate one-lined ink mark on your left calf and a thin henna style tattoo wrapped around your left thigh, looking like a bracelet. There’s a bold cut on your cleavage area, revealing a stiletto tattoo with flowers and a snake wrapped around it, heavy makeup and that red lipstick color surprisingly suits your skin. 

Scheiße

You have tattoos, he didn’t know, tattoos, not just one but many. Your thick thighs, waist still have its curve and your plush hips were certainly stunning. You approached them with a smile, the friendly yet unfamiliar smile you gave him when you first met, you nodded your greeting towards Horangi and he also politely returned the favor.

"Come to uncle" The comrade walked over and picked up the little sleeping girl in his arms because her father was definitely too absorbed in the lady standing in front of him.

As you spoke, König noticed something shiny inside your mouth. Is that...a piercing? You pierced your tongue? Was there anything about you that he hasn't known yet? The man's ears were buzzing, could only tell that you were saying something and his Sergeant nodded in affirmation. 

“Kö, the lady’s talking to you” A male voice snapped him back to the present, whipping his head back and saw you looking straight at him, waiting for his reply.

“She's already full so you don't have to worry, remember to wear warm clothes for her because babies are easily sick due to the season’s first wind, yeah?” You repeated yourself in a flat tone, “Un-Understood” König stuttered and Horrangi cursed in disbelief in his mother tongue.

Gave both of them a firm nod, you turned away and waved your hand so the orange girl would come join you. The plump ass of your jiggling on every step, König swore he could live between them if you let him.

“Pussy” His subordinate spat, body still rocking so as not to wake the baby; “I will knock your ass out” And he immediately bit back, quick as hell. 

“You won’t, this little angel is gonna stay at my place tonight ‘cause you won’t be back soon after walking into the pub a few blocks away at the intersection” König looked at the shorter man, his sass sometimes making the Colonel forget how qualified this guy actually was.

The two boys and a pretty one, your sister, were waving at you and the tangerine girl in front of the pub. It was a bit more crowded on weekends, so your group chose a table in a hidden corner because you hated being bothered by some drunk assholes. The sound of airy jazz along with elect wine, the perfect combination and if you have a partner, just imagine how great it would be. Fortunately, you have many companions, so it’s perfect for you to forget about that silhouette, until your sight was filled by the enormous shoulders and those unmistakable blue pupils. Unwavering stares, neither of you broke away from the tension, causing your group to stop chatting and peeked. König is an attractive man, with his impressive height it wasn't unusual to be surrounded by ladies who acted like starving vultures when they’ve got their eyes on the perfect prey, but he didn't pay any attention to them. Staring, only, at you. A beam of sadness was evident in your eyes, your eyelashes drooping as your lips opened and closed as if wanting to say something but couldn't. It was really miserable when you ran away from the Colonel's apartment, you weren't good at expressing your emotions and he’s too sweet for someone like you. The man's gaze was unreadable, still the same, making you restless.

“Need my car, Mama?” One lad spoke up and you turned your eyes to his direction to answer with a devilish grin as your fingers gesturing a beckoning sign, “Hand it over” 

Fuck this, let's just say you're not sober anymore, and he's here, for you.

While talking to your group, underneath the table, without anyone paying attention, your knees lazily broke apart and revealed the panties covering your sensitive area. The more your hip bones widen, the more the fabric stretches as if it’s about to tear, but there’s already a pair of slutty eyes glued to your heat and undressing you thirstily. Standing up together, you both naturally paced to the front door and disappeared without any traces. 

_-_-_-_-_-_

The door slammed loudly and followed by a large muscular back hitting it, causing the wall to rattle. One of your hands went to the man's throat, pressing him against the wall while the other hastily undoing his belt and pulling down his pants to free his companion.

"Oh, this’s hard already?" You stood on your tiptoes and brought your face close to König's, cooing, his lips tried to capture yours but you quickly squeezed his cock as a warning.

“Don’t” You glared.

And the Colonel thinned his lips into a straight line. He could only nod repeatedly and this strangely satisfied you somehow. Bringing your hands to the hem of his shirt then sliding them inside without caution, the shirt rose up, revealing the man’s delicious tanned skin.

You aggressively squeezed his breasts, their elasticity felt incredible in your small palms. König didn't move but his heavy breathing sounded pitiful, his eyes trailing every inch of your face and soft moans escaped his lips as you sank your teeth into his flesh without mercy. Rustling sound filled the dark space when you descended, trailing wet kisses down the man's sturdy torso and making him sucked in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along the length of his cock.

“Use your words" You teased the tip of his cock, your piercing pressed against his opening every time you curled your tongue, making the Colonel unable to keep calm, "Or do you want me to stop?"

"NO…no, it's not like that..I'll-ah-I'll speak" König’s eyes flew open and he struggled to form his words whilst receiving a blowjob, you gave him a few kisses and eventually escalated to deepthroating his shaft, “S-scheiße…just li-like that, mein liebling” The man encouraged, his lines were frequently interrupted by low growls and desperate sounds under his throat. 

You hummed and started pushing deeper, Konig’s so big that you’ve to relax your jaw and mind your teeth more to take him whole. Your nose pressed into his soft fuzzy pubes and his cock settled in the back of your throat. Taking your time, steadily dragging your head to swallow and spit his shaft, you placed your tongue under the base of the large cock, gently stimulating him.

“Bitte, oh....f-fuck, seeing those scratches on my skin gonna drives me absolutely mad” Your nails lightly scratching the man's thighs causing him to tilt his head back, still managed thrusting his hip to match your pace. 

The sudden absence of the warmth of your mouth replaced by the painful pleasure coming from below made the Colonel's hand cling to your shoulder. He let out a sob and looked at you in confusion, “Those goddamn hands touched you here, didn't they?” Another slap landed on his dick, “Mein schatz, please…”  König choked out as his head shook vigorously, he got a bit whiny when you put him in your month again. 

Lust eyes stared straight at each other, embarrassment no longer there when the begging and pet names he called you made your cloth pussy soaked in slick. Faster and faster, your speed gradually increased and the man's whines came to a crescendo, almost at his peak. You hollowed your cheeks as his cock twitched wildly inside your mouth but the Colonel suddenly pulled you to your feet and crashed his lips against yours, teeth scraping and König's tongue pressing in as if he wanted to eat you raw.

"You’re doing so good for me, ja? But I don't wanna cum yet, not like that" You pouted, which made him laugh.

“You know what I was thinking?” König pulled the slit of your dress to the sides, causing your tít to be bouncing back and forth in the middle.

Calloused fingers kneaded at your softness, licking and sucking greedily, you weren't sure if he could breathe with his face pressed firmly against your chest like this.

"I can't stop thinking about getting my mouth on these tits….." The man's accent grew heavier due to the eagerness, his hot breath fanning over your skin, your navel as he knelt down and his large hand gripping tightly on your trembling hips. Swiftly threw your leg over his shoulder, the loss of balance made you yelp but of course König couldn't let you fall.

“And havin’ the taste of this pretty cunt of yours” The man spoke as he took the first lick on your wet panties.

“Oh fu-fuck…König” You arched your back, he wasn’t inside you yet but how come could you regain your self-control under the sensation he’s giving you. 

“Ja?…..hmm, you’re so delicious my dove” The Colonel kept running his tongue along your pussy, every word he said interspersed with every flick against your sensitive clit. Clutching tightly to the door, you tried to steady your breathing and grind down to the person below, König was too focused to notice your revenge intention on him. 

“Not so fast, sweetie” You stopped all movements and dragged your legs off him. Bending down to pull the tangled shirt over his head, the man also stood up to peeled the dress off of your body. As soon as the sleeves slipped off, revealing a Maori style tattoo on your upper arm. König stood gaping, mein gott, the man has seen you in a leather jacket on a fine Harley but imagined how delusionally your exposed biceps would be such a sight.

“My couch” You cocked your head and he nodded stupidly, “Sit on the floor and tilt your head back, can you do that, Kö?”

His cock stiffened at your husky voice, Kö, he wanted to hear his name coming out of those beautiful lips of yours even more. You slowly got rid of your last piece of clothing, climbed up on the couch and situated the man's head between your knees. His big hands crawled up to your pubis as you lowered yourself for him, but when his mouth started to open wide and his chin pointed up to reach your slick heat, you paused.

“Don’t do this to me, mein liebling….” König's rough fingertips dug into your meaty thighs, the beautiful fat spilling out between his gaps and you giggled as you spread your labia, hovering over him, “Please, I fucking need that pretty cunt….all over my face” The Colonel gave you his needy eyes, the man moved his lips to nibble your inner thighs, littering several bite marks.

Shaking your head, you gave up and sat down where the pleading kept coming from. König immediately grabbed your ass cheeks and his mouth sucked on your puffy clit like a starved man, "You feel so good.....uhmm, so right on my tongue like this"

He didn't stop moaning, his tongue continued to lick your cunt tirelessly. You were so drowned in pleasure that you couldn't answer the man, could only hold his hair and sway your lower body back and forth that naughty mouth.

König pushed his tongue inside your pussy, it lapped to sweet spots and as an unconscious practice, you pressed your clit against his nose, peered down with watery eyes.

“Ja, ja…you’re too perfect, looking down at me like that” his tongue swirled inside you, causing your folds and thighs squeezed tighter, “Bitte-bitte, keeps pinching those nipples for me”

Dark blue pupils looked up at you like a praying man admiring his goddess as your palms trailing up to your chest and groping your hard nipples. 

“Spank me, König”

He complied.

“Like tha’?”

“Yes…yes, like that, again”

Surely that hand prints wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, you mewled lewdly and the Colonel quickened his pace so he’d get what he needed. 

An endless loop of praises and the frantic stirring of the mouth fixed to your cunt. Inserting two thick fingers inside, his moist lips kept sucking your clit, creating unholy sounds. The man whined even more than you, way too intoxicated and only begging to taste you. And he was contented, you gripped his scalp and grinded down on him, riding out your orgasm with his fist.

König carefully held you as he sat up, you no longer had any strength left so resting your chin on the soft cushion, back turned to him. Afresh, an upside down stingray, its fins spreaded across your lower back and tail curled and stopped right between of your scapula bones.

"Are there any places else on your body that I haven't discovered yet, Zucker?" You gave him a breathy cackle.

The man placed a comforting kiss on your shoulder blade before wrapping his bulky arm around your waist and leaning your back against his body, thighs on thighs, he sat you down on his shaft. You both hissed out when your gummy walls wrapped perfectly around his length, it was unbelievable how well you could fit him, his dick was so big it made your stomach bulge. Brows pulling in as you're forced to confront your lungs as they fight for air, calloused palm held on your tit, his pelvis started bucking lazily for you to get used to his size. 

“Fu-fucking god Kö, your….” Couldn’t finish your sentence, claws pinned on his bicep and mouth flew open, the man leaned down and captured your lips.

Your neck was killing you in this position but there ain’t no other methods to block your screams as his tip kissed your womb roughly. König reached down to massage your swollen clit, he knew this was beyond your limits but the way you arched your back to receive him made the man want to spill his seed inside you more than ever. 

“I’m nearly…there, schatz” the Colonel growled lowly, teeth gnawed at your earlobe, “Cum with me, baby….bitte, bitte, bitte” chantings non-stop, he’s desperately crying out for your arousal and that beautiful mewls to escaped your stubborn mouth. 

Neither of you could last much longer, drool running down your neck as you pulled away from König to let out a silent scream. Your stomach stiffened as your walls clenched around the man's cock, some last few strokes before his tepid sperm flooded inside. König released so much that when he pulled away, the seed was already flowing out of your cunt, looking like honey spilling out of an eye-catching flower.

Falling on the floor, you collided on top of him and sniggered at his satisfied face. The man still stared at your ceiling, your lids were half closed as his fingers gently combed your smooth locks.

"I'm sorry for not coming to you sooner, liebling"

You understood what he’s talking about. Rolling over, you took his hand and brought it to your lips, placing soothing smooches on the calluses.

"I'm sorry for leaving" König shook his head, "We’re both silly, so let it go, Jütte said I’m not allowed to go home if you’re not coming with me" You giggled and so did he. Let’s considered that as make-up sex, then. 

Taglist: @shadowlali , @ghostlythots

[julesthoughts]

Burning Love

A/N: Out of frustration, I decided to write a tiny one-shot about the ending of the side story in Moonvale. I consider it more of a Duskwood one-shot. I hope you enjoy it. My writing sucks since I didn't write for over half a year. <3

Spoiler warning for the end of the side story!

TW: Injuries

Words: 1,080

Do you like Chinese food?

His anonymous mask in the bag of his hoodie and the collar of it drawn over his face, he ran through the smoke. Eyes tearing and blurring his vision, he doubted he would make it out in time, and in between thoughts popped up in his head about giving up and just sitting on the ground and letting the fire do its job. But there was one thing that kept him going. Someone very important. Someone who grew close to him over the past few weeks. Someone who worked with him on the case regardless of what the others thought about him. She trusted him without batting an eyelid. All their chats flew through his mind while his legs carried him to safety. 

……..

Yes I love it

He smiled at the thought of sitting across from MC while they shared some sushi. She would grab a piece of her sushi and he one of his and feed each other, looking each other in the eyes. Full of love. He didn't admit it but he couldn't eat with chopsticks but she seemed to be a master in it. So, he was willing to learn from her. Another reason to get out of this hell hole. He wanted to make his promise true.

You kiss me

And the world around us disappears

…..

MC

This is a very nice thought. 

I want to make it a reality.

He loved how boldly she told him that she wanted to kiss him. In no universe would he deny her. He wants to be with her so badly. She was the loveliest woman he ever met. Caring, affectionate, and sympathetic. She was a true gem and he needed to protect her at all costs. As long as he is still missing and the government still seeking revenge on him, she'll be in danger. They will threaten her. 

A muffled scream escaped his mouth as he ran into a wall of fire. He cursed as the memories of his only love shattered as he knew this was the only escape he knew by heart. There was another one but he couldn't remember the exact way. But there was no other choice, and especially no time, so he turned left and ran towards the other exit.

He tried to concentrate on MC. At the moment, she was the only reason for him to get out of this mine. She gave him a spark of hope. He just wished he'd know what happened that the whole mine was on fire.

I made that decision.

I became someone who preferred loneliness.

And then you came into my life and everything changed.

There more I try fighting against it.

The more I am attracted to you.

….

I feel the same way

….

I am at your mercy, MC.

I cannot simply evade you.

And I do not want to.

“Not anymore,” he mumbled to himself out of breath.

He came to a stop again as another fire blocked his way. At this point, he just wanted to cry and scream. That was his last option to get out of here. He turned in a circle, his eyes jumping from left to right, seeking a solution to get out of the mine. Looking up, down, right, and left he only saw walls that trapped him in that burning hell. Just as he was about to give up….

MC

I love you

….

I love you too, Jake

Closing his eyes and turning in the direction of the exit, he let out a battle cry as he ran straight through the flames. He was crazy for sure. Crazy for her. He felt his clothes becoming too hot, his skin burning and him slowly catching fire. His screams would break her heart and he promised himself to never tell her what he did to be with her. He knew she would only blame herself. Like a beast, he ran through the fire, fighting the flames like invisible ghosts. 

It felt like the devil himself would skin him alive.

After endless pain, the fire ended, but it was getting closer to him, still spreading through the mine. He stood in front of an old metal door which was more than rusty. With his clothes on fire and his skin peeling, he threw his whole weight against the door.

One time. 

Two times. 

Three times. 

Four times. 

Five times.

Groaning in pain, he fell on the wet floor after the door finally flung open. Like a worm, he rolled himself in the wet meadow to stop the fire on him. As the sound of his blood rushing through his veins silenced, he heard the sound of water flowing next to him.

Like a river…

His tired eyes sparkled with joy as he found the river. He crawled towards it and didn't hesitate and just jumped into the ice cold water. A relieved sigh left his lips as the fire died but soon the next shock came. The sudden cold on his burns. Oh, he wanted to scream so badly but he heard footsteps. Radios and a very familiar voice.

Bloomgate.

Inhaling deeply, he disappeared under the water. Luckily for him, it was night. A shadow hovered over the river as he looked up through the clear water. It was Bloomgate who investigated the other side of the shoreline. 

“No one is here! I'm coming back,” Bloomgate growled into the walkie-talkie.

As the shadow disappeared, he slowly arose from the water and hissed as the cold wind hit his wet, burned wounds. He sighed a breath of relief after he saw that he was close to Duskwood. He knew where to go but first, he had to lay a wrong trace. 

He took a look into his backpack and laughed that his laptop survived everything. That thing was just unbreakable. For a moment, he kneeled on the wet floor, threw his head back, smiled, and closed his eyes.

He made it.

He survived.

He was out of the mine.

Hannah was safe.

And now he could protect MC at all costs.

And maybe be with her soon.

He took his burned hoodie off and laid it somewhere in the forest, underneath his anonymous mask. He decided to throw his backpack a little further away in the dirt and stuffed his laptop under his arm before running in the opposite direction. 

Towards Duskwood.

Safety.

To MC.

“I'll find you, MC,” he whispered into the night.

[fryingpan1234567]

movies I think every demigod loves

Focusing on CHB for now but we’ll get to the Romans eventually

These nerds all know the whole entire soundtrack for every single one with the choreo and everything

Massive viewing parties in the winter in random cabins that definitely can’t hold everybody and the amphitheater in the summer with a projector

Hecate campers have enchanted a fuck ton of those old plastic popcorn containers with the same magic as the dishes in the pavilion— every kind of popcorn, the perfect amount of butter, kettle corn, for some reason a blue one that apparently tastes like cotton candy (or so Percy says; no one else has dared to try it)

Sharing endless amounts of blankets and pillows

Everyone usually passes out towards the end of the night, resulting in the hugest bed nest known to man full of shreepy demigods

Literally every streaming service ever plus premium Hephaestus channels

Anyways onto the movies

We’re starting with Mamma Mia

Because let’s be honest— a big pretty Greek island with a ton of hot people and fabulous music?? Yeah they’re into it

Who doesn’t love Abba?

That fun little “WEEE’RE SOPHIE ALI LISA WE’RE THE GREATEST BESTEST MATES, I’M TALL— I’M TOUGH— I’M TINY— AND WE’RE GONNA ROCK THIS PLACE!!” is such a vibe

Everyone gets into groups of three just to sing it with each other, including

Percy as Tall, Annabeth as Tough, and Grover as Tiny

Jason as Tall, Piper as Tough, and Leo as Tiny

Connor and Will even convinced Nico to be the Tiny to their Tough and Tall once

Anyways everybody screaming the lyrics and dancing around, swinging each other in chaotic circles until they collapse laughing

By FAR the loudest they ever get is Dancing Queen— Chiron says it’s something to rival their battle cry and Dionysus pretends to be annoyed by it, but he’s always caught humming it to himself the next morning

”Well what do you suggest we do with three men?” “Well now that takes me back.” WHEN I TELL YOU EVERYBODY SCREAMS

Couples singing Honey Honey and Lay All Your Love On Me suuuper dramatically at each other

They’ve turned it into a challenge: how long can you two go, mercilessly flirting and teasing, before either of you break and end up making out? (The answer is not very long)

Splitting into two groups (mainly girls v boys but really it doesn’t matter) to scream Voulez-Vous at each other

It’s a competition

After the end of the movie, everyone goes and jumps into the lake in their clothes— this massive, shouting, laughing mass of magical teenagers booking it across camp just to go flying off the docks into the water

Moving on to another movie

You c a n n o t tell me they wouldn’t love Disney’s Hercules

I mean they hate it, obviously, but like. A Disney movie about them. What!!

Especially the littles

The littles looove this fucking movie you don’t even understand

They sit eagerly waiting to see the garbage caricatures of their parents onscreen, collapsing on each other in giggles when they do

The older kids still get a kick out of it, but Connor sulks in Malcolm’s lap anytime his dad is on, hiding his face in his chest and refusing to look

(“Mal, he looks so dumb.”

”Sweetheart—“

”SO STUPID.”

”You’re so dramatic—“

”LOOK AT HIM.”)

They make Chiron sing One Last Hope every damn time

Funny thing is, the projector they have now is not the first one. There was one before, which mysteriously went up in purple flames the first time Mr. D watched with them… coincidentally at the exact moment Disney Dionysus popped up on screen in all his drunken fuscia glory

Poor Nico di Angelo wants to say no to watching it every time, but his favorite of Will’s little siblings, Lilac, begs him to because it’s her favorite Disney movie

So there he is next to Will, Lilac watching eagerly from his lap, Nico bonking his head on Will’s shoulder every time the TERRIBLE interpretation of his dad is on

Will laughs at him

Nico pouts and says he’s mean and threatens to shadow travel Lilac to the nearest candy store and get her whatever she wants just to hand her back to him for the night with a raging sugar rush

When the 7 dress up as the Avengers for Halloween one year, it’s added to the rotation.

Percy was Black Widow

Leo was Spider-Man

Jason was Captain America

Piper was Iron Man

Annabeth was Thor

Hazel was Black Panther

Frank was the Hulk

Nobody was prepared for the level of hotness that they brought to the table, but the Marvel fanatics were definitely prepared to start watching the movies

Eventually it devolves into a big war over who the best character is

The smash or pass is getting out of hand guys

lmk if you think of any more I’d love to write them

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part eleven)🌹

Part Ten🌹

the games are not only played by the tributes.

warnings: hunger games.

any and all interaction appreciated!!

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

The air was clear. The sun was shining. The smell was beautiful and oddly familiar.

Coriolanus looked around and noticed he was surrounded by glistening white roses. The field was endless with them, a never-ending sea of floral beauty. But among them all lay Coriolanus Snow's greatest desire. Dressed in a pearl white gown, there you stood, capturing the essence of beauty.

Even surrounded by similar shades, you stood out, colored in with an unexplainable emotion. The scene looked as though he was staring straight at a magnificent painting. Coryo began taking slow and cautious steps toward you. You faced the blonde boy, but your eyes weren't focused. Your gaze went through Coriolanus instead of on him. 

"Y/N?"

The confused young man stretched his hand out to you, beckoning you over to him. You stood frozen in place, not a single hint of emotion on your face. Coriolanus analyzed your appearance in a frenzy and noticed the growing red beneath the lace of your dress. He took the movement upon himself and, as he took one step, panic began setting in. The sound emerging from his feet was not the sound of grass but rather the crunching of rubble. The scenery was no longer the picturesque floral field but rather dark woods; dark woods that were only lit up by wicked flames licking up the bark of the surrounding trees. Coriolanus's eyes frantically locked back to yours and were met with what he could only describe as otherworldly horror. 

"Y/N! COME HERE, PLEASE!" 

Your body was cemented in place; your being completely oblivious to the danger fuming around you. When Coryo took his eyes off of you to analyze the rapidly shifting surroundings, you shifted with the trees. In those few seconds, your face hollowed, and the dress was no longer the billowing white gown. The growing red patches had overtaken the fabric, painting the entirety a crimson red. Your once pristine skin was beginning to show black and blue bruises along your arms and neck. Coriolanus snapped out of his frozen horror and began sprinting full force toward your sickly being, a being that was suddenly hidden by the vast amounts of crashing and burning trees that now blocked the determined young man's path. The burning fire intensified, and the smoke began burning his eyes, granting even more obstacles to Coriolanus. 

"Y/N! I'm coming! Please, say something!"

The only sounds that grimaced in his ears were the cackling of the burning wood. Wait. 

A low, solemn hiss was nearly muted by the chaos surrounding it, but it was there. Slithering through the small cracks between the fallen tree trunks appeared a black and orange snake. It came from the direction of your position, a direction he was certain of when he heard your blood-curdling scream.

Just like your mother.

Coriolanus felt the sweat sliding past his brows, and it wasn't from the fire's heat. The heir of House Snow didn't care that the tree trunks were on fire. He didn't care that with each step he took, more and more snakes appeared. He didn't care that as he grabbed the top tree to jump over, his flesh began melting and boiling.

The second his knees crashed onto the ground, the alluring blue eyes that you loved so much were frantic to find you. In a mix of relief and hysteria, Coriolanus flung himself to your fallen body. Surrounded by a field of glass, skin charred, and dress now transformed into an ink-black color—a color caused by your seeping blood. Coriolanus realized this as he put his hands on your shoulders in panic and began moving upwards to your bruised and pale neck to check for a pulse. Your eyes were open, and once you saw the face of Coriolanus Snow, all the fear of the situation came alive in your gaze.

"Y/N! Please, please stay with me, okay?!" 

Your response only consisted of heavily rapid breaths and a cascade of tears. You weren't like how you were when you got stabbed with the bottle. You were frantic and desperate, a desperation matched by the boy who now tried to lift you up. A futile attempt as your body was now tied down by a colony of snakes. 

Coriolanus now had a matching face filled with tears and terror as he grabbed a flaming branch and began fighting off the slithering reptiles. A fight he was losing as only more appeared and began making their way to your neck to cut off airflow. You hazily realized this, and you began wailing with your few moments left. 

"Coryo! Please, Coryo!!" 

Coriolanus, not seeing straight from emotion, threw his full force at the snakes with the flaming wood. A hit that didn't land on the serpent but rather your midnight gown, setting it aflame.

"CORYO!" 

No. No. No. 

Coriolanus patted the dress down in an attempt to stop the flames, but it kept burning; burning right through the fabric and onto your flesh. The frantic boy threw himself on you, trying so desperately for the flames to connect to him instead, but they were unwilling. Not a single flame touched the blonde's skin or clothes while your hair was now starting to burn as the embers traveled upwards. 

Your hands were somehow freed by the snakes as you placed them on Coriolanus's lower arms. They were so severely burnt that several layers of skin were melted through and charred.

The sight made Coriolanus want to vomit, but every moving atom froze at your pained eyes and scratched voice.

"You made a promise. You made a promise, Coryo. Why didn't you keep it?" 

"Why didn't you save me?"

Coriolanus began choking on emotion as he watched your eyes flutter back. "Open your eyes. Open your eyes."

"Y/N? Love, please, open your eyes." 

A suffocating silence overtook the woods. No longer did it burn. All the snakes retreated. The light from the burning trees now replaced by the silver shimmer of the moon. 

The man in the moon glowed down on the scene of heartbreak in front of him. Coriolanus became hysterical and overcome with emotion he didn't know how to translate. 

"WAKE UP! I beg of you! I'm on my knees, love, PLEASE!" 

Coriolanus shook your corpse so violently, it was cruel, but he was in a dire need for any sign of life. The sobs of his were crushing and deep as he was, for what was truly the first time in his life, helpless. His intelligence and cunning could not help. Did not help him. Every skill he perfected failed him in saving the love of his life. 

That was when the rage trickled in. Coriolanus could not be stopped as he smashed the glass around you over and over again. Even as the shards scraped his face and cuts were so deep, they reached the bone, he was unstoppable in his destruction. 

Why couldn't he save you? Why couldn't he be in your place? Hands gushing with crimson blood, he put his hands out in prayer. 

"ME! LET IT BE ME! I BEG, LET ME TAKE HER PLACE!" 

It was irrational, a word never synonymous with Coriolanus Snow, though there he was, the heir of House Snow Begging for death. 

"Why didn't you save me?" 

The echo of your last words surrounded Coriolanus. They rang through his ears and rattled his bones.

 "Why didn't you save me?" 

"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME?"

 "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME, CORIOLANUS?"

 "CORIOLANUS!"

 "CORIOLANUS!" 

"CORIOLA-" 

Your chants were no longer filled with ire. They were softer. Concerned even. Coriolanus took a look around the woods and realized the moon had abandoned him, plunging him into consuming darkness. There was no difference between his eyes open or closed, so the boy chose the latter and laid back on the bloody and broken glass. Next to your corpse and fully took your haunting chant of his name. He laid there until a shake rattled his body. He opened his eyes in surprise but was not met with the dark environment. To his utmost confusion and relief, his eyes opened to your beautiful face staring back at him.

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The two of you were in the Capitol hospital again, but roles reversed. Coriolanus now lay in the very same bed that you had only slightly more than twelve hours ago. Your face and hands had a few minor cuts from the bombing, but you were in far better shape than many of your peers. Not only tributes to the dead but classmates. Peers. Familiar faces you will never see again. 

If the rebels wanted the Capitol to feel like the districts, they did a wonderful job.

Your concern, however, was fully taken by the sobbing blonde in front of you. 

"Coryo?"

The mention of his nickname only seemed to fuel the misery tears. Coryo wrapped his arms around you and pulled you fully into him, ignoring the pulsing pain from his back and legs. He could handle any burns or cuts as long as you were in one piece and in his arms. 

You were shocked but had no hesitation as you cradled his neck and began rubbing soothingly. You had just been finally allowed to see Coriolanus when you entered the room and saw him sobbing and struggling. The initial fear of yours was that his burns had somehow gotten worse, but his writhing wasn't one of physical pain. It dawned upon you that Coriolanus was deep in a nightmare, one you couldn't seem to wake him up from. After countless moments of calling out to him and even beginning to shake him, he finally woke up. 

Coriolanus's eyes were a deep red and sore, while his whole body shook, hanging onto you for dear life. You were more than worried but it would be of no help to push him.

Time passed as slowly as Coryo's breathing became when he finally pulled away from you. His eyes were glossed over and lips chapped, but you still thought he was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. A soft smile was sent his way in an attempt to comfort him into talking. You snuck your pinky beneath the skinny one on Cory's right hand. The small gesture brought waves of solace to the shaken man.

"Are you okay?"

Your shock caused you to struggle to hold a giggle that inevitably was let free. 

"Coryo, you do know you are the one in the hospital right? With burns?"

His blonde curls swayed back and forth as he shook his head in disregard of his well-being. The pale fingers of his softly brought themselves up to the sides of your face, pulling you closer. 

"But are you okay, love?"

Oh, you were certain his ice-cold hands could feel the firestorm beneath your cheeks at the use of the name and concern. You wished to avert your gaze, but his captivating eyes locked you in. With all the power within your being, you forced an answer out of your numbing lips.

"I am totally fine, I promise. Just a few cuts. What I'm not fine with is not knowing why you are so worried."

His face was fully etched in disbelief as you snuck your own hands to mimic his position. Your voice was soft, like the pretty smile on your lips.

"Hey, I am fine. You are fine, right? We are fine, okay, love?"

Coryo visibly calmed beneath your palms. Whether from your touch, words, voice, or just presence, you don't know. His heart rate slowed while yours rapidly picked up as you noticed his eyes flicker down to your lips. The small beeping of the machine surrounding you became white noise as you watched Coriolanus's blue hues disappear as he shut his eyes. The hands cupping your face became firmer in their hold as he leaned forward. 

The panic from the hallway only mere days ago came rushing back. You really didn't have to do anything more than tilt upwards to catch his lips, but you were paralyzed and could only watch as the man of your dreams was only a mere inch away from you. Why you could not make the same effort, you were answerless. Yet another unanswerable question along with when will you two actually be able to have your moment in peace as the door of the hospital room was swung open and two perky voices entered. 

"Coryo, you're awake!"

Tigris quickly rushed over and enveloped her cousin into her arms as she mulled over his well-being. You slowly, and hopefully subtly, moved further away from the injured boy. Your feet touched the shiny floor of the hospital when your hand was grabbed and you were silently urged to stay by the pale boy, who was now being caught up on the latest events by Sejanus. 

The death of the Rings twins, Felix being hospitalized and in critical care, the dead tributes, Lucy Gray saving Coriolanus, and most painful for Sejanus, Marcus. You both hoped he was able to run far, far away, but the probability begged to differ.

You met Tigris's eyes for a split second and couldn't miss the smirk on her pink lips.

Coriolanus really needs to pick better places to make his move. 

Your eyes drifted to the small TV across from the hospital bed and saw it was now Jessup's turn to perform an interview. Jessup was far dirtier and in dire condition due to the rapid effect of the infected bite. Any questions and urging by Lucky Flickerman were unheard by the struggling teenager. 

After countless silent or aggressive interviews, Flickerman was over it and let out an exasperated breath while asking if there was anything Jessup wanted to say. 

You expected Jessup to continue with his stoic behavior and for the interview to end, but to the surprise of all, the boy stood. His deep chocolate eyes were glazed over in a daze, but they focused in on the camera as he lifted his hand proud into the air. Three of his cracked fingers stood straight as if to test any judgment while his pinky and thumb connected over the palm. 

The three of the Capitol-born youth of your group turned towards Sejanus in confusion. He nodded his head firmly toward the boy and grumbled, never taking his eyes off him.

"Must be a sign of resistance from his district."

"They will kill him for that!"

Tigris panicked as her heart went out for the sick and now stumbling boy as he was dragged off by peacekeepers. 

"Can't kill him if he already beat them to it."

The three heads of your friends turned towards yours, completely in the dark of your meaning. Any further inquiry was quelled as the now well-known brunette singer appeared on stage. She looked beautiful, slightly shaken with nerves, but radiant, nevertheless. 

"Good evening, Capitol. Districts. I wrote this song about a boy back in 12, and I hope he hears it."

When I was a babe I fell down in the holler

When I was a girl I fell into your arms

At the lyrics, you couldn't help yourself but turn to look at the very boy who held your hand and secretly, your heart. When your eyes met his, you swore you could see them shine and glisten.

We fell on hard times and we lost our bright color

You went to the dogs and I lived by my charms

It’s sooner than later that I’m six feet under

Your palm was squeezed, and you could feel the sweat appearing on Coriolanus's hand in fear. 

It’s sooner than later that you’ll be alone

You squeeze back in reassurance but one look at his paled face tells you it isn't having an effect.

So who will you turn to

Tomorrow, I wonder

For when the bell rings Lover, you’re on your own.

Oh, Lucy Gray. As her song continued, you had a battle occurring in your brain. One part of you was reasonably panicked and torn up that a girl of her age had to suffer her fate. Though, there was that small promise between you and Jessup that kept hope alive. You knew the chances of him keeping that promise, unintentionally, were slim. But you were more than determined to keep the promise for the both of them, and the hard stare of Coriolanus told he was willing to do more than his share of effort.

Shortly after the performance ended, familiar nurses cleared Coriolanus to go back home. Tigris thanked them immensely while Sejanus waited on the side for you. After the harsh fight between you and your father, you decided you would stay with Sejanus and the Plinths. Ma Plinth was more than happy to welcome you, but there was a part of you that wished to go back home. Back to the Snows.

You tried to help Coriolanus out of the hospital, but he refused all but your arm intertwined in his. You shuddered down a giggle as the memory of the late-night walk from the library came back. Side by side in the late of night. In sickness and health.

"Where are you going to stay?"

Coryo was straight to the point, even though he assumed where with the curly brown-haired boy who was waiting patiently.

"The Plinths for now, until I can secure some sort of paid position. I might try to sneak back into the old apartment to get some of my stuff to sell."

As soon as the words escaped, you instantly felt regret settle just as much as the clear stress settled on Coryo.

"Hey! No, no! I can deal with this myself. You don't need another responsibility, m'kay?"

Your hands cupped the rosy cheeks of his once more as you emphasized your ability and sufficiency. Coriolanus, whether he intended to or not, always tried to take on the role of savior. A hero. For better or worse, it was the position he saw himself fit for.

You saw Tigris return after finishing up some paperwork and took that as your sign to cut the conversation before Coryo could refuse you. Your slightly chilled lips gave a swift peck on Coryo's cheek and flashed a smile to Tigris in invitation to sweep away her younger cousin.

You tried to think of something witty to reassure the overthinking eighteen-year-old, but there wasn't much light on the last night for more than a dozen kids. You wondered what was worse, having a sudden death like the academy mentors or waiting around to die like their tributes.

Your feet led you to Sejanus. His position against the wall, and you both began your trek to the Plinth penthouse.

Strabo had a car ready to escort you both home, though, as always, Sejanus preferred to walk. As he would say: "It's one of the few similarities the Capitol shares with the districts. We can walk around and safely! Of course, he would try to take that away."

The sudden thought that the car could be used to transport the limping Coriolanus was quite belated, and as you turned around to call out to the blonde, he was already gone. The feeling of disappointment and regret was clear as day to Sejanus, and the little shoulder bump he gave you was needed to regain your attention back to reality.

"Already did it."

Sejanus didn't need the moon or streetlights to go home; your smile shone enough for the both of you.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Sej."

You've missed seeing Sejanus's smile. The boy has been walking around with a cloud over his head the past few weeks, understandably so. You knew the smile wouldn't last long, but you relished it as much as you could. Even in the safety of being outside of the arena, he was going to suffer just as much as his district-born counterparts.

"Yeah, well, for your information, your boyfriend is my friend too."

And the blinding smile of yours was swiftly replaced with a scoff and dramatic eye roll. Sejanus knew exactly where this path would lead, and he was definitely not going to let you refuse what he (and everyone with eyes) knew was only a matter of time.

"Oh, and by the way,"

"Hmm?"

"You missed his lips, went too far to the cheek."

The harsh slap to his arm earned you a very satisfactory yelp from the teasing boy. Teasing that followed you all the way through the Capitol streets on your journey. Some of the very streets taken less than an hour later by one injured, yet ever scheming, Coriolanus Snow.

Lucy Gray will not lose. You will not lose. Coriolanus will not lose. House Snow will not lose ever again.

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The golden designs of the ceilings were drawn over by your eyes endlessly as you bided your time. All mentors were required at the academy in half an hour, and you were still not ready. You had more than your share of excuses not to attend. You were still suffering from your injuries. And more grimly, you had already lost. Jessup would likely be gone by sunset.

The thought brought more than enough weight to weigh you down in the plush bed for eternity, but what good would it do to mourn? You must remind yourself that this was his act of resistance. He saved Lucy Gray on the train; now it's your turn.

Cleaning your face up and dressing in the infamous scarlet uniform, you left the safety of your temporary bedroom. Your senses were instantly hyper-aware.

Your nostrils were filled with the smell of freshly baked bread, ears rang with sobs, and eyes bore witness to Ma Plinth sniveling and cradling her son as if he was the one to be sent to the death arena.

Your eyes met his warm ones, now hardened with the upcoming reality. You sent him a sympathetic smile and walked over to give a slightly awkward side hug due to her position, to Mrs. Plinth.

“Morning.”

Your gentle greeting was left to mingle with the sullen silence as Sejanus untangled himself from his mother's embrace to ready himself to depart. Now fully available to you, you enveloped her in a comforting hug. You felt guilty for slightly using her as a substitute mother, but she never minded. She always wanted a daughter and gave her heart no small amount of joy to know that she was cared for by someone else besides her son and husband. If Sejanus had a small circle of friends, Ma Plinth was merely a dot in the populace of the Capitol.

You anxiously checked the time and realized that you really needed to get going if you didn't wish to start off with a bad impression. It may not have mattered to Sejanus, but you still wished to have a successful career and life with the powers of the Capitol. A final teary-eyed hug to the Plinth matriarch, and you two were on your hasty way.

The academy was always an impressive institution in its rigor and size, but today, it looked more intimidating than usual. Walking up the grand stairs felt like walking up the top of a mountain. A challenge added to by the heavy stares of the numerous attendees. The adults stared as the still somewhat prominent injuries lacing your neck, and fellow students gawked at your companion.

As you entered the hall that would be your home for as long as Jessup could survive, you and Sejanus split off. He found his designated chair first then spotted the ever-fimilar head of blonde curls. You wished to meet up with them before this whole thing started, but your attention was taken by a now-friendly (at least to you) Arachne.

“The big day, huh?”

“Please don't refer to this like a wedding.”

The girl huffed a bit but didn't add any further insults. You both stood at the farthest edge of the circular platform where the mentors with live feed of the tributes were stationed. Your eyes analyzed your fellow competitors and inhaled shakily. Arachne followed your eyes and your apprehension.

“I just want this to be over already.”

Your head whipped back to hers in surprise. Even with her slight softening, you expected Arachne to wish the tributes to suffer as long as possible. The Games were seen as a punishment and in her eyes, they deserved to pay for the deaths of the bombing victims. The fact that their fellow tributes were also of those dead didn't seem to matter to most of the Capitol anyways. Arachne took note of your confusion and elaborated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“The Games were a mess. I don't even know who got hurt the most, us or them.”

Lucky Flickerman sauntered in and began ordering everyone into their places in preparation to go live.

“I guess we will see now, won't we?”

You nod to Arachne as she takes the hint to locate a seat in the audience section. The seating was organized by the tribute district, so unfortunately, Sejanus was a far distance from you. Though you were given a bit of hope for the rest of the day as you sat next to Coryo. No conversation or words of affirmation were allowed to sprout between you two as the dramatic host droned on at a paid pace about rules and expectations. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen even as Lucky made his introduction to the now watching audiences.

“Good morning, I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman. A man who needs no introduction. Weatherman, amateur magician, and today, I’m honored to say… first-ever host of the Hunger Games.”

His enthusiasm was met with thunderous applause, yet no movement was made by your hands nor Coriolanus. The two mentors of District Twelve were earnestly watching the screen for the glimpse of their respective tributes. The dirt, grime, and fear present on all of the young faces was predictable. But there was a tribute that stood out from the rest, most notably because he was not with the rest.

Tied up and left for dead, Marcus hung limply. The sight of the boy's beaten body caused you to tear your eyes away and towards Sejanus. Your gaze was quickly followed by the rest of the live audience as the fuming anger with the boy became too much as he flung his desk and turned his anger towards the gawking Capitol elite.

“You’re monsters! All of you!”

Sejanus left briskly, and an offended, gossiping crowd followed him with their eyes. You watched his departure and half-heartedly ran after your friend to comfort him, but your eyes met Coryo’s, and the slightest head shake cemented you in your seat, bracing yourself for the carnage.

You easily spotted Lucy Gray, but you were just as frantic in her search for Jessup, who you could not see anywhere. Surely, he isn't dead, right? If he was, they would have told you. Right?

As the haunting bells chime, your heart drops. So many children are murdered instantaneously, and in the bloodbath, the rainbow girl flurries to find her friend. Come on Jessup. Give her a sign. Keep the deal.

As you internally begged for your tribute to keep his half of the promise, Coryo was quietly urging him to keep hers. Nearly skidding around death more than should be possible within such a short amount of time, Lucy Gray finally spotted Jessup.

The poor boy was so dazed and disoriented that he was on all fours and had no semblance of reality. As you watch Lucy Gray pull the, as much as it hurt to say, useless Jessup down the tunnel system, you felt a presence behind you.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable. You will reunite with your friend shortly, Miss Vaun.”

The ever-arrogant Casca Highbottom leered at you, and you could do nothing but keep silent and watch the screens as they shifted from tribute to tribute. You may have already lost, but Coriolanus hasn't, and you know that his victory would be Highbottom's greatest dread. Even more reason to aid in any way possible.

Lucy Gray finally brings herself and Jessup to safety, and you can feel your heart bursting. The loyalty of this girl. She is going home, no matter what you must do.

The rest of the day continues with little more violent action. Since the bell ringing, your mentor pool has sized down a good amount. As the night comes closer, you knew most would likely go home to rest, and by sunset, much of the live audience has returned back to their lavish apartments. You had been examining the now scarce audience section and noticed Arachne was still in attendance. In attendance and alert, unlike many of the slightly dozing crowd. Her brown eyes followed the actionless screen, clearly awaiting something. Not like how the mentors were waiting for a fight, but a patience for an expectation. You were unsure of what the expectation was but if it was the appearance of Lamina, she was spot on.

The District Seven girl slowly approached the hanging body of Marcus. In her hand was a hatchet, and her face was adorned with such guilt she was unworthy of. The tired audience began perking back up at the movement. She was slow and clearly unsure. But the soft cries and pleas of the suffering boy set the action straight for Lamina. You wondered if Sejanus witnessed the death of his former classmate. A death of mercy in the merciless arena. You took a deep breath of solemn realization.

These are the characters of the districts. Loyal, merciful, and honest. Why is it that they had to die while shallow and hollow beings were thriving? If only you had the courage like Sejanus to call out the Capitol in its ways. But then again, you were secretly sitting in safety and luxury. Would you really give that up for a land of authenticity and unfamiliarity?

The night dragged on, and sleep began to call your name. You settled as comfortably as you could into the chair and felt the world slip away. Coriolanus had taken his eyes off the screen every once in a while, to check in on you, and when he had done his round again, you were fast asleep. He got up for the first time in hours and placed his uniform jacket on top of your sleeping form, which you naturally snuggled into.

His heart ached at the thought of, yet another night spent in a place that you couldn't call yours. If he wins, when he wins, he vows to never let you be in this situation again. That you never have to wake with aches and rats crawling at your feet like him. That you never have to rely on anyone else again.

“A damsel in distress.”

The ever-unwanted voice of Dean Highbottom found its way to Coriolanus’s ears, unfortunately. The words sparked concern, and his blue orbs zoomed to the screen, which was still darkened and still. Huffing in annoyance to whatever game Highbottom seems to be playing, Coriolanus sharply replied.

“Lucy Gray is clever; she will figure out whatever comes her way.”

“Who said I was talking about her?”

Slightly reluctantly, Coriolanus moved his body to face the resentful man. On instinct, his eyes flickered back to your still slumbering being. Was Dean Highbottom threatening you?

“What do you want from Lucy Gray?”

“Nothing. I want her to live.”

“And the Plinth Prize would be a happy coincidence, I suppose.”

“I believe I’d be entitled to it.”

“Of course you do. Of course you do.”

The displeasure was so obvious in his tone it made Coriolanus wonder why Highbottom bothered to talk to him if it angered him so.

“Do you believe you are also entitled to the girl?”

Confusion laced Coriolanus’s features as he figured out which girl Highbottom was referring to. He replied with what he considered, the safer choice.

“Why would I be entitled to Lucy Gray? She deserves to live the rest of her life with her family in her district.”

The click of his yellowing tongue, the shorter man clearly displayed his obvious disapproval.

“You and I both know that is not the girl you desire.”

“If you win, I assume you will spend the riches on fixing your peasant and broken family up to your facade, no? But with the rest of the money, I wonder. Surely, you will have enough to protect young Miss Vaun.”

Coriolanus sat up straighter in his chair, apprehensive at the Dean’s next words. What exactly was he trying to imply?

“You would be entitled to her, no? Protect her from the lowest point in her life. You were there when she was vulnerable after her mother, after that oh so tragic attack, and single-handedly saved her from what is, essentially, absolute poverty and abandonment.”

The offense and surprise on the heir of House Snow’s face brought despicable levels of satisfaction to the older man.

“Swoop in to be the savior of the girl. Naturally, she is yours. The ever-charming Snow wins again.”

When will jabs at Crassus Snow and his offspring ever get old to Casca Highbottom? An incalculable question in truth. No matter how often they occur, they will always cause a stir inside of Corio and even more so when you are brought into the fray. However, any rash action was prevented by the appearance of an arguably, to some, a more dislikable presence.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The overly sweetened tone of Arachne Crane was a warning enough to cause, with slight hesitation, the departure of Dean Highbottom, likely to take another gulp of Morphling. Watching him storm off to intoxicate himself, Arachne turns back to her peer.

“Guy has problems.”

She moved to lean on the table holding the boxy computer, oddly relaxed. Then again, when did Arachne Crane ever have a normal reaction in any given scenario?

“Why did you do that?”

With a shrug, she met his analyzing eyes. The red head began inspecting and picking her nails while absent-mindedly answering.

“Your veins looked like they were gonna burst. Besides, I heard the things he said.”

Horror began to implement itself on Coriolanus's handsome face as he realized the revelation told by Highbottom's remarks. He wasn't sure how long Arachne had been listening in for, but if it was enough, it could ruin everything he had worked so long for when he was so close.

“Don’t worry, whether you believe me or not, I won’t say anything. Not because of you though. I know y/n would hate me if I did.”

She mumbled the last part as her yearning eyes focused on your peaceful figure. Ah, so that's why she interrupted.

Taking in a deep inhale, Arachne pushes herself off of the table and gets ready to leave when she pauses.

“You better win this, Coryo.”

And she continues on her way, leaving yet another thing for Coriolanus to ponder over. At least he has until morning light to get some semblance of peace of mind. Or so he thought.

Thanks, Sejanus.

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a/n: i know i take a long while between my posts now and i am so sorry, but i want to be real for a quick second. i am a junior in high school who is in a lot of hard classes and i have pretty bad anxiety and a big reason why i started this was as an escape from everything in my life. but lately, it has been a source of the stress, so i started putting it off. i am trying to work on myself and hopefully, this will translate to my work, but i felt i owed that to you guys. thank you for reading and supporting :)

@emma-andrea1 🌹@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

[istumpysk]

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Curtain of Light

TIER:

Fanfiction: These "theories" are nothing short of delusional fan-crafted fantasies, embarrassingly disconnected from any shred of textual reality.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

Oh boy!

First, let's outline the theory.

Please note, like any other fan theory, there are always minor differences of opinion. So, we'll cover the basics that most people seem to agree on.

Daenerys, Jon, and Tyrion are the three heads of the dragon.

To defeat the Others, they will each mount a dragon and travel as far north as possible, beyond a curtain of light, where they will encounter a Lovecraftian, apocalyptic dimension filled with all kinds of monsters.

While they are beyond this curtain of light, they will engage in life-affirming activities in the face of death. Some believe this could manifest as Tyrion learning to love himself, childbirth, or a sexual encounter between Jon and Daenerys.

They will then sacrifice themselves and their dragons to defeat the Others. Presumably, much will go up in flames.

Apparently, this epitomizes the theme of the human heart in conflict with itself and will serve as the conclusion of the story.

Now, for the evidence...

Oops, there isn't any.

If you've ever had the privilege of reading someone discuss this theory, you'll have noticed a glaring lack of textual support. Nevertheless, I'll do my best to piece together a coherent argument for why this could happen.

(Honestly, I'm a bit bitter that I'm putting in more effort to prove this theory than anyone else has.)

What does it mean when something is Lovecraftian?

To borrow from dictionary.com, 'Lovecraftian' pertains to elements reminiscent of the works of fantasy and horror writer H.P. Lovecraft, especially those that depict monstrous, misshapen beings from other dimensions or universes.

George R. R. Martin, a fan of literature, incorporates numerous Lovecraftian references in his A Song of Ice and Fire series and its associated works.

Examples include:

Leng (Island): Inspired by Lovecraft's Plateau of Leng.

Sarnath (City): Likely inspired by the city of Sarnath in Lovecraft's "The Doom that Came to Sarnath."

Ib (Island/Civilization): Possibly a nod to Ib from "The Doom that Came to Sarnath."

K'dath in the Grey Waste: Inspired by Lovecraft's Kadath in the Cold Waste.

Church/Cult of Starry Wisdom: A probable reference to the same cult in Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark."

Deep Ones: Likely inspired by the aquatic creatures in Lovecraft's "The Shadow over Innsmouth."

"What's dead may never die": Possibly inspired by Lovecraft's phrase "That is not dead which can eternal lie / And with strange eons even death may die."

The Drowned God: Possibly a nod to Lovecraft's Cthulhu.

Dagon: An Ironborn-associated name, also an ancient being in Lovecraft's lore.

The Black Goat of Qohor: Possibly a reference to Lovecraft's Shub-Niggurath, the "Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young."

N'Ghai and Nefer: Likely inspired by Lovecraft's N'Kai, an underground realm associated with Tsathoggua.

Are you noticing a pattern? These nods to Lovecraft are mostly found in peripheral settings, with minor association to the Ironborn. George tends to make a lot of references to all kinds of literature in a similar fashion.

I'd hesitate to jump to the conclusion that this implies the existence of a parallel universe with otherworldly monsters, accessible via a portal in the far north. But since this is appearing in the evidence section, I guess we'll do that anyway.

Moving on.

The words "curtain of light" appear in a Bran chapter. One time. In only this chapter.

Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived. North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks. Now you know, the crow whispered as it sat on his shoulder. Now you know why you must live. - Bran III, AGOT

Melisandre also references curtains, though they are clearly different curtains than Bran's curtains. Whatever, it's fine.

Shadows in the shape of skulls, skulls that turned to mist, bodies locked together in lust, writhing and rolling and clawing. Through curtains of fire great winged shadows wheeled against a hard blue sky. - Melisandre I, ADWD

x

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. - Melisandre I, ADWD

There is a place called the Land of Always Winter. It's like the Arctic.

The icy trenches rose around them, knee high, then waist high, then higher than their heads. They were in the heart of Winterfell with the castle all around them, but no sign of it could be seen. They might have easily been lost amidst the Land of Always Winter, a thousand leagues beyond the Wall. - Theon I, ADWD

x

Yet no matter the truths of their arts, the children were led by their greenseers, and there is no doubt that they could once be found from the Lands of Always Winter to the shores of the Summer Sea. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Dawn Age

x

What is commonly accepted is that the Age of Heroes began with the Pact and extended through the thousands of years in which the First Men and the children lived in peace with one another. With so much land ceded to them, the First Men at last had room to increase. From the Land of Always Winter to the shores of the Summer Sea, the First Men ruled from their ringforts. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Age of Heroes

The Others are believed to originate from the Land of Always Winter, where, according to legend, you can also find spooky ice spiders.

However, I should mention, a detail that might be easily missed in the books is that they are currently at Hardhome and continue to press south towards the Wall.

Yet there are other tales—harder to credit and yet more central to the old histories—about creatures known as the Others. According to these tales, they came from the frozen Land of Always Winter, bringing the cold and darkness with them as they sought to extinguish all light and warmth. The tales go on to say they rode monstrous ice spiders and the horses of the dead, resurrected to serve them, just as they resurrected dead men to fight on their behalf. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Long Night

In 2012, George confirmed that future books would explore further and further north. No shit, you don't say. I wonder if Bran's journey through history, where we learn more about the origins of the Others, has anything to do with that.

"And what lies really north in my books—we haven't explored that yet, but we will in the last two books." - George R. R. Martin

Bran uses the common metaphor "the heart of _____ (winter)" in the same passage that the curtain of light appears. Later, in another book, Daenerys enters the House of the Undying, where she encounters blue figures reminiscent of the Others. There, she finds a literal blue heart that appears to be their life force. Drogon eats it. Together, these things might suggest that there is a literal blue heart beyond a portal that needs to be set on fire to defeat the Others.

Also, another time, Theon stands in the middle of Winterfell and uses the same "the heart of" metaphor (common phrase found throughout the series). Shortly after, he references the Land of Always Winter, so I thought I would throw it in to be generous.

He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks. - Bran III, AGOT

x

They were in the heart of Winterfell with the castle all around them, but no sign of it could be seen. They might have easily been lost amidst the Land of Always Winter, a thousand leagues beyond the Wall. - Theon I, ADWD

x

A long stone table filled this room. Above it floated a human heart, swollen and blue with corruption, yet still alive. It beat, a deep ponderous throb of sound, and each pulse sent out a wash of indigo light. The figures around the table were no more than blue shadows. As Dany walked to the empty chair at the foot of the table, they did not stir, nor speak, nor turn to face her. There was no sound but the slow, deep beat of the rotting heart. [...] Through the indigo murk, she could make out the wizened features of the Undying One to her right, an old old man, wrinkled and hairless. His flesh was a ripe violet-blue, his lips and nails bluer still, so dark they were almost black. Even the whites of his eyes were blue. They stared unseeing at the ancient woman on the opposite side of the table, whose gown of pale silk had rotted on her body. One withered breast was left bare in the Qartheen manner, to show a pointed blue nipple hard as leather. She is not breathing. Dany listened to the silence. None of them are breathing, and they do not move, and those eyes see nothing. Could it be that the Undying Ones were dead? [...] Then indigo turned to orange, and whispers turned to screams. Her heart was pounding, racing, the hands and mouths were gone, heat washed over her skin, and Dany blinked at a sudden glare. Perched above her, the dragon spread his wings and tore at the terrible dark heart, ripping the rotten flesh to ribbons, and when his head snapped forward, fire flew from his open jaws, bright and hot. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

x

Only its eyes lived. Bright blue, just as Jon said. They shone like frozen stars. 

[...]

When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. - Samwell I, ASOS

If you cherry-pick through the text and remove all context, you might be able to piece together a few sentences suggesting that life and love will defeat the Others and that a great self-sacrifice is imminent.

The man looked over at the woman. "The things I do for love," he said with loathing. - Bran II, AGOT

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We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy. - Jon VIII, AGOT

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"Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same." - Sansa IV, ACOK

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"You're mine," she whispered. "Mine, as I'm yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we'll live." - Jon V, ASOS

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Someone threw a stone, and when Dany looked, her shoulder was torn and bloody. "No," she wept, "no, please, stop it, it's too high, the price is too high." More stones came flying. - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

x

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up." "I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly. "You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son." - Jon I, AGOT

Daenerys is convinced that there will be three heads of the dragon, and let me tell you, that girl's expectations are always fulfilled.

"If you were grown," she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, "I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag." But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes . . . - Daenerys V, ASOS

If the author leads you to believe that something will happen, it must be true.

Lastly, I should mention that there are vague references suggesting that George has written other stories with events and themes similar to this proposed ending. However, I can't verify these claims, and unsurprisingly, the works in question are never cited.

Well, that was it.

Say what you will about the "Daario is Euron" theorists, but at least they attempt to back up their crazy idea with actual text from the books.

COUNTER-EVIDENCE:

To put it bluntly, this theory has no basis—no textual support, no historical parallels, no evidence in the companion books, no prophetic visions, no dreams, no myths, no legends, no similarities to the television show, and no foreshadowing to speak of. It is entirely made up, with only a few words from the text as its foundation.

Does that sound like George R. R. Martin to you?

That said, now that I’ve realized his three-fold revelation strategy, I see it in play almost every time. The first, subtle hint for the really astute readers, followed later by the more blatant hint for the less attentive, followed by just spelling it out for everyone else. It’s a brilliant strategy, and highly effective. - Anne Groell, George R. R. Martin's editor

A Song of Ice and Fire is about the people of Westeros putting aside their petty differences and uniting against two existential threats: ice, represented by the Others, and fire, represented by Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons. It's not a story about fire defeating ice.

Well, of course, the two outlying ones — the things going on north of the Wall, and then there is Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons — are of course the ice and fire of the title, "A Song of Ice and Fire." The central stuff — the stuff that's happening in the middle, in King's Landing, the capital of the seven kingdoms — is much more based on historical events, historical fiction. It's loosely drawn from the Wars of the Roses and some of the other conflicts around the 100 Years' War, although, of course, with a fantasy twist. You know, one of the dynamics I started with, there was the sense of people being so consumed by their petty struggles for power within the seven kingdoms, within King's Landing — who's going to be king? Who's going to be on the Small Council? Who's going to determine the policies? — that they're blind to the much greater and more dangerous threats that are happening far away on the periphery of their kingdoms. - George R. R. Martin

x

Ice and fire of course are also opposites, they're a duality and there's a lot in my books that are about duality. Certainly the religion of Melisandre, one of the most important characters, I think is basically a dualist religion with the premise that there are two gods. It's somewhat based on Zoroastrianism, and a little bit based on Catharism, Albigenses heresy who I know had some roots here in Spain once upon a time, before they were all killed. The idea of a world divided between good and evil, war between the two, which is so basic to so many fantasy starting with Tolkien, but much more so in the case of Tolkien imitators, was something that I wanted to recast and think about and maybe subvert a little. But I'm still using kind of the language of it, and some of the symbols associated with it. So all of these are grist for the mill, it's not something as simple as saying ice is this and fire is that. They're both many things. And one of the most important things is that both of them, ice and fire will kill you dead. So they're both dangerous in their own ways, hate, love, desire, coldness, they can both be deadly. - George R. R. Martin

x

While the lion of Lannister and the direwolf of Stark snarl and scrap, however, a second and greater threat takes shape across the narrow sea, where the Dothraki horselords mass their barbarian hordes for a great invasion of the Seven Kingdoms, led by the fierce and beautiful Daenerys Stormborn, the last of the Targaryen dragonlords. The Dothraki invasion will be the central story of my second volume, A Dance with Dragons. The greatest danger of all, however, comes from the north, from the icy wastes beyond the Wall, where half-forgotten demons out of legend, the inhuman others, raise cold legions of the undead and the neverborn and prepare to ride down on the winds of winter to extinguish everything that we would call "life." - The Original Outline

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I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there.

She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in 'Fire and Blood,' we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn't necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy. - George R. R. Martin

In the established lore of A Song of Ice and Fire, dragons can't cross the Wall and dislike cold and wet weather. How exactly will they get to this Lovecraftian Land of Always Winter, and how will they be of any use in that climate?

The men of the Night's Watch were as thunderstruck by the queen's dragon as the people of White Harbor had been, though the queen herself noted that Silverwing "does not like this Wall." Though it was summer and the Wall was weeping, the chill of the ice could still be felt whenever the wind blew, and every gust would make the dragon hiss and snap. "Thrice I flew Silverwing high above Castle Black, and thrice I tried to take her north beyond the Wall," Alysanne wrote to Jaehaerys, "but every time she veered back south again and refused to go. Never before has she refused to take me where I wished to go. I laughed about it when I came down again, so the black brothers would not realize anything was amiss, but it troubled me then and it troubles me still." - Fire & Blood: Jaehaerys and Alysanne—Their Triumphs and Tragedies

x

Autumn was well advanced when the Prince of Dragonstone came to Winterfell. The snows lay deep upon the ground, a cold wind was howling from the north, and Lord Stark was in the midst of his preparations for the coming winter, yet he gave Jacaerys a warm welcome. Snow and ice and cold made Vermax ill-tempered, it is said, so the prince did not linger long amongst the northmen, but many a curious tale came out of that short sojourn. - Fire & Blood: the Dying of the Dragons—A Son for a Son

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The big man looked out toward the terrace. "I knew it would rain," he said in a gloomy tone. "My bones were aching last night. They always ache before it rains. The dragons won't like this. Fire and water don't mix, and that's a fact. You get a good cookfire lit, blazing away nice, then it starts to piss down rain and next thing your wood is sodden and your flames are dead." - The Dragontamer, ADWD

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He saw no sign of dragons, but he had not expected to. The dragons did not like the rain. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

x

(bonus, for laughs:)

"The things…Mother have mercy, I do not know how to speak of them…they were…worms with faces…snakes with hands…twisting, slimy, unspeakable things that seemed to writhe and pulse and squirm as they came bursting from her [Aerea Targaryen] flesh. Some were no bigger than my little finger, but one at least was as long as my arm…oh, Warrior protect me, the sounds they made…" "They died, though. I must remember that, cling to that. Whatever they might have been, they were creatures of heat and fire, and they did not love the ice, oh no. One after another they thrashed and writhed and died before my eyes, thank the Seven. I will not presume to give them names…they were horrors." - Fire & Blood: Jaehaerys and Alysanne—Their Triumphs and Tragedies

House Targaryen and their dragons played no role in the previous Long Night.

How the Long Night came to an end is a matter of legend, as all such matters of the distant past have become. In the North, they tell of a last hero who sought out the intercession of the children of the forest, his companions abandoning him or dying one by one as they faced ravenous giants, cold servants, and the Others themselves. Alone he finally reached the children, despite the efforts of the white walkers, and all the tales agree this was a turning point. Thanks to the children, the first men of the Night's Watch banded together and were able to fight—and win—the Battle for the Dawn: the last battle that broke the endless winter and sent the Others fleeing to the icy north. Now, six thousand years later (or eight thousand as True History puts forward), the Wall made to defend the realms of men is still manned by the sworn brothers of the Night's Watch, and neither the Others nor the children have been seen in many centuries. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Long Night

x

The Targaryens were of pure Valyrian blood, dragonlords of ancient lineage. Twelve years before the Doom of Valyria (114 BC), Aenar Targaryen sold his holdings in the Freehold and the Lands of the Long Summer and moved with all his wives, wealth, slaves, dragons, siblings, kin, and children to Dragonstone, a bleak island citadel beneath a smoking mountain in the narrow sea. - The World of Ice and Fire—The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

Bran's curtain of light is simply a reference to the aurora borealis. For the love of christ, it's not a portal to another dimension.

North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. - Bran III, AGOT

x

Sailors, by nature a gullible and superstitious lot, as fond of their fancies as singers, tell many tales of these frigid northern waters. They speak of queer lights shimmering in the sky, where the demon mother of the ice giants dances eternally through the night, seeking to lure men northward to their doom. - The World of Ice and Fire—Beyond the Free Cities: The Shivering Sea

Speaking of Bran, why isn't he central to this theory? Didn't that sentence appear in his chapter? What is Arya up to? Where is Sansa? Why are the Starks, who are the central characters of this series, taking a backseat in their own conflict, which is unfolding in their own backyard?

(Not to mention the Night's Watch, the wildlings, the northerners, and the children of the forest—you know, the people who are actually integral to this storyline.)

Yeah, the children were always at the heart of this. The Stark children, in particular, were always very central. Bran is the first viewpoint character that we meet, and then we meet Jon and Sansa and Arya and the rest of them. It was always my intention to do that. - George R. R. Martin

x

Whenever I propose analogies like that, fans jump in with their own ideas, but it depends on what team you root for. To me, the Starks are heroes, so they would be the Giants. - George R. R. Martin

It's going to be a pact facilitated by Bran.

What is commonly accepted is that the Age of Heroes began with the Pact and extended through the thousands of years in which the First Men and the children lived in peace with one another. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Age of Heroes

x

Regardless, the children of the forest fought as fiercely as the First Men to defend their lives. Inexorably, the war ground on across generations, until at last the children understood that they could not win. The First Men, perhaps tired of war, also wished to see an end to the fighting. The wisest of both races prevailed, and the chief heroes and rulers of both sides met upon the isle in the Gods Eye to form the Pact. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Coming of First Men

x

According to these tales, the return of the sun came only when a hero convinced Mother Rhoyne's many children—lesser gods such as the Crab King and the Old Man of the River—to put aside their bickering and join together to sing a secret song that brought back the day. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Long Night

x

How the Long Night came to an end is a matter of legend, as all such matters of the distant past have become. In the North, they tell of a last hero who sought out the intercession of the children of the forest, his companions abandoning him or dying one by one as they faced ravenous giants, cold servants, and the Others themselves. Alone he finally reached the children, despite the efforts of the white walkers, and all the tales agree this was a turning point. Thanks to the children, the first men of the Night's Watch banded together and were able to fight—and win—the Battle for the Dawn: the last battle that broke the endless winter and sent the Others fleeing to the icy north. - The World of Ice and Fire—Ancient History: The Long Night

Tyrion Lannister is not a Targaryen; he is not one of the three heads of the dragon. He is the malevolent, vindictive son of Tywin Lannister. He rapes women, he kills women, he marries child hostages to acquire their castles, he will be complicit in the death of potentially hundreds of thousands of people, and he isn't getting anything remotely resembling a heroic ending.

Jaime kissed her cheek. "He left a son." "Aye, he did. That is what I fear the most, in truth." That was a queer remark. "Why should you fear?" "Jaime," she said, tugging on his ear, "sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna's breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there's some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak . . . but Tyrion is Tywin's son, not you. I said so once to your father's face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years." - Jaime V, AFFC

Daenerys and her dragons represent one of the two principal threats in the narrative. Azor Ahai is a misinterpreted prophecy that is intended as a warning, not as the foretelling of a hero.

Since the first book, her sole objective has been to rule foreign lands seized through force. She exploits slaves, consistently engages in brutal acts of violence, and leaves devastation wherever she sets foot. She will intentionally burn King's Landing to the ground, and then she'll be stabbed to death.

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. "Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass. - Daenerys X, ADWD

The idea that Daenerys, Jon, and Tyrion will love themselves or each other, either physically or emotionally, and then collectively sacrifice themselves, is the dumbest climax anyone has ever conceived. You forfeit the right to ever complain about the show if this is what you thought should happen.

Finally, please remember that, by default, the original creators of this theory are always wrong about everything.

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

You might be asking yourselves, "How do we distinguish between joke and fanfiction theories?"

I'll tell you. Both are equally absurd, but the fanfiction tier has the unique quality of making you feel like you're reading a story written by a fanfic writer who's in denial about their aspirations to write fanfic.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective—I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner, or if it's competitive, a second poll will be conducted to determine the proper location.*

*won't be necessary for this theory.

NEXT THEORY:

Varys has Tyrek Lannister