#Captivating Crossroads

[reuxben]

Here’s our MTGinktober for “Road," starring Azusa, Lost but Seeking; Sakura-Tribe Elder; and Captivating Crossroads! They've been at this for so long they forgot who's asking who for directions.

Click this post’s Source link for this piece’s Making-Of.

More MTGinktober here.

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Reuxben

[sicutpuella]

Midnight Rain | Jacaerys x OC x Cregan

Chapter One.

Summary: Betrothed since childhood, Lady Aelyria Velaryon and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon journey to Winterfell under Queen Rhaenyra's orders; however, upon meeting Lord Cregan Stark, Aelyria finds herself torn between her duty to Jacaerys and an unexpected desire for the Northern lord. Now, she must choose between love, honor, and duty at a critical crossroads.

Series Masterlist [Previous Chapter, Next Chapter]

When Cregan was informed via raven that Prince Jacaerys, along with his betrothed, Lady Aelyria, was to visit the North for diplomatic affairs, he readied his castle with great care. He spent hours ensuring there was more than enough food for the feast that night; the day was consumed by his fussing.

As evening approached, word came that the Prince and his bride-to-be had arrived. He descended to the castle yard, where the entourage awaited.

"Prince Jacaerys," he said, "welcome to the North. I hope your journey went well."

Cregan first took in the prince’s appearance—tall, with sharp and refined features, brown curly hair neatly styled, and a strong nose. There was an unspoken elegance about him, a stark contrast to Cregan’s simple yet rugged looks.

Then he saw her—Aelyria. Her back was turned to him, long silver hair in a few braids. She was momentarily distracted by the children waving at her; they gawked as if she were a fairy from a tale.

When he saw Aelyria, his eyes widened; her beauty and the elegant way she carried herself took him by surprise. She seemed like a vision, a goddess incarnate, too perfect to be true. Her silver hair, cascading down in intricate braids, shimmered in the Northern sunlight; each strand catching the light like spun moonbeams. Her eyes, a vivid brown, held an allure that was both mesmerizing and intimidating. The children around her gawked as if she were a fairy from their tales, and Cregan could hardly blame them!

He had never seen anyone like her before—so unattainable, so ethereal. She was a true Valyrian beauty, embodying ethereal essence of her houses in every elegant movement. He felt his heart quicken, a sense of awe and reverence overtaking him. This was no mere woman or mortal, rather; she was a living legend, a dream made flesh.

He took a moment to look at her before speaking, his mind a little clouded.

"My Lady," he said finally, his voice low and hoarse.

Unknown to him, she too marveled at him. There he was, broad shoulders cloaked in a fur coat; the simple attire did nothing to hide his powerful frame. His longsword loomed behind his back, a silent testament to his strength. His brows were furrowed, as if analyzing her, his rugged looks captivating despite the absence of a beard. His eyes were a piercing gray, like the stormy skies of the North.

Aelyria felt her heart stop; he looked so... so masculine. The raw power he exuded, the sheer presence he commanded—every inch of him screamed strength and resilience. She was utterly smitten, drawn to him in a way she had never experienced before. This was a man forged by the harsh northern winds, tempered by the cold, and she found herself undeniably entranced by him.

Cregan's heart began to beat faster once more; an unfamiliar feeling stirred within him. He couldn't help but admire her beauty—her slender figure, the silver braid, the soft features on her round face, the way she smiled at the children…

He was taken aback by his own reaction. He had seen many beautiful women before, but none had affected him like this. Perhaps it was her Valyrian blood that made her so mesmerizing, or the way she radiated an aura of kindness and grace.

"You are more beautiful than I imagined," he said, his voice low.

"Oh… she truly is." Jacaerys interrupted his thoughts, walking closer to Aelyria, his hands intertwined with hers.

Cregan's eyes flickered to their hands, a pang of jealousy stirring within him. He knew she was betrothed to the prince, but it didn't stop him from feeling a sharp jealousy at seeing them so close.

He forced a smile, though it felt cold. "Indeed, my Prince. You are a lucky man."

"Truly." Jacaerys' hands gripped hers.

"Good afternoon, my Lord." Her voice, like honey; she bowed gracefully.

Cregan couldn't help the way his heart skipped a beat when she spoke. Her voice, soft and sweet as honey, mesmerized him. His gaze lingered on her, taking in every detail.

He bowed back, a bit awkwardly, feeling out of his depth. "Good evening, my Lady. I hope your journey here was pleasant."

"It was… My Prince and I enjoyed the sights."

Cregan felt a pang again; his eyes darted to their intertwined hands once more.

"I am glad to hear that," he said, his voice coming out a little gruff. "We have prepared a feast tonight in your honor. I hope you will both enjoy it."

"You are far too kind, my lord," Jacaerys spoke.

Cregan forced a smile. "It is the least we can do, my Prince. You are our honored guest, after all."

His eyes flicked to Aelyria again, taking in her soft curves and delicate features. He could see why Jacaerys was so besotted with her.

Lord Cregan gave them a tour of the place, hoping Aelyria would not be too bored. She seemed to enjoy it—or was she merely being polite? Why was he overthinking it?

The tension lingered. As much as he tried to ignore it, Cregan could feel it every time he looked at them together; how easily Jacaerys' hand found her waist; the way they shared brief moments of laughter…

Cregan subtly shook his head, as if to banish all those unseemly thoughts of the lady.

She is to be wed, Cregan! Pull yourself together.

Yet, despite his attempts, Cregan found himself unable to keep his mind from wandering back to the lady. He tried to focus on the conversation, to ignore the way her eyes seemed to shine in the light of the corridor; the way her laughter filled the air; and the way her hand fit perfectly in Jacaerys���.

He found himself lost in a confusing mix of guilt and longing, his mind at war with his heart. He tried to remind himself constantly that she was betrothed—to his guest of honor, no less…

Cregan’s hands were slightly nervous upon shaving his growing beard. He wanted to maintain some semblance of youth, even though the Lady and the Prince were close to his age—or perhaps it was an effort to look presentable in front of the Lady? He shook his head as his hands continued to shave. He ensured his guests of honor had time to prepare and rest before the dinner.

“Fuck.” He inhaled sharply; he cut himself, just a tad bit.

His fingers rubbed the cut, feeling a pang of frustration at his own clumsiness.

He looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his appearance. He was handsome, strong—a true Northman. That was how he had always thought of himself. Yet now, as he stood there in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel a pang of self-doubt. He had never felt this way before, never before had he cared so much about how he looked.

“Damn it…” he muttered to himself.

He was first in the dining hall, ensuring all was well for tonight’s dinner. His guests were of royal, Valyrian blood, after all.

The dining hall was meticulously prepared for the occasion. The tables were set with the finest china and silverware. Fresh blooms adorned the tables, filling the air with a pleasant fragrance. The food was a feast fit for royalty, each dish a testament to the North's bounty and hospitality.

As Cregan waited, his thoughts kept drifting towards her. The Lady Aelyria, with her silver hair and brown eyes. He couldn't shake off the memory of her soft laugh and her sweet scent.

The door was slowly filling in with his bannermen, his guests, his squires. The doors to the dining hall opened, and the room slowly filled with the sounds of hushed conversations and the clinking of silverware.

His bannermen were in attendance, their proud, stern figures a stark contrast to the lavish setting. They took their seats, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes discreetly flickering towards the door. Cregan stood near the head of the table, his eyes darting to the entrance, waiting for the arrival of the Valyrians.

Then— The door opened. All eyes turned towards the door as it opened. Cregan's heart skipped a beat.

There she was, just as beautiful as before, but now she was dressed in a gown that seemed to accentuate her feminine curves. She looked like Valyrian royalty; her silvery hair cascaded over her shoulder in waves; her eyes sparkled with a soft light.

Cregan watched as she walked towards the head of the table, accompanied by the prince. Jacaerys was a gentleman—a true, well-mannered royal. Aelyria and Jacaerys politely greeted everyone in attendance. As Aelyria and Jacaerys greeted each person in attendance, Cregan found his gaze drawn to her. He watched as she smiled politely, her voice soft and pleasant as she spoke to each guest.

Her elegance was undeniable; every movement she made seemed graceful and poised. He felt a pang as he saw the prince’s hand on her waist, pulling out her chair like a true chivalrous prince. Cregan clenched his jaw.

“Good evening, my lord… my, the dinner is truly magnificent,” she smiled, the reds in her dress bringing out her eyes.

“Good evening, my lady,” he managed to say, his voice a bit hoarse. He was aware of the other men in the room, some of them stealing glances her way as well.

“Lord Stark,” Jacaerys greeted, his voice smooth and courteous. “Thank you for your generous hospitality. The feast looks splendid.”

Cregan inclined his head, acknowledging the prince’s words. “It is our honor to host you, Prince Jacaerys. I trust your chambers were comfortable?”

“They were,” Jacaerys replied with a smile. “We rested well. Your keep is as warm and welcoming as it is grand.”

Cregan nodded, satisfied. “I’m glad to hear that. Please, take your seats.” The three of them settled at the head of the table.

“Aelyria here enjoys fish,” Jacaerys mentioned, pointing out the plate of fish to Aelyria.

Cregan’s eyes followed his gesture to the plate of fish. For a brief moment, his mind wandered to the idea of personally catching and preparing a fresh fish for Aelyria. But he quickly pushed the thought away, realizing how ridiculous it was.

“Ah, fish…” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “We have the finest salmon from the streams of the North. I hope it is to your liking, Lady Aelyria.”

“We rarely get good salmon in Dragonstone, so this is truly wonderful for me.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she looked at the salmon.

Cregan felt a pang of pride at her words; he couldn’t help but feel pleased that he could offer something new and special to her.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice a little gruff. “We Northerners take pride in our fish, especially salmon. It is a staple in our diet, especially during the winter.”

“Then, Aely, I suppose you should vacation here during winter,” Jacaerys smiled at her.

Cregan's mind briefly imagined Aelyria visiting Winterfell during winter—dressed in furs, cheeks flushed from the cold, laughter in her eyes. He quickly pushed away the thought, feeling guilty that he was indulging in such fantasies.

“Yes, the North is quite a sight during winter,” he said, forcing a smile. “But the cold is not for the faint-hearted.”

“I have a dragon… it can make me a pyre,” she jested.

Cregan chuckled, surprised by her jest. The sound of her laugh echoed in his ears, making him want to hear it again.

“Ah, I suppose that is true,” he said, his smile widening. “With a dragon to keep you warm, the North wouldn’t seem so cold after all.”

The dinner was splendid. Cregan enjoyed it—but he enjoyed looking at her sweet smile even more. He enjoyed Jacaerys’ company as well; the prince was quite intelligent and dignified despite being young. He truly was made to be a prince.

Throughout the dinner, Cregan found his gaze drawn to Aelyria again and again. He hung on every word she spoke, every time she laughed, every gesture she made. He conversed with Jacaerys as well, finding the prince to be a good conversationalist. Despite his young age, Jacaerys was intelligent, charming—a true prince. Cregan couldn’t deny that he was a good match for Aelyria.

Despite his best efforts to enjoy the dinner and the company, Cregan found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but Aelyria. The sound of her laughter, the way she smiled at Jacaerys—it all filled his mind, making it hard for him to focus on anything else. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched them. They looked so perfect together, a true match, a future couple destined for greatness. The thought sent a pang of pain through his chest.

Cregan and Jacaerys quickly found a comfortable understanding, their banter flowing easily as they sipped their mead.

"You Northerners certainly know how to brew a fine drink," Jacaerys commented, raising his mug in a toast.

Cregan chuckled, raising his own. "Aye, we have to. The cold makes a man appreciate a good, strong drink."

They exchanged stories, Cregan sharing tales of the harsh Northern winters and the battles fought against the Wildlings; Jacaerys spoke of the courtly intrigues of King's Landing and the fierce loyalty of the people of Dragonstone. The prince's laughter was infectious, his wit sharp and easygoing, making Cregan feel more at ease than he had in years. As the evening wore on and the mead continued to flow, Cregan found himself growing more unguarded. He was drinking a little more than he should; the alcohol made him feel a bit loose and unguarded.

"What is it like living on Dragonstone?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of slur.

“Salty,” Aelyria spoke first. “If you stand still enough, you’ll taste the salt on your tongue.” She added, her tone light and playful.

Cregan chuckled at her answer, imagining Aelyria standing still, tasting the salt in the air.

"Ah, so it's quite the salty place then," he said, his eyes studying her face. "I imagine the castle must be built to withstand such conditions… after all, the Targaryens have called it home for centuries."

Jacaerys shared more about Dragonstone, painting a picture of a strong, proud, and ancient castle. As he spoke, Cregan listened intently, his eyes flickering between Jacaerys and Aelyria.

“You should visit one day,” Aelyria spoke softly.

Cregan's heart thudded at her words. Her soft, sweet voice was like a caress, making it even harder for him to think straight.

"Visit Dragonstone?" he repeated, his voice rough. "I… I would love to, my lady."

The thought of seeing her in her home, seeing her on her own turf, stirred something in him. It was a dangerous idea.

Unknown to Cregan, Jacaerys’ hand squeezed hers tighter.

“Tell us more about the North,” Aelyria continued, her eyes following him.

Cregan felt his heart race at the sound of her voice, her eyes fixed on him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"The North," he started, his voice still a little shaky. "It's vast, unforgiving, and beautiful. We have endless forests, snowy mountains, and icefields. It's the coldest region in Westeros, but the Northmen are hardy folk. We thrive in the cold—it's in our blood."

"Then there is the Wall," he said, his voice growing softer. "A colossal structure of ice that spans the length of the continent. It's the first line of defense against the Wildlings and the terrors from beyond it. The Night's Watch, an ancient order sworn to defend the realm from those threats. It's a formidable place—cold and harsh, just like the North itself."

“Terrors?” Jacaerys nearly chuckled.

Cregan gave Jacaerys a wry smile, realizing that tales of White Walkers might sound like a strange concept to a man from the South.

"Yes, terrors. Creatures from beyond the Wall, creatures of ice and cold. They are called the White Walkers, or the Others. They are said to bring with them the cold and the dark—a darkness that can last for years."

He paused, his eyes flickering to Aelyria's face, hoping she wouldn’t belittle or laugh at him.

Aelyria’s lips pursed, clearly in a bit of thought.

“Oh, you humor me, my lord,” Jacaerys witted.

Cregan bristled at Jacaerys’ comment but held his tongue. He knew that the prince was jesting, that he didn't believe in the tales of the Others. Many in the south didn't, and Cregan couldn't blame them; it all sounded like legends and fairy tales.

But the thought of the prince dismissing it so lightly made him feel another pang of… something he couldn't quite name.

“Darling, if dragons exist… surely there might be something else?” Aelyria looked at Jacaerys, then at Cregan, seemingly agreeing with the lord’s tales.

Throughout the dinner, Cregan found his gaze drawn to Aelyria again and again. He hung on every word she spoke, every time she laughed, every gesture she made. The sound of her laughter, the way she smiled at Jacaerys—it all filled his mind, making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

Cregan felt a strange sort of relief at Aelyria's words. Her agreement made him feel a little less foolish, a little less like the northman whose tales were seen as barbaric and primitive. But another part of him bristled at the endearment she'd used for Jacaerys—"darling." He found himself gritting his teeth.

"You see, my lady understands," Cregan said, his voice betraying a tinge of irritation.

He watched as Jacaerys placed his hand on Aelyria's waist again; that casual, familiar gesture set his teeth on edge.

“But, let’s not hope such terrors become our priority,” she added.

Cregan nodded, his irritation slightly quelled by her words. "Indeed. We should not hope for such horrors to come to pass."

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling within him.

“I pray that they get lost by the snow somehow,” she chuckled.

Cregan couldn’t help but smile at her soft, musical laugh. It sent a little thrill through him; he found himself wanting to hear it again.

"Ah, perhaps the snow will confuse them. They’ll wander around in circles until they get so cold they’ll simply freeze to death."

"Or better yet, maybe they'll try to attack a polar bear and get their heads bitten off." He chuckled at his own joke, hoping to get another laugh out of her.

“Prince Jacaerys!” A bunch of young boys came upon him, eager to show the prince something.

“Well, the young need me,” Jacaerys chuckled, and left a kiss on her cheek, sighing as he stood up to face the young boys, “I’ll leave you to the company of Lord Stark.” Jacaerys smiled at Aelyria first, then waved them both farewell.

Cregan watched as Jacaerys left, his eyes narrowing slightly at the kiss Jacaerys left on her cheek. He found himself clenching his jaw again, his jealousy flaring. With Jacaerys gone, he turned his attention to Aelyria, a sense of nerves and desire stirring within him. He was alone with her, and he couldn’t deny the thrill that gave him.

"So… now it is just the two of us," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He glanced around, seeing that the others around them were engrossed in their own conversations, paying them no mind.

“Oh yes…” she smiled; he could sense she was a bit nervous as she sipped some of the wine.

Cregan took note of her nervousness—the way her fingers fidgeted with the stem of her goblet, the way she avoided his gaze. Knowing that she too was feeling the same tension he was only heightened his own desire.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.

“I have been enjoying myself,” she smiled. “Your people’s and your hospitality is lovely.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, his heart thudding in his chest as her smile made him feel a little breathless. He leaned a little closer, drawn to her like a magnet, wanting to be nearer.

"Is there… anything else you have been enjoying?" he asked, his voice a little gravelly.

“Ooh! The food, yes… the salmon was delightful—I think I may have overeaten.” She smiled.

Cregan chuckled, amused by her description. "You enjoyed the salmon, did you?" he repeated. He found himself enjoying just listening to her talk; her voice was so pleasant to listen to. He reached out to refill her goblet, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment.

He liked hearing her talk… about anything.

“Oh… and the pig too,” she smiled, continuing.

Cregan took a sip from his own goblet, his eyes never leaving her face. Her smile was enchanting, her cheeks slightly flushed from the wine and the heat of the fire.

"The pig, of course," he echoed, his voice lower.

He wanted to touch her, to reach out and pull her closer to him, to feel the heat of her skin against his fingers. But he held back, not wanting to be too forward.

"You seem to have enjoyed quite a bit of our food," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

He took another sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of his goblet.

"I suppose that's a good thing, it means you're not… unsatisfied with our hospitality."

“Oh, you are all so kind… the customs and attitudes are definitely different from the south— but it’s not a negative one. But rather, better,” she said with a diplomatic tone.

Cregan raised an eyebrow at her comment. Better, she said.

"Better, you say?" he repeated, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He found himself amused by her diplomatic tone, but also strangely pleased to hear that she preferred the North to the South.

“I suppose, I’ve been used to the courtly manners of acting kind upfront while being a monster behind you,” she chuckled candidly.

Cregan nodded, understanding her point perfectly. He had never much cared for the politics and scheming that were so common in the South. He preferred honesty and directness, things that were valued in the North.

"We don’t have much use for fake pleasantries in the North,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “We say what we mean and mean what we say."

“There’s always a hint of fakery and dishonesty down south.”

Cregan chuckled, her words making him feel even more comfortable in his own skin.

"Sounds exhausting, having to put on a false facade all the time," he said, his eyes tracing the line of her jaw, admiring her profile in the firelight.

“Oh, and you cannot— I repeat cannot make a mistake. Even a spelling writing in your parchments will surely have everyone questioning your intelligence,” she chuckled.

Cregan chuckled along with her, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Question your intelligence over a spelling mistake?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “We’ve got more important things to worry about in the North, like not freezing to death."

He leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering again.

"We don’t sweat the small things here, it’s not worth the effort."

“I suppose… perhaps the pampered life has over sensitized us…”

Cregan chuckled again, his eyes glinting with humor and something else. He liked her more and more, the more they talked.

"That’s what it is. You Southerners are too soft, too used to living a pampered life," he teased. "You’d never survive a northern winter."

“I have a dragon. I think I’ll manage Lord Stark.” She smiled.

Cregan chuckled again, enjoying her clever response.

"Ah, yes. Your dragon," he said, his eyes roaming over her face, taking in her every feature.

He found himself wondering what it would be like to ride a dragon, to feel the wind through his hair as he soared through the sky. But he pushed the thought aside, focusing on her.

"Yes, a dragon would keep you warm, I suppose. But you’d still have to eat northern food… and drink northern ale."

“I’d love to eat northern salmon all day… everyday… the ale? I cannot say positively about it, I get drunk rather fast.”

Cregan laughed heartily at her admission, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You get drunk fast, eh?” he said, a bemused smile on his lips. "You might want to be careful then, our ale is strong enough to knock a grown man off his feet."

“When I turned 15… my granduncle Corlys gave me dornish wine… he had to carry me 4 flights upstairs because I passed out!” She laughed.

Cregan couldn’t help but laugh along with her, picturing the image she painted.

"Dornish wine, eh? No wonder you passed out," he said, his tone light and teasing. "That stuff is strong, but even I wouldn’t give it to a girl who’s just turned 15."

“Oh and I vomited on a few maidens…”

Cregan’s eyes widened in surprise, a burst of laughter leaving his lips.

"You vomited on your handmaidens?" he repeated, still chuckling. "Ah, that must have been quite the scene."

“Oh Granduncle Corlys still won’t let me forget… even Jacaerys who was one of the poor audience of my drunkenness.”

Cregan chuckled, imagining the look on Jacaerys’ face.

"Poor Jacaerys, having to witness your drunken escapade," he said, his tone playful. "I can only imagine what his reaction must have been."

“How about you my lord? How are you when you’re drunk?” She smiled.

Cregan chuckled, his eyes meeting hers.

"Me? I can hold my liquor well enough, if I do say so myself," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

He paused for a moment, studying her face again, feeling that familiar stirring in his chest.

"But sometimes... when I've had a few too many ales, I tend to get a bit... bold."

“Hmm? Like… how? I know some men who tend to start a fight.”

Cregan chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh no, I’m not a brawler. I’m just... more honest when I’m drunk," he said. "I say things I wouldn’t normally say, I act on my impulses more."

He paused, his eyes roaming over her face, his gaze lingering on her lips.

"I might... say things I wouldn’t normally say to a lady I'm interested in," he added, his voice lowering.

“Ooh… pray tell… which lady here has caught your eye?” She could tell she enjoys gossiping.

Cregan smirked, enjoying the playful lilt in her voice.

"Ah, well, there is one lady..." he said, playing along.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if he was sharing a secret with her.

"She is beautiful, intelligent, and kind. She has eyes as deep and dark as the night sky, and a smile that could rival the stars themselves."

“My lord, I believe you are… drunk!”

Cregan chuckled at her response.

"Perhaps I am, my lady," he said, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

He took a sip of his ale, his eyes roaming over her face.

"But I am still perfectly aware of my thoughts and feelings," he added, his gaze growing a little more intense, more heated.

“Please do not vomit all over my dress, the silk came from Essos.” She sighed dramatically.

Cregan laughed, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Oh, I’m not that far gone, I assure you," he said, lifting his ale-filled goblet in a toast.

He paused, his gaze moving from her eyes, down to her dress, drinking in the soft material, the way it hugged her curves.

"Wouldn’t dare ruin such a lovely dress with my vomit."

He took a moment to collect himself, his eyes moving back up to her face.

"Besides, it would be a shame to ruin something so... beautiful," he said, his voice lowering again, a hint of huskiness in his tone.

"Red and black..." he repeated, his eyes roaming over the dress again.

He was even more aware of how closely it fit her frame, how the color brought out her eyes.

"It suits you," he said, his voice lower than usual. "You look... stunning."

“Oh… thank you, my lord.”

Cregan felt a pang of desire shoot through him as she thanked him in that sweet, polite tone. He took a mouthful of ale, trying to calm himself, but his eyes kept straying to her, taking in every little detail of her face, the way her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, the fullness of her cheeks. He found himself wanting to say something more, something bold, something that would express exactly how he was feeling in that moment.

He had never felt this way before, this intense, almost overwhelming desire for someone. He was a northern lord, after all, used to living in the cold, unforgiving North.

And yet here he was, sitting next to a southerner girl, a dragon rider of fire, blood and the sea, whose eyes could disarm him with a single look.

He took another large gulp of ale, trying to steady himself, but he could still feel the heat radiating off his skin, the way his pulse drummed in his ears.

“Jace is taking a bit too—“

“You look incredibly beautiful,” he interrupted.

“Huh… oh?… oh.”

Cregan chuckled at her flustered response, his eyes flicking over her face again, taking in her cheeks slowly turning pink.

“Did I surprise you, Aely?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“I did not expect you to be so… bold.”

Cregan chuckled again, the sound low and rumbling in his chest.

"You have no idea how bold I can be," he said, leaning in a little closer.

He was taking a risk, he knew, but he was feeling a little tipsy, a little more confident than usual. The ale and the heat in his veins had given him a certain... recklessness. He loved looking at her perfect face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face, the perfect shape of her cheeks, the rosy color on her lips. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel the softness of her skin under his fingers.

He took another sip of ale, trying to calm himself, but the heat in his veins was only growing stronger.

“Is there something on my face?” Cregan thinks he might have stared a little too long.

Cregan chuckled, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.

"No, nothing on your face," he said, shaking his head. "I was just admiring your beauty."

He let his eyes roam over her face again, taking in every little detail, the curve of her lips, the flutter of her eyelashes. He knew he should stop staring, but he just couldn't help it. He couldn't get enough of her. He sees the way her expression changes.

Cregan raised an eyebrow at her reaction, sensing a subtle change in her expression. Was he being too much? Was he making her uncomfortable? He leaned back a little, giving her some space, but his gaze was still fixed on her face.

"Is everything okay, Lady?" he asked, his voice low.

“I’m fine…” she spoke, he noticed a little tinge of anxiety.

Cregan furrowed his brow, sensing the hint of anxiety in her voice. He knew he needed to be careful, to tread lightly. He set his ale goblet on the tabletop, giving her his full attention.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his tone softer now. "You look a little... uneasy."

But he couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t care that she was betrothed. The thought of her being betrothed didn't sit well with him. He knew he was a northern Lord, and she was a southern dragon lady. It was completely improper for him to have these feelings for her.

But the ale had made him bold, and the desire that was coursing through his veins made it difficult to care about propriety. He wanted her. He tried to push the thought away, but it kept resurfacing, like a wave breaking against the shore.

“Gods, I wanna kiss you right now.” He blurts, his words slightly slurred.

Cregan's eyes widened as the words left his lips before he could stop himself. He had not intended to say that out loud, but the ale had loosened his tongue, and the desire that had been building within him was too strong to ignore.

He studied her face again, seeing the surprise and the hesitation in her eyes. It was not a polite thing to say, certainly not to a betrothed girl. But he couldn't take the words back, and a part of him didn't even want to. Her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth dropped.

“My lord… you are… so drunk!” She nervously laughs, and her body faces away from him.

Cregan chuckled at her reaction, the slight slur in his voice more apparent now.

"Aye, I may be a bit drunk," he conceded, his eyes roaming over her face, not quite able to look away.

He noticed her body turning away from him, and it sent a pang of disappointment through him. He had overstepped, and now she was pulling away. He reached for his ale again, taking a long gulp to soothe the dryness in his throat and the nerves in his body.

"But... " he said, his voice low and a little rough. "I meant what I said."

The ale had made him reckless, and he was past caring about propriety or what was right. All he could think about was the way her lips would feel against his, the way her body would feel in his arms.

“I should go look for Jace…”

Something in him flared at the mention of Jace’s name, a pang of jealousy. He didn’t want her to go looking for the other man. He wanted her to stay with him, to keep talking to him. He reached out, his hand darting out to grasp her arm, gently but firmly.

"No, wait…" he said, his voice low, his grip tightening, preventing her from leaving.

Cregan's hand was still gripping her arm, holding her in place. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin material of her dress, and it only served to intensify his desire. He leaned in closer to her, his face just inches away from hers. His ale-soaked breath fanned over her face as he spoke.

"Stay with me a little longer," he said, his voice a soft, commanding whisper. Cregan's heart thudded in his chest as she sat back down. The knowledge that she was staying, that she wasn't leaving to find Jace, made his pulse race. He released her arm, but kept his gaze fixed on her face, his eyes roaming over her features like he was trying to commit them to memory. The ale had made him bolder, more confident, but it had also heightened his desire for her. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to take her in his arms, to kiss her senseless.

“Just for a few minutes… I want to know if Jace is alright.”

Cregan's eyes narrowed a bit at the mention of Jace again, but he tried to push the annoyance aside.

"Aye, a few minutes," he said, his voice a little gruff.

He took another long swig of ale, trying to calm his racing heart and his restless hands. He wanted to touch her, to pull her closer, but he knew he had to restrain himself. For now. She remained silent, self-conscious as Cregan drunkenly looked at her. Cregan's gaze lingered on her face, his eyes tracing the curves of her jawline, the slope of her cheeks. He was drunk, and the ale had made him completely forget about propriety and what was appropriate. He had never wanted anyone so badly in his life.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his words a bit slurred. "Can't take my eyes off you."

His hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. The skin was soft, as soft as he had imagined. He wanted to touch more, to explore every inch of her body. But he knew he couldn't, not yet. He needed to maintain some semblance of control, no matter how difficult it was with the ale coursing through his veins.

“Thank you, my lord… perhaps you can keep your hands to yourself?” she smiled as she pulled away.

Cregan's hand froze in mid-air, hovering a few inches from her face. He felt a pang of disappointment as she pulled away, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he had overstepped.

"Aye," he muttered, dropping his hand back down to his lap. "Forgive me, Lady. I’m afraid the ale has made me a bit… forward."

“It’s fine…” she sighed.

Cregan took another gulp of ale, trying to steady himself. He had come on too strong, too fast. He should have known better, but the alcohol and the desire he felt for her had clouded his judgment. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow exhale.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, his voice sounding a bit more clear now. "I just… I can’t stop thinking about…"

He trailed off, his eyes roaming over her face again.

“Please don’t be inappropriate again…but it’s alright... just not again.”

Cregan nodded, realizing that he was once again overstepping his bounds. The ale was still coursing through his veins, making it difficult to think clearly, but he tried to rein in his impulses.

"Aye, I understand," he said, his eyes downcast. "I’m sorry for being so forward."

He took another sip of ale, trying to control his trembling hands. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, to feel her skin under his fingers, but he knew he should keep his distance.

“I must remind you that I am to be wed to the prince…” she spoke.

Cregan's expression darkened at the mention of her betrothal to Jace. He had nearly forgotten about that for a blissful minute. He clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his tankard. He knew he had no claim on her, no right to harbor feelings for her.

"Aye, I’m aware," he said, his voice gruff. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting you."

Cregan realized his slip too late. His words had been more honest than he had intended, and he saw the look of surprise in her eyes. He stared down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly. It was all so damn frustrating. He wanted her so badly, but he knew he could never have her.

"It's not fair," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then, the doors opened, revealing a rather happy-looking Jacaerys.

“My loooove,” he sang out, clearly tipsy enough to miss the tension.

Cregan's heart sank as Jace burst into the room, looking all too cheerful. The sight of him only served to fuel the fire of his jealousy.

He watched as Jace sauntered over to her, his arm wrapping around her waist possessively. Cregan clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he fought the urge to punch the other man in the face.

He noticed how immediately relaxed Aelyria looked…

“My dear. How’d it go?” She smiled again, the tension from her face disappearing slightly.

Cregan watched as Aelyria leaned into Jace's embrace, her body relaxing against his. He could see the affection in her eyes as she looked at him, and it made his heart twist with jealousy. He took a long gulp of ale, trying to calm his racing heart and his growing anger. But it was difficult to ignore the pang of jealousy that stabbed through him every time he looked at them together.

"It went well," Jace replied, his voice a little slurred from the ale. "Everything is all sorted out."

He tightened his arm around Aelyria, pulling her closer to him. Cregan couldn't help but notice the possessiveness in the gesture, and it only fueled his jealousy more.

Cregan's grip on his ale tankard tightened as he listened to their playful banter. He could feel his jealousy growing stronger with every word. He wanted to be the one she was laughing with, the one she was leaning into.

“Did the kids make you drunk?” She giggled.

Jace chuckled. "A little bit," he admitted, his voice still slightly slurred. "They were relentless in their drinking games. I had no choice but to join in."

Cregan's grip on his ale tankard tightened as he listened to their playful banter. He could feel his jealousy growing stronger with every word. He wanted to be the one she was laughing with, the one she was leaning into.

“Come… we should go upstairs.”

"Aye, good idea," Jace agreed, his arm still securely around her waist.

Cregan watched as the pair prepared to leave the room, his heart sinking lower with each passing moment. He knew he had no claim on her, but it didn't make the pain of watching her leave with Jace any less painful.

"Wait," Cregan blurted out, the word leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Oh yes— my lord, me and Jacaerys will be going upstairs now?” She spoke.

Cregan's eyes flicked between Aelyria and Jace, seeing the possessive way the other man held onto her. It only fueled the jealousy that burned within him.

"Aye," he muttered, his voice low. "Go on then."

He couldn't bring himself to protest further, knowing it would be pointless. He watched as they turned to leave, his heart heavy with unfulfilled desire.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?”

Cregan forced a tight smile onto his face, trying to hide his jealousy and hurt.

"Aye," he replied, his voice gruff. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched as they left the room, his eyes following them until the door closed behind them. He was alone now, with only his jealousy and unrequited feelings to keep him company.

He could only imagine what the two will be doing tonight… and he gripped his tankard so hard the wood chipped at his nails.

Cregan's mind began to race with images of Jace and Aelyria together, in each other's arms, in a tangled web of limbs and desire. The thought only made the jealousy and anger burn hotter in his chest. He took another long swig of ale, trying to drown out the images and the unwanted thoughts in his mind. But even the strong ale couldn't completely erase the pain and longing in his heart.

He threw the tankard across the room. The tankard hit the wall with a loud thud, sending splinters of wood and droplets of ale flying everywhere. Cregan sat there, breathing heavily, his body tense with anger and frustration. He clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms.

The sound of the shattering tankard echoed through the room, Cregan runs a hand through his hair… “fuck.”

All photos sourced through Pinterest, dividers made by @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter, Series Masterlist, Next Chapter (coming soon!)

Taglist (reply and @ to be added!): @nsr-15 @beebeechaos @bbygrlxaden

[wandering-winchesters]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Darkest Night- The reader loses someone close to her, Dean is close for comfort

Hunt Gone Wrong - The reader is injured while on a hunt, but doesn’t want the boys to know. Considering it should have been an easy hunt.

Not A Demon In Hell - The reader is taken by a Djinn, follows Dean as he does everything in his power to get her back. 

If this is how I go, it’s worth it - the reader is injured saving Dean. 

Please don’t shut me out  - the reader deals with depression and anxiety, Dean seeks to help her. 

Crossroads, Crossroads II, Crossroads III- (SPOILERS) Based around the time period of Season 2, when Dean makes a deal with the crossroads demon. The reader finds out that he made a deal, and what follows.

Nightmares-The reader has a nightmare and Dean is there to wake her. After, he questions what caused the nightmare. 

A Million Times More- The reader and Dean make a pit stop on the way back from a hunt, will their true feelings finally be revealed? 

Bad Feeling-The reader has a bad feeling about a hunt, the boys ignore it and she gets hurt.

Burning Up - the reader is sick and Dean takes care of her. Lots of fluff. 

The Mark Of Cain - Dean has the mark of cain, and Y/N is normally the one who can calm him. However, this time things go too far. 

Down Range- The reader is new to hunting and Dean takes her to learn how to shoot.

Premonitions- The reader has always had visions, but now they’re changing and causing her physical harm.

Not Yourself- The reader has been feeling off, ever since a nasty encounter with a demon.

Who Did This To You? -Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out?

Tragedy -The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured.

Hopeless - The reader can feel her depression creeping back in and eventually seeks comfort from Dean, who greets her with open arms.

When the Storm Clouds Rolls in- On a particularly hard day, the reader relies on Dean for comfort.

Haunted- the reader gets ghost sickness

Do It- The reader is taken captive and has given up hope of being rescued or escaping. Yet when Dean does appear, his life is the one at stake.

Don't Push Your Luck- After a bad argument with Dean, over the reader putting herself in danger, another hunt goes wrong. Will there be time to reveal the feelings that lie beneath the anger?

Grief- The reader loses her grandfather and eventually seeks comfort from Dean.

Take Me Back- Based on the song, The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Letters- Love Letter from Dean

A Calm in the Storm- When the world feels like it’s closing in, Dean is there to pull you back from the edge.

Steady Hands- When the weight of the world becomes too much, Dean is there to hold you together.

Breaking the Walls- Dean struggles with his growing feelings for you, battling the fear of letting you in while also being terrified of losing you.

The Weight of Darkness- In the midst of depression's grip, Dean's presence offers a glimmer of hope and the promise that you don't have to face it alone.

Under the Stars- you share a quiet, intimate moment in the woods, where a simple hand-holding leads to a deeper connection under the starry night sky.

A Moment too Late - A hunt goes wrong, leaving you seriously injured and Dean grappling with guilt. But through it all, the bond you share only grows stronger as you both fight through the pain and recovery together.

Comfort in the Dark- Dean Winchester seeks solace in your embrace during a vulnerable night.

Reunited - After days of fear and separation, you reunite with Dean.

When the Line is Crossed-What was supposed to be a simple night at the bar turns dangerous, but Dean steps in to protect you when it matters most.

A Cold Night's Warmth -On a freezing night after a hunt gone wrong, Dean Winchester quietly offers comfort

After the Battle - After a grueling hunt, you and Dean share a rare moment of closeness.

No Room for Blame- After a hunt leaves you injured saving Sam, a tense and emotional ride back to the motel forces Dean to confront his fear, anger, and the unbreakable bond between the three of you.

Unspoken Feelings - What started as simple, comforting snuggles between friends gradually deepens into something more

A Desperate Moment I, A Desperate Moment II -After a life-threatening hunt, Dean, overwhelmed by fear and desperation.

Sleepless Confessions- In the stillness of the bunker’s kitchen, a sleepless night turns into a tense, unspoken confession between you and Dean.

Wreckage- The things you see as Dean is taken by the hell hounds.

[vilentia]

Dark Charms

David McCall x reader

In the dimly lit ambiance of a downtown bar, the air was thick with the murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. You were there, nestled between your two best friends, Sarah and Mike, unwinding after a long week. The atmosphere was lively, the kind of place that promised forgotten worries and fleeting joys.

That night, the bar wasn't just a backdrop for casual drinks; it was where paths were destined to intersect. Sarah, ever the spontaneous spirit, was caught up in a complex situationship with a guy named Chris, who, as fate would have it, was a friend of David McCall.

David, a name you hadn't known until that night, would soon etch itself into your memory. He walked in with the kind of confident stride that turned heads, a magnetic pull in his step. His eyes found Sarah and Chris, and subsequently, you. There was an intensity in his gaze, a silent promise of something more, something deeper.

You noticed him immediately. He was undeniably attractive, with a charm that seemed to seep through the very air he breathed. When introductions were made, his hand lingered in yours a second longer, his smile a little too knowing, a little too intrigued. It was disarming, the way he looked at you, as if he could see past the facade we all wear in social settings.

As the night progressed, David's attention was unrelenting. He was charming, his words laced with an edge that was both exciting and unnerving. He shared stories that made you laugh, then think, then question. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, his presence a catalyst for a rush you hadn't anticipated.

You found yourself drawn into his orbit, captivated by the duality of his persona. On the surface, he was all charm and wit, but beneath that veneer, there was a darkness, an untamed intensity that you couldn't quite decipher. It was both a warning and an allure, a paradox that intrigued you.

Your friends noticed the chemistry, a mix of concern and curiosity in their glances. Mike's protective nature was evident, his eyes often flickering between you and David, assessing, calculating. But the night belonged to the unexpected, to the thrilling unknown.

As the bar began to empty, the reality of time creeping back in, David leaned in, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "Would you like to go out with me?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

It was a simple question, but loaded with possibilities, with the promise of exploring the enigma that was David McCall. You were at a crossroads, with the safe path on one side and the allure of the unknown on the other. And in that moment, you realized that you wanted to know more, to peel back the layers of this intriguing stranger.

Your "yes" was a whisper, a concession to the curiosity that David had ignited in you. As you left the bar, the night air felt different, charged with the potential of what was to come. David McCall was no ordinary encounter, and you, perhaps against your better judgment, were ready to delve into the mystery.

[herrscherofinsanity]

Claiming Hearts

Summary: 4 times Jimin gets jealous and 1 time she actually does something about it.

Fluff? I honestly don't know

Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem!reader

Word count: 1.9k

___________________

Flowers

Jimin lingered by the school entrance, her gaze fixated on you, engaged in a conversation with a classmate. As the conversation progressed, a figure approached the girl Jimin had been staring at, flowers in hand, and a warm smile that ignited a pang of jealousy in Jimin's heart.

The vibrant petals seemed to dance in the air, capturing your attention as you graciously accepted the bouquet. Jimin's grip on her textbooks tightened, her knuckles turning white as she fought the internal battle of unspoken emotions.

"Flowers," Jimin thought, her mind echoing with unvoiced feelings. "Does she know how many times I've wanted to bring her flowers, to express what I feel?" The realization stung, a poignant reminder of the hesitations that had kept her from revealing her true emotions.

Amidst the sea of emotions, Jimin remained hidden, an observer to a scene that fueled the flames of longing within her. The laughter and camaraderie around her seemed to fade as she grappled with the ache of unspoken words.

Eventually, you bid farewell to your admirer, the flowers cradled delicately in your arms. Jimin, hidden in the shadows, watched as you disappeared around the corner. A sigh escaped her lips, a mixture of resignation and determination.

"I can't keep hiding," Jimin mused, resolving to confront the emotions that stirred within her. The path to expressing her feelings lay ahead, and with a determined stride, she ventured into the realm of vulnerability.

With the flowers as a poignant memory, Jimin set forth on a journey to unveil the truth hidden within her heart.

--------

2. Party People

The pulsating beat of music reverberated through the crowded room as Jimin navigated the sea of partygoers. Spotting you amidst the lively gathering, she couldn't help but marvel at how the ambient lights played on your features, casting a captivating glow.

However, the enchanting moment was abruptly interrupted. Jimin's eyes narrowed as she noticed a line of eager dancers forming around you, each extending an invitation to share a dance. The realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind, unsettling and stirring the familiar sensation of jealousy within.

Jimin observed from a distance, her fingers subtly clenching and unclenching as she contemplated the scene. The rhythm of the music seemed to synchronize with the erratic beats of her heart. It wasn't just about dancing; it was the idea of someone else encroaching on the intimate space Jimin yearned to occupy.

"Does she enjoy their company more than mine?" Jimin questioned, jealousy whispering doubts that lingered beneath her calm exterior. She wrestled with the conflicting emotions, the desire to join the dance battling with the fear of facing a truth she might not be ready to confront.

As the party continued to pulse around you, Jimin found herself at a crossroads. Should she step into the dance, embracing the opportunity to be close to you, or should she retreat and grapple with the jealousy that threatened to consume her?

The music carried on, echoing the unspoken sentiments that lingered in the air.

---------

3. Seating Arrangement:

The lecture hall buzzed with the hum of conversations as students settled into their seats. Jimin, ever attentive to your presence, scanned the room. Today's lecture seemed to hold an unexpected twist as Yunjin, a fellow classmate, approached you, saving you a seat next to her.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of discomfort settling in. The proximity of another person occupying the space Jimin had come to consider her own ignited a spark of jealousy. The seat next to you had always been Jimin's unspoken refuge, a silent agreement that transcended the need for words.

"Does she not want to sit with me?" Jimin pondered, the green-eyed monster whispering doubts that clawed at the edges of her composure. The internal struggle intensified as she debated whether to approach and stake her claim or to maintain a facade of indifference.

The choice lingered in the air, a silent challenge to confront the feelings that danced beneath the surface. Jimin, caught between the desire for closeness and the fear of rejection, watched as you settled into the newly claimed seat, the distance between you magnified by the invisible barrier of unspoken emotions.

As the lecture began, the unoccupied seat next to Jimin echoed with the weight of unexpressed sentiments. The dynamics of your connection seemed to shift, leaving Jimin grappling with the unforeseen challenge of redefining the unspoken bonds that had once held you two close.

-----------

4. Three’s a crowd:

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across the campus grounds as you and Jimin prepared to embark on your usual journey home together. It was a ritual you both cherished, a moment of solace amid the bustling routine of academic life.

However, on this particular day, a sudden addition to your duo caught Jimin off guard. As you stepped out of the campus gates, you casually invited Yeji, another one of your friends, to join you on the walk home. The unexpected intrusion ignited a spark of jealousy within Jimin, a flicker of discomfort at the prospect of sharing a cherished routine.

"Why would she invite someone else?" Jimin questioned, the unspoken fear of being replaced gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. The dynamics of your friendship, built on the foundation of shared moments, seemed to shift beneath the weight of unforeseen circumstances.

Jimin navigated the sidewalks in silence, her gaze occasionally flickering towards you and your unexpected companion. The trio moved through the fading daylight, the echoes of shared laughter laced with the unspoken tension that lingered beneath the surface.

The once familiar path felt different, Yeji’s unwanted presence casting a subtle shadow over the routine Jimin had come to cherish. Jimin, caught between the warmth of shared memories and the chill of uncertainty, pondered the significance of this unexpected company on the journey home.

----------

5: Taking matters into my own hands

Jimin strode through the bustling hallway, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of her footsteps. The day had taken an unexpected turn as she witnessed Nayeon, a senior known for her charm and confidence, approach you with an invitation that hung in the air like an impending storm.

"This can't go on any longer," Jimin determined, her gaze narrowing as she reached the precipice of her own internal struggle.

Without hesitation, she closed the distance between you, a surge of determination guiding her actions. The sight of you engaged in conversation with Nayeon fueled Jimin's resolve. She couldn't stand by any longer, watching others vie for the affections of the one who held her heart.

"y/n," Jimin's voice cut through the ambient noise, drawing your attention. Startled, you turned towards Jimin, your eyes widening at the urgency in the other girl's expression.

"We need to talk. Now." Jimin declared, seizing your arm and guiding you away from the curious gazes that lingered.

Confusion etched across your face as Jimin led you to an empty classroom, the door closing behind both of you with a resounding click. The confined space amplified the tension, setting the stage for a confrontation neither of you had anticipated.

"Jimin, what's going on?" you questioned, concern furrowing your brow as you faced the visibly distressed taller girl.

Jimin, her emotions teetering on the edge of revelation, took a deep breath. The floodgates of unspoken truths were about to open, and she could no longer suppress the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume her.

"I can't do this anymore, y/n," Jimin admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and longing. "I can't stand by and watch other people try to win you over when all I want is to be the one who makes your heart race."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as you absorbed Jimin's words, the gravity of the revelation settling between you two. The silence that followed was shattered by the weight of unspoken emotions.

In a vulnerable confession, Jimin laid bare the feelings that had tormented her. "I'm in love with you, y/n. I can't keep pretending that it doesn't hurt to see others vying for your attention."

The revelation hung in the air, a precipice between friendship and something more profound. You felt your own emotions surfacing looking up at Jimin with a mixture of surprise and realization.

"I... I had no idea," you whispered, your own confession echoing in the hallowed silence. "Jimin, I'm in love with you too."

The moment of revelation hung in the air, a delicate dance of vulnerability and acknowledgment. As you confessed your reciprocated feelings, a radiant smile illuminated Jimin's face, eclipsing the shadows of uncertainty that had lingered for too long.

With unabashed joy, Jimin surged forward, enveloping you in an exuberant hug. The confines of the classroom echoed with laughter and the lightness of newfound understanding. Jimin couldn't contain the whirlwind of emotions that cascaded through her, and in a burst of unrestrained elation, she twirled you around, your laughter intertwining like a melody that resonated with the cadence of shared affection.

"I can't believe we both felt the same way," Jimin exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with unbridled happiness. "y/n, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

You gave Jimin the brightest smile she had ever seen, caught in the whirlwind of emotion and the newfound revelation, your eyes reflecting the shared joy between you. "Of course, Jimin. I'd love to go on a date with you."

----------

Bonus: Mine

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the school courtyard as students meandered through the scattered clusters of conversation. You and Jimin, now blissfully entwined in the magic of newfound love, strolled hand in hand. Yet, amidst the tranquil atmosphere, a familiar figure approached from the periphery.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed Nayeon making her way toward you, a seemingly innocent smile adorning her features. A pang of protective jealousy surged within Jimin, prompting her to take swift action.

With a determined stride, Jimin intercepted Nayeon just as she reached you. Ignoring the subtle surprise in Nayeon's gaze, Jimin wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you close. In a bold declaration, Jimin pressed a gentle yet possessive kiss on your lips, the embodiment of claiming what was rightfully hers.

A chorus of whispers and gasps rippled through the onlookers, and Jimin, slightly flustered by her own audacity, glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "Just making sure everyone knows you're taken," Jimin teased, her eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and genuine affection.

Amused by Jimin's impromptu display, you chuckled softly. "Jealous much?"

Jimin blushed, feigning innocence. "Me? Jealous? Never," she replied, her voice layered with a hint of mock defensiveness.

The newfound couple, caught in the orbit of this unexpected spectacle, exchanged glances and knowing smiles. Jimin, triumphant in her quest to ward off potential suitors, and you, reveling in the endearing quirks of your girlfriend, continued your journey through the school courtyard, hand in hand, your love story etched in the tender moments that unfolded with each shared step.

And so, in the glow of the fading daylight, you and your girlfriend embarked on a journey filled with laughter, love, and the sweet anticipation of a future painted in the hues of your intertwined hearts.

____________________

A/N: Hi, hello! The following 5 weeks might actually be the death of me, but oh well. I hope you enjoy this work, and also, thank you so much for reading!

[velieditss]

A life for a life

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Cw: Explicit description of abuse (Not from Aemond to reader) grief, bad dreams of Lucerys death (I mean I cried at that kid like I had birthed him, raised him, and paid for all his bills)

Summary: Once, you were a betrothed, but now, you are a widow and a prisoner. Yet, it seems the regent prince has set his sights on you, a gaze that, in truth, was always there, watching you from the shadows. But only now, at this crossroads in your life, does he feel empowered to claim you as his own.

You were the only one who stayed behind when your family returned to Dragonstone. Your only desire was to keep Helaena company, the only one among the king and queen's children with whom you had formed a bond, a fragile thread of affection in a court where alliances were often brittle.

But you didn’t heed her warning—or perhaps you simply didn’t understand it.

“Leave, or he will claim you,” she had whispered, her voice trembling with an urgency that you failed to grasp.

You certainly didn’t understand.

That very night, your grandfather, the king, died.

You were asleep when it happened, blissfully unaware, only to awaken to a silence so profound it was deafening. No one came to inform you, and when you tried to leave your chambers, you found the doors barred, locking you inside.

It became clear that only one person had remembered your existence when food and water were delivered to you. Desperate for answers, you questioned the servant, only to learn that your grandfather had passed, Aegon had been crowned king in your mother’s stead, and your betrothed, Prince Lucerys, was dead. How, or why, no one would tell you.

Devastated, the full weight of your captivity settled upon you. You long to stop dreaming. You implore the gods that you could cease to dream. You are so exhausted; all you yearn for is sleep. You want to sleep all day, from dawn until twilight, which every evening arrives a little earlier and with a touch more gloom. During the day, all you do is think about sleeping, about him. But at night, all you do is try to stay awake.

All day you keep your face smiling like a mask, smiling, smiling, your teeth bared, your eyes bright, your skin like stretched parchment, paper-thin. You keep your voice clear and soft, you speak words without meaning, and sometimes, when necessary, you even sing. At night you fall into your bed as if you were plunging into deep waters, as if you were sinking into the depths, as if the water were possessing you, taking you like a mermaid, and for a moment you feel a deep relief, as if, submerged in water, your sorrow could drain away, as if it were the Gods eye river and the currents could bring forgetfulness and carry you into the cave of sleep; but then, the dreams come.

You don’t dream of his dead–it would be the worst of nightmares to see your brother bleeding to death, to see him with the pale face typical of a lifeless body and soulless eyes.

You don’t dream any of this, and you thank the Gods for that mercy at least.

But you understood, that if anything he would have wished, it was that you would not live with grief and regret.

You were born a princess and you are the heir to a long line of courageous women.

Even so, you wept until sleep claimed you, and the days began to blur together, each more colorless than the last. You lost the will to eat, to care, for it seemed that no one cared for you. Only a servant came each day to help you wash, but even she never spoke.

Thoughts of escape flitted through your mind—knocking out the servant, or even throwing yourself from the window, the height be damned. But everything changed one night when they dragged you from your bed, giving you no time to comprehend what was happening.

They hauled you through the corridors with such brutality that your arms bore the bruises of their grip.

“What is happening?” you demanded, your voice quivering with fear. “Where are you taking me?”

The soldiers’ hold tightened painfully, making you wince. “The king wishes to see you, so keep your mouth shut.”

As you were led closer to the chambers that had once belonged to your grandfather, you sensed something was horribly wrong. Soldiers were dragging servants away, forcing them toward what seemed to be the dungeons, while you were marched in the opposite direction.

“I’ve done nothing,” you murmured, dread curling in your stomach. “I am a princess; you have no right to treat me like this!”

But your protests fell on deaf ears.

When you reached the king’s door, a cacophony of crashes and furious shouts echoed from within, as though the very foundations of the room were being torn apart.

“I’ll kill them!” a voice roared. “I’ll kill them all! Traitors and villains! How dare they attack me!”

The doors were flung open, and you were shoved to the floor at the feet of a figure who loomed above you.

“Your Majesty…”

“I am the King!”

You raised your head slightly to see Aegon, wild-eyed, smashing something in his hands—a relic of ancient Valyria that had once belonged to Viserys.

“I am the King!” he repeated, and it took several men to calm him, though his rage only simmered as he turned his gaze upon you.

“We’ve brought the traitor, as you commanded.”

A chill swept through you as your eyes met Aegon’s. The fury and madness in his stare made him unrecognizable, a stranger where once there had been a boy you had known all your life.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hauled you to your feet, his grip so tight it was as though he wanted to crush you with it. His eyes were wild, almost deranged.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” His voice was more of an accusation than a question.

You instinctively placed a hand on his chest as he backed you against the shattered remains of the sculpture he had destroyed.

“You sought revenge in the name of your bastard betrothed.”

You shook your head as his hand closed around your throat, squeezing until you could barely breathe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked out, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

"Aegon...!" you gasped, but he didn't release you. Your eyes locked with his, desperately trying to convey the truth. You had done nothing, you didn’t even know why he was blaming you. Of all people, he should know that you would be the last to harm them.

But his grip tightened, and as your vision began to blur, you started hitting his arm in a frantic attempt to break free.

With no one stepping in to stop him, you acted out of sheer instinct. You grabbed the nearest object and struck Aegon across the face with all the strength you could muster.

He released you immediately, and you collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching your chest. Only then did the others move, but not against Aegon—against you.

They seized you by the hair, dragging you to your feet, holding you so tightly that escape was impossible.

You were certain you would die there, but you resolved that you would not go down without a fight.

Aegon waved the others away, and without hesitation, he struck again. The blow was so fierce that it knocked the strength from your legs, leaving your ears ringing and your vision blurred. Warm blood trickled down your lips as you struggled to stay conscious.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you braced yourself for the next strike, but it never came.

Slowly, your hearing returned, and with it, your sight. You could make out distant voices—two at first, then more. You were dropped to the cold floor for a third time.

Raising your head, you saw a blurry figure holding Aegon by the throat. The darkness, combined with the dizziness in your head, made it difficult to identify who it was.

You wanted to take advantage of the distraction, to flee, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. You tried to stand, but the ringing in your head grew louder, preventing you from taking more than a single step.

“She is a traitor, and you dare defend her?” you heard Aegon’s voice, but you no longer cared.

You made a second attempt to stand, but this time you did not feel the ground beneath you. Instead, you felt arms encircling your waist with a surprising gentleness, a touch so unexpected that even he seemed taken aback.

When you looked up, you found yourself gazing into the face of the last person you ever expected.

“Aemond?” you asked, needing confirmation.

In the dim light of the night, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you clung to the one solid thing you had found.

“Don’t try to move anymore,” he said softly, “you’ll only hurt yourself more.”

He guided your arms around his neck and, with no effort at all, lifted you into his arms. You might have resisted, demanded that he put you down, that you retain some shred of dignity after all you had endured, but you were utterly exhausted. Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, and your spirit was shattered. For now, Aemond seemed to be the only one who showed even a flicker of care for you.

••••

You were the only good thing he remembered from his childhood. The only thing that made him smile, the only thing that made him feel human.

Like him, your dragon egg never hatched, but unlike him, you didn’t mind. And it was this indifference that made him begin to notice you. He admired the kindness, fairness, and awareness you displayed effortlessly.

When Aegon mocked him, you defended him; when your brothers teased him, you scolded them. And when the incident at Driftmark occurred, although you weren’t present, you were the only one who wept upon seeing what had happened to him.

You were also the only one who went to see him afterward, when everyone else walked away without consequence. You gave him something no one else did: a hug.

“You’re still handsome,” you said, gently brushing the spot where the stitches had been.

He couldn’t help but blush at your words. Although he pretended not to care, that wound had affected him deeply, just as so many other things had during his childhood.

“It was a fair trade. I lost an eye, but I gained a dragon,” he repeated, echoing the same words he had said to his mother.

You looked at him with sadness because, even though you couldn’t fully understand what he felt, it seemed to you that he repeated those words to convince himself that he shouldn’t feel pity for what he had lost.

“You’re allowed to be sad, you know?” you said, taking his hand and offering a faint smile. “I don’t really know what happened down there, or why my brothers reacted the way they did, or what you did, but... it’s not as simple as you make it out to be, and that’s okay. You’re human, Aemond.”

He remained silent for a few moments, and for the first time, he thought that if he were to cry in that moment, he wouldn’t feel judged but rather comforted by the love and patience you had always shown him. But he didn’t. Despite the trust he had in you, he didn’t want to seem weak in your eyes.

That was the last time you saw him.

But it wasn’t the last time you had contact with him. You always wrote to him and to Helaena, telling them about your daily life, about what made you happy, like the birth of your younger brothers, Aegon and Viserys, and the joy you felt holding their tiny bodies.

For a while, everything was fine. However, little by little, your letters became less frequent until one day they stopped altogether, which made him nervous. It was a feeling he didn’t understand, and it worsened when he found out that you continued to write to Helaena but not to him.

His confusion turned into fury, especially when, at the beginning of your silence, he sent you letters—initially short, barely a paragraph. But when he received no reply, he started sending longer ones, telling you about his day, trying to regain the attention you had once given him without directly asking why you had gone silent. One letter, two, three… ten. But there was no response.

So he stopped trying.

Then, you returned to King’s Landing to defend your brother’s legitimacy after six long years.

You saw him training and noticed how much he had changed. You felt the fear the servants displayed when he was near, how hard and enigmatic he had become. The boy you knew had disappeared, transformed into a man you no longer recognized.

He caught your gaze from below, and for the first time in his life, you looked away. You had never done that before; you always greeted him with a tender smile and warm eyes.

“Why? Why? Why?” he wondered furiously in his mind, as if you could answer him from a distance.

You were walking towards the throne room to witness Vaemond Velaryon’s petition when someone intercepted you, grabbing your hand and making you turn with a gasp.

You parted your lips slightly upon meeting Aemond’s cold gaze. He was much taller than you now, his face had gained firmer features, and the strength he had acquired was evident, perhaps thanks to his training. Even his skin had taken on a more bronzed tone from all those days outdoors. The patch covering his missing eye made him look even more imposing.

“Do I look like a criminal to you, or why are you running from me?” he asked bluntly, without so much as a greeting or an apology for interrupting you and grabbing you.

“We’re going to be late,” was all you said, trying to free yourself from his grip.

However, he didn’t let go, as if his hand on your wrist was a chain binding you to him.

You looked at him again, silently pleading with him not to persist. He remained silent, watching you with a depth that, for the first time, you couldn’t interpret.

Then he let out a short laugh and released you, causing you to cover your wrist with your other hand.

Your heart ached because, although you had sworn to keep your distance from him, you knew you were being unfair.

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, but you bit your lower lip, feeling the truth gnawing at you inside.

“Did you do it?” you asked in a whisper, turning back to face him.

He looked at you, not understanding.

“Do what?” You nervously fidgeted with your hands, a gesture he hated. He could find satisfaction in everyone else’s fear of him, but in you, and only in you, he despised it.

“Did you try to kill them?” you finally asked. “Did you try to kill my brothers? Is that why Luke attacked you with a knife?”

He clenched his hands into fists, connecting the dots. Was that why you had stopped writing to him? Why you were ignoring him?

You couldn’t bear to see how his face filled with a rage you had never seen in him before, a rage that sent shivers down your spine. You lowered your gaze, waiting for an answer.

However, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

He expected this from everyone, but not from you.

The only woman he had placed on a pedestal, the only one who had taught him that love could be given willingly, not out of obligation.

“Is that what they told you?” he murmured, struggling with an internal conflict that seemed to hurt him, even make him feel betrayed. “And you believed them?”

You closed your eyes, and seeing him like this made you begin to doubt your convictions.

However, Jace, Luke, even Baela and Rhaena, had sworn it to you on their lives. You knew that, of all people, Jace and Luke would never lie to you. So yes, your judgment was clouded by the oaths of the people you loved most.

“Then tell me, tell me what happened that day, tell me you didn’t break Luke’s nose and try to hit Jace with a rock.”

Silence seemed to flood everything like an overwhelming tide.

“They attacked me,” he asserted in a solemn tone, one that left no room for doubt or questioning. “All four of them came to attack me.”

He didn’t deny it, and that was the first thing you noticed.

“And why? Why would four children come to attack you?” You didn’t accuse him of anything, you simply asked, though you already knew the answer; you wanted to hear it from his lips.

“That doesn’t justify what they did to me,” he said, with an expression that broke your heart. Though you already knew, you had hoped your brothers were mistaken.

“No, it doesn’t justify it,” you responded. “But neither does it justify what you said to them, nor how you insulted them, because the moment that word left your lips, you insulted me too. The moment you struck them, you struck me as well. And when they hurt you, they hurt me too.”

You had to swallow hard to keep your eyes from filling with tears.

“I will never forgive what they did to you, and my heart breaks to see that the boy I once loved… suffered and changed so much, to the point where I no longer recognize him.” Your voice trembled as his eyes pierced through you, reaching the deepest part of your soul. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to them either.”

You sighed and took his hand.

“And they are my brothers… I had to choose.”

A tear slid down your cheek, one that carried so many emotions, so much meaning.

You let go of him, ready to leave him behind and head for your mother’s arms. You just wanted to reach her.

However, you felt a pull, gentler this time, less abrupt. One that forced you to face him again.

Then, something you thought impossible happened: in his eyes, you once again saw the boy you remembered, that boy with a sad but determined gaze, who tried to be strong, though he had a brave and simple heart. That boy who made your heart race, who made you want to see him day and night, the one who, despite the differences in your lives, always seemed to understand you.

And then, in an unexpected and overwhelming moment, his lips sought yours. There was no hesitation, no moment of doubt. It took you by surprise, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself responding with the same intensity. The air between you seemed to evaporate as the heat of his body enveloped yours.

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of unleashed passion and tenderness you hadn’t anticipated. Your hands, which at first had frozen in the air, moved of their own accord—one tangled in his hair, the other gripped his back, feeling the taut

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of overwhelming passion and an unexpected tenderness. Your hands, which had initially frozen in mid-air, moved of their own accord—one tangling in his hair, the other clutching at his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing.

Aemond kissed you with a fervor you had never known, as if each kiss was a confession, a longing, a broken promise he tried to mend with every brush of his lips. The need that enveloped you was so overwhelming that you almost lost sense of everything except him. His lips were soft yet firm, his breath warm as it mingled with yours, evoking in you a visceral reaction you had never expected.

Your lips moved in sync with his, responding with a passion that surprised you, a passion that seemed to come from the deepest part of your being. It was a kiss that spoke not just of desire but of all the unexpressed emotions, all the words that had never been spoken.

Then, almost painfully, you became aware of where you were, of the danger of being discovered. With a tremendous effort, you gently pushed him away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, the echo of his touch still vibrating on your lips.

You brought your hand to your lips, still feeling the ghost of his touch, unable to believe what had just happened. He looked at you, breathing heavily, his eyes darkened by a mix of emotions that pierced through you like lightning. For a moment, your heart hesitated, tempted to fall once more into the abyss that had opened between you.

But then, you heard voices approaching, reminding you of where you were and the situation you were in. Aemond seemed to realize it too, and his gaze filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper that you didn’t dare to name. In that instant, he had the impulse to demand, to claim you.

Even so, you knew you had to pull away, that you couldn’t allow yourself to fall deeper into temptation.

Without a word, you turned your back on him, ready to leave, though the truth burned in your chest. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen again, that you would turn your feelings for him into a cold, forgotten stone.

And it was all for one reason.

In the audience, when asked about the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra's children, King Viserys announced his consent for the marriage between Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra and Laenor’s eldest son, heir to the throne after his mother, and Baela Targaryen, Daemon and Laena’s eldest daughter. Likewise, following tradition, Lucerys Velaryon, the second son and Corlys’s heir, would marry you.

Aemond’s reaction was immediate and palpable; the fury burning in his eyes was visible in every fiber of his being. It was a fury born not just of frustration, but of disdain and the contempt he felt.

The sky darkened as if aware of the contempt, fury, and slight that the queen’s third son felt. A feeling that clouded his judgment the next day and led him to commit the gravest of sins, unleashing the consequences that would follow.

Masterlist

[interastical]

Another Phighting writing account??YAYYAYYAYAYAY

can you do yan!Subspace x former assassin!reader (reader is gender neutral!). The reader was from Blackrock but ran away and uhh Subspace kinda found them again.. oneshot please!

(I stole this request from someone because the other writer hasnt update for a while and I am in desperate need of fanfics.. thank youu!)

sorry for taking so long on requests! i've got a good handful in my inbox now and since i got a lot of my assignments out of the way, i can start working on these ahaha

requests are also still open! please feel free to send some my way in my inbox :)

aanyways, thank u for being so patient!!! here we go

tw - yandere themes, kidnapping, drugging, semi-realistic violence

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

♡ YAN ! SUBSPACE X READER ♡

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

Your life at BLACKROCK was -- to put it bluntly, a living hell.

Your entire life, all you ever knew from the moment you entered this world and were shipped off to that horrid faction, was violence, war, weaponry, and murder.

You were trained to hurt people. Hurt demons who dared try to question Blackrock. Those who tried to flee, to escape the freezing confines of the place.

Rules were strictly abided to at Blackrock. Make one mistake -- consider yourself a goner. The best outcome was you being thrown in prison, the worst outcome was being slaughtered publicly.

You were made to abide by the rules and silence those who made the smallest of mistakes.

Nobody ever thought you'd break the rules one day yourself.

So when you one day disappeared, having vanished off the face of the Inpherno, Blackrock believed you were a goner.

That was far from the truth.

You knew the ins and outs of the faction, making your escape was relatively easy -- a cakewalk.

As an assassin, you specialized in stealth, speed, and agility. Maneuvering past guards and treading through freezing cold blizzards did not falter your escape in the slightest.

And when you were finally out, taking a deep breath of the fresher, evenly temperature air, you believed to be in the clear, as long as you managed to keep a life of anonymity, what could go wrong?

And you were right -- everything was fine.

Until one day, when mindlessly watching a PHIGHT, you noticed a familiar face participating in the round.

Subspace T. Mine.

You felt your heart stop in the moment.

Back in Blackrock, the two of you hardly had any form of connection. Rarely spoke to one another, as the two of you were on completely different fields of work.

His rambles about discovery and science nonsense made no sense to you. His work partner - Medkit, seemed constantly annoyed by the guy's presence as well.

You always talked to Hyperlaser more often. You still occasionally met up with him and Katana to go out for drinks in Crossroads -- as Hyperlaser was your only friend from Blackrock who swore to keep your existence a secret to that awful, awful faction.

But you did always take note of how Subspace.. stared at you often, whenever the two of you did manage to encounter one another back in Blackrock.

You remember constantly asking him if he needed something, and he'd whip out some awful excuse, saying how he was just "focusing on something next to you" or "staring off into space".

Yet, he always did it often. It got on your nerves.

The guy was .. a little weird. It's no wonder you constantly avoided him.

But Subspace... knew everything about you. Unbeknownst to you.

He'd often send a Biograft to just .. watch as you worked in Blackrock. He was so utterly captivated by the way you'd wipe out any filthy traitors with a single swipe of your blade.

You were so.. powerful -- flawless, perfect.

Subspace wanted everything you had.

Subspace wanted you.

The way their blood would hit your face, your stoic expression unchanged at their screams and cries -- as you silenced them with ease.

He so badly wanted to talk to you. But he could never find the courage to do so, despite his greatness, talking to you was his only flaw.

Medkit was often forced to listen to his constant rambles about you, often tuning it out and focusing on crystal studies.

But oh -- did Subspace just want to bring you in, set you down and tear you open, digging around at your inner workings, watching as your blood would stain his skin.

He needed you.

So when you disappeared, Subspace was devastated.

His work became sloppy, slower, and his emotions became violent.

Medkit suffered the consequences of his outbursts.

Nothing was never enough. Not without you. He needed to see you again -- even if you were some lifeless, rotting corpse in the midst of a blizzard, or if you were out there somewhere, he needed to find you.

So when he felt eyes on him during a PHIGHT match that he'd found himself participating in, he turned his head.

And he saw you.

You looked different. Your appearance was different, but it did not change the fact that your face was the same.

He found you.

The match? Subspace didn't care about some stupid bux anymore. You instantly clouded his mind. Thoughts of you, your face, your skills, your expression -- everything.

He could hardly hold back the manic laughter bubbling in his chest, rising to his throat.

Subspace had found you.

And he wasn't going to lose you again.

Walking home to your apartment in Crossroads late that night was no unusual activity for you. After saying your goodbyes to Hyperlaser and Katana, you strolled down the empty sidewalk, your apartment building only a few blocks away.

The sounds of crickets in the distance, the soft breeze of the night and the lack of any demons around was rather peaceful for you.

Thoughts of seeing Subspace again had almost completely left your mind, the soft buzz of alcohol from drinking earlier had you a little more careless.

But the sudden rustle of a bush from not far behind you shattered the relaxation you were undergoing, as you froze.

As a trained assassin in the past, you had high reflexes. Any slight noise off in the distance; you were trained to take note of, and prepare to defend yourself.

The night grew still.

You swore you heard quick footsteps.

Multiple footsteps. Two people, max.

One sounded.. normal. The other sounded heavier.

Something wasn't right here.

You quickly took a few steps back, not taking your eyes off of the bushes behind you, your dominant hand moving to reach for your gear so that you could summon it--

You were suddenly yanked backwards by cold, rough, metallic hands wrapping around your waist, locking your arms to your sides.

It wasn't a demon's skin that you felt from your assailant.

" TARGET ACQIRED. "

You knew those voices.

Biografts.

A Biograft was holding you still.

" PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RESIST. "

You ignored the bucket of bolts, slamming your head back onto the robot's in hopes to damage it enough for it to loosen its grip, allowing you to escape.

As you felt the arms around you begin to loosen, a figure suddenly ran in front of you.

You felt a sharp pinch in your neck.

You screamed.

Not out of pain, you were trained to have a high pain tolerance.

But you weren't an idiot. You were clearly getting kidnapped -- and you'd most likely just got some kind of injection.

A cold hand covered your mouth.

"..shh, shh." a familiar voice -- slightly muffled underneath a mask, spoke. "Don't scream, beloved. I only gave you a small pinch!"

The demon in front of you -- you recognized him instantly with horror.

Subspace.

You -- how -- he actually noticed you earlier?!

You noticed your vision growing foggier and foggier - your brain turning into mush as comprehending thoughts became harder and harder.

no no no no noononono

You felt Subspace move his hand away from your mouth and over towards your cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb.

"Don't panic." Subspace reassured -- his voice becoming quieter and quieter, sounding farther off into the distance as your consciousness was quickly deteriorating. "I'll take good care of you."

The last thing you felt was being slowly lifted up by the Biograft - and your world faded to darkness.

[talonabraxas]

Owl Witch Talon Abraxas

Hecate and Owls: Ancient Symbols of Wisdom and Mystery

In ancient mythology, Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic, crossroads, and the night, holds a mysterious and revered place. Often depicted as a triple goddess, with three faces representing the maiden, mother, and crone, Hecate is associated with the unseen realms, the moon, and the mystical forces of nature. One of the animals closely linked to this enigmatic deity is the owl, a creature that has captivated human imagination for centuries.

Owls have long been regarded as symbols of wisdom, intuition, and the ability to see beyond the veil of darkness. Their nocturnal habits and keen nocturnal vision have earned them a place in various cultures as messengers between the mortal and spirit worlds. In many ancient societies, owls were believed to be companions of goddesses associated with magic and wisdom, including Hecate.

The connection between Hecate and owls is deeply rooted in the symbolism they share. Owls’ nocturnal nature and their ability to navigate through darkness align with Hecate’s role as the goddess of the night and the underworld. The owl’s piercing gaze, often depicted as penetrating and all-knowing, mirrors the goddess’s wisdom and her ability to see through illusions. Additionally, both Hecate and owls are associated with crossroads, places where choices are made and where paths intersect, symbolizing the liminal spaces between worlds.

In ancient Greek literature, Hecate is often accompanied by a retinue of owls, reinforcing the bond between the goddess and these wise birds. Some stories even describe her sending owls as messengers to guide and protect individuals in their journeys through the darkness of life.

The image of Hecate and owls has persisted through history, inspiring art, literature, and spiritual practices. Even today, many modern practitioners of various magical traditions invoke Hecate’s guidance and the wisdom of owls in their rituals and meditations.

As symbols of mystery and enlightenment, Hecate and owls continue to intrigue and inspire, reminding us of the vastness of knowledge hidden within the shadows and the importance of seeking wisdom in the darkest corners of existence. Their timeless connection serves as a reminder that understanding and embracing the unknown can lead us to greater depths of insight and self-awareness. Just as Hecate guides travelers through the crossroads of life, owls illuminate our paths through the mysteries of the world, inviting us to embrace the magic that surrounds us.

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Ao3

These are all available on ao3 as of April 2024 (I had more but some fics/accounts weren't available anymore). Some require an account to view them. Some are likely crossposted on tumblr as well.

~TUMBLR RECS (iii) COMING~ ~Tumblr Recs (i)~ ~Tumblr Recs (ii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with "+" after WC are incomplete.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

OT7/Multi

☆ Scarlet Handprints by Risingstorm15 | Mafia AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Hybrid AU | Platonic OT7 | 17k

☆ I'm Not a Vampire (I Promise) by BBQKitten | Supernatural AU, Roommates AU | Platonic OT7 | 4k

☆ Make it Right by Eden (kurokimio) | Mafia AU | 175k

☆ Flux series by dailydoseofdia | Coworkers AU, Office AU | MYG + JJK | 65k+

☆ Break the Ice by minlouvre | Hockey AU | PJM + JJK | 46k

☆ Blood, Sweat, & Tears by dearprudencewithlove | Vampire AU | 750k

☆ Witchcraft series by fiar22 | E2L F2L Witch AU, School AU, Supernatural AU | MYG + PJM | 112k+

☆ The Snowball Effect series (collab) | 155k

Kim Seokjin

☆ {Unavailable}

Kim Namjoon

☆ Guilty by xJoonChildx | Mafia AU, PA AU | 17k

Min Yoongi

☆ Vows: aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart by hamsterclaw | Chaebol AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 60k

☆ From the Ashes by bangtanlove86 | Chaebol AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 48k

☆ Arranged Destiny by NunaWriter | Arranged Marriage AU | 21k

☆ Dating Advice by taleasnewastime | F2L Fake Dating AU | 54k

☆ The Arrangemint by Cassakane | Fake Dating AU, Neighbours AU | 9k

☆ and they were roommates (omg they were roommates) by JupiterJoon | Roommate AU | 10k

☆ Look down on me like that by heretobebtstrash | E2L Coworker AU, Office AU | 100k+

☆ The Email by itsallabouthedetails | Coworker AU, Office AU | 25k

☆ A Smartass and an Acutely Vulnerable Scenario by Slatternfemina | Uni AU, Coworker AU | 30k

☆ First Love, Last Love by ryenwrites | High School AU, Uni AU | 33k

☆ Melophile by thepencilnerd | R2L Uni AU | 43k

☆ Flightless Bird, American Mouth by orphan_account | Brother's Best Friend AU, Uni AU | 10k

☆ Matilda by lotuseaters | Brother's Best Friend AU | 140k

☆ If it's Love by tritchie2319 | Brother's Best Friend AU, Rapper AU | 19k

☆ Volume series by mintjoonlep | S2F2L Rapper AU | 87k+

☆ Countermelody by bonvoyage_noona | S2F2L Rapper AU | 100k

☆ Musk by Guessimaclotpole | S2L | 19k

☆ Any of ty_wl_95's one-shots, honestly

☆ His Angel by Nyleze | Mafia AU, PA AU | 72k

☆ Heartless by Ravendipity | Mafia AU | 175k

☆ Safety Pin by marchdahlia | Mafia AU | 38k

☆ Talking Bodies by bangtaninink | Pornstar AU | Minor Multi | 42k

☆ You Think You're So Tough by EvaMariee | S2L Stripper AU | 21k

☆ No Face by seokology | (Crossroads) Demon AU | 11k

☆ Ice Cold by mintedmango | E2L Supernatural AU, Krampus AU | 14k

☆ What is Written by Lu_luebells | Supernatural AU, Grim Reaper AU | 26k

☆ helLO pARADISE, mY NAMe IS by seokology | Greek Myth AU, Hades AU | 10k

☆ Owner Training by Ungnyeo | Hybrid AU, Roommates AU? | 27k

☆ The Velvet Devil by mxlia | S2L Vampire AU, Bar AU | 10k

☆ His First Love by Justimajin | Vampire AU, Reincarnation AU | 40k

☆ Please don't leave me by minhoneykisses | Established Relationship AU, Canon Idol-verse | 12k

☆ Blood, Sweat & Texts by JHopeissoOMG | Canon Idol-verse | 13k

☆ Willing Captive by JJ_daydreaming | Canon Idol-verse | 7k

☆ Rise of the Nation's King by Justimajin | Daechwita AU | 19k

Jung Hoseok

☆ Dalliance by sugalights | Established Relationship AU | 10k

☆ I Can't Betray You by Jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue | Mafia AU | 17k

☆ upbeat by fizzydrink698 | BFF2L Rapper AU, Uni AU | 12k

☆ an abundance of scrunchies by bluesxde | E2F2L Single Dad AU | 24k

Park Jimin

☆ Failure to Communicate by stutterfly + taehyungforreal | Uni AU | 21k

☆ Raise the Bar by DayStar | Vampire AU, Bar AU, Coworkers AU | 10k

☆ Married to a Playboy by Armygirl0616 | Arranged Marriage AU | 36k

☆ Never Falling by dailydoseofdia | Singer AU, PA AU | 20k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Not that good by taleasnewastime | Uni AU | 20k

☆ The Mob Boss Wants Forever! by ArielleWrites | Mafia AU | 45k

Jeon Jungkook

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[ophii]

slowly offers you my pjo ocs.... accept? all the info you could ever want (/j) about them below cut

in order of the images, l to r, up and down: 1) THE ONE, THE ONLY... JADE SINCLAIR!!! "she, daughter of witchcraft, will reap" ive got a lot to say about her.... 1. shes like the percy of my ocs, the new plaything of the gods after percy becomes an adult. she/they, 14 (12 at the time of her main quest), daughter of hecate, bi. REALLY good at magic and controlling the mist. i mean... shes a hecate kid, shes great at magic and can do almost anything

the little gem on her athame (the weapon) was given to her by her dad, which was given to him by hecate. it kind of forms paths for her while shes fighting, resembling the whole crossroads hecate thing... shes able to call upon hellhounds by whistling!!! her strongest magic is related to night/the moon, so dark magic, you could say. her fatal flaw is kindness, which might be surprising based on her looks and abilites. shes too trsuting, kind, and isnt a big fan of killing. also, alexeis gf!!! btw all of her super cool magic stuff (the paths, whistling, etc) has cooldowns

part of the quest trio also i wrote something for the first prophecy but technically its not a poem so??? does it count?? idk: When night falls, the child of magic must seek out a key. With a child of tricks and a child of sleep, She, daughter of witchcraft, will reap. Lunionem* in hand, a stone to guide, Follow the moonlight through the night, Down to Hades, and with friends to help set her right, She'll find the key and seal the fight. * her athame, which is a knife used in rituals!! 2) "a child of tricks" NATHAN "NATE" TRICKER!!! hermes kid, obvi... he/him, 15 (13 at time of main quest), bi. really good at manipulation, pranking, and tricking people (who wouldve thought?) gets compared to luke a LOT, as hes kind of a big brother to all the campers who are younger than him (he is basically a better luke tbh) he hates the comparison though (he didnt even know the guy!!!). nate's fatal flaw is feelings of inferiority. his sword is meant to represent hermes' caduceus and i probably spelt that wrong but whateva. part of the quest trio. 3) kiki, the latest one i made. she has no last name for now lol. dionysus kid, can instill madness into people. she/they/xe, 17, pan. not much to say about them tbh. fatal flaw is not taking things seriously lol 4) MY SON ALEXEI ARKWRIGHT!! hephaestus kid, got burnt lol SKILL ISSUE!! a nerd... he/him. hes 14, demiboy, ace, and omni. good at forgery, a bit skilled at sewing though thats probably not a hephaestus thing. jades bf (his failboy swagger captivated her). autistic and has ocd. everyone has adhd and dyslexia tho obvi. fatal flaw is hesitation. 5) "a child of sleep" PHOEBE DREMA!! hypnos kid, 13 (11 at time of mian quest), aroace, sapphic, she/her. can control dreams, hypnotize ppl, and can cause people to become eepy. narcoleptic, falls asleep super easily and isnt the best at fighting. HOWEVER, her fatal flaw is ambition/recklessness, as she loves a good challenge/fight. ALSO FUNFACT: her arrows are dipped in water from the river lethe, so when someone gets hit with them, they are both injured AND they forget where they are for about 10 seconds. part of quest trio

[boobo13cambridge]

I’ll Take Care of You | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: none just angsty and some passionate kissing

Summary: Kylian is feeling stressed as the news that he will not be extending with PSG comes out. He seeks comfort in you. 

A/N: Hello, everyone! When I got this request I absolutely adored the idea and wanted to get right to it. As always, please leave me feedback and don’t forget to reblog. I would greatly appreciate it. Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

The sun had long set over the city of Paris, casting an ethereal glow upon the Eiffel Tower as its lights illuminated the darkened sky. In the midst of the bustling city, a heavy atmosphere hung over Kylian Mbappé's lavish apartment. The young football prodigy, renowned for his incredible talent on the field, now found himself at a crossroads that weighed heavily on his heart.

Kylian had spent years with Paris Saint-Germain, captivating fans and leaving a lasting mark on the club. Since his arrival in 2017, he had steered his team to five Ligue 1 titles, secured three French Cup titles, and clinched the coveted Player of the Season award on four occasions. Yet, beneath the surface of success, a storm of discontent brewed within him. He felt betrayed by the club. He wasn't happy with the Mercato, he wasn't happy with the coach, and he was even less happy about practically being threatened by the president of the club that he would never be able to leave.  The project that they tried to sell him was all a lie, leaving him consumed by frustration. 

Paris was his home, his people, and his beloved city, and he never desired to depart its embrace. But his relentless ambition gnawed at his conscience, whispering that remaining stagnant would be a betrayal to the dreams of the little boy from Bondy who yearned to conquer all. The time had come to draw a line in the sand; he had reached his breaking point. Enough was enough.

As he lay sprawled on the couch, his gaze fixed upon the sprawling Paris skyline, an overwhelming headache descended upon him. It felt as though the weight of the entire world rested squarely upon his shoulders. The relentless media scrutiny only exacerbated his turmoil, incessantly hurling names at him and peddling baseless stories about his character (as if they even knew him), and practically harassing him on social media. 

He was just so tired.

The young French captain longed for your presence by his side, but fate had conspired against him as you were working until 6 pm that day. Gazing at his iPhone, he saw that it was merely 5:30 pm, and a sense of dejection washed over him. With a heavy heart, he decided to text you, hoping that he could somehow persuade you to leave early.

Kylian: bébé can u leave early?

Kylian: tu me manques 🙁  (I miss you)

You: aww mon bébé 🙁  (aww my baby)

You: ouvre la porte je suis là 😘 (open the door, I'm here)

Surprised and filled with a glimmer of hope, he swiftly rose from the couch, his anticipation mirrored by the chime of the doorbell. A small smile spread on his fatigued face, as he felt a fraction of the weight burdening his shoulders dissipate. 

Opening the door, he felt a sense of relief surge through his body as he saw your smiling face. 

"Surprise, Kyky," you said, winking at him. Kylian didn't know what had come over him, but he felt his eyes welling up with tears as he pulled you inside, enveloping himself around you as he kicked the door closed. His heart weighed heavy, and he struggled to control his sobs, burying his face in your hair.

Surprised, you wrapped your arms around him, gently stroking the back of his head. "Mon bébé, what happened? Are you okay? Talk to me, mon cœur."

Hearing your voice only intensified his tears. He yearned to share his innermost thoughts, to unburden his soul, but he found himself unable to articulate the complexities of his emotions. The past few days had been gruelling for him. People knew him as a confident, self-assured individual, seemingly impervious to the world's judgments. He felt they took advantage of that side of him and perhaps his confidence enraged them. He felt that it was unfair that they used that to vilify him at every given opportunity. This time the footballer just couldn’t take it anymore, he had reached his breaking point.

You were filled with worry. Never before had you witnessed Kylian break down in such a way. Even after the heart-wrenching moments of missing a penalty at the Euro or losing the World Cup in Qatar, his composure had remained intact. However, the recent news of his decision not to renew with PSG had evidently struck a nerve far deeper than anticipated. You knew people wouldn’t take it kindly but you didn’t think it was going to be this bad. 

"Shh, allez mon amour. Ça va bien aller. I'm here for you," you attempted to console him. Gently pulling back, you held his face between your hands.

The sight that greeted you shattered your heart into a million pieces. Kylian's face was flushed, his cheeks stained with tears. Seeing him in such anguish brought tears to your own eyes. "Ky...," you started, softly wiping away his tears with your thumbs. Shaking his head, Kylian pressed his forehead against yours.

"I can't do this anymore, bébé. Je suis tanné, putain," he cried, gripping your hips tightly, seeking solace and grounding himself in your presence.

"Je sais, mon cœur, je sais," you consoled him, gently guiding him to the couch as he lay down, his head buried in your lap. You caressed his head, your other hand soothingly rubbing his back, placing tender kisses upon his head as you whispered words of comfort.

Gradually, Kylian's sobs subsided, and he lifted his head from your stomach, wiping away his tears as you used a tissue to dab at his runny nose. "Let me get you some water, Ky," you attempted to rise, but Kylian shook his head. "Non, stay please... I just want you to hold me."

"Okay, bébé. Anything you want," you said, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "But please, talk to me, Ky."

Kylian was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, uncertain of where to begin. His emotions and feelings tangled within him, threatening to overwhelm him. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "It feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. Everyone has a fuckin’ opinion about everything I do. If I stay at PSG, I'm a fuckin’ loser who's ruining his career by staying in a farmer's league. If I leave, I'm a traitor who doesn't care about the club, only about money. I can't catch a break, bébé. No matter what I do, I'm always the bad guy, always painted as the fuckin’ villain in whatever fairytale they cook up every week. I feel suffocated, and on top of it all, I feel like a complete piece of shit for dumping all my feelings on you. I've been a shitty fiancé."

“Mon amour, don't say that. You are not a shitty fiancée and I want you to know that I love you so much. Secondly, I want you to talk about your feelings with me because that's what I'm here for. We're in this together bébé. We're a team, and I’ll always be here for you whenever you need me. As for the media, those assholes are just jealous because you’re this confident young man who’s so incredibly talented. They could never hold a candle to you, mon amour. Besides,  most of them are just a bunch of racist fucks.”

“I feel like no matter what I chose, people will still make me out to be a bad guy.”

"Bébé, you can't control that. At the end of the day, you have to make the best decision for yourself, and I'll be right by your side through it all."

You gently caressed his cheek, trying to smooth the lines of worry etched upon his forehead.

"Are you sure, bébé? I just..."

"Kylian, mon amour, mon cœur, ma vie. You mean the world to me. Your dreams are my dreams, and your happiness is my happiness. Wherever you decide to go, I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way."

Gazing into your eyes, Kylian's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. These past few years, sharing his life with someone as extraordinary as you had transformed him into the luckiest man to walk the earth. With every beat of his heart, he recognized that you were not just a partner, but the missing piece that completed his very being—the woman he had always yearned for in his wildest dreams.

In an instant, he surrendered to the intensity of his emotions, his hand instinctively finding the curve of your neck. With a gentle yet possessive grip, he drew you closer, erasing the space between your bodies. Their warmth melded, and the world around them faded into insignificance as their lips collided in a moment of fiery passion.

Time seemed to stand still as their mouths moved in a fervent dance, their souls entwining amidst the raw fervor of their connection. It was a kiss that transcended words, conveying depths of love that mere language could never capture. In that single act, Kylian poured his heart and soul into the embrace, a testament to the profound love and desire he held for you.

The taste of his lips, the electric touch of his hands, and the fusion of their breaths ignited a blazing fire within both of them. Each kiss carried an unspoken promise—a vow of unwavering devotion, a pledge to traverse any obstacle that lay in their path. In that fleeting moment, the world existed solely for the two of them, bound by an unbreakable bond that defied all logic and reason.

As you broke apart, your noses nuzzled together. "But, you know, now that you've decided to leave once your contract ends, maybe choose a city with better weather, oui? I absolutely refuse to have our future babies be born in a cold, rainy place."

A soft chuckle escaped Kylian's lips, blending relief with joy. "I was only joking, bébé. I'm not actually going to Manchester United or Liverpool. Don't worry your pretty little head, princesse."

"You better have been joking because there's no way you're dragging me to a whole new country and knocking me up in the frigid cold.”

“Oh, please. You love it when I do you raw, princesse.”

“ Oh yeah? I'll fly right back and give birth to your child in Marseille,” you retorted, cheeks turning red.

"Take that back, bébé. You're not allowed to say that. No child of mine is going to be a Marseillais."

Laughter filled the air, a melody of hope and love. In that moment, you both knew that no matter the challenges ahead, your bond with Kylian was unbreakable. Together, you would face the uncertainties of life, drawing strength from the unwavering support and affection you shared.

As the night progressed, you held each other close, finding solace in the arms of the one who mattered most. And in that embrace, you both understood that regardless of where fate led the brilliant Kylian Mbappé, love would be your guiding light through the storm, ensuring that the journey ahead brimmed with hope, adventure, and an unyielding bond that would endure forever.

[starlight-bread-blog]

What My Zutara Endgame Would Look Like

When people hear I want a Zutara endgame, the assumption is that everything will stay the same, except Zuko and Katara would kiss in that balcony instead of Katara and Aang. This is not the case. In actuality, the existing canon material would necessitate adjustments to accommodate such a divergence. I'd be remiss to demand something without explaining how to achieve it. Therefore, I must share a basic (or partial) rundown of my Zutara endgame.

(One might assume that it’s absurd to demand changes to justify a change, which is a very valid assumption I’ve pondered with myself, which is why I’ve written an analysis on the subject).

——————

The portrayal of a Zutara endgame would manifest as follows:

A\ang and Katara have been set up together since the very first season. What wouldn’t change would be the general structure and approach to writing their romantic developments, all of which will be elaborated on in their own posts.

1) In “The Headband”, for a moment, Kstara looks at A\ang with love. Additionally, she is shown to be jealous of him. These moments will be less explicit/toned down.

1½) At the end of “The Cave of Two Lovers”, Katara blushes. This will be removed. (However, it is not a must).

3) In “Boiling Rock Part 2”, Mai and Zuko have a conversation in Zuko’s prison cell before Zuko escapes. In this rewrite, Zuko would imply that once he will end the war, they could be together, which Mai would immediately reject.

2) In “The Crossroads of Destiny”, Aang emerges into the Avatar state before opening his final chakra. He’s still meditating, focusing on letting go of his attachment, is conflicted, and starting to float, but being shot down before letting go. (Additionally, he doesn’t say “Sorry, Katara”).

2½) In In “The Crossroads of Destiny”, Iroh says “perfection and power are overrated”. This will be removed.

4) In the ending of “Boiling Rock Part 2”, both Mai and Ty Lee are shown to have qualms about killing who was once their friends. Everything plays out roughly the same, except the (admittedly, iconic) line “I love Zuko More than I fear you” is replaced with a different declaration.

4½) In “The Southern Raiders”, Zuko says "You were right about what Katara needed". This will be removed. (But again, not a must).

5) In the ending of the play in “Ember Island Players”, Aang is reminded that he is yet to master the Avatar State.

6) In “Sozin’s Comet Part 2”, when the lion turtle drops Aang back on shore, Aang asks it about the Avatar State.The fact that Aang’s last chakra isn’t yet open is mentioned, and Aang sits down to meditate.

7) The show ends with A\ang and Katara having a moment realizing they are better off as friends and a small hint of a future relationship in canon that could take many forms. For the final moments of the show, everyone is on the balcony.

——————

It is important to address the changes required in order to make sure that they don’t interfere with other plot threads. Additionally,one must understand what I’m arguing for, or else my evaluation couldn’t be cogent. Only now that we're in accord, I can trurly delve into the captivating narrative of Zuko, Katara, and the untapped potential of a romantic entanglement between them.

[thisisnotthenerd]

misfits & magic ii stat tracking: episode 9

the spreadsheet, for all to see

we're so close to the end and yet have so much more to do.

some brilliant moves in this episode. delicious lore for those of us that love it. looking back on the start, it does feel like the structure of the adventure was achieved, but the detours along the way and shortcuts in between have made it a unique little story.

i have to shoutout a few things:

evan hitting a d20 in magic again after making and breaking a magic item

k summoning the jumpsuits to help with the orrery ritual

jammer leading the orrery ritual

sam summoning the skye serpent with a selfie

the ritual of names to abjure and free the serpent

sam bonding with the qohlye

the qohlye being a middle-aged black man and also a goat at the same time. the art looked like a demon of the crossroads.

this is the first episode in a while where no one has gotten hurt

as always, the tag is #mismag ii stat tracking if you want to follow along.

mechanical/lore notes:

the skye serpent was summoned against to protect the orrery originally, and bound for millennia to that purpose

the fundamentals of magic as we know so far: intention, material, performance, location. in ritual, each of these must be addressed in order to add power and will sufficient to the working.

spellcraft and ritual are distinct as workings of magic: spells are reactionary while ritual takes deliberate invocations of each aspect of magic. rituals involve bigger workings and thus involve more sacrifice and channelling of the magicks that exist within the world and that the user summons to their will.

the qohlye gifted a boon once before to the wizard bombini, who helped to found gowpenny and bound the tadeshacourt, among other workings of magic

the hoopty is now grounded and the pilot program is flying to the islands of their own volition.

island/creature tracking:

the gowcentric orrery tracks the funnels of magic to the well at gowpenny. the orrery functions to create a cistern of magic that could be drawn upon by those wizards that bound it initially and their subsequent societies--its dispelling will disperse magic through the world more evenly. great workings must follow the ancient principles in order to be accomplished.

galamanis, the blind hellbender of creation. feeds into the chaos. things can be drawn from the ether, and that which is brought forth may be shaped by channeling through the self or through the material that has been created. currently channeled by whitney jammer.

qohlye, the winged goat of divination. truth and all that it means, opening the eyes of the viewer to the world in all of its potential. but the things that exist there do not always want to leave. who takes human form to communicate. currently channeled by sam butler.

seegenpelater, the double headed camel of captivation. can convince the mind of anything and the body with it. but the doing of magic takes a great price, of destruction and violence, and the island will gild the edges so it does not feel as though the world has changed.

weugan, the inverted wolf of amplification. symbols that speak to the increase of extant energy, matter and system. the condensed amplification of magic bleeding across deadened ground. currently channeled by k tanaka

tadershecourt, the skull antlered bear of defense and depletion, who warns of the necessary fear of the capabilities of magic and draws away from that which exists. protection of the self and others, of mind and body and soul. the full aspect of which the tadeshacourt is a part. currently channeled by evan kelmp.

miskoro, the fish-tailed bat of transmutation. taking energy or matter and maintaining the amount and intensity, but changing its identity.

the skye serpent who surrounds these pillars of magic in the storm, who was summoned to protect the orrery from a plane long forgotten and bound for millennia. who was freed from a eternity of servitude by the pilot program in their improvised ritual.

character profiles:

whitney jammer:

items: familiar (spalding), broom, magic sock of tracking, band-aid, wings

motive: teamwork (+1) 2nd Progression

injuries: none

melee: d10 (+1)

mind: d6 (+1)

magnetism: d6

maneuver: d12 (+2)

matter: d20 (+1)

mettle: d10 (+1)

mark*: d20 (+1)

magic: d20 (3rd progression)

k tanaka:

items: familiar (teddy), self-contained server of amplification, shadow boon

motive: network (0) 2nd Progression

injures: none

melee: d6 (+1)

mind: d12 (+1)

magnetism: d12 (+1)

maneuver: d10 (+1)

matter: d4 (+2)

mettle: d20 (+2)

mark*: d4 (+1)

magic: d10 (4th progression)

sam britain:

items: familiar (terminator 2), broom, hoopty keys, avail oneselfie stick, shadow boon

motive: community (0) 2nd Progression

injuries: none

melee: d8 (+1)

mind*: d20 (+1)

magnetism: d20 (+3)

maneuver: d20

matter: d4 (+1)

mettle: d12

mark: d6

magic: d12 (2nd progression)

evan kelmp:

items: familiar (shadow), broom (pushbroom), backpack of holding, wingtip shoes, tome of nimble workings, wrench of fixing, britain's got magic pin

motive: belonging (0) 2nd Progression

injuries: none

melee: d20 (+8)

mind: d20 (+2)

magnetism*: d20

maneuver: d6

matter: d6 (+1)

mettle: d10

mark: d8

magic: d20 (4th progression)

[stellar-solar-flare]

hi! saw your reblog about the “fanfics that have a permanent place in your heart” and i’m just curious about what are the fanfics that you keep in YOUR heart. (also sorry if you’ve been asked about your fav fanfics before haha). bc for centuries is certainly one of mine btw!!

Oh no worries, I don't recall being asked this and also I'm always happy to shower my fellow creators with praise they absolutely deserve!

So it's probably no surprise to anyone but the fic (series) that has captivated my heart most is the Star Trek AU by my dear best friend, soul sister, and beta reader StarfleetStgMgr. Her Star and Dove (AO3, Chris Pike/OFC, mostly explicit) is not only the best and most mind-blowing fix it I've ever read but also one of the best romances ever. She's amazing and I have no idea what kind of crossroads demon she bribed to get this good at writing.

She also has multiple amazing Steve Rogers/Reader fics and I recommend all of them but the one that has stayed in my heart most has to be Keeper, (AO3, Explicit) which is a great Halloween read by the way, if anyone is looking for that! It's a story about love, healing, and battles we all fight - and a Reader who takes... quite an interesting job and meets an interesting gentleman. Lots of mythology elements and some horror elements and again, amazing romance.

I love @anika-ann's Steve fics, so again, I'd like to recommend so many, but the ones that I think about on a weekly basis are Anika's takes on Medieval Knight Steve in her two series, In The Name Of Duty and The Witch and Her Knight (both Steve/Reader and ranging from T to Explicit between the fics in series). Anika's Steve characterization is beautiful, and she writes great team dynamics and has a knack for inventing very Avengers-like missions in her non-AU fics! Links lead to AO3 but she's also on tumblr.

I very rarely read Blip/Endgame fics but @darsynia's Ephemera (Steve Rogers/Reader, Explicit)is so absolutely beautiful and even though it's been a long time since I read it the first time, it has stayed in my heart.

Recently, I've been beta reading for my writer friend @wild-typo-turtle - her The Rings Of Power fic Threads (Gil-galad/OFC, Explicit) is incredible and I'm enjoying it tremendously. It has one of the best OFCs I've encountered ever and the romantic soulmate aspect of the Elves is so well done. I haven't watched The Rings Of Power but I love Tolkien and especially The Silmarillion, and it's been wonderful to enjoy this take on the Elvish society and the war against Sauron.

Another recent discovery that I've been enjoying a lot is @steviebbboi's Steve Rogers/OFC longfic Red, (Explicit) which has another awesome OFC character and very well-handled themes of complex emotions and trauma, and a lovely (right now) budding romance.

There are so many amazing fics in the world but I made myself limit to the reply to the ones that have had the most profound effect on me. I have a tag 'Stella Recommends' on my blog, where you can write more of the stuff I've enjoyed! Thank you for the lovely ask.

[whumpitisthen]

Artificial guest

Cw: mentioned torture, creepy/intimate/possessive whumper daydreaming about whumpee, captivity whump, stalking, conditioning

They are lost in a foggy forest.

They are cold. They flinch at every sound, expecting a wolf or something to jump out at them. They are lost, so utterly lost. They have no idea how they even got here, having woken up under a tree with nothing but their winter coat and a narrow path leading deep into the misty woods.

They come to a clearing, eventually. There is a pond in the middle, similarly misty and foreboding. Past that pond, past the spruce and up a hill in the distance, they see a palace. It stands tall and lonely, all slim towers and pointed roofs; it reminds them of the shadow of a terrible beast of claws and wicked teeth, perched up high and surveying its territory.

Storm clouds are congregating overhead. They decide, with nowhere else to go, to see if the intimidating looking mansion has someone there that can help them out. If they could let them stay just as long as the storm lasts, that would be enough. They could give them directions, or even a ride. Some food — they are starving...

Unbeknownst to them, the owner of the palace watches them from afar, leaning up against a tree somewhere near the clearing, hidden by the fog and grey light preceding a deluge. They follow their guest, pleased to see them walking the path they had carved for them so perfectly. They will come across a crossroads a little bit from now, and they will have to choose where to go next. They may choose wrong, and end up lost once more. The tempest may catch them outside, thirsting them into a fever, a terrible cold.

By the time they arrive at their doorstep, shivering and small and weak, the owner of the mansion will be waiting for them. They will open up their doors to the poor thing, letting the warm air and the smell of a delicious feast dizzy them into a desperate hunger, a quiet need to enter. They might play around, act like they are suspicious of the lost lamb, think it over for a good minute; — their guest will surely beg to be let in. Their voice will quiver, their eyes will widen in terror at the prospect of having to spend the night outside, and they will beg, make promises of behaving, of not taking up their time for long, that they don't need anything just a roof over their head, just a little mercy.

Standing off to the side, hidden, they feel a chill down their spine at the pleasant thought.

And they will let them inside, of course. They will help them out of their dirty, torn, wet clothes. They will offer a warm bath, lend a bed to sleep, dinner to enjoy. Their guest will find it a little scary, all alone in such a huge, strange home with a stranger, but what other choice do they have besides freezing to death in the mud outside? They will be so sweet, so timid, quiet and unobtrusive. They will feel guilt for bothering someone like this, demanding them to let them in their home like this. They will go to bed — lie their head on their pillow, in their magnificent guest room, among the softest duvets, in a bed surely ten times the size of their own back in their own home, — feeling remorse at needing help, feeling like a burden, out of place, a nuisance.

Like they don't deserve good things. Like they have to make up for being useless, have to earn their mercies.

When day comes, they will wake slowly. Their clothes will be thinner, their stomach empty. Their bed will have morphed into concrete. Their wrists will pound with the force of their pumping veins, finding chains tethering them to the floor. Their hands will clasp around a metal shackle ensnaring that beautiful, toned throat, their pupils blown wide in the near pitch black of the dungeon, and then —

Then they will know. They will know fear. They will know helplessness, vulnerability. They will get acquainted with the way the air around them turns thin sometimes. They will recognise — if not right then, then a bit later on, — but they will recognise that they are trapped; truly, completely, hopelessly trapped. They will yell, and no one will come. They will scream, and no one will hear. They will beg, and cry, and sob, and keen — and the only one who will listen will be the kind stranger that let them stay.

They will come see them, of course. They will descend the long staircase leading down to their Hell, and they will tell them, simply, that they will be hurt. They will hurt, and they will hurt, and hurt, and hurt, until they know nothing but pain. Until their entire existence becomes agony; a trembling, uncertain, exhausted, meek little life between these four unforgiving cement walls, living at the whims of their saviour, their one connection to what was once a livable, if not pleasant life, with friends and family and things they knew, things that made sense.

They will see no one but their captor. They will hear no one but their captor. They will feel no one, but their captor. They will learn soon enough, a crushing, terrifying truth. The truth that their life has become their captor.

They will only think about them; they will not be allowed to have thoughts about anything else. They will only look forward to seeing them. They will live for the little moments in-between two sessions of suffering, where they are told they did well enough to receive dinner that day, for the proud, fond words of praise that humiliate and bring tarnished, disgusting delight at the same time, at the kind touches running down long healed scars and deep-purple bruises and bubbling burns, gently promising more, admiring the carnage and letting them know that the one person in the world that matters is pleased with their pain, and that they will return again soon to see more of it.

For late nights, where they will weep, brokenly, weakly, sweetly, into the embrace of their captor, their worst nightmare, the only one that cares, the only one that matters, and they will hush them, gently rocking them back and forth, keeping them warm, pressing a loving kiss to the top of their head, hair wet with sweat and blood, and hold them.

They will remind them of the day they became theirs. How they were allowed in without issue, even though they didn't really know how to beg yet. How they were allowed food, their own bed, their own room, a fireplace, a bath. How they took it all, so flustered and nervous they barely remembered to say thank you. How later on, once their cold had really shown its ugly, feverish colours, they were given things like medicine, a blanket, tea, painkillers... And not only had they refused to thank their captor, but cursed them out, too outraged and afraid to accept their generous gifts. They will remind them of the day they saved them, and their little lamb will cringe at the memories, curl up in shame, apologising every time, earnestly, for all their stupidity and ungratefulness, forever regretting ever thinking they were anybody but their saviour's little broken toy, a sweet little pet spending all their time waiting for their owner to return and play with them so they can earn their little mercies one by one.

Theirs. Hopelessly, utterly, irreversibly theirs.

Their guest has long disappeared into the fog, climbing their way up the hill, all hope and full of life. Perhaps it's time to return home. Set the fire. Fish out the fluffiest blanket from deep within the closet. Pick out replacement clothes in their size. See how the chef is doing with dinner. Make sure the chains downstairs are holding steady, the blades are all sharpened, the collar won't cut off too much air, the cement floor won't scrape at their delicate flesh too deep. Many things to take care of before their guest arrives.

They shiver in excitement. Finally, someone new to keep the dungeon warm.

<3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Taglist (tagged in everything I write): @morning-star-whump @whumprince

[scrimblescromble]

I've been thinking more about what the hell is actually happening with than

Mel has a voice line once moros joins them that goes smth like "now we have no less than three sons of nyx helping us", referring to charon, hypnos, and now moros

This tells us that than is 100% not helping them that mel knows of, and not that he's just away right now. Which is, of course, interesting, because you'd think that zagreus being held captive would make him very much angry, and we know hades didn't really have much power over him that mattered

So, than thoughts:

Just has to do his job, doesn't have much wriggle room to disobey or hurt kronos. Maybe doesn't want him to know about their closeness

Can't find the crossroads, either because it's protected, or because it's against his nature somehow

There does appear to be more to the story; nemesis accuses hecate of not warning nyx of the attack, and we know that eris is disobeying her. Maybe than also mistrusts Hecate. Mel was such a secret that he probably thought she was also captured. This implies nyx is also not telling him

Is also captured, in chains once again