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vampishnes · 23 days ago

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Sanguine Hunger: Ptichye Moloko

Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six Pairings: Platonic!Yelena & Fem!Reader, Bob x FemThunderbolts!ExAvenger!Reader Summary: Late-night cravings drive you to the kitchen, where you find unexpected solace. Tags: No use of ‘Y/N’, Female reader, Reader is a mutant with blood manipulation powers that require her to have regular blood consumption. Slow burn! I have around 10k words of lore for this reader insert, so strap in. Beta read. Warnings: Graphic depictions of blood/blood consumption. (very) Slight descriptions of body horror. References to past trauma/violence. Word count: 3.1k

Some days were easier than others. That sanguine hunger that churned in the depths of your stomach was only a distant hum, a sound so quiet you had to tune the rest of the world out to hear. That was before the Thunderbolts, when Valentina still held both the carrot and the stick.

When Valentina dangled fresh meat over your nose, and you devoured it like the pathetic dog you were. You were always fulfilled, at least in terms of blood; you always had a victim you bled dry, and another lined up. The last eight years as a mercenary was mindless work with a simple objective: kill. Valentina used you as a warning to anyone who didn't play nice.

Things were different now as a 'New Avenger'; killing was usually frowned upon, and deaths were few and far between. So, the hum grew louder, eating at your insides like the parasite your power was.

The Thunderbolts tried to work together to find a solution, trying to think back to your old Avengers days when you had weekly blood transfusions, but after being fed for so long, it wasn't enough any more. After trial and error, the Tower's refrigerator became your own personal blood pantry—rows of crimson bags organised by type, each one a salvation from the need you fought harder than any enemy to keep contained.

Although transfusions were more desirable for everyone else to witness, feeding directly into your stomach was the most potent way to get blood into your system. At first, you took to carrying a matte black tumbler everywhere, but eventually, you grew tired of Walker's lingering gaze whenever you took a sip, his eyes fixating on the ruby stains between your teeth, his expression a shade of disgust, though he tried to hide it.

So now you only drank in the dead of night, in the comfort of your room.

But tonight was different. The day had been a special kind of hell—cameras flashed in your face during the press conference, and fighting the 'villain of the week' drained you mentally and, from using your powers, physically.

Now the kitchen, your last lifeline, remained frustratingly occupied. The rest of the Thunderbolts found themselves orbiting in the kitchen long into the night, some impromptu debriefing (that you refused to attend) became aimless conversation, their voices drifting down the hallway like a barrier between you and salvation.

It wasn't until the bright, glaring red numbers on the clock beside you read 2:12 AM that silence settled, and the telltale sound of footsteps began fading.

You waited for twenty, painstakingly long, minutes. Counting each second like a prisoner counting down the days until sweet release. You slipped from underneath the silk covers of your blanket, your mattress groaned against your weight, as if telling you to stay. Your feet made no sound against the marble flooring of the tower. The hallway stretched before you, room after room, two with light peeking out from under the cracks of the door.

Your senses picked up on the smell of fresh exposed blood just two floors down, and you could almost taste the metallic tang dancing on your tongue. You took the stairs, descending with irregular clumsiness, one hand trailing the wall for balance as a wave of dizziness reminded you how desperately you needed blood. The communal floor was supposed to be empty, dormant like the rest of the Tower.

Yet as you approached the kitchen, your nostrils flared as they caught something. Something sweet, a flavourful mixture of cocoa powder, sugar, butter, and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. You froze mid-step, cursing silently. Someone was still awake.

Yelena was in clear view, her head buried deep into a cookbook. For a second, you thought about turning around and retreating into the confines of your room, but the painful stab of your veins convulsing brought you back to your senses. "You're not as quiet as you think," Yelena said without looking up.

Her hair was messily piled behind her head, and she wore comfortable-looking faded flannel pyjama pants and an old, beat-up white tank top. "I could hear you pounding down the stairs," Yelena continued, now looking up. Her eyebrows furrowed deep into her glabella, her top lip arching upwards in slight shock. "You look like shit. You okay?" You remained in the doorway, caught between pain and the unexpected intimacy of seeing Yelena do something so domestic.

"Drained," you replied, quick and rougher than intended. Pattering down to the fridge, you swung it open with shaking hands. Yelena nodded in quiet understanding and looked back down at the bowl in front of her. You scrambled for any bag you could reach, your hands gripping tightly at the first one you touched. The liquid sloshed around in the clear bag as you twisted the valve at the top and wrapped your lips firmly around the nozzle.

The first mouthful hit your system like electricity, flooding your withered veins with life. You tried to suppress the small sound of relief that escaped your throat, but failed. Behind you, Yelena continued working, the rhythmic sound of a whisk hitting against the side of a bowl providing a strangely soothing backdrop. No questions. No staring. No judgment.

“What are you making?” you asked after a moment, your voice already stronger, the tremor in your hands subsiding as the blood worked its magic.

“Ptichye Moloko," Yelena replied, her hand working tirelessly, whisking a white, sweet-smelling mixture. “Couldn't sleep.” You nodded, understanding without needing elaboration. You all had your coping mechanisms. You stepped around the kitchen island and sat on a stool in front of Yelena.

“My mother used to bake,” you offered quietly, “Challah, mainly.” You smiled crookedly, your thoughts trailing off, unprepared for the memory's sudden vividness, the smell of your mother's kitchen from a century ago. You finished off the rest of the blood bag and placed it to the side; your veins were fuller now, yet the relief was fleeting. You recognised the hollow echo still reverberating beneath your skin. You had stretched yourself too far this time, waiting until you were running on fumes.

One bag merely took the edge off; your body, depleted from your powers' exertions, demanded more.

Yelena didn't push for more, instead responding with, “If you're still awake in an hour, you can try it.” You bobbed your head; you should have returned to the solitude of your room, hidden behind the walls you had spent so long meticulously building, but instead, you found yourself walking beside Yelena to get a better look at the cookbook. It was in Russian, of course.

“I can help, but my Russian is rusty,” you said, your eyes scanning over the words you understood. Yelena's eyebrow arched slightly, but she nodded toward the refrigerator.

“Fridge. Third shelf. Heavy cream. I hope your arm isn't weak.” A small laugh escaped your lips, unexpected but genuine. You retrieved the heavy cream from the fridge, grabbing another blood bag. You placed it on the counter beside you, trying to be casual about it. Yelena's gaze flicked to it briefly, then back to her bowl without comment. “Put it in a bowl and whip it, I'll say when you're done.” You poured the cream and began whisking it by hand; the repetitive motion was almost meditative, and for a moment, you forgot about the blood bag sitting inches away.

“You said you knew Russian?” Yelena asked, now adding the layer of pale, thick cake into a pan.

"Yeah. Natasha taught me. Taught me English, too," you replied tentatively, hand gripping your spatula slightly tighter in anticipation of Yelena's response. A shaky breath left Yelena's nostrils, but her mouth remained tightly shut.

"She liked Ptichye," she said, eventually, her throat closing. "You're almost done." You felt the familiar ache rising again, eyeing the blood bag. "Just drink it," Yelena said without looking up, her hands reaching underneath a cupboard, returning with a small pot. Heat flushed in your cheeks at the notion of being caught staring. You stuttered for a moment, fumbling around for a reply.

"I usually don't have it in front of others."

"Why?" Yelena asked, "Because Walker? He's disgusted by everything. Yesterday I saw him scowling at my guinea pig." A laugh bubbled up from your chest.

"People think it's weird, disgusts them. Reminds them I'm…" You drifted off, trying to focus all your attention on the stiff peaks forming in your bowl.

"Different?" Yelena finished, shaking her head. "When I was young, they made us sleep with our ankles tied to the bed frame. Every morning, my skin was raw." She lightly pressed one of the stove's digital buttons, which beeped in response. "Everyone has their scars. Some are easier to hide than others." You reached across the kitchen island as you twisted the valve and brought it to your lips; you braced yourself for the recoil you'd come to expect, but Yelena continued pouring chocolate chips into the warmed pot atop the stove, completely unfazed.

"Smells good in here," a small voice said quietly from the kitchen's door frame. You jumped lightly, immediately wiping any remnants of blood from around the rim of your mouth. Bob stood stock still on the cold flooring, his bare feet restlessly fidgeting. His hands twiddled around with the bottom seam of his blue pyjama jumper. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Couldn't sleep. Could smell someone cooking."

He lingered in the doorway, backlit by the dim hallway light, his shadow stretching across the kitchen tiles. He shifted his weight awkwardly for a moment longer before walking in and sitting on a barstool. His eyes fluttered to the blood bag in your hand before snapping back up to your eyes. You smiled back at him, revealing your blood-stained teeth.

"Bird latex," you said, presenting your bowl of whipped cream to Bob. Yelena burst out in laughter, her eyes creasing in the corners. She shook her head, her hand preoccupied with mixing the melting chocolate.

"Bird milk. Ignore her, Bob, she is terrible at Russian." Bob's mouth hung open, his brow furrowing as if decoding a cypher. A soft "oh" escaped him.

"It's just mousse and chocolate icing, I think." You took another mindless sip from the blood bag as you thought, moving to sit beside Bob, "Yelena's right, my Russian is terrible." The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft clinking of Yelena's spoon against the pot of melting chocolate.

"Do you want to help?" Yelena asked, glancing at Bob quickly from behind her shoulder. Bob straightened, his shoulders tensing slightly before he nodded. "You can start assembling," Yelena instructed, pointing to the pan with cake layered at the bottom. "Cakes in. So start cream, then cake again. When I'm done, we'll put the chocolate on top." As Bob moved to help, you watched with silent amusement. He hadn't commented on your drinking, nor cared that your teeth were stained, or your breath gave off a metallic tang with every word. His eyes shot up to where your eyes watched him.

A drop of blood dripped from your mouth and trickled down the side of your lip. Bob watched it slowly descend the curvature of your lip before your thumb swooped it up, sliding a red streak across your chin. Your tongue darted from the side of your mouth and lapped it from your finger in one careful swoop.

His Adam's apple bobbed slowly in his throat, mouth suddenly dry from watching your unintentional performance. He shook his head repeatedly, trying to remove the inappropriate imagery from his thoughts. Trying to focus on scooping up the spoonfuls of cream into the pan, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he was defusing a bomb rather than forming a cake.

"You know," Bob said as he waited for the dessert to settle before adding another layer, "I've been thinking about starting a garden on the rooftop. Growing things. Walker says it's a waste of time, but…" He shrugged, leaving the thought unfinished.

"Walker," Yelena rolled her eyes, "has a heart of wet cardboard." You laughed in reply and discreetly dipped your finger into the bowl of whipped cream in Bob's arms, gesturing to him in a silent plea not to tell Yelena.

"I could help. I think it'd be a good use of all that space," you replied, and Bob's face brightened in response.

"Really? Do you know anything about plants?"

"No," you admitted, bluntly. "But I'm a quick learner." You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back on the stool. The stove turned off with a distinctive 'beep', followed by Yelena holding a warm pot of melted chocolate.

"You had some, didn't you?" Yelena accused, her head tilting sideways as she stared down at you.

"No," you lied, raising the blood bag to your lips with deliberate nonchalance. You gestured with the half-empty pouch clutched in your other hand, as if its very existence disqualified your involvement. "Ask Bob." Yelena's gaze shifted to your teammate, whose guilty expression hung between you. Before words could leave his lips, you corrected yourself, "Don't ask Bob," your voice softening as a smirk bloomed across your face. Bob's laughter mingled with the clink of his spoon against glass as he settled it down, his work finished.

Yelena poured the warm chocolate over the layered dessert in one smooth motion, creating a glossy coating that immediately began to set against the cold layers. She picked it up by the base of the tray, opening the fridge with her spare hand. "It needs to set," Yelena stated, sliding the dessert into the refrigerator. "Forty minutes. Minimum."

You groaned in response, finishing off the rest of your blood bag, and you placed it beside the other empty one. You felt your power flow back into your veins, you could hear everything again - the subtle heartbeats underneath layers of clothes and skin and the sound of blood rushing through veins and travelling through hearts. All of it under your command.

"I'll wash," you offered, sliding off your stool. The least you could do was help clean up after they'd accepted your feeding without comment.

"I'll dry," Bob added. He brought all the utensils he could gather at once to the side of the sink and grabbed one of the dish cloths. Yelena looked momentarily surprised before stepping back and raising her hands.

You settled into a rhythm, washing each utensil haphazardly and passing it to Bob, who dried it with practised fluency. It was repetitive, boring, but oddly comforting. No mission plans, no next steps, just bubbles and wrinkled hands.

Yelena had taken her temporary leave upstairs at some point, stating she'd be back down when the cake was done, leaving just you and Bob washing dishes side-by-side. "This is nice," Bob said, his voice so quiet that if you hadn't just turned off the water, you wouldn't have heard it.

"What is?" you asked, although part of you already knew.

"This," he gestured vaguely around the kitchen, a dripping cup still in his hand. "Normal things. Together." You smiled in response, dipping your hands back into the water-filled sink. You handed Bob the last bowl and drained the sink, watching the soapy water swirl away.

"The garden," you said, turning to Bob. "What would you grow?" His eyes stayed focused on the bowl in his hands.

"Anything I couldn't kill easily. I have a black thumb." You laughed in reply, tucking a piece of loose hair back with your shoulder. You couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, his face was slightly flushed, a light shade of pink.

Your ears focused on the rhythmic pattering of his heartbeat against his rib cage, steady but fierce. Your bottom lip found itself slowly trapped beneath your front teeth as you stared him down. You gulped hard, feeling the thick saliva crawl down the crevice of your throat.

"I'll buy a book," you grabbed the cloth from Bob's hands, gently pulling it from his grasp. "Start simple. Tomatoes, onions, garlic." You wiped your hands with the moist cloth, and Bob's eyes followed the movement.

"I have a book in my room, got it a long time ago when I first had the idea." He trailed off and, realising he was starting to ramble, attempted to backtrack. "But, I mean, you can still get a book. My one is probably dusty by now, I don't even think I remember where I put it." You stopped him with a light touch on the shoulder.

"If you're not tired, after cake, we can go to your room and start planning. No clue when we'll get the next chance." His thin lips twisted into a stunned smile, and he nodded repeatedly.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your conversation, and Yelena reappeared in the doorway, a thick cardigan over her tank top. "Cake's probably done."

"Never thought I'd see the day," you said, turning around. "Yelena Belova, deadly assassin, waiting impatiently for cake to set." Yelena shot you a look.

"And I never thought I'd see the day when the notorious bloodhound 'Vampyra' would be washing my dishes." She bit back.

"Not a Bloodhound any more," you corrected. The nickname didn't sting like it used to. "Just a regular dog. House-trained and everything." Bob laughed, and even Yelena's lips bent up. Yelena walked down to the fridge and observed the cake - it still needed more time. Instead, she pulled out the dessert and examined it.

"It'll do," she decided, setting it on the counter. She took a knife and cut into it with no technique at all, revealing the uneven layers of cake and cream. She handed a crumbling slice to Bob and you. The stickiness attached to the skin on your hands, leaving chocolatey brown stains in its wake. You took a bite, the sweetness of the chocolate juxtaposing the stark taste of blood still resting on your tongue. It wasn't unpleasant. Bob took a much larger bite, his expression instantly softening into delight.

"This is amazing," he mumbled through the mouthful. You nodded in agreement, taking another bite of your slice. "Do you think we should do this more often?" You looked down at the cake in your hand, uncomfortable with the tenderness.

"Why not?" Yelena said, her expression unperturbed, her voice slightly muffled by her mouthful of cake. "Kitchen's always here." You looked up to find Bob eyeing you, waiting for your verdict.

"Sure, I'm up most nights anyway."

#yelena belova #thunderbolts #the new avengers #thunderbolts spoilers #marvel thunderbolts #the thunderbolts #bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #marvel #marvel mcu #sentry #robert reynolds #bob x reader #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts x reader

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lej222 · 9 months ago

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Supernatural Involvement and Ominous Signs in ASLFUA

For a while, many readers have theorized that there is some kind of a higher power/higher being in ASLFUA, and looking at the latest episodes it seems to have been confirmed. With this post, I've tried to gather every instance of the higher power's implied presence and all the ominous scenes in the story. I also included foreshadowing scenes that could have made Miae aware of certain things if she had paid attention because coincidences are important in the story, and certain moments that were defining in the plot. The list contains spoilers for the newest KR episodes and it keeps being updated.

Episode 2 :

Miae is reading a book in the library about how the last day of 1999 will be the end of the world: "'1999, a terrifying overlord is coming...the end of the human race.." -> this might be a reference to the famous prophecy of Nostradamus in which in the 7th month of 1999 a great king of terror would descend from the skies (which makes me think...is it July in the story right now?)

The Hwang family's phone stops working

Miae's dresser breaks and therefore she has to take out the trash, where she sees Cheol crying

"This boy is about to be this girl's most special person, someone whom she will never be able to forget."

Episode 3

Miae and her mother visit the Buddha statue and Miae's wish is not to be in the same class with Cheol - it doesn't come true.

Miae, Cheol and Jisu all become classmates in their last year. Miae and Cheol become deskmates by coincidence.

Episode 4

Cheol's furniture becomes Miae's, along with the contents of his dresser, something only he knows about

Episode 5

Yunhui calls Miae on their new cordless phone, the line is interrupted by another conversation, "Did you get the present I sent you?" - it sounds like a message to Miae from the higher power about Cheol

Episode 8

Miae ruins her bangs, her mother says she should do something about her hair - the first time we are told Miae should go to a hairdresser to fix it

Hwanggeum Academy uses corporal punishment - might be relevant later on?

Miae has to go to karaoke so she gives up on going to the hair salon (this foreshadowing is super crazy btw)

Episode 9

Cheol is compared to the protagonist of the comic Miae reads, 'My First Love Next Door Is Number 1' - gets into trouble and transfers, fights the school bully and wins, nicknamed Lucifer, has a facial scar, lives next door

As Miae is thinking about Cheol, her thoughts are interrupted by a cockroach in the classroom

Episode 11

Miae notes how strange it is that she keeps seeing Cheol while they didn't bump into each other the previous year (just like how Jisu later keeps commenting how strange he keeps meeting Miae) - Miae acknowledges the higher power

Yunhui's pager says "between friends goodbye"

Episode 12

Miae has a weird feeling when she's talking to Cheol's shoe as if it understands what she's saying

Episode 15

In her dream, Miae remembers Cheol crying and her making a wish with a stone tower about how she wants to be his friend. The phone suddenly rings, the TV becomes static and there's a storm outside despite the weather forecast not saying anything about it. The other end of the phone is silent and the lights go out.

Episode 17

Cheol's shoe gets smudged with ink so Miae cannot give it back to him. She cannot concentrate on her practice test, foreshadowing her involvement with Cheol's academy.

Episode 21

Miae again remembers some memories about Cheol saying he doesn't want to be her friend while she's sleeping

Side note: while Soonkki is a great writer, there's some inconsistency about Jisu's seating arrangement. I think she always meant him to sit in Block 1, that's why we got limited panels of that area of the classroom, but his position kept changing until his official introduction. Here, he should have been sitting in front of Seonghan, but there's another boy in that seat. In episode 23, we get a panel of Block1 again, and there's a boy who looks like Jisu from behind in that.

She again remembers her time with Cheol while sleeping on the bus

Episode 24

Daebak Academy notebook says "The teacher is spoon-feeding you, so why can't you pass" -> the higher power is giving hints to Miae, why can't she understand them?

Episode 29

Miae thinks about how she doesn't bump into Cheol as much as before, we get a close-up of the shoe and the Daebak Academy notebook

Episode 37

Miae falls on Cheol while playing soccer

Episode 39

Miae and Cheol are arguing but still bump into each other because of their parents

While Miae thinks about how Cheol should smile at people, she almost gets hit by a ball but Cheol saves her.

Episode 40

Cheol goes to Miae's house to do their homework. Miae's mother says she wonders if it will rain before she leaves. Cheol tries to change the lightbulb in Miae's room, but the lights go out because of the storm. Miae thinks "again?" and they fall on each other. She tells Cheol they should be friends.

Episode 41

Cheol agrees to be Miae's friend and we see a flashback of young Miae wishing they would be friends. While they are doing their homework the rain stops. Miae says planes even fly in the rain and Cheol replies that airplanes fly above the clouds.

Episode 42

Miae answers their phone and the line is interrupted again. Someone thanks their boss for the present and says they will do well on their own from now. -> is it a sign Miae should do well on her own after the hints?

Interesting to note that every time Miae might be involved with the higher power, certain objects in her room are highlighted - Cheol's shoe, the lamp, the notebooks. They all give signs to Miae that she keeps ignoring.

Episode 43

Cheol and Yonghui point out that Miae should get a haircut. Miae ends up cutting it herself instead of going to a salon.

Episode 45

Miae wishes upon a star instead of a plane so that the presentation in class will go okay. This actually comes true, as also noted by the narrator in ep 46.

Episode 46

Daebak Academy booklet says "nothing comes easy"

Episode 47

Something I've noticed is that throughout the story Miae keeps thinking she forgot something, and there's usually a situation that seems like the answer to it. Here, it turns out she forgot about Jinseop's homework. And Taekwang's song is about how someone cannot do both things at the same time. It was the same when she forgot about her homework while playing soccer. Forgetting about things is a recurring plot point for Miae, which culminates in the Jisu subplot where we learn Miae completely forgot about his existence even though she didn't have many friends who were boys.

Episode 50

Cheol's father wants to take a picture of Cheol and Miae, but Cheol refuses

Episode 51

Miae again cuts her own hair and wonders if she cut it too straight

Episode 55

Cheol kicks Miae's pencil into Jisu's chair (side note: you can see here again how Jisu's seating arrangement was inconsistent, he should have been closer to the window)

Episode 56

Miae gets sent out to the corridor with Jisu

Miae's friends talk about handsome boys and someone mentions the number1 student (Jisu)

Episode 60

Jisu becomes Miae's folk dance partner - the first time Cheol and Miae are not doing something together

Episode 61

Hwanggeum Academy booklet says "there's nothing you can't do if you put the work in, do not expect a miracle" when Miae is struggling with the dance

Episode 65

Cheol's father takes a picture of Cheol and Miae after the sports festival

Episode 66

In Miae's dream, Cheol's sister says for a while means 5-6 yrs, Miae counts she will be in middle school by then. There's also a memory of Miae running after Cheol, saying "wait for me".

Miae's mother tells her to get a haircut but Miae replies she needs a bigger allowance for it.

The narrator says Miae should watch where she's walking after she bumps into Cheol.

Episode 67

Miae loses her name tag and Jisu finds it

Episode 70

Miae wonders how her wishes never come true, but remembers she also made one with the stone tower as a kid, but cannot recall what it was about.

Episode 71

Miae's mom notes their phone keeps ringing since yesterday. The day before Miae wanted to tease Cheol with how she heard him saying he "loved her" in the shop and she saw him shirtless the same night.

Miae doesn't realize it was Jisu who called her a pervert

Episode 72

Miae notices someone wearing her name tag (Jisu), but doesn't find the culprit

Episode 75

Cheol wants to ask Miae something, but the homeroom teacher interrupts. Miae and Jisu get called to the teachers' room and have to do cleaning duty together for a week.

Episode 76

We see Miae's mom at a hair salon - could the lady in orange be Jisu's mother? who knows

Episode 77

Cheol stands up for Miae, but when Honggyu asks if they are dating, they both vehemently deny it. It suddenly starts raining.

Episode 78

Miae and cheol promise to be friends for real, forever. The narration comments, "But will they end up regretting their promise?". The rain stops. "1999, the final year of the century is half over" -> Miae's story is half over at this point. I have pointed out this before, but the series seems to be about the transition period between childhood and young adulthood, symbolized by the last year before the new millennium. Hence the title, 'green apple academy'

In her dream, Miae remembers asking Cheol if they are friends. She is awoken by their phone. the Daebak Academy notebook says "you are in danger if you are relaxed" and we see a girl talking to Cheol.

Episode 81

Cheol and Miae fall on each other and almost kiss, but the phone rings. Later, they do end up in the same position with an accidental kiss.

Episode 82

Miae wants to confront Cheol about the kiss and gets embarrassed, but her actions are interrupted when the trash bag she gave Jisu splits open, spilling its contents. Miae runs to him to collect it.

Episode 83

While Miae talks to her friends, she thinks back on her memories with Cheol and the narration says "I always liked.." and Miae looks surprised by it.

Episode 86

Interesting detail that Cheol doesn't know why Miae keeps looking at airplanes. If we assume she has a reason for doing it from the past, it's likely not related to Cheol.

Episode 87

Miae uses the trashbag as an excuse to run away from Cheol, repeating how she has to throw it out. All of a sudden, Jisu appears and takes it out of her hand, giving her a chance to run. It's just my personal theory that the trashbag here symbolizes Miae's vulnerability and reluctance to face her feelings, and Jisu takes it from her hand. It makes sense when we remember how his words made her think about her actions when she wanted to interrupt the confession. It's a great early foreshadowing that Jisu might play an important role in Miae's growth story as her voice of reason.

Episode 89

Cheol and Miae take photos together in a photo booth, first with Jinseop and Song-I, then the two of them alone. We don't know if Miae still has her pictures, but we can assume she somehow lost them during running around from the bullies because we never see them again. Cheol gives her a new name tag in the next episode.

Episode 95

Cheol gifts Miae an airplane model for her birthday. I personally believe this episode marks the end of the first part of the story and it's a turning point, but more about this under ep96.

While Miae leaves for school, their phone suddenly rings and her mom answers it. Miae sees posters about love on her way to school. For the first time, Jisu arives early for cleaning duty.

Episode 96

The series has had 2 symbolic illustrations at the end of 2 episodes. The first one was at the end of ep2, when Cheol and Miae's story started in the present:

Miae is offering a green apple to Cheol - a biblical allusion, here, the green apple probably signifies how Miae helps Cheol in the first part of the story to mature and grow as a person with her own knowledge.

This illustration comes at the end of ep96. Like I mentioned, I believe this marks the start of the second half of the story which focuses on Miae's growth as a person. Space is an important concept in the series, Miae also has planet stickers on the wall of her room,has a charm on her bag, etc.

"16 years old. An age much like the universe." "16 years old. An age where it's like you're thrown into space." - highlights the narration.

But why is it compared to space? We have the illustration right after Jisu splashes water on Miae's face and Cheol wakes up from his dream. In my opinion, it's because this is where these kids' limited worlds start to expand. In part 1, Cheol and Miae were mainly together, but as you grow up you start to feel like you're just one insignificant part of a greater whole. You might feel like you're the center of the universe when you're a teenager, and that the world is ending when you experience negative emotions, but as the illustration shows us, it's not just Miae and Cheol standing alone in the universe. There are other people, facing different directions, but they are all interconnected by an invisible force. Miae is looking at Cheol, but Jisu is standing in her shadow- because even though she was not aware of him, Jisu had his own life happening parallel to what we saw in part1, and this is where he starts to have an intersection with Miae. If there is a higher power in the story, it is aware of all these connections and talks about youth in a nostalgic way. The sense that these moments are fleeting is always present in the story, however, connections formed between individuals will always have a lasting impact, just like how the universe will continue to exist. Being thrown into space might feel like losing your footing, but here it's the personal relationships that ground these teenagers and make them stay close to Earth.

Episode 98

The teacher tells Miae to cut her hair after Jisu takes the blame for ruining the plant.

Cheol is acting strange because of his dream, and while Jisu looks at Miae the narration box says: "16 years old. An age riddled with the unknown, just like the universe."

Episode 99

Miae's hair gets stuck in the zipper of Cheol's bag and he pulls it out, ruining her bangs in the process. They go to the infirmary after Miae gets scratched by the zipper.

Episode 100

At the countryside, while Miae picked a flower she thought how nice it would be if Cheol came to her school - and it became true. She thinks how it was so strange -> Miae again unknowingly acknowledges the higher power when it comes to Cheol

Episode 101

It's raining and the TV is not working in Cheol's home. He remembers taking a picture with Miae in the countryside. He asks his father about the picture on the sports day -> the data was lost. Miae gets grounded by her mother and she wants her to quit the academy.

Episode 102

I've mentioned symbolic objects in the story, but this one was noted by other readers as well: in ep 101, Miae accidentally drops the chalkboard eraser out of the window and Jisu fails to catch it - but Cheol does. However, in this episode Miae tosses it back to Jisu before saying she hopes they'll never see each other again (it's the first, but not the last time she declares it).

Cheol fails to convince Miae's mom about the academy -> Miae's mom points out Miae's grades have been dropping since last year. She makes her stance clear - she wants Miae to study.

Episode 103

It's raining and Miae cannot open Cheol's drawer in her room.

She tries to cut her hair, but the phone rings. On the other line, Miae hears someone saying "I only did what I did because you wanted it so bad, but you screwed up that chance! You don't deserve that project, I'm going to hand it to someone else." -> the first time the higher power tries to directly say Miae is late

Miae's mom cuts her hair instead of sending her to a salon...

Miae loses the name tag Cheol gave her

Episode 104

Jisu says "see you again" to Miae (and will keep saying for a while lol). Miae points out she never wanted to see him again.

Episode 106

After the teacher discovers their conversations in class, Miae and Cheol get separated and Miae becomes Jisu's deskmate. Miae and Cheol are not allowed to interact until the final exams are over.

Hwanggeum Academy's notebook remarks "Do you regret it now?"

Episode 107

Miae dreams about the flower from the countryside and a voice says she should hurry up and do what she wants about her wish if she remembers. She doesn't remember and the voice gets angry, Cheol appears and crushes the flower, telling her if she doesn't remember she should just forget it. The voice remarks Cheol is angry because Miae is late.

Episode 111

Jisu, who has also become aware of the coincidences, tells Cheol he's not the only one having something special with Miae.

When Miae calls Jisu her friend from the same class and tells him he should learn for himself, Jisu tries to say something, but he is interrupted by Cheol.

Episode 112

Miae thinks about their bet and how she should ask something serious, something more than friends do from Cheol, and we get a bunch of error messages. Cheol's dream is all fuzzy.

Jisu wins the bet, but we never get to know his wish because Miae gets angry at him.

Episode 115

The narration points out Cheol has changed and matured a lot, is it Miae's turn?

Episode 116

We see some posters about a summer festival, the forest in Midsummer Night's Dream and how everything is the product of coincidence.

The forest in Shakespeare's play is dominated by the supernatural - what we have in common with this story is the forest Miae and Cheol played together as kids, and obviously the involvement of a higher power. The coincidences poster is possibly a reference to Carl Jung's Synchronicity, a concept that states that seemingly meaningful coincidences have a deeper meaning, they don't have a rational explanation - almost like destiny, a deeper order in the universe. It's a connection between one's psyche and the material world (so you have to notice and acknowledge the deeper meaning of these coincidences in order to experience synchronicity). Jung used this to argue for the existence of the paranormal. For example, if you cannot decide something, you might come across a book on the topic. What a coincidence, right? In this interpretation, everything is interconnected in the universe, and we are a part of this web of connections. So those coincidences...were actually not coincidences. -> Hmmmmm.....I wonder.....meaningful coincidences, the universe, connections...why do they sound familiar??? BECAUSE OUR STORY IS EXACTLY ABOUT THIS NOTION! Who notices these coincidences? Miae about Cheol, Jisu about Miae....One has to be open to the possibility of the connection between our inner world and the outside world, only then they can start to notice the signs the universe is sending them. Soonkki, you deserve my applause! Because it was exactly what I said about the art at the end of ep 96 and the placement of the characters. Mind? Blown!

Miae thinks that she feels something is wrong

Yunhui's pager says friends goodbye

Jisu gets involved in the Yonghui-Yunhui storyline by coincidence

Episode 117

We see all the coincidences from Jisu's perspective and how he became aware of them. And what does he say about them? That they are fascinating and kind of funny! My boy Jisu got the synchronicity message.

This is the 3rd time Miae and Jisu didn't hold hands. The first time Miae pretended to help him up, only for him to fall back. Then Jisu held out his hand after the exam, but she didn't take it. Here, he again reaches out and Miae doesn't take his hand. Remember this later!

Episode 118

Someone steps on Cheol's bag, and he's worried it might be Taeuk

Jisu wants to join in another bet in exchange for his help

Episode 119

Jisu gets involved in the Shim storyline, and as we know from later he picks up the cigarettes to get revenge on him

Episode 122

Miae learns that Cheol rejected Seonyeong and the lights flicker in her room

She cannot remember her dream. The narration says that she should have realized that something changed.

Episode 123

Miae notes that she experienced the kiss in the comic book with Cheol

Jisu almost catches her, but Cheol pushes him away

Episode 126

The parents are having dinner together at a pig feet restaurant and toast for the future of their children. The TV is not working, and a boy who looks like Jisu tries to fix it.

Miae kisses Cheol

Episode 127

Miae has a dream again in the white dress. As she realizes she might like Cheol, the voice says she's too late and there's no use regretting it.

Episode 129

Miae remembers that they took a picture in the countryside together and wants to take one now. She makes a wish to an airplane about how she just wants one photo, and remarks that the planes never granted her wish before. Spoiler, they won't this time, either.

Miae chooses to take the picture with Cheol. The narration box says "she's always done whatever she sets her mind to. That has always been one of her better attributes. But Mi-ae, it seems as though you keep forgetting something. I told you, you're too late."

The pager's message means idiot, cancelled and it suddenly starts raining. Maie and Cheol cannot take their photo and Cheol cannot give her back the hairpin she dropped a few eps ago.

Episode 132

Graduation photos were postponed until the second semester

In Miae's dream, the voice says she's all over the place and cannot decide what she wants from Cheol. In her memory, Miae wishes at the stone tower that Cheol would like her back. The voice angrily remarks how it must not mean much to her.

Episode 133

While Cheol and Miae are looking at each other, Miae is smacked in the face by a flyer. Later while they are riding the bike, Cheol almost says she looks pretty but he is hit in the face with a flyer that belonged to Jisu.

Episode 134

Miae takes the cigarettes from Jisu and puts them in her backpack

While Jisu and Miae look at each other, the narration box says "Well. this is what we would call fate. What do you think?" Miae can sense the voice and dismisses it.

Jisu again says "see you later" and Miae answers let's not, but Jisu replies they never know and it would be fun.

On the radio in Miae's room there's a voice speaking, asking if it was a success and how there is something you can't stop thinking about. "A friend? The fact that you weren't wrong? Whatever it is, I don't think it's such a bad thing to obsess over it a little bit. I hope you have no regrets about it."

Episode 135

Miae's eyebrow and bangs are so ruined she has to finally go to a hair salon. Yunhui gives her money and says there's a cheap place where she can go. It turns out Jisu's mother is a hairdresser and after realizing she is Jisu's friend, she doesn't ask for money. So if anyone ever wondered why Miae kept ruining her hair in the story, here's the answer....

a little bit of strange wording here:

The narration says "Now that I think about it, this was about the time..wait,no, it was a little bit earlier that things started to go wrong, little by little. You two were completely oblivious, though. Just you two."

Miae's mother goes to the academy. One theory I can give on this is that Miae's family might be moving. She wished for it at the start of the story, mentions it in a later episode as well. Who knows ~

Episode 138

Miae doesn't tell Cheol her feelings because of her pride as she feels like she would lose first

Miae has a feeling as if something is trying to make her look bad in front of Cheol and her gun suddenly starts working

Everybody forgot to buy the picture they took together in ep 139

Episode 140

After conveying their feelings indirectly to each other, Miae tells Cheol they cannot date right now because her mom wouldn't allow it. She plans to go to the same high school, university, everything and thinks there's no one to stop them so nothing can go wrong.

Episode 141

Cheol imagines high school together with Miae and their friends

Every time Cheol is flustered, he accidentally drinks his sister's coffee and he cannot sleep at night..in a story where dreams are relevant I'm sure this is just a coincidence, right???🧐🙃😏

Miae says they should not be obvious before the entrance exam and they start to think of it as a competition

Someone watches them from the street

Episode 144-145

We get everything from Cheol's POV

Cheol got his scar because he wanted to give Miae the romance book she liked before they left and he fell on the stone tower

The picture his dad took of them is about a young Cheol accidentally kneeling with flowers in his hands, the same flowers from Miae's dream, in front of Miae. This picture was in the book Cheol and his family kept.

Cheol realized the book was in his dresser that is now in Miae's room, the one she couldn't open before

Episode 146

Miae sees two flyers in the newspaper, one is about how a student still didn't give it up, the other is about changing one's car

On the street, the same car ads keep flying after her in the wind

Miae goes with Yonghui to wait in a line and the same flyers are all over the place

Episode 147

Miae wants to call Cheol, but Jisu stops her. Miae notices how often they have met during vacation, and Jisu says these coincidences are fun. He remarks it's almost like as if some higher power is involved (!!). Miae is standing on the car ad, they look down on it with Jisu, then she kicks it away. Jisu tells her he has a feeling they will meet again, but Miae hopes they won't.

The academy is also full of the car ads and Miae falls on them

Miae thinks that for a while she's had a feeling as if something wants to get between her and Cheol, but brushes it off

Miae ends up with a bubble gum in her hair and goes to Jisu's house to fix it. Jisu tells her she should stay because he is bored, and there is a car ad on a stool.

Episode 148

We see some of Jisu's childhood memories and he was called a magpie by Miae which was a symbolic choice (I also made a post about it). Jisu in this story is the grateful magpie.

Miae and Jisu "touch hands" for the first time when they high-five (I wrote about how their hand hold never happened before)

After spotting some men smoking, Jisu tells Miae to go inside (one of them might be his father?)

Episode 149

Miae finally remembers Jisu

the narration boxs keeps saying how Jisu is cool and showing heart-thumping sounds and Miae is confused about these strange things

Miae not remembering Jisu was an important plot point considering she recalled everyone else from her past. As I theorized, memories and fate seem to be intertwined, the synchronicity theory also supports this. Synchronicity happens when seemingly unrelated events coincide and they become significant to you. It's easy to see why Jisu was aware of this notion, but Miae was not - because Miae had no idea about those coincidences other than meeting Jisu randomly. Him being her classmate, being the one who found her pencil, who helped her in the crowd, found her name tag, etc. - only Jisu knew about these. But right now, Miae was made aware that they knew each other in the past - a pretty big coincidence.

So now that Miae might have kickstarted her own fate, the question is whether she will be able to fight it or if there are certain things bound to happen no matter what. Is the narrator omnipotent and omniscient? So many questions that will hopefully get answered.

Episode 150

For the first time, Miae says she and Jisu will see each other again sometime. Before this, it was always Jisu who said it and Miae would reply that she didn't want to meet him again.

Miae remembers Jisu transferring, but doesn't know why he singled her out (so she will probably recall more memories later)

As Miae leaves Jisu's house, the car ads are flying in the air around her

Jisu enrolls at the academy and for the first time he says it's not a coincidence

Episode 155

Hwani tells her mother it would be great if they could keep being neighbours with Miae because she's fun. After a pause, Cheol's mother agrees.

Jisu keeps telling Miae she's a "traitor" or "bat" (depending on the translation, meaning she keeps secrets from others like the Yonghui Yunhui situation and the fact that she went to Jisu's house) and she might get into trouble because of that

Episode 156

The narrator directly communicates with Miae again, and informs us about Miae's thoughts. It makes heart-thumping sounds when she's with Jisu just like in previous episodes, but Miae ignores them.

Jisu again says how the coincidences are so fun. He counts to three until the teacher interrupts Miae and Cheol's bickering (similarly to Taekwang in ep 158)

When Jisu tells Miae he'll go out of the room to let her talk with Cheol, Miae thinks she'll talk to him regardless of anyone's interference and we get a close-up of an academy notebook saying 'NO' and a plane flying in the sky.

Episode 158

Flashforward in the episode to a scene with Cheol leaving Miae at the academy while a storm is coming and Miae looks like she's about to cry

An hour earlier in the story the dark clouds are already gathering (I mentioned how rainy weather is always connected to the change in Miae and Cheol's relationship, and how it's usually an ominous sign). After seeing Jisu's flustered face, Cheol tells Miae that he wants to change the lightbulb in her house before she gets hurt. The lights at the academy are highlighted as they keep vibrating. (I also noted how the lights are signs of the supposed higher power, they get their own panels in Miae's room, and they went out 2 times when Miae and Cheol's relationship changed)

After Jisu reveals that Miae was in his house and Cheol gets angry, Miae's pager starts buzzing (again, the pager messages always appear when the higher power wants to communicate with Miae).

Taekwang is an interesting character because the things he says are sometimes connected to the greater theme of the story. Like when he listened to his music and said how Miae cannot choose two things at the same time (come on, it was the foreshadowing for the current conflicts!), he smelled Jisu on Miae (???), Jisu even said he's the one he cannot deal with, and now he was counting the seconds until Miae got another sign. Is he used as a medium? (who knows lol)

Miae wants to check the pager message but the fluorescent lamp(?) breaks. Jisu shields Miae from the shards while they fall on the ground, making it his first successful attempt to save Miae in the story. The pager lands in the corner of the room.

Episode 159

Miae goes to a phone booth to check her messages and it's filled with the car ads so she kicks them away

The first message is a loud noise of a song recording. I personally think if there's a higher power in the story, this message came from it. The other is about Miae's friends telling her they'll visit her at her academy which gives Miae a sense of panic knowing Yonghui and Yunhui might meet.

Miae sees an airplane in the sky and the narration says Miae has a feeling that something is interfering with her and the panels get fuzzy with flashbacks to phone calls earlier in the story (omg this is actually crazy)

It starts raining and we get a glimpse of the last countryside memory we haven't seen yet about Miae running after Cheol at night. In the present, Miae trips just as she did as a kid, but instead of Cheol she meets Tae Uk.

#aslfua #after school lessons for unripe apples #theory #this became so long I feel like dying lol #there's so much work behind this so please be kind and respectful about it #no this is not a post about how Miae and Jisu should end up together #these are my observations about the story and the role of the supernatural entity #it's not a shipping post #sorry for the mistakes #but I'm incredibly tired #These kids are 15 stop arguing about their love lives #Meta

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lichtluxx · 4 months ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Much is said about Lucifer, how he fell from the heavens for rebelling. But little is known about his vast history, so I decided to make a post to comment a little. It's not like I know everything, there's still a lot I need to research, but research is ongoing, so I'll probably update this post as I learn new things about him.

First of all, Lucifer was not always an "evil name". Canonized by the Catholic Church - although many do not know him - Saint Lucifer was a bishop of the Archdiocese of Calhari, in Sardinia. He became well known for his staunch opposition to Arianism, an anti-Trinitarian Christological view held by the followers of Arius, a Christian priest of Alexandria in the times of the early Church.

Arius denied the existence of consubstantiality between Jesus and God, conceiving Christ as a pre-existent and created being, subordinate to God and his son. For Arius and the Arians, Jesus was not God but rather a man who descended from him, like all others who walked the Earth. Therefore, for Saint Lucifer, Jesus was God made flesh, the creator himself manifested in matter.

His name shows that Lucifer was not, at least in the 4th century, a synonym for "Adversary". In fact, the proper name "Lucifer" was not used to refer to the "devil" in ancient times. Before, the word was used only in its common meaning, as something that announced the dawn, the morning star. Nothing more, nothing less.

His name literally comes from the Latin Lux (Light) and Ferre (Bearer).

The word "lucifer" is a common noun, meaning "light-bearer" or "morning star". It is "lucifer" with a lowercase "l", unlike the proper name, "Lucifer". Incidentally, this is not the only occasion in which the term "lucifer" is used with this meaning.

The Vulgate of Saint Jerome includes, in the book of Job, the word "lucifer" (cf. Job 11:17), which is translated as "dawn" in the edition of João Ferreira de Almeida itself.

Saint Peter, when referring to the voice of God the Father confirming the mission of Jesus, asks that the words of the prophecy be held firm, "donec dies illucescat, et lucifer oriatur in cordibus vestris – until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts" (2 Pt 1:19).

"Lucifer," as the entity we know, is not in the Bible. In Isaiah 14:12, the Hebrew word is celestial. Significantly, "star of man," it is clearly a reference to Venus — the planet with which Lucifer is most associated. The text itself is about the king of Babylon and does not refer to the "Adversary" of the Bible.

Jewish sources generally do not identify the figure in Isaiah as being a reference to Satan or any other kind of demonic figure, but later Christian scholars started to interpret it as a reference to Satan, who is elsewhere said to be cast down from heaven, although at first, it looks like they did not see "Lucifer" as a name, but read the passage as being a poetic comparison to the morning star itself.

These interpretations have fallen in and out of favor, but in the Renaissance, it became more popular to use Lucifer as a personal name of the devil.

"Lucifer" is the Latin term that Jerome used in the Vulgate to translate helel. Most moderns believe that Isaiah is using a well-known mythological tale as an analogy to the failure and consequences of the rebellion and king of Babylon.

According to Canaanite history, the morning star is personified as the god Attar, who attempted to occupy the throne of Baal and, finding himself unable to do so, descended and ruled the underworld. The original myth may have been about the lesser god Helel attempting to dethrone the Canaanite supreme god El, who lived on a mountain to the north.

Hermann Gunkel's reconstruction of the myth told of a mighty warrior named Hêlal, whose ambition was to ascend higher than all the other star deities, but who had to descend into the depths; thus, he portrayed as a battle the process by which the bright morning star fails to reach the highest point in the sky before being extinguished by the rising sun.

In Greco-Roman civilization, Lucifer was the name of the planet Venus when it appeared in the morning. It corresponds to the Greek names Phosphorus ("light-bearer") and Eosphorus ("dawn-bearer").

The Latin name of the entity was later absorbed into Christianity as a name for the devil. Modern scholarship generally translates the term in the relevant biblical passage (Isaiah 14:12), where the Greek Septuagint reads ὁ ἑωσφόρος ὁ πρωὶ ἀνατέλλων, as "morning star" or "shining one" rather than a proper name, Lucifer, as found in the Latin Vulgate.

In LaVeyan Satanism, Lucifer is described by The Satanic Bible as one of the four crown princes of hell, particularly that of the East, the 'lord of the air', and is called the bringer of light, the morning star, intellectualism, and enlightenment, which its true. He rules over those aspects and more.

As a name for the planet in its morning aspect, "Lucifer" (Light-Bearer) is a proper name. In Greco-Roman civilization, he was often personified and considered a god and in the Roman version considered the son of Aurora and Cephalus or, in his Greek counterpart, Eos and Helios. At that time, he was represented as a boy bearing a torch.

Regardless of the version, as the Lord of Light and Knowledge, Lucifer is demanding of his followers, but kind and gentle - he has a very cute epithet, which is the sweet prince. Lucifer is nothing if not charming, a protector who always works to help you become better. Growth is constant, Lucifer is the epitome of growth, direct and sweet at the same time, telling you what you need to do and letting you figure out how to do it.

How did such an entity have its image distorted to what we know today?

In the Book of Isaiah, chapter 14, the king of Babylon is condemned in a prophetic vision by the prophet Isaiah and is called הֵילֵל בֶּן-שָׁחַר (Helel ben Shachar, Hebrew for "the bright one, son of the morning"), who is addressed as הילל בן שחר (Hêlêl ben Šāḥar).

The title "Hêlêl ben Šāḥar" refers to the planet Venus as the morning star, and this is how the Hebrew word is usually interpreted. The Hebrew word transliterated as Hêlêl or Heylel occurs only once in the Hebrew Bible. The Septuagint translates הֵילֵל in Greek as Ἑωσφόρος (Heōsphoros), "bringer of the dawn", the ancient Greek name for the morning star.

Similarly, the Vulgate translates הֵילֵל in Latin as Lucifer, the name in that language for the morning star. According to Strong's Concordance based on the King James Bible, the original Hebrew word means "shining one, light-bearer," and the English translation given in the King James text is the Latin name for the planet Venus, "Lucifer," as it was already in the Wycliffe Bible.

The morning star metaphor that Isaiah 14:12 applied to a king of Babylon gave rise to the general use of the Latin word for "morning star/lucifer", capitalized, as the original name of the devil before his fall, linking Isaiah 14:12 with Luke 10 ("I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven") and interpreting the passage in Isaiah as an allegory of Satan's fall from heaven.

Considering pride as a grave sin that reaches its peak in self-deification, Lucifer (Hêlêl) became the model for the devil. As a result, Lucifer was identified with the devil in Christianity, but what really perpetuated his image as king of demons, during the Renaissance, it became more poplar to use Lucifer as the devil's name; it used to pops up in a lot of Christian popular literature, such as Dante Alighieri's Inferno, Joost van den Vondel's Lucifer, and John Milton's Paradise Lost.

Early medieval Christianity made a strong distinction between Lucifer and Satan. While Lucifer, as the devil, is fixed in Hell, Satan carries out Lucifer's desires as his vassal. In true, Satan is a title, derived probably from the word Shaitam, and it means Adversary.

#demonolatry #lucifer deity #lucifer devotee #lucifer #luciferian #luciferian witch #deity work #witchblr #witchcraft #paganism

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novaursa · 9 months ago

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The Veil of Fire (1/3)

- Summary: Your twin sister, Helaena, had her dreams, but you were gifted with something else. Something akin to a terrible purpose.

- Pairing: aunt!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Helaena's twin sister, is bonded with Cannibal (whom she named Morgoth after she claimed him). This is a request made by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You awaken with a start, the remnants of the dream clinging to your senses like the lingering taste of copper in your mouth. It is dark in your chamber, the only light coming from the embers in the hearth, glowing faintly. But the darkness does nothing to dispel the vivid images seared into your mind. The dream—it had been more than just a dream. You had felt it in your bones, deep in your very marrow. The wind tearing at your scales as you soared through the sky, the scent of earth and sweat and blood sharp in your nostrils. The primal rush as you descended upon the stag, powerful legs pumping beneath you, muscles rippling as you gave chase.

The terror of the creature, so swift and yet so hopeless in the face of your overwhelming might, fed the fire in your belly. You could almost feel the earth quake beneath you as you landed, talons digging into the soft flesh of your prey, the crack of bones as they gave way under your weight. You remember the feel of the stag's fur against your tongue, the rich, metallic taste of blood flooding your senses as your teeth sunk deep into its flesh. It was alive in your mouth, a creature of warmth and life, and you were devouring it, piece by piece, savoring every ounce of its struggle, every pulse of its weakening heart.

The taste of victory, of dominance, of absolute power was intoxicating. As the last breath of the stag left its body, you were filled with a sense of completion, a satisfaction that was both yours and not yours, a feeling of wholeness that was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t just a dream—it was real. You had been there, felt what Morgoth—no, Cannibal, as you still sometimes thought of him—had felt. His hunger, his pleasure, his savage satisfaction as he fed. And now, even awake, you can still taste the blood in your mouth, feel the last echoes of the stag’s death rattle through you.

You shudder, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream as you sit up in bed. Your hand instinctively moves to your lips, as if to wipe away the lingering blood, though you know there is nothing there. The room is cold, and you pull the blankets tighter around yourself, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the vision.

Your twin sister, Helaena, is already awake, sitting up in her own bed, her pale eyes fixed on you. There is an odd stillness to her, a knowingness that unnerves you, even after all these years.

"I had a nightmare," you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep, and something else—something darker, more primal.

Helaena tilts her head slightly, her gaze never leaving yours. "It was not a nightmare," she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. "It was a transfer. You were not here with me."

Her words send a chill down your spine, colder than the night air. "A transfer?" you repeat, confused. "I don’t understand, Helaena. I was dreaming, nothing more. Perhaps you had your own troubles sleeping?"

Helaena’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curving into a faint, enigmatic smile. "You were not here," she insists, her voice taking on a strange, faraway quality. "You were flying, far away, with Morgoth."

You shake your head, trying to dispel the unease that her words are stirring within you. "It was just a dream, Helaena," you say, though even as the words leave your mouth, they feel like a lie. You’ve always known your twin to be different, but this—this feels like something more. "You must have had a vision of your own."

She doesn’t respond, just continues to look at you with those unsettling eyes, as if she’s peering into the very depths of your soul. Finally, she lies back down, turning away from you, but her words linger in the air like a specter. "You were not here," she repeats, her voice a mere whisper now. "You were with him."

You lie back down as well, but sleep doesn’t come easily. Your mind is too full of the dream, of Helaena’s words, of the feeling that something has shifted, that a line has been crossed that cannot be uncrossed. You close your eyes, trying to will yourself to rest, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Jacaerys.

Jace, with his warm smile and kind eyes, always so patient with you, so different from the court’s intrigues and serpentine whispers. You’ve missed him terribly since he left with Rhaenyra, Laenor, and the boys. The court has been quieter without them, yet the air is heavier, thick with rumors and distrust. The question of Jace’s parentage has always loomed like a dark cloud, and now it has become a storm, too dangerous for him and his family to weather here.

You think of the last time you saw him, his eyes lingering on yours as they said their farewells. The way his hand lingered a moment too long on yours, the way he looked back at you just before he left, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. You had always been close, closer even than you were with your own brothers at times, and now, with him gone, there is an emptiness in your heart that nothing seems to fill.

You turn onto your side, curling into the warmth of your blankets, trying to hold onto the memory of his touch, his scent, the sound of his laughter. But it’s not enough. The dream still lingers at the edges of your mind, dark and unsettling, reminding you that something has changed, and there is no going back.

As sleep finally begins to claim you once more, your last thoughts are of Jacaerys, of the feel of his hand in yours, and of the unsettling certainty that you will see him again, sooner than you think.

The morning sun bathes the corridors of the Red Keep in a golden light as you walk beside your grandsire, Otto Hightower. The stone walls are cool to the touch, yet the warmth of the day is beginning to creep in, making the air heavy with the scent of the sea and blooming flowers from the gardens below. Your steps echo in the hall, the only sound that accompanies you and your grandsire in this moment of relative peace.

Otto’s face is a mask of calm, but you can sense the sharp mind working behind his serene expression. You know this walk well; it is not merely a stroll for him. This is his opportunity to nudge, to guide, to mold. He has always tried to draw you into the labyrinth of court politics, eager to make use of your sharp mind and keen understanding of people. But you have learned to navigate these conversations with him, dancing on the edge of engagement without ever fully stepping into the web he so carefully weaves.

"My dear," Otto begins, his voice smooth and measured, "you have a gift, one that could be put to great use in the service of the realm. You see things others do not, understand the currents beneath the surface. The court could benefit greatly from your wisdom, if only you would take a more active role."

You smile at him, the kind of smile that is both warm and guarded. "Grandsire, I am flattered by your confidence in me. But you know well that my talents are better suited to other pursuits. The court is a place where serpents nest, and I find I have no desire to dance with them."

Otto chuckles softly, though you catch the slight tightening around his eyes. "You underestimate your ability to navigate those waters, my dear. You could influence so much, bring about changes that would secure the future of our house."

"And yet," you say with a lightness that belies the weight of the conversation, "I prefer to leave the dancing to others. I fulfill my duties, attend the necessary events, but beyond that, I find little joy in the games played at court. I would rather debate philosophy with Aemond than trade barbs with courtiers."

Otto regards you for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of wavering. But you meet his gaze steadily, unwavering in your resolve. He knows this is not a battle he can win today, and so he shifts tactics, as you knew he would.

"Very well," he concedes with a graceful nod, "but remember, the tides of power are ever-changing. One must be ready to act when the moment calls for it."

"Of course, grandsire," you reply with another smile, "and I shall be ready, should that moment come. But until then, I am content with the life I lead."

With that, you part ways, Otto heading off to attend to his duties, and you, seeking out a quieter corner of the Keep where the air is less thick with the weight of expectations. Your feet carry you towards the gardens, the place where you often find solace amidst the chaos of court life. As you turn a corner, you spot Aegon lounging lazily on a stone bench beneath the shade of a flowering tree, his usual air of indifference more pronounced today.

"Aegon," you call out lightly, drawing his attention. "Enjoying the morning sun, or simply avoiding whatever task you’ve been assigned?"

He looks up at you with a lazy grin, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "A bit of both, I suppose. Though I’m more inclined to say it’s the latter."

You chuckle, making your way over to him. "If Mother knew you were hiding away here, she’d have you by the ear and back to your duties in no time."

"She already did," Aegon replies with a huff, his grin fading as he turns his gaze to the ground. "And now I’m banished to the gardens, like some sulking child."

You take a seat beside him, the cool stone of the bench pressing against your legs through the fabric of your dress. "What did you do this time?"

He shrugs, the motion casual, but there’s a heaviness to it that you don’t miss. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just being me, I suppose. That’s enough to earn her wrath these days."

You study him for a moment, the way his shoulders slump slightly, the way he avoids meeting your eyes. There’s a sadness there, one that he tries to hide behind his usual carefree facade. "Aegon," you say gently, "Mother’s harshness comes from a place of worry, not disdain. She sees the weight of the crown on Father’s head, and she fears for all of us. But she does love you, in her own way."

He scoffs, though it lacks real bite. "Love. If that’s what it is, it’s a cruel kind. Always pointing out my flaws, my failures. It’s never enough."

"It’s because she knows you’re capable of more," you counter, your tone soft but firm. "You’re not as lost as you think, Aegon. You’re intelligent, resourceful. You just have to find your own path, not the one others lay out for you."

Aegon finally looks at you, his expression softening as he lets out a long breath. "It’s hard, you know? Everyone expects so much. And I…I just want to live my life, without all the expectations and responsibilities."

You reach out and place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I understand, truly. But there’s strength in you, even if you don’t see it yet. You don’t have to be what they want you to be, but you can be something even greater, something that’s truly yours."

He seems to mull over your words, his gaze drifting to the horizon. After a long silence, he nods slowly. "Maybe you’re right," he says quietly. "I don’t know what that is yet, but…I’ll try to find it."

You smile, a genuine warmth in it that you hope reaches him. "That’s all anyone can ask, Aegon. And when you do find it, I’ll be here to support you."

He offers a small smile in return, the first real one you’ve seen from him today. "Thank you," he murmurs, the words carrying more weight than usual. "It means a lot."

You sit together in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of the Keep. In this moment, it feels as though the weight of the world has lessened, if only a little, and you’re glad to have been the one to ease it for him.

The heavy gown slips from your shoulders with a soft whisper of fabric, pooling at your feet like a dark river. The rich, embroidered silks and velvets, so carefully chosen to display your status, now lie forgotten as your maids bustle around you, their hands quick and efficient as they assist in your transformation.

You step out of the pile of fabric and lift your arms as one of your maids, a young woman with deft fingers and a quiet disposition, helps you into your dragon riding attire. Unlike the gowns you wear at court, this garb is practical, made for both protection and ease of movement. The underlayer is a tightly fitted tunic of black leather, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows, molded to your form to allow freedom of movement while still offering protection. The leather is soft, well-worn from many flights, and carries the faint scent of smoke and salt.

Over the tunic, you wear a jerkin of thicker, darker leather, fastened with a series of silver clasps shaped like small dragon heads. The jerkin is adorned with subtle stitching along the edges, a nod to your Targaryen heritage without being ostentatious. It is practical, yet elegant, a reflection of the dual roles you play as both a princess and a dragonrider. Your legs are encased in fitted breeches, made of the same durable leather, allowing you to move with agility. Your boots, worn and scuffed from years of riding, reach up to your knees, their soles thick and sturdy, perfect for gripping the saddle as Morgoth soars through the skies.

The final piece is a cloak of deep, midnight blue, clasped at your throat with a small, intricate pin in the shape of a dragon. The cloak is lined with fur to guard against the biting wind at high altitudes, and it flares out behind you as you move, a dark shadow that mirrors the wings of your dragon.

As your maids finish securing your attire, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Gone is the elegant lady of the court, replaced by the fierce dragonrider you truly are. There is a spark of excitement in your eyes, a fire that matches the one that burns in Morgoth's belly. You can feel the pull of the sky, the need to be aloft, to leave behind the walls of the Red Keep and the stifling confines of court life.

"Is there anything else, my lady?" one of the maids asks, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, offering her a small smile. "No, that will be all. Thank you."

The maids curtsy and quickly leave the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your hand drifts to the small, secret pocket sewn into the lining of your cloak, where the letter from Jace is hidden. You had read it only once, the words burning themselves into your memory, but you still find comfort in its presence. The letters you exchange are a lifeline, a connection that spans the distance between you. Each one is a reminder of the bond you share, a bond that goes beyond mere affection.

Tonight, you will see him again, on that small, isolated island halfway between Dragonstone and the Red Keep. It’s a risky endeavor, but one you would undertake a thousand times over just to be near him. The thought of it sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The world fades away when you're with Jace, and in those stolen moments, nothing else matters.

A knock on the door pulls you from your reverie. "My lady, the escort is ready," a voice calls from the other side.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and stride to the door. The servant outside bows as you step into the hallway, and you nod in acknowledgment. The corridors of the Red Keep are quieter now, with the court winding down for the evening. Only a few guards and servants move about, most paying little attention to you as you make your way towards the exit. You’ve done this before, taking lone flights on Morgoth to clear your mind, so it raises no suspicion.

As you exit the Keep and step into the crisp evening air, you are met by a small escort of guards, their armor gleaming in the fading light. They bow respectfully as you approach. Ser Arryk, a knight who has always been loyal to your house, steps forward.

"Princess, the city is quiet tonight," he reports, his voice steady. "We should reach the gate without incident."

"Thank you, Ser Arryk," you reply, your tone composed. "Let us be on our way."

The streets of King’s Landing are already beginning to empty as the last rays of sunlight give way to dusk. The city is alive with the sounds and smells of the evening—vendors packing up their wares, the distant laughter of tavern-goers, the occasional cry of a child being called home. The guards flank you as you move through the city, their presence deterring any who might think to approach. You walk with purpose, the letter in your pocket a constant reminder of where you are headed.

Morgoth, too wild and too large to be kept within the confines of the Dragonpit, dwells outside the city walls, beyond where the common folk dare to tread. He is a creature of the wilds, as much a part of the untamed lands as the mountains and the sea. His presence near the Red Keep has always been a subject of whispered fear, his black wings casting long shadows over the city whenever he takes to the skies. But to you, he is a part of your soul, a living extension of your own fierce spirit.

As you near the city gates, the guards step aside, allowing you passage into the wild lands beyond. The air grows cooler, crisper, as you leave the city behind. The path to Morgoth's lair is one you know well, the ground beneath your feet familiar with every step. The distant roar of the sea fills your ears, the wind tugging at your cloak as you make your way to the clearing where Morgoth waits.

The last light of day fades as you approach, the sky deepening to a dark indigo, dotted with the first stars of the evening. The clearing comes into view, and there, amidst the ancient stones and gnarled trees, lies Morgoth. His massive form is a dark silhouette against the twilight sky, his eyes glowing like green embers as he senses your approach.

He is truly a beast of legend, larger and more fearsome than any other dragon, his scales the color of a moonless night, his wings vast enough to blot out the stars when fully spread. The ground trembles slightly as he shifts, his long neck arching as he watches you, a low, rumbling growl vibrating through the earth.

You step forward, your heart pounding with anticipation, the thrill of the night’s secret mission pulsing through your veins. "Morgoth," you call softly, your voice steady despite the excitement thrumming in your chest.

The dragon's head lowers, his massive eyes locking onto yours, and you feel the bond between you flare to life. It is a connection deeper than words, a shared understanding that transcends the physical. Morgoth is wild, untamed, but with you, he is something more—a partner, a companion, an extension of your very being.

With practiced ease, you approach him, your hand reaching out to touch the warm, rough scales of his snout. His breath is hot against your skin, smelling of smoke and ash, a reminder of the power he holds. You climb onto his back, settling into the saddle that you alone are permitted to fasten, your hands gripping the reins made from his own shed scales, as strong as they are rare.

The world around you falls away, the concerns of the court and the whispers of the city fading into nothingness. There is only the sky, the wind, and the thrill of the flight that awaits.

Morgoth shifts beneath you, his muscles bunching as he prepares to take to the air. You grip the saddle, your heart pounding with anticipation as you give the command. With a powerful leap, Morgoth surges forward, his wings unfurling as he takes flight, the ground dropping away beneath you.

The Red Keep, the city, all of it becomes a blur as you ascend higher and higher, the cool air rushing past you as Morgoth climbs. The exhilaration of flight fills you, and a smile breaks across your face as the stars begin to twinkle above.

Ahead of you lies the sea, vast and endless, and beyond it, the small island where Jace waits. The excitement in your chest grows, and you lean forward, urging Morgoth to fly faster, to close the distance between you and the one who holds your heart.

As Morgoth soars through the night sky, the wind whipping past you, your thoughts drift back to the dream that haunted your sleep not long ago. The memory of it is still so vivid, so real, that it feels as if it only just happened. You can still feel the weight of the stag beneath Morgoth's talons, the warm gush of blood filling your mouth as you tore into its flesh. The primal satisfaction of the hunt, the raw power, the unrestrained hunger—it had all felt too real to be merely a dream.

You tighten your grip on the reins, leaning forward slightly as you speak to Morgoth, though you know he cannot answer. "Was it real?" you murmur, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Did I truly see through your eyes? Did I feel what you felt?"

Morgoth’s only response is a deep, rumbling growl, a sound that resonates through your very bones. His wings beat powerfully against the cool night air, carrying you both further away from the Red Keep, further from the world of politics and courtly intrigue, and closer to the freedom that you both crave.

You gaze down at the world below, the dark expanse of the sea stretching out like a vast, endless void. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting silver trails across its surface, guiding you toward the small island where you know Jace is waiting. The thrill of the flight, the rush of anticipation in your veins, mingles with the lingering unease from the dream. Was it merely a manifestation of your bond with Morgoth, or was it something more? Some deeper connection that you had only begun to glimpse?

"Do you see me in your dreams, Morgoth?" you ask softly, your words carried away by the wind. "Do you dream of me as I dream of you?"

There is no answer, only the steady rhythm of Morgoth’s wings and the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore. But you can feel his presence, strong and unyielding, as if he understands you on some level beyond speech, beyond even thought. The bond you share is ancient, primal, and it is moments like these that remind you of the power and mystery of the Targaryen blood that runs through your veins.

As the island comes into view, you spot Vermax, Jace's dragon, already perched on the rocky shore. His bronze and green scales glint in the moonlight, his eyes glowing with an inner fire. And there, standing beside him, is Jace. Even from a distance, you can see the way he searches the skies, his gaze sharp and eager as he waits for you.

Your heart swells at the sight of him, and you urge Morgoth to descend, your excitement growing with each passing second. Morgoth dips his wings, angling downward in a graceful arc as he begins his descent. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of salt and seaweed, the coolness of the night air mingling with the warmth of the dragon beneath you.

As you near the ground, Morgoth lands with a heavy thud, his powerful legs absorbing the impact with ease. The ground trembles beneath you as he settles, his wings folding against his massive body. You waste no time in dismounting, your feet barely touching the ground before you are running toward Jace.

"Jace!" you call out, your voice filled with the joy of seeing him again.

He turns at the sound of your voice, his face lighting up with a smile that warms you to your core. "You’re here," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion as he strides forward to meet you.

The moment you reach him, you throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you effortlessly, pulling you close against him. The feel of his body, warm and solid beneath your hands, sends a wave of relief and happiness coursing through you. It has been too long since you last held him, too long since you felt the safety and comfort of his embrace.

"Gods, I’ve missed you," Jace murmurs into your hair, his voice rough with longing. He holds you tightly, as if afraid that you might slip away if he lets go.

"I’ve missed you too," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, a reassuring rhythm that calms the storm of emotions inside you.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "Are you all right? You seem…troubled."

You hesitate, the memory of the dream flickering at the edges of your mind. But in this moment, with Jace holding you, with the warmth of his gaze and the solidity of his presence, the fear seems distant, almost insignificant. "I’m all right now," you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Now that I’m with you."

Jace leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if savoring the feel of your skin against his. Then he opens them again, and you can see the resolve in his expression, the determination to protect you, to keep you safe.

"I worried about you," he admits, his voice low and earnest. "The court, the whispers, everything happening back at King’s Landing… It’s dangerous for you there."

You shake your head, smiling up at him with a tenderness that only he can bring out in you. "I’m safe, Jace. I know how to navigate the court. And besides," you add with a playful glint in your eye, "I have Morgoth to keep me safe. No one would dare cross me with him by my side."

Jace chuckles at that, his grip on you tightening slightly as he pulls you closer. "That’s true enough. I just wish you didn’t have to be in that vipers' nest at all."

You sigh softly, resting your head against his shoulder as you let yourself relax in his arms. "We all have our roles to play, Jace. But right now, none of that matters. Right now, we’re here, together."

He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, then your forehead, and finally, your lips. The kiss is soft at first, a gentle caress that speaks of all the longing and love you’ve both held inside for so long. But as the kiss deepens, it becomes more intense, more urgent, as if you are both trying to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him. He responds in kind, his hands roaming your back, holding you as if he can’t bear to let you go. The world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this moment, in this kiss, in this shared need for one another.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Jace’s eyes are dark with desire, his gaze roaming over your face as if committing every detail to memory.

"Come," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. "Let’s not waste any more time."

You nod, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you take his hand, allowing him to lead you away from the dragons and toward the secluded spot he has prepared for you. The night is yours, and in the quiet stillness of the island, away from prying eyes and the weight of duty, you find a peace and happiness that you can only share with Jace.

The secluded spot Jace leads you to is a small, hidden grove, shielded from the wind by a cluster of tall, ancient trees. The moonlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of silver on the ground. The soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze is the only sound, a gentle backdrop to the intimacy of the moment.

Jace pulls you close again, his hands warm on your waist as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and longing. "It feels like a dream," he murmurs, his voice soft as if afraid to break the spell of the night. "Every time I see you again, I wonder if it’s real or if I’ll wake up and find you gone."

"It’s real," you assure him, reaching up to brush your fingers along his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your touch, the faintest hint of stubble rough against your fingertips. "And I’m here, with you. That’s all that matters."

He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower, more tender. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of the love that binds you both together despite the distance and the dangers that surround you. You lose yourself in it, in the feel of his lips against yours, in the way his hands hold you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Time seems to stretch, the moment lasting an eternity, yet passing too quickly. When the kiss finally ends, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Jace’s arms wrap around you, holding you close, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I wish we could stay like this," he whispers, his voice filled with a wistful longing. "I wish the world could just disappear, and it could be just us, here, now."

You smile softly, the sentiment echoing in your own heart. "Me too," you admit. "But we have our duties, our roles to play. As much as I’d like to, we can’t escape that."

Jace sighs, his breath warm against your hair. "I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Neither do I. But we’ll see each other again. We always do."

He nods, though the reluctance to let you go is clear in the way he holds you just a bit tighter. You stay like that for a while longer, savoring the warmth of his embrace, the peace of the moment.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your gaze drifting to a small patch of moonlit grass where something catches your eye. A tiny insect, its wings shimmering with iridescent colors, flutters by. Your instincts kick in, the familiar habit born of your bond with your twin sister, Helaena. You reach out quickly, your fingers deftly capturing the insect before it can fly away.

Jace watches you curiously, a smile tugging at his lips as you carefully place the insect into a small wooden box you carry with you. "What are you doing?" he asks, amusement lacing his tone. "Collecting insects now, are we?"

You grin up at him, closing the box gently to keep the creature safe. "It’s for Helaena," you explain. "She loves them, you know. This one’s new, I think—she doesn’t have one like it yet."

Jace raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "You brought a box just for that?"

"Of course," you reply with a playful glint in your eye. "You never know when you’ll find something she doesn’t have. It’s like a game between us. I find them, and she studies them."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "You really are the perfect sister, aren’t you?"

You shrug, a smile still playing on your lips. "She’s my twin. We’ve always been close. It’s a small thing, but it makes her happy."

Jace’s expression softens, and he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re a good person, you know that?"

You roll your eyes, though his words warm you. "I try," you say lightly, though you know he sees the sincerity behind your words.

But as the moment stretches, you both become acutely aware that your time together is slipping away. The reality of your separate lives looms ever closer, and the weight of the impending farewell presses down on you.

"I hate saying goodbye," Jace admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every time, it feels harder."

You nod, feeling the same ache in your chest. "I know. But we’ll see each other again, Jace. We always do. Until then, we have our letters, and our memories."

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. "I’ll write to you as soon as I can," he promises. "And the next time we meet, I won’t let anything keep us apart for so long."

You smile, though it’s tinged with sadness. "I’ll hold you to that."

For a moment, you just stand there, your foreheads pressed together, breathing in the same air, holding on to the last remnants of your time together. The world around you is silent, as if it too knows the gravity of the moment.

Then, with a quiet resolve, Jace pulls you into one last, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that sears itself into your memory, filled with all the love, longing, and unspoken words between you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close as he can, as if trying to fuse you together so that you’ll never have to part again.

When the kiss finally breaks, you’re both breathless, your hearts pounding in unison. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you try to hold on to the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against you.

"I’ll see you soon," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with the effort to keep the tears at bay.

He nods, though you can see the same struggle in his eyes. "Soon," he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With great reluctance, you finally step back, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer before you let go. The distance between you feels like a chasm, but you know it’s only temporary. Even so, the ache in your chest remains as you turn and make your way back to Morgoth.

Jace watches you go, his eyes never leaving you until you’re back at your dragon’s side. As you mount Morgoth, you take one last look at him, committing his face, his expression, to memory.

With a final nod, you signal Morgoth to take flight. The powerful dragon launches into the sky, his wings beating against the air as he carries you away from the island, away from Jace.

The night sky stretches out before you, the stars shining brightly above, but your thoughts remain with the boy you left behind. You clutch the small wooden box in your hand, a token of your love for your sister, but also a reminder of the love you share with Jace, a love that will bring you back to him, no matter the distance or the dangers that lie ahead.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #jace velaryon #jace x reader #jace x you #jace x y/n #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x y/n

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avidredux · 4 months ago

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a while ago there was a post that was a gathering of all the different names (nicknames rather) that the chain had used for each other up to that point. it's been a while, and i haven't seen another one personally, so i decided to make a new updated one for fun.

the little doodles and comics that aren't the MAIN lu comic aren't in this yet, but when i've got all those in here i'll be sure to post it

1) said simultaneously 2) yes im counting this 3) technically vio (once) and green (twice) 4) in the same sentence! 5) first instance of buddy 6) first instance of someone calling someone else link directly 7) he corrects himself to speak directly about twi afterward 8) couldn’t leave this in honorable mentions

honorable mentions and fun details below the cut

wars calls wild a “wild young man”

Legend refers to “that wolf” when alluding to twilight’s dark form without addressing twilight directly

legend refers to himself as “the collector! A veteran of the hero business!”

in “heroes legacy” legend refers to each member of the chain by either a descriptor of their homes, or their “occupations” aside from Four, who is called “the smith” (distinct from leg’s wording of “a captain” and “a knight”)

wars calls twi “you dog”

blue refers to vio by name when four is split

wild calls twi “the original blue-eyed divine beast” but i’m unsure if this should be officially counted

time refers to twi as “a descendant” but more in the concept kinda way you feel me?

twi (who has just woken up from his near death) mistakes time and hyrule for rusl and colin

wars refers to some of the chain as “stubborn youths”

completely unrelated to what they call each other but wild seems to admire hyrule so much it’s adorable; the friends ever <3

the first time the chain see the postman, sky is the one who claims the mail (even though it’s wind’s). In dawn pt. 4 when the postman comes to the inn to find link, he sees sky and says he’s been looking for him. None of the mail is sky’s. The postman has deduced that sky is the Link and all these other guys are simply that: other guys.

four is called a kid by the town blacksmith (chilchuck moment)

epona sees twi and has a “!” in a bubble and i’m convinced she’s saying “Link!”

wild calls four, wind, hyrule, and wars “crafty individuals” indirectly (though he does say it in front of wind and four)

wild says “the wolf i knew” and “this wolf i’ve known” when referring to future twi aiding him in botw

wars repeats wild’s statement about twi being just some guy to twi himself, who then proclaims himself “Hero”

unrelated again but wind gets so excited to see wolfie it’s so cute

time calls himself “this old man”

#linked universe #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu sky #lu four #lu hyrule #lu wild #lu wind #lu legend #at some point i'll redo it to make it easier to read #but i was simply to excited to share #and with the update that just dropped #i figured now was better than ever

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nataliescatorccioapologist · 3 months ago

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The “Pomegranate Theory” in Yellowjackets

Background

The Pomegranate Theory is a fan theory in Yellowjackets inspired by the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades. The story follows Persephone, the daughter of Demeter (the goddess of agriculture), after she is captured by Hades and taken to the Underworld, where she is held against her will. Demeter is devastated by the loss of her daughter, and in her grief she neglects her duties as the agricultural goddess, causing all of the crops to wither and a massive famine to spread across the earth.

In the Underworld, if one consumes any food, they will be stuck there forever. Persephone, knowing this, initially declines all of Hades’ offers of food and drinks, no matter how desperately he attempts to get her to consume them. Eventually, Zeus demands Hades to return Persephone to her mother, but before Persephone leaves the Underworld, Hades tricks her into eating 6 pomegranate seeds. Since Persephone consumed food in the Underworld, she is bound to Hades forever. A compromise is reached that, since Persephone ate 6 seeds, she will have to spend 6 months out of every year in the Underworld, while the other 6 months can be spent on earth.

During this 6 month period each year in which Persephone returns to the Underworld, the earth once again becomes cold and barren of crops and greenery due to Demeter’s sorrow; and in the 6 months that Persephone lives on earth, the weather becomes warmer and the plants thrive. These changes become the 4 seasons. Spring and Summer occur while Persephone is on earth, and Fall and Winter occur while she is trapped in the Underworld.

Yellowjackets’ Connection to Greek Myth

Yellowjackets has been known to reference Greek imagery, particularly in one of the show’s most prominent scenes. While the group is eating Jackie in Season 2, we get dissociative flashes of a lavish feast that looks like this:

In these shots, the group is dressed in Grecian tunics, gathered around a table, consuming fruit and wine in a frenzied, euphoric manner reminiscent of the Greco-Roman Bacchanalia. These ancient Greco-Roman festivals, held in honor of Dionysus (or Bacchus), were originally exclusive to women and became infamous for their wild revelry, rumored to descend into violence and occult rituals. The parallels between the Bacchanalia and the group’s descent into savage feasting in this scene are clear and deliberate. This connection has led fans to speculate that Yellowjackets may draw from Greek mythology in more ways than just this moment.

Fans have speculated that Yellowjackets may incorporate elements of the Persephone myth, particularly the symbolism of the pomegranate seeds. In Greek mythology, consuming food in the Underworld binds a soul to it, and in the show, many characters experience death visions or dreams where they are offered food. According to this theory, the forest represents the barren earth, the dream space the characters enter when on the brink of death symbolizes the Underworld, and the Wilderness entity coaxes them into consuming food represents Hades. If a character eats in this realm, they risk being bound to this mystical afterlife, leading to their death in the real world.

Let’s explore the show’s examples of this:

Jackie’s Hot Chocolate

The first time we see this realm between life and death is when Jackie is dying from hypothermia. After she falls asleep outside, she awakens in a dreamlike space in which Shauna leads her back into the cabin. Here, Jackie is offered a cup of hot chocolate from Lottie which she eagerly accepts and drinks from. This shot of Jackie holding the mug of hot chocolate is the last time we ever see her alive, as she is found dead outside in the snow the next morning.

According to the Pomegranate Theory, Jackie unwittingly traps herself in the ‘Wilderness death realm’ (the Yellowjackets equivalent of the Underworld) by consuming the hot chocolate. The moment she takes a drink, she dies on earth and binds herself to the Wilderness forever. The Cabin Guy also appears in Jackie’s death dream, which could imply that he previously consumed something while in this realm and is now trapped there forever as a result.

It could be nothing, but I think it is also important to note that Jackie’s death marks the first snowfall of Winter, similar to how Winter only occurs when Persephone is trapped in the Underworld.

Lottie’s Food Court Dream

We see this Wilderness death realm (for lack of a better word, very open to suggestions) again when Lottie collapses outside in the snow during her hunting battle with Nat. As she loses consciousness, she finds herself in a shopping mall, where her teammates are gathered around a table in the food court, happily eating. Lottie is offered a box of noodles and begins to scoop up a bite—only to be stopped at the last moment by Laura Lee.

Laura Lee disrupts the illusion, warning Lottie that if she doesn’t leave this dream space, she will die. She physically pushes Lottie, jolting her back to reality, where she reawakens in the snow, still alive.

Lottie’s survival hinges on the fact that she does not eat in this scene. The fact that Laura Lee is the one to intervene suggests she understands the consequences—implying that consuming food in this space would have sealed Lottie’s fate. Because she resists, Lottie is able to return to the living world rather than becoming trapped in the Wilderness’s eerie death realm.

Mari and Jackie Parallels

In 3x02, when Coach Ben holds Mari hostage in the caves, he gives her a mug of hot chocolate from the emergency food kit he found. Notably, the lines spoken as Mari drinks from the cup are identical to those in Jackie’s death dream. I feel like it is no coincidence that, of all the things Coach could have given Mari in this scene, she is given the same drink that Jackie consumes in her death vision. And, just like Jackie, Mari takes a drink (quite a few drinks actually).

Additionally, it appears that this might actually be the same mug that Jackie drank from. The setting of the underground caves might also serve as a representation of the Underworld from the Greek myth, as these caves exist beneath the surface level. So, if you believe the in the Pomegranate Theory, things unfortunately aren’t looking too good for Mari. Even though Mari’s scene does not take place within a dream sequence like the others, the parallels between this scene and Jackie’s death along with the potential foreshadowing of Mari falling into a pit in the ground not long before this might be hinting at Mari’s eventual demise.

Akilah’s Berries

The most recent example of a character eating food within a near-death dream space is Akilah at the end of 3x03. After presumably inhaling too much carbon monoxide in the caves and passing out, Akilah finds herself in the forest surrounded by berry bushes. She begins to rapidly consume them all before encountering a talking llama that reminds her “everything with teeth bites.”

Akilah’s consumption of the berries while in a dream state, along with the llama’s warning (crazy sentence) might be foreshadowing to Akilah’s death in the future.

—

You can choose to take this whole theory with a grain of salt, but I personally find it so fascinating and plausible (even if it’s just the show-runners creatively referencing this myth rather than it actually being canon). I feel like this theory will be even more solidified if Mari and Akilah die this season, so time will tell.

In conclusion, if you see one of your favorite characters eating something while in a dream, prepare to mourn.

#my fiancée is Greek so she served as my wise informant for this post #guess who’s procrastinating on an essay they need to do for school again!#it’s me #yellowjackets #Yellowjackets spoilers #pomegranate theory #greek mythology

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lavieenpasdedeux · 20 days ago

Text

Oceans Apart- Part 2

Finallyyy finished this!! I hope you all enjoy <3

Read part 1 here (it's not essential but good for context)

It's your wedding night with Prince Carlos, but a comment from the Queen and a conversation with your mother sends you on a spiral, can Carlos fix it?

Word count: 7.1k

contains: Prince!Carlos, softdom! carlos, p-in-v sex, oral sex, fingering, tough conversations and eye contact

Warning: contains mention of painful/bad sex.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

The Wedding Night

The reception was nothing short of spectacular, a celebration befitting the Queen of England’s nephew- the prince of Spain- marrying the love of his life. The arrival of you into the ballroom, in which you first met, was met with applause and cheers from the excited crowd below. Your new dress gained some gasps and whispers- the traditional Spanish black lace a far cry from the pale silks typically seen on ladies here however, Carlos had insisted and you were more than happy to oblige. Awe-struck gasps left your own mouth as you took note of the decorations the Queen had filled the ballroom with. Silken white drapes embroidered with fine gold thread cascaded from ceiling to floor, bouquets of red, orange and yellow filled vases around the room, casting a fiery glow alongside the candles. Gilded tables draped in bright white linen dotted the floor, each with an array of hors d’oeuvres, fruit and intricately made confections for guests to have alongside their champagne. The real eye-catcher was the impossibly tall white cake in the middle of the ballroom, towering over the guests. The icing was a masterwork of craftsmanship, the intricate flowers and figurines the height of edible art.

Your hand was tightly holding Carlos’, anchoring you as you descended into the heart of the room- the throng of elegantly dressed guests looking at you making you nervous, their laughter and chatter covered by the blood rushing in your ears. Carlos’ grip remained steady and warm; slightly possessive. There was something undeniably relaxing and grounding about the way he held you, his touch reminding you he was near and he will soothe your nerves. This brought you comfort, yet sent a shiver up your spine.

Your stomach fluttered as he gently steered you through the crowd before you came to a pause before the Queen. His palm settled at the small of your back, the protective and confident gesture making your breath catch. The Queen stood regally in a gown adorned with delicate embroidery that shimmered faintly under the light. You dipped into a polite curtsy, your voice carefully measured as you offered words of gratitude for her generosity- the breathtaking venue, the gracious hospitality, and the use of one of her many properties for your honeymoon before the two of you left for Spain. Carlos began to speak with her, discussing his plans for when the two of you go back to his home. As he did so, his hand moved to your waist- almost as if to claim you. His large, strong fingers had a soft grip on you, and you were consumed with how aware you were of his presence behind you. He was a whole head taller than you and his shoulders seemed almost impossibly broad- you could feel the heat of him behind you and it should have been reassuring, and yet, it left you flustered, hyper-aware of every inch of your skin. A warm flush bloomed across your cheeks, and a quiet ache began to curl low in your belly. Nerves, surely. Just nerves. Or maybe stress?

Your mind continued to drift elsewhere, until something the Queen said broke through the haze.

“I do hope you enjoy your wedding night, my dear,” she remarked, her eyes glinting with an amusement that felt far too knowing. There was a teasing lilt in her voice, as though she were privy to a secret you hadn’t yet uncovered. You had been hearing similar whispers, people referring to your ‘wedding night’ with what seemed like humour. Slightly confused, you offered a polite “As do I, your Majesty” in response. Before you could linger too long attempting to figure out what she meant, Carlos dipped his head respectfully and began to exchange parting words with the Queen. The two of you were to separate now, each to mingle with guests and fulfill the duties of gracious hosts. You nodded along, offering smiles where expected, but your mind was elsewhere entirely. You decided that you simply needed to find your mother, she would explain everything.

You turned into the crowd, weaving your way through clusters of guests who called your name, offered congratulations, or pulled you into fleeting conversations. Their words barely registered. All you could think about was the Queen’s peculiar remark and the weight of Carlos’ hand that still seemed to ghost along your skin. The air felt thick with expectation, and every step only seemed to make the questions in your head louder.

You finally spotted her by one of the punch tables, in conversation with some of your relatives you couldn’t quite recall the names of. You let out a small sigh of relief as you saw her, desperate for a familiar face and for her comfort. You politely excused yourself from the last well-wisher you were in conversation with and moved towards her. Her face lit up in her usual delight as she saw you, excusing herself from her conversation to move towards you.

“My dear! What a beautiful reception! The Queen certainly knows how to throw a grand par-” she stopped mid sentence, the concern in her eyes growing as she noticed the look of fear on your face. “Are you alright, my darling?” she asked, resting a gentle hand on your arm. “You look awfully pale.”

You hesitated, glancing around the room to ensure nobody else was listening. Lowering your voice, you leaned in slightly.

“Mama, can we talk? Privately?”

She blinked, surprised by your seriousness, but nodded nevertheless and allowed you to lead her out to the empty terrace. The cold air and the quiet was refreshing, soothing your worries and clearing your mind.

“What troubles you, my dear?” she asked again, gentle but serious.

You were unsure how to phrase something so delicate and so complicated. It seemed like such a small problem, but you had to know what people were talking about.

“It’s about tonight. The wedding night.”

Your mother’s face froze, and for a split second, you saw a look of dread on her face. It was small, but enough to make your stomach twist. You were right, there was something people weren’t telling you.

“I don’t really know what’s supposed to happen. The Queen said something earlier.” You struggled to find the words, your eyes downcast as you spoke. “She sounded like she was teasing, like there’s something I’m not prepared for. I’ve been hearing similar whispers all night. I thought maybe you could enlighten me? I don’t know what I’m missing.”

There was a long silence.

Then your mother sighed, softly but heavily, and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, sweetheart. I had hoped you’d already learned about these things. But if you haven’t…” She trailed off, her expression turning oddly sombre.

You swallowed hard, anxiety creeping into your chest at her tone.

“Well,” she began, voice low, “On your wedding night, the man- your husband- will want to perform this… act that is done to… consummate the marriage… to make babies. It’s part of the tradition. A way of sealing the bond. It can be… difficult. For the woman, I mean.”

Your eyes widened slightly, heart stuttering in your chest. Your mother had never found it difficult to say what she meant. Watching her struggle for words only increased your anxiety. “Difficult how?”

“This act. It’s not always pleasant,” she continued, her voice clipped now, as if the words pained her. “There’s… discomfort. Pain. Some women even cry. It’s just the way of it. A woman must endure, and it gets easier with time. Eventually. Hopefully. It did for me!” She added the last part in a hopeful tone, attempting to make you feel better.

A cold weight dropped into your stomach. Your throat tightened. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“It often does,” she said, simply. “And the Prince is a man. A strong one. He may be… assertive. That’s normal. Just let him lead and don’t resist. Be…compliant. That’s the key. It will be over quickly, I can assure you of that.”

You stared at her, disbelief flickering behind your panic. You had no other frame of reference—no one else to ask. No education beyond hushed whispers among girls your age, none of which had sounded nearly this terrifying. Her words painted a bleak picture of what awaited you. Something cold, impersonal. Something that seemed like the opposite of what the prince you knew would do with you.

She gave your hands a gentle squeeze, mistaking your silence for acceptance. “It’s a woman’s duty. Part of being a wife. And your husband is a good man, I’m sure the two of you will enjoy your night. Just try and forget about it for now, worrying will only make it worse.” She paused, looking at you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry you had to hear this now, my dear.”

Her hand came up to brush your cheek, but you had no reaction. A ringing had started in your ears.

All you could think was: Is this what awaits me tonight, would Carlos really hurt me, what is this ‘act’ my mother spoke of?

Your earlier flustered nerves had transformed into something far darker. The flush in your face was no longer from embarrassment but dread. You pulled your face away gently, murmuring something vague about needing to be alone.

Your mother conceded and stepped back into the ballroom- offering more words of assurance. The laughter and music that came through the door briefly seemed distant and warped. Through the glass of the door, you could see Carlos across the room, laughing with one of his cousins, his profile lit by a flicker of candlelight. He looked handsome. Kind. But now, all you could see was what your mother had warned you about. And he made your heart race for entirely different reasons than before.

You stayed on the balcony for a few more moments, taking deep breaths and trying to calm yourself. Your mother was definitely right, worrying would only make it worse. After all, this is a celebration, it’s the happiest day of your life, you should be enjoying yourself. Carlos had never been anything but a gentleman with you, surely what your mother said couldn’t be true. Your father wasn’t half the man Carlos is. Yet, her words remained sat like a stone in your stomach. You straightened your posture and smoothed your dress out. You put a smile on your face and stepped back into the ballroom.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation, delicate laughter, and clinking glasses. You floated from guest to guest, offering words of gratitude and holding your glass even though you barely sipped from it. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the clock was ticking. But you pushed the thought away. Whenever your gaze met Carlos’, he offered you a soft smile or a subtle wink- just enough to make your heart stir with something that should have been comfort. It should have made you feel safe, but all you could feel was a mix of dread and confusion.

At one point, he even took your hand again, guiding you across the room to meet one of his distant uncles. His touch was warm, familiar. The same way it had always been. You told yourself there was no reason to fear him, there was no evidence he was anything like what your mother described.

But still, when he turned to you later, his voice low and gentle, and said, “Querida, it's getting late. Are you ready to leave?” Everything inside you froze. Your nerves returned tenfold. There was a smile on his face, his eyes soft and affectionate, full of adoration- yet your blood still ran cold.

He didn’t seem to notice the anxiousness in your eyes. Or if he did, he said nothing. He only laced his fingers with yours again and began to lead you toward the exit. The cool night air hit your skin and offered you some comfort again, before the sight of the carriage adorned with royal crests and polished lanterns reminded you that this was not over. This was only just the beginning of what was to come.

Carlos helped you in, his hand warm and steady at your waist as you stepped up into the plush interior. You settled into the seat, hands smoothing your skirt over and over just to keep them occupied. A moment later, he climbed in beside you and shut the door with a soft click. The space around you felt suddenly, unbearably small.

The horses stirred, and with a low creak, the carriage began to roll forward through the palace gates.

You sat in silence for a moment, your hands clenched tightly in your lap as the lantern-lit streets passed by outside the small window. Carlos was beside you, his hand reaching to gently take yours again. You let him, though your fingers were trembling slightly and clammy with nerves.

“Is something on your mind, amor. You seem as though something is bothering you.” he said softly, his voice almost lost beneath the rhythmic clatter of hooves.

You glanced at him, startled. His brow was faintly furrowed, his dark eyes searching yours.

“I’m just tired,” you managed, your voice thin. “It’s been a long day.”

He smiled faintly and leaned closer, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Of course. Indeed it has. You’ve been perfect This day has been perfect.”

Your heart skipped- though whether from affection or dread, you couldn’t say. You turned to look out the window again, watching the cobbled streets narrow as you left the palace grounds. The ride wouldn’t be long. Carlos' residence was only a short distance from the palace- a temporary home before your journey to Spain.

You focused on the rhythmic sway of the carriage, trying to ground yourself. But it was impossible to ignore the pounding of your heartbeat, or the way your stomach churned with growing unease.

Every second brought you closer. Closer to the unknown. Closer to the part your mother had warned you about.

Carlos said nothing more, content to sit beside you in a peaceful silence. But to you, the quiet was deafening. Your terrified thoughts were screaming in your head.

You stole a glance at him. His face was calm, his warm fingers loosely entwined with yours and wondered:

Was there something behind that gentleness? A part of him I haven’t seen yet?

You turned back to the window, admiring the lights of the city. The ring Carlos gave you occasionally caught a speck of warm light, sparkling on your finger, but it felt less like a token of love and more of a reminder of your duty.

The ride was shorter than you’d hoped.

Just as you began to lose yourself in the rhythm of the carriage, lulled into a fragile calm by the gentle sway and the dim streets beyond the glass, the wheels slowed and the gates closed. The horses gave a soft, muffled whinny as the carriage came to a smooth halt.

Carlos shifted beside you. “We’re here.”

You forced a breath into your lungs, feeling as though your corset had tightened all on its own. His voice was calm, warm. There was no urgency in it, no suggestion of anything dark or demanding. And yet, your body remained rigid.

Outside, the footman opened the door, and Carlos stepped out first, turning to offer you his hand. You hesitated only a moment before placing your gloved fingers in his. He helped you down gently, his other hand resting once again at your waist- familiar and steady, and yet it made your skin hum with nerves.

His residence was less grand than the palace, but no less imposing in the quiet of the night. Ornately carved wooden doors stood tall, flanked by stone pillars entwined with ivy. The windows glowed with warm lamplight, golden behind sheer curtains. It looked peaceful, almost romantic.

But all you could feel was the dread building again.

The butler greeted you with a small bow as the footmen unloaded your trunks. You hardly heard the words exchanged between him and Carlos. The grand front doors opened before you, and Carlos guided you inside.

The interior was elegant, richly furnished in dark wood and soft gold. A fire had already been lit in the hearth of the main sitting room, casting flickering light across the high ceiling and polished floors. The same red and yellow bouquets from the reception were dotted around the entrance, making the air smell sweet and floral.

“This way,” Carlos said softly, nodding toward the main staircase.

You followed his direction, your skirt brushing the carpeted steps, your breath tight in your throat. Carlos stayed close, one step behind, a steadying presence.

At the top of the stairs, he led you down a quiet corridor- his large hand finding your waist again. The doors here were taller, heavier, and the corridor narrower, intimate, almost too much so. Your footsteps sounded unnaturally loud against the plush runner.

Finally, he stopped before a double door near the end of the hall. He looked at you, searching your face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer now. “You’re quiet.”

You tried to find something to say, anything that would sound normal and calm- but all that came out was a whispered, “Yes.”

Carlos held your gaze for a beat longer, his expression unreadable in the low light. Then he nodded, reached forward, and pushed the door open.

The bedroom was bathed in a golden glow, lit by several candelabras and a crackling fireplace. The bed- massive, carved, and draped in pale silk- stood at the center of the back wall, like something out of a fairytale. A tray of wine and fruit had been set on a nearby table, untouched. Everything looked meticulously prepared, as though someone had arranged it just so.

Carlos stepped aside to let you enter first.

You walked in slowly, each step feeling like it echoed through your bones. The room was warm, too warm, and your hands were clammy despite the gloves. The door clicked shut behind you, and the quiet wrapped around you like a heavy cloak.

He began unfastening his coat, moving unhurriedly. “You should get comfortable,” he said without turning. “I’ll call for a maid to help you change if you like.”

You stood frozen near the hearth, staring at the fire.

This was it.

And though nothing about Carlos’ tone or manner was harsh or demanding, his actions made the weight of your mother’s words return like a drumbeat in your mind:

Don’t resist. A woman must endure. Be compliant.

Your breath caught, shallow and quick.

Carlos turned then, his coat now folded neatly over a chair. He didn’t move toward you, he just watched you for a long, quiet moment.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked suddenly.

The question struck you like a slap. You blinked, unable to speak.

He took a step forward, then stopped. “You look like you want to run. Have I done something that has hurt you?”

There was no anger in his voice. Only concern. And something else, something quieter. Hurt, perhaps?

You couldn’t answer, because in truth, you didn’t know.

You stood stiffly near the fireplace, your arms wrapped around yourself as if they could shield you from the weight of what was coming.

Carlos' question lingered in the air, unspoken tension settling between you.

Your lips parted, then closed again. It was hard to speak. Hard to breathe.

“I…” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not afraid of you. I just-” You swallowed. “I need to tell you something.”

Carlos nodded, his features softening. He didn’t move closer, he just listened. That small act of kindness alone made your throat tighten.

“After what the Queen said, I pulled my mother aside earlier,” you said slowly, your fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. “I asked her what happens on a wedding night, because I didn’t know. Not really. Of course I knew after a woman is married she is to have children but aside from that, nobody has ever told me what this ‘wedding night’ actually is.”

You paused, your heart hammering so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

“She said…” You hesitated, then forced the words out. “She said there is an act we do- that you do- and it will be painful. That it was something I had to endure. That I had to let you-” Your voice caught as you struggled to find the right words. “- That I shouldn’t resist, no matter what. That it was my duty.”

Carlos' face changed- just slightly. His brow furrowed, his mouth pressing into a grim line. But still, he said nothing. He let you finish.

“She made it sound like I wouldn’t be a person to you anymore. Just a thing to be claimed.”

The words echoed too loudly in the warmth of the room.

You blinked fast, trying not to let tears rise. “I don’t know what to believe. I don’t want to be afraid. But I don’t know what you expect or what you’re going to do. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. So…”

You lifted your gaze to his, vulnerable and exposed in a way that made your entire body ache.

“I know it is my duty and I will do it if I must, but is there any way to avoid this pain she spoke of, or is this the only way it can be?”

The silence that followed was long, and terrible- and then not terrible at all.

Carlos’ expression softened, his eyes filling with something that almost looked like sorrow.

“I’m so sorry she told you that,” he said quietly. “That you’ve been so troubled all night.”

He stepped forward- slowly, carefully- and didn’t touch you, didn’t crowd you. He stopped close enough for you to see the faint worry in his eyes.

“What your mother described, that’s not what I want. Not tonight. Not ever.” His voice was steady but gentle. “This night- it’s not meant to be difficult. Or something to be endured. Or something you owe me.”

You stared at him, unable to speak.

Carlos ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a slow breath. “You’re my wife now. My princess, Yes. But more than that, you’re you. A person. Not an object. Not a duty. And I would never force something on you that you weren’t ready for- especially not this.”

You felt your shoulders slowly start to drop, tension unwinding just slightly.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. Or of tonight. I want you to feel safe. Always.” His tone grew quieter. “We’ve got time. We’ve got the rest of our lives, if you’ll have me.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and he noticed. His hand came up to your cheek, his thumb wiping it away.

“Look at me, mi vida” he said softly, “I would never hurt you. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. It shook as it left your lungs.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Carlos smiled then, small and kind. “Why don’t you come sit with me? We can have some of this wine.”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly and walked with him to the hearth, where the fire crackled quietly in its stone cradle.

For the first time since you spoke with your mother, the fear loosened its grip on you. You trusted Carlos, and he adored you.

He settled onto the small sofa before the fire, reaching for the jug of wine on the table beside him and pouring two glasses. You followed slowly, the tension in your body hadn’t exactly eased, but it had shifted into something else. The floor was warm beneath your skirt, and the fire’s glow painted golden light across his face, softening the edges of his sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. You joined him and took the glass he offered you, his arm coming to rest across your shoulders- holding you close while you studied the fire.

Carlos was always gentle, attentive, and serene. The firelight danced across his face, casting a warm glow that seemed to make his touch even softer, stirring up the butterflies you hadn’t realized you’d missed- the good kind, the kind that reminded you of the start of the evening. It was in that moment that you made your decision. “I still want to go through with it,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady.

Carlos looked at you then, his gaze searching your face as if to ensure you were certain, that you weren’t saying it just to please him.

His expression didn’t change, but the air around him shifted, solidifying the quiet strength that had always been there.

“All right,” he said gently. “If you’re sure.”

You turned to him, searching his face. “Is there… a way to make it not hurt? Or at least not hurt so much?”

A smile crossed his features- not at the question itself, but perhaps at your bravery in asking it. He nodded once, eyes sparkling.

“Yes,” he said. “There are ways. If there’s ever pain, it should only be for a moment- but I promise, amor, I will make you feel good.”

The words seemed to loosen something inside you, and you realized you trusted him completely. It wasn’t just his words; it was the way he said them, the unwavering certainty in his voice.

He leaned slightly forward, “I’ve got you, mi corazón. That first time might be… strange. Your body won’t know what to expect, but we can take it slow.”

Your throat felt tight again, but not with fear this time. With relief.

“And if I change my mind?” you asked.

He smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. “Then we stop. Instantly. No guilt. No shame. That’s a promise.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy now. It was soft. Companionable.

You looked down at your hands, fingers still twisted in your lap. “I don’t really know… how does this start?.”

“That’s all right,” he said. “We’ll learn together.”

You nodded slowly, your cheeks warming- not from embarrassment, but from the unfamiliar feeling of being heard. Truly understood.

“Good.” He looked deep into your eyes, his hand coming up to cradle your face. “We can start with a kiss.” He searched your face for a sign of agreement, and at your nod, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, sending a wave of electricity through your body. His kiss was slow, purposeful, full of understanding. You let him lead, your body melting into his as the world around you faded, leaving only the fire, the warmth, and the steady rhythm of his touch.

His kiss made you forget everything- forget your worries, the pressures of being a princess, the expectations of you. It was just you and Carlos.

But after a few heartbeats, he gently pulled away, his lips hovering near your ear as he exhaled a soft breath. The heat of his skin, the scent of the wine, and the touch of his hand on your waist made your body hum with awareness.

“Stand up for me.” Carlos whispered, his voice low, laced with a gentle authority that made your stomach flutter.

You stood, and his hands gripped your shoulders, gently turning you around to face away from him. His tall stature meant he had to lean down, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke lowly “I won’t rush you, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

You nodded, feeling a tightness in your chest that was no longer fear, but something else- a strange mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

“I trust you,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart raced in your chest.

Carlos’s hand slipped to your waist, pulling you closer just enough to feel the heat of his body against yours. “Can I take off your dress?”

“Yes.” Your voice was quiet, but sure. Carlos instantly got to work unbuttoning your dress. It fell around your feet and he slowed his movements, beginning to unlace your bodice- he placed slow kisses to your collarbone and your neck, making you gasp in pleasure.

As if sensing your anxiety rise at the thought of being naked, he paused his movements. “Do you want me to stop, querida?” His voice seemed almost strained.

You brought your hand up behind you to his head, lacing your fingers through his hair. “Please, no. Keep going.” And with that, he continued his efforts tenfold. When your petticoat hit the floor, he turned you around to face him again. “Mi amor I- you’re beautiful.”

You blushed at his words, averting your eyes from his gaze- instead beginning to undo his waistcoat. His hands came to stop you, one going to tilt your chin to look up at him. “You’re beautiful.” He said it again, needing you to understand the sincerity of his words. You only blushed further at his words. Your hands gripping his shirt to pull him down into another searing kiss.

The kiss was different from before, it was deep and urgent. Your mouths moved in sync, a fiery rhythm building between you. His hands were gripping you, pulling you close and caressing your face. You tried to unbutton his waistcoat, fingers trembling and fumbling, but the heat of Carlos against you and his intoxicating scent clouded your thoughts and made it almost impossible to focus on anything but him.

Eventually, it dropped to the floor. Carlos broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to look at you with a knowing gaze, aware of the effect he was having on you. He swiftly untied his cravat, letting it drop to the floor with his waistcoat. As he began swiftly unbuttoning his shirt, he spoke in the same low and gentle authoritative voice that made your pulse race.

“Lay on top of the bed for me, cariño. In the middle.”

You followed his direction, slowly making your way over to the bed. Carlos watched you with rapt attention, his gaze tracing every curve of your body, as though he were admiring a masterpiece come to life. His eyes lingered on you, filled with admiration and something deeper, almost reverence. He followed you, removing his shirt with slow precision, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

He stood at the foot of the bed, watching as you climbed on and settled back on your elbows. Your eyes followed him as he undid his trousers with ease, the fabric falling to the floor. Before you could fully take in the way he looked, a rush of anticipation drowned out every other thought as he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face but his eyes sparkling with adoration. There was only this moment. Only him. Only the thundering of your own heartbeat as he leaned down, casting a shadow over you, and as his lips pressed against yours, it was as if the rest of the world- all your worries and fears- fell away.

The kiss deepened, and one of his hands travelled down to your waist- but didn’t stop there. His fingers were hesitant at first, as if seeking permission in the quiet between your breaths, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or distress. His fingers moved with the lightest pressure, tracing the gentle ridge of your hipbone, then lower, pausing at the soft plane of your lower stomach.

The touch was featherlight, barely there, yet it awakened something electric beneath your skin. He lingered, in awe of your body, as though he were discovering sacred ground rather than simply skin. “Can I touch you, amor, give you more. Make you feel good.”

“Yes.” your voice was breathy. “Please, my love.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but you knew you wanted whatever Carlos could give you.

"Are you certain?" His voice, barely a whisper, stirred the air around you. It was a question not just of action, but of the unspoken path both of you were on.

Your arms came to wrap around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. You nodded with a smile, “I’m certain.”

His hand travelled further down to your core, making you gasp and raise your hips and the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation. “Mierda, you’re so wet” he muttered, as if you weren’t meant to hear it. His touch was still light, gathering your wetness on his fingertip before coming up to touch your bundle of nerves. You let out a moan, both surprised and delighted at the pleasure you felt. Carlos lips crashed back down onto yours, swallowing the noises you made as his fingers expertly circled your clit- applying the perfect amount of pressure. Sweat began to form on your forehead, as a tight coil began to form in your stomach.

His fingers slowed and he pulled away from the kiss, coming down to whisper in your ear. “Do you want more, mi vida.” His voice was low and strained, as if he was holding back.

“Yes!” Your voice was broken by a small moan, his fingers still lightly grazing your clit. At your permission however, his hand went back down lower.

Carlos pushed a finger into you, long and thick. The intrusion brought a broken moan from you, turning into a gasp as he began pumping the finger in and out of you, stretching your tight walls. “Cielo, you are so perfect” Carlos’ voice was gravelly, speaking into your neck as he began placing light kisses to your skin. His finger stilled inside you, curling upwards to stroke your walls. The sensation making your nails scratch his shoulder and tighten your grip in his hair, bucking your hips up.

He continued this for a while, before sliding another finger into you, instantly returning to the rhythm he had before, the thrusting of his fingers bringing back the tightness in your stomach. “How does this feel?” He asked, a hint of concern in his voice at the strained gasp you let out- struggling to adjust to the stretch of another of his large fingers.

“So good Carlos, please don’t stop,” you moaned.

Carlos let out a groan at the sound of his name falling from your lips, the first time he’d ever heard it. He increased the rhythm of his fingers, increasing your pleasure and your moans. “My perfect girl.” he whispered, admiring the way your eyes were closed and your soft lips parted in ecstasy.

Your walls began to flutter around his fingers, your moans getting louder and more desperate. This is when Carlos decided to halt his actions and pull his fingers out of you, leaving you on the edge. “Carlos!” you whined, frustrated at the loss.

He chuckled at your desperation, “You’re okay, amor. I want to show you something else, something better, yes?” He punctuated this with a quick kiss to your lips, waiting for your permission to continue.

“Yes.” Frustration was still evident in your voice, disappointed the feeling in your stomach had gone. You could feel Carlos’ smile on your skin as he began kissing your neck. Your breath hitched, confused as his kisses got lower and lower.

His hand came to cup your breast, softly squeezing it- eliciting a sigh of pleasure from you. He resumed his kisses, placing light pecks to the soft skin there. Your eyes drifted shut again as you embraced the sensation. His mouth travelled lower and lower, his hands coming to grip your waist. When he reached the skin below your bellybutton he stopped, his head coming up so he could look into your eyes.

“You trust me, yes” Carlos reaffirmed this, wanting to make sure you were still feeling pleasure instead of nerves.

“I do.” you smiled, softly nodding. Carlos held out his hand to you.

“Take my hand, corazón” You placed your palm into his, and his large hand gripped yours firmly- your joined hands resting on your stomach.

Carlos’ head went back down, eye level with your core. His spare hand gripped your thigh, placing it over his shoulder. You squirmed as you felt his breath on your wet centre, the cooling sensation sending shivers through your body. You didn’t quite know what to expect, but the pleasure that instantly flooded through your body as his tongue lapped at your folds was enough to take your breath away. You let out a loud moan, almost shouting as his pointed tongue circled your clit. Your hand gripped his tightly, fingers turning white. Your moans only increased, unknowingly bucking your hips and grinding them against his face as his lips wrapped around your clit and began to lightly suck. The coil in your stomach returning with vigour.

Carlos’ mouth left your centre briefly, “Try and keep still for me, querida.” his voice low and gravelly.

You did your best to adhere to this request, but when he slowly pushed a thick finger into you as his tongue licked at your clit- your hand flew to his hair with a tight grip as you let out the loudest moan yet.

Your reaction made Carlos chuckle, the vibrations of it only increasing your pleasure. He continued his ministrations, building a steady rhythm. The coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter as you got closer and closer to the edge. Carlos tightened his grip on your thigh and moaned into your core again, and this pushed you over the edge. Your vision went white as your hips rode out the climax, moaning and gripping his hair as he lapped up everything you gave him.

Eventually, his face came back to hover over yours. He had a small smile as his hand caressed your cheek, allowing you to catch your breath before embracing you in a slow and passionate kiss.

“How was that, mi amor?” His voice was teasing, already knowing what your answer would be.

“My mama was definitely wrong. That was… you were incredible, my love.” You beamed up at him.

“There’s still so much more to show you, mi esposa, but only if you want to. We can rest now if you’d prefer.” He said, kissing your temple.

You bit your lip, smiling up at him. “I want it. I want all you can give me.” Your words went straight to Carlos’ throbbing cock. The hardness he had was almost painful, but he wanted to take his time with you.

“I must warn you, querida. This bit may hurt a little.” His eyebrows scrunched in concern, not wanting to give you more than you could handle- but you just shook your head.

“I don’t care. You make me feel so good, Carlos.”

His finger travelled down to your core. Your breath hitched, still sensitive- but still dripping with wetness.

“I love you, mi vida, mi alma.” Carlos’ voice was barely above a whisper, but serious.

He made you smile, any hint of nerves at the potential of pain was washed away by his undying affection. “I love you too, Carlos.”

He lined up his cock with your aching hole, his mouth hovering over yours- lips almost touching. He slowly slid into you, making you gasp and screw your eyes shut. The pain was sharp, his cock thick and long- making you feel as though you were being split in half.

“Shh, it’s okay, amor. Just relax for me.” Carlos’ voice deep and strained in your ear.

He eventually bottomed out, stilling any movement to allow you to adjust to his size. Your face twisted from pain into pleasure, just as he promised it would. He took the smile forming on your face as a sign to start moving, pulling out slightly from you before pushing back in. The shallow thrusts brought back your moans of pleasure, and Carlos began to increase his pace, fucking you faster and harder.

You cried out in pleasure as he began to hit a specific spot inside of you, sending shockwaves through your body. You wrapped your legs around Carlos’ waist, trying to pull him closer to you. His mouth was hung open, occasional groans and mutterings of pleasure leaving his lips as he thrusted into you. “Joder… so tight, querida.” were the only words you caught.

Your eyes locked, and he raised his eyebrows and nodded at you, making sure you were okay without words- the two of you incapable of speaking. As you returned his nod with a grin on your features, the feeling of him pounding into you filling you with unspeakable pleasure, he pressed a fierce kiss to your lips- tongues crashing together.

His thrusts got faster and faster, the bed beginning to shake from the intensity of his movements. “Give it to me, querida. Finish with me” he managed to say before another groan tore from his throat. His thrusts became sloppy and the grip of your legs around his waist got tighter, the two of you nearing your peak.

Carlos felt the familiar fluttering of your walls around him before your second orgasm crashed over you like a wave, knocking all the energy out of you. Your body slumping onto the bed as Carlos spilled his load into you, the weight of him collapsing onto you as he caught his breath back.

After a moment or two, he slowly pulled out of you and rolled over to lay next to you on the bed. The two of you laid in comfortable silence, trying to regain your energy.

He sat up, back against the pillows and beckoned you to lay against his chest.

“I love you, mi amor. I hope that I satisfied you.” Carlos sounded almost nervous, worried he pushed you too far in the heat of the moment. “We never have to do that again if you do not wish. I want you to be happy with me.” He said quietly, placing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

He was surprised to hear you giggle. “My love, I think we need to do that every day!”

You continued to lay in comfortable silence after that, dwelling in your newly found marital bliss. Carlos softly stroked your arm. The only thing on his mind was how glad he was that he decided to speak to the beautiful girl at the ball.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

A/N: Hello!! I hope you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to let me know or send any requests!

sorry if this is too long or too messy etc! im still getting the hang of writing fics and smut pls be nice

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #f1 fic #formula one smut

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lizdive · 11 months ago

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hi there! platonic aventurine, jing yuan, sunday, blade, welt, dan heng, boothill, argenti and dr ratio with a teen reader who is like fischl?

Hi anon <33 I really wanted to finish this in one part because i loved this req in specific (i love fischl) but idk why I’m lacking sm motivation,,, so I decided to split this into 2 parts (hopefully) i hope you don’t mind,,, thank you so much for requesting <33 if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" + "royal" + "they/them" used to refer to user ,, reader is a teenager ,, user is based off of "fischl" from the game genshin impact ,, platonic relationships ,, mention of fu xuan in jing yuan’s part ,, not my best work i’m sorry ,, mention of robin in sunday’s part ,, not proofread ignore typos

⭑ When he first met you, AVENTURINE was a bit taken aback with your speech and eccentric character in general. You claim to be royalty from a far away world, and while Aventurine didn’t quite believe it at first there was a small part of him that was lowkey kind of convinced.

⭑ He was a bit concerned that someone like you was so high ranking in the IPC because he knows the IPC is probably exploiting you especially because you seem to be a bit naive, so he’ll start watching over you.

⭑ He’ll gradually get used to your persona and understand what you say. He might need a second to process if you drop a huge paragraph of dialogue on him, but with every conversation and interaction he gets faster.

⭑ Takes one to know one — AVENTURINE can tell you’re trying to cope with something that’s happened in the past via roleplaying this character you put on, and he won’t be the one to burst your bubble. In fact, he’ll try to protect it for as long as possible.

⭑ Nobody’s going to make fun of you while he’s around. If anyone tries to reality check you, he’ll lowkey gaslight them into thinking that everything you say is real. Yeah, you’re a royal. He’s also actually seen this far away land you speak of, so that person is just being an ignorant hater !!

⭑ If your character is based off of someone from a book like Fischl, AVENTURINE will find that book and read it to better understand your references and persona as a whole. Likes seeing how you get happy when he references something.

⭑ If you ever feel insecure because of your past, AVENTURINE will be there to comfort you. He’s good at picking up signs when it comes to you because he practically had your character memorized. He’ll try to distract you from your past but if you do want to open up and vent he’ll be there to listen.

⭑ Give him a role in your little world and he’ll play it scarily well. Would probably do best as a royal advisor or assistant.

⭑ Buys you literally anything and everything that could fit your aesthetic and world. Fancy gems to add to your riches because every royal needs to have riches!! Buys you clothes too that you think is fit for royalty of your world.

⭑ You practice archery next to him while he practices gun shooting and it’s nice bonding time,,

"I, [Name], [Insert desired title here], descend upon this land by the call of fate an— Oh, you are also a traveler from another world? Very well, I grant you permission to travel with me."

"They’re saying that it’s nice to meet you."

⭑ Was not in any way bothered or confused by your eccentric mannerisms. JING YUAN’s pretty used to the unique speech style due to Fu Xuan, so he understands what you’re saying or at least gets the basic idea.

⭑ Oh? You’re a royal from a far away distant land? Yes yes, how nice. But royals do need to complete their training as well, no? As a cloud knight, he’s impressed with how you easily climbed up those ranks. Praises you whenever you somehow jump up a rank quicker than the last.

⭑ He doesn’t really suspect too much of your personality and that you’re putting up a front until you slip out and go ooc which makes him do a double take mentally. When you get all flustered and a bit distressed, he’ll reassure you by acting like nothing happened.

⭑ It’s then that he really pays attention to the little story you have going on with the world you live in. If he ever forgets something important, he’ll apologize and tell you that he never meant to insult your highness.

⭑ Another one that would protect your little bubble. I don’t think anyone would really want to say something bad about a high ranking cloud knight but even if they wanted to if JING YUAN or Yanqing were to hear they wouldn’t know peace,,

⭑ He can play the role you give him should you give him, especially as a general. You tell him about someone trying to attack your kingdom and he’ll reassure you he’s got this !!

⭑ Keeps a piece of paper in his pocket that has details about your persona if it’s based off of a character from a book. Also probably has a timeline on all your 'historical' events — sometimes he scares you because it feels like he knows more about your world than you do,,

⭑ He finds your keen instincts and intuition a bit intimidating. Have you ever thought of learning a thing or two from Fu Xuan? He always trusts you whenever you feel uncertain about a plan or idea because somehow you’re almost always right in the end.

⭑ Becomes your archery mentor and will watch over you as you train. Your skills are impressive and he finds amusement in the way you pose after a full combo.

⭑ If you feel upset because of your past, JING YUAN will comfort you and tell you that you don’t have to grow up — you’re still young and deserve to enjoy what remains before you become an adult and have to face the world. He’ll always be proud and support you no matter what.

"I hear the voice of fate, speaking my name in humble supplication..."

"Hm? Care to share what fate whispers?"

⭑ The talk of an eccentric worker in the reverie hotel had easily reached SUNDAY’s ears, and wanting to see who this eccentric worker was, he decided to wander around during his free time to catch them in action.

⭑ It wasn’t hard to find you as you were a bit loud. Pushing the cart of luggage while speaking of your magical kingdom to the guests as they nod along, clearly invested and assuming you were a storyteller. Once you had brought the guests’ luggage to their room and left, SUNDAY made his way to you to talk with you in interest. You had quite the imagination and spoke in a very sophisticated manner for your age.

⭑ Wasn’t at all phased by the paragraphs upon paragraphs of dialogue you would drop on him, replying easily and holding the conversation well. He noticed you seemed happier the longer he spoke to you.

⭑ While some guests may be annoyed by your behavior, he’ll remind them — if he’s present — that penacony is the land of festivities and many different people visit. Plus, you’re young and free to be who you want to be. If you’re really get picked on though he’ll deal with them personally.

⭑ SUNDAY is scarily observant so he knows you’re playing a character. He doesn’t really acknowledge it too much or confronts you, though, since everyone in penacony is also technically playing the character they wish they were.

⭑ Because of that, SUNDAY will let you do as you please. He’ll indulge you and will play the role you wish for him to play. He’s good at acting, so he can play whatever you wish. It reminds him of when he’d play pretend when Robin when he was younger.

⭑ Has everything about your character memorized. However he knows what to say and what not to say so he doesn’t fluster you by knowing more than you. Will also cover for you if you accidentally go ooc.

⭑ Your ability to rise up in the ranks so quickly will eventually make you work directly under him at some point and when that happens trust that people will refer to you with a royal title. He may indulge you a bit too much,,,

⭑ When you open to SUNDAY about your past, he kind of just. . . Dodges the subject after that. Doesn’t mention it at all. May act like your father a bit and call you his [insert royal title here] — you never realize it’s him trying to reassure you that you needn’t worry about growing up and being mature because of the role you’ve given him.

⭑ Gets a bit worried for your safety when you practice archery, but he also appreciates the fact you can take care of yourself should you face any dangers (especially in the dreamscape.)

⭑ Takes your advice and warnings a bit seriously because of how good your intuition and keen instincts were. (He didn’t listen ONCE and he paid the price.)

"What does it take to rile a royal? ...If you must know, it is those who cannot recognize my true identity. But it is no great loss, for solitude is the noble's lot, so long as I do not lose the nobility of my soul..."

"How wise you are, your highness."

⭑ He has no idea when it happened, but one day BLADE became your 'knight' and he has yet to comment on it. Not really the best knight as he doesn’t really stay close to you on the daily however also a really good knight as he protects you during missions to the point where you don’t use a single arrow.

⭑ Can understand what you day, does not translate for other people. You’re the yapper and he’s the listener. Doesn’t reply like 95% of the time but when he does it’s really flat and monotone which you don’t mind because he’s the big scary knight !!

⭑ Gets teased by the other stellaron hunters for indulging you, but he doesn’t really care too much. He can’t leave you to die during missions, can he? You’re way too young to hold your own properly so he’s there to make sure the number of stellaron hunters doesn’t decrease (that’s his reasoning don’t ruin it pls.)

⭑ Said this in other posts: not the best at comforting so when you open up, he’s kind of just,,, there. He’s also a bit distant sometimes but after that he’ll try to put an effort into playing his role so you don’t get upset or feel like he’s ignoring you.

⭑ Nobody thinks of making fun of you or your interests because BLADE’s always standing behind you — even if you’re tall for your age it’s still very scary to have him just staring at the person with a dead look.

⭑ Doesn’t research your character like the others — he learns as he goes. He doesn’t even have the chance to mess up because he just doesn’t talk much so he can’t mess up.

⭑ Not much to say for Bladie he just goes with it,,

"Dusk and dawn but fleeting shadows are. Once more, the twists of fate have led you into my everlasting night."

"…Good morning."

#🪽 ☆ LIZDIVE #ᡣ𐭩 — ROBIN’S WRITING !!#ᡣ𐭩 — ROBIN’S STARS !!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine hsr #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan honkai star rail #jing yuan x reader #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #sunday x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai star rail #blade x reader #platonic relationships

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