#and saw a crown of stars appears

[faolonfiendrender]

People have probably done this one so have some below as well. ignore the background noise, my brother is playing games on voice call, and it is too hot to close my door.

poll time. yes this is just a ploy to get people to recommend me poems

if yes, let me know which poems/recite some for me in the tags!

[novaursa]

Valyrian Bride (Final Chapter)

- Summary: When your older brother, Jacaerys, promised you to Cregan to be his bride, the Lord Stark did not expect what he got - a trueborn dragon.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: continuation

- Next part: dragon eggs

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess @ferakillia

The dawn of their wedding day broke with a rare warmth for the North, the sky a deep, endless blue above Winterfell. Snow clung to the castle’s ancient stones, but the air was still, as though even the wind itself held its breath in anticipation. The entire stronghold seemed to hum with energy, its people gathered from every corner of the Stark lands to witness a union that had already become the subject of countless whispered tales.

Cregan Stark stood in the courtyard, the grey furs of his cloak draped across his broad shoulders, his usual starkness softened by the weight of the day. His heart, so often steeled against emotion, was lighter today, a sense of anticipation thrumming in his veins. He had faced battle, the harsh winters of the North, and the endless responsibilities of leading his house, but nothing felt quite like this. Today, he was not just Lord of Winterfell—he was a man about to be wed.

The courtyard was bustling with activity. Banners of House Stark and House Targaryen fluttered side by side, their sigils sharp contrasts—wolf and dragon, winter and fire. His bannermen, all garbed in their finest, stood near the towering trees of the godswood, while the castle’s women prepared the space for the ceremony that was to take place beneath the Heart Tree.

The great Weirwood loomed tall, its ancient face carved into the pale bark, its red leaves fluttering like the blood of old gods. This was where Cregan had wanted to wed her, beneath the watchful eyes of the gods of the North, and though she had been born to the faith of the Seven, the princess had agreed without hesitation. She was to become a Stark, after all, and she would take her place among their traditions.

The quiet murmur of the crowd hushed suddenly, as a figure appeared at the edge of the courtyard. Cregan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw her.

She stood at the threshold, wrapped in rich silver and deep crimson. Her gown was a marvel of southern craftsmanship, its fabric shimmering in the morning light like molten fire. The silver thread that wound through the delicate embroidery reflected her Valyrian heritage, its designs reminiscent of the ancient sigils of her forebears. Her hair, like strands of spun moonlight, was woven into intricate braids, entwined with tiny pearls and rubies that caught the light, making her appear as though a crown of stars rested upon her head.

And yet, for all the beauty of her attire, it was her bearing that stole Cregan’s breath. She moved with the quiet confidence he had come to admire, her violet eyes focused on him as though there was no one else in the world. There was no trace of nervousness, no hesitation—she was every inch the dragon’s daughter, proud and regal, yet today, she walked toward him as his bride.

The crowd parted for her, whispers trailing in her wake, but no one dared to speak aloud. Even Cregan’s bannermen, hardened men of the North, stood silently, as if afraid to disturb the moment. He heard the faint murmur of the word Valyria pass between them, a reminder of the ancient blood she carried, blood older than any in Westeros.

As she reached him beneath the Heart Tree, Cregan felt the weight of the moment settle over them both. She lifted her head, her eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. The godswood, the crowd, the banners—all of it was distant, insignificant. There was only her, and the promise they were about to make.

Maester Kennet, chosen to officiate the ceremony, stepped forward, his voice strong but reverent. “We gather here beneath the eyes of the Old Gods, to witness the union of House Stark and House Targaryen. Winter and fire, bound together.”

Cregan turned toward her, taking her hands in his. They were warm despite the cold air, her skin soft against his roughened palms. As they stood there, so close, he could see the faintest flicker of emotion in her eyes—a softness that she seldom let others see.

“I, Cregan Stark, take you, Y/N Velaryon, to be my wife,” he said, his voice firm but laden with meaning. “From this day until my last. I will stand with you, through fire and snow, through war and peace. I swear it before the gods, before my people, and before you.”

Her lips curved ever so slightly, her voice steady and clear when she spoke her vows in turn. “I, Y/N Velaryon, take you, Cregan Stark, to be my husband. I pledge my fire to your winter, my strength to your cause, my loyalty to your heart. From this day until my last breath, I will stand with you. This I swear before the gods, before your people, and before you.”

The words hung in the air, tangible and full of weight. Cregan felt them settle into his soul, binding him to her in a way that was more profound than he had anticipated. There was a finality to it, but it was not a burden—it was a promise he wanted to keep.

Maester Kennet raised his hands. “By the old gods and the new, I declare you husband and wife.”

Cregan didn’t wait for the maester to finish. He pulled her to him, his hands still wrapped around hers, and kissed her. It was not a show for the crowd, nor was it born out of any sense of duty—it was a moment just for them, filled with the raw certainty of the vows they had exchanged.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound filling the courtyard and echoing off the ancient walls of Winterfell. Cregan, for once, did not care who was watching. When he pulled away, the smile on his face was genuine, and for a moment, he saw a glimmer of the same emotion reflected in her eyes.

They turned to face the crowd, and as they walked through the throng, hand in hand, Cregan caught the glances exchanged between his bannermen and the ladies of Winterfell. His bannermen, who had known him since boyhood, seemed almost astonished by the expression on his face. They had rarely, if ever, seen him smile like this.

Later, the maesters would record that no one had seen Cregan Stark smile more than on this day, save for the birth of his first child with the princess. But in that moment, as they walked through the people of Winterfell, his heart felt as though it might burst with the weight of the joy he carried.

As the newlyweds entered the great hall, the feast that awaited them was grander than any Winterfell had seen in years. Tables were laden with food, goblets filled with wine and ale, and laughter already filled the room. But even amidst the celebration, Cregan’s focus remained on her—his wife.

He leaned in close, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “You make Winterfell warmer, princess.”

She tilted her head to him, her smile soft but knowing. “Perhaps it’s not just the fire in me, but the wolf in you.”

He chuckled, a deep, content sound. “A wolf and a dragon. We’ll see what kind of legends they make of us.”

“They will make legends of us, Cregan Stark,” she whispered. “That I promise.”

And as the night wore on, with the fire roaring in the hearth and the joy of the wedding spreading throughout Winterfell, Cregan knew she was right. This day, this union, would be remembered long after both of them were gone. And the legends would speak of the dragon that brought fire to the North, and the Stark who stood beside her, unflinching and steadfast.

The cold air of Winterfell’s courtyard bit at Cregan’s cheeks, the chill seeping through even his thick furs as he stood with his arms crossed, eyeing the great dragon Vaetrix. Her crimson scales glinted in the pale northern light, each one like a shard of polished ruby set against the stark white backdrop of snow. Even at rest, her massive wings were tucked tight against her sides, a vast stretch of membrane that flickered like flame when she shifted, the tips of her talons sinking into the frozen earth.

To say Cregan Stark was a man comfortable on solid ground would have been an understatement. He was born of stone and ice, a wolf bound to the earth, as much a part of the North as the walls of Winterfell itself. But today, as he stood beside his wife, watching the dragon’s great form settle before them, he felt that comfort slip away, like snow melting beneath an unexpected spring sun.

She had offered—no, insisted—that he take to the skies with her, on the back of Vaetrix. Cregan had held his ground through worse. He had fought battles, endured the harshest winters, but none of that prepared him for this. He could handle swords and shields, but flying? That was a different beast entirely. Quite literally.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, casting a skeptical glance at his wife, who stood beside him looking perfectly at ease, even amused.

Her silver-gold hair, tied back to keep it from whipping in the wind, gleamed in the cold sunlight. There was a mischievous glint in her violet eyes, and a faint smile played at her lips as she regarded him. “You’re not afraid of a little flight, are you, my lord?” she teased, her tone light but carrying just enough of a challenge to make Cregan’s jaw tighten.

He looked back at Vaetrix, the dragon’s head lowering to the ground with a snort that sent a puff of steam curling into the air. The dragon’s golden eyes—deep, intelligent, and unsettlingly aware—fixed on him with what he could only describe as amusement. As if the beast knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Afraid? No,” Cregan grumbled. “But I’d be a fool to not be cautious of flying on the back of a creature who could swallow me whole.”

She laughed then, a bright, musical sound that carried over the stillness of the courtyard. “Vaetrix isn’t interested in eating you. She’d much prefer a herd of sheep over a Northman. Too much wool, not enough meat.”

Cregan raised a brow. “Comforting.”

She placed a hand on his arm, her touch warm despite the cold. “Come, Cregan. You’ve fought in battles, faced down far worse than this. Flying will be nothing. Trust me.”

It wasn’t the flight that unnerved him, but the idea of relinquishing control. He was used to being on solid ground, where he could command his surroundings. The sky was unknown territory, one he had no desire to claim. But as he met her gaze, the playful challenge there mixed with something deeper—her faith in him, and perhaps a desire for him to share in her world. He couldn't refuse that.

With a deep breath, Cregan nodded. “Very well. I’ll fly with you. But if we fall, I’ll haunt you from the afterlife.”

Her smile broadened, and before he knew it, she was pulling him toward Vaetrix. The dragon lowered her massive form even further, folding her legs beneath her to allow them to mount. Up close, Cregan could truly appreciate just how enormous the beast was—her scales, tough and unyielding, were the size of his hand, and her wings, even at rest, stretched out like the sails of a great ship. Each breath she took seemed to rumble through the earth, and the heat radiating from her was enough to melt the snow in a wide circle around her.

He watched as his wife climbed effortlessly onto Vaetrix’s back, her movements fluid and graceful, as though this was second nature to her. It probably was. When she looked back at him, the challenge was still in her eyes. Cregan sighed, grumbled something under his breath about never being able to say no to her, and climbed up after her, though with significantly less grace.

Once he was seated behind her, his hands gripping the edge of the saddle far tighter than he’d ever admit, she glanced back over her shoulder, her smile still firmly in place. “Hold on, my lord.”

“I already am.”

“Good. You’ll want to hold on tighter.”

Cregan opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but before he could form the words, Vaetrix gave a mighty heave and pushed off the ground. Cregan’s stomach lurched as the world dropped away beneath them, the courtyard and the walls of Winterfell shrinking rapidly as the dragon’s powerful wings unfurled and beat against the sky.

He swore, loudly and without shame, as the icy wind whipped against his face, stinging his skin and making his eyes water. The ground, which he had spent his entire life firmly planted on, was suddenly nothing more than a distant blur of white and grey far below them. The sensation was like nothing he had ever experienced—wild, untethered, and completely out of his control.

His wife laughed, the sound carried back to him on the wind. “Are you alright back there, my wolf?”

Cregan, still clinging to the saddle for dear life, managed to mutter something that sounded vaguely like, “I’ll kill you for this.”

She only laughed harder.

As Vaetrix rose higher into the sky, her wings beating with a steady rhythm that shook the air around them, Cregan forced himself to breathe. Slowly, the initial shock gave way to something else—a sense of awe. The land stretched out beneath them in all directions, a vast expanse of snow-covered wilderness that seemed to go on forever. Winterfell looked impossibly small from up here, just a cluster of grey stones nestled against the white of the North.

The sky itself was a wonder—endless, clear, and so achingly blue that it made him forget, for a moment, the biting cold of the wind. Up here, the world was different, quieter, as though they had left the cares of the earth behind.

“This is what it’s like,” she said over her shoulder, her voice softer now, no longer teasing. “To be free in the sky.”

Cregan didn’t respond immediately, still adjusting to the sensation of being so far above everything he had ever known. But as he watched the vastness of the North unfold beneath them, he began to understand. Up here, there were no boundaries, no limits. It was just them, the wind, and the dragon’s wings.

“It’s…” he started, struggling to find the right word. “Incredible.”

She glanced back at him, her expression softening. “I knew you’d like it.”

“I didn’t say I liked it,” he shot back, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

She smirked. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m cold,” he retorted, though he was no longer holding on to the saddle quite so tightly. In fact, as they soared above the snow-covered forests, he realized that his fear was ebbing, replaced by something closer to exhilaration. The wind roared in his ears, but instead of dreading it, he felt alive—more alive than he had in years.

Vaetrix let out a low rumble as if sensing her riders’ mood. The dragon's massive wings tilted slightly, adjusting their course, and Cregan felt the shift as they glided smoothly over the treetops. The ground below seemed distant now, almost irrelevant.

Cregan glanced down again, marveling at how small everything appeared. "I’m still not sure how you trust her to do this."

His wife’s voice was warm as she replied, “Vaetrix is my partner, not just a mount. She flies because I trust her, and because she trusts me. It’s not about control—it’s about the bond.”

He nodded slowly, her words sinking in. Perhaps that’s what made the Targaryens so different from anyone else—their bond with these creatures was deeper than a rider and a horse, deeper than any earthly connection. It was fire, blood, and something more.

Vaetrix’s wings beat steadily as they soared toward the horizon, and for the first time, Cregan let himself relax, loosening his grip just a little. He even allowed himself a small chuckle.

"Alright," he said, leaning in slightly toward her. "Maybe I don’t hate this as much as I thought."

She smiled, her laughter carried on the wind, and as they flew together—wolf and dragon—Cregan knew that he had just crossed a threshold. This, too, was part of the life he had chosen with her, part of the legend they were creating together.

And despite himself, he was beginning to enjoy it.

The chill of winter had wrapped itself around Winterfell like an old, familiar cloak, but inside the thick stone walls of the castle, the air was thick with heat and anticipation. The hearthfires burned fiercely, their flames casting flickering shadows on the ancient stones, but it wasn’t just the fire that made the air feel so stifling. It was the weight of the moment, the hush that had fallen over the great hall, the tense waiting, and the murmured prayers to both the Old Gods and the new.

Cregan Stark paced the floor just outside the chambers where his wife labored. His usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a restless energy that he couldn't shake. His boots scuffed against the flagstones with each turn, and though the men around him—his bannermen, his household retainers—watched him with a mixture of concern and amusement, no one dared to speak.

It wasn’t that Cregan feared what was happening behind the door. He had seen battles, endured the harshest winters, and ruled his people with a steady hand. But this—waiting for the birth of his first child—this was different. This was something far beyond his control, something that stirred a deep, primal worry in him.

He had been kept from the birthing chamber, of course, as was custom, but the muffled sounds of his wife’s labored breathing reached him even through the thick door. It was agonizing—knowing she was enduring such pain, and yet there was nothing he could do but wait.

One of his bannermen, Arnolf, an older man with a long, weathered face, stood beside him, watching the young lord with a hint of a smile. “My lord, pacing a trench in the stone won’t bring the babe any faster,” Arnolf said, his tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Cregan stopped mid-step, shooting a half-hearted glare at his bannerman. “If I don’t keep moving, I’ll go mad.”

Arnolf chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ah, the first child is always the hardest. You feel as though the world is on the edge of changing forever—and you’re right, it is. But trust me, my lord, it will all be worth it.”

Cregan nodded, though his jaw was still tight with worry. He knew the risks of childbirth, even for a woman as strong as his wife. She was no fragile southern lady—she was a dragon rider, fierce and unyielding—but still, childbirth had claimed queens and common women alike. He had never feared for her before, not when she flew on Vaetrix, not when she faced down the dangers of the North, but now...

Another sound, a sharp intake of breath from behind the door, sent Cregan’s heart racing again. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to burst through and be by her side. He hated this helplessness. Hated that he could do nothing but listen.

“Cregan,” came a voice from the shadows. It was his half-sister, Sara, stepping forward, her dark hair pulled back from her face, her expression soft but commanding. “She’s strong. She’ll make it through this. You know she will.”

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. “I know. But it doesn’t stop the worry.”

Sara placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “It never does. But trust in her strength. She’s born of dragons, after all. And you’ll see your child soon enough.”

Before Cregan could respond, a cry pierced the air from beyond the door—a new, sharp cry that did not belong to his wife. It was the cry of an infant, high-pitched and insistent, as though the child had already inherited the fire of its mother’s blood.

Cregan froze, his heart thudding in his chest as the door creaked open, and the midwife stepped out, her apron bloodied but her face bright with a smile. “A son, my lord,” she said, her voice warm. “A strong, healthy boy.”

For a moment, Cregan couldn’t move. The words washed over him, sinking in slowly. A son. His son. He felt as though the ground beneath him shifted, like his world had just expanded in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

“A son,” he repeated, his voice almost reverent. He had dreamed of this moment—had imagined it a hundred times—but nothing had prepared him for the reality of it.

The midwife nodded. “Your wife wishes to see you. She’s tired, but well.”

Cregan didn’t wait for more. He strode through the door into the chamber, his heart still hammering in his chest. The room smelled of blood and sweat, but it was warm, almost stifling, and lit by the soft glow of candles. His eyes immediately found her—his wife—reclining in the bed, her silver-gold hair damp with sweat, but her face flushed with triumph. In her arms, bundled in soft furs, was their child.

She looked up as he entered, and the faintest smile touched her lips, though exhaustion lined her face. “Cregan,” she breathed, her voice soft but steady. “Come meet your son.”

He moved toward her slowly, as if in a dream, his eyes fixed on the small bundle in her arms. As he reached the bedside, she shifted slightly, lifting the child toward him.

Cregan gazed down at the infant—his son. The child’s skin was soft and pale, his tiny fists clenched tightly as he wailed, his little face scrunched in displeasure at being so new to the world. But what struck Cregan most was the shock of silver-gold hair atop the boy’s head, unmistakable, just like his mother’s.

“He’s perfect,” Cregan whispered, his voice thick with awe. He reached down, hesitantly at first, then more surely as he took his son in his arms. The weight of the child felt impossibly light, yet it was as though Cregan’s heart had just doubled in size.

His wife watched him, her violet eyes gleaming with warmth. “He has your hands,” she said softly, her voice touched with amusement. “Strong, like a Stark.”

Cregan chuckled, though his throat was tight. “And his mother’s hair. He’ll stand out here in the North.”

She smiled faintly. “Let them stare. He is both wolf and dragon. They’ll come to respect him for it.”

Cregan looked down at the boy again, his son, his heir. The child’s cries had quieted now, and he blinked up at his father with curious, unfocused eyes. Cregan could see it already—the strength, the fire that would burn within this boy. He was a Stark, but he was also more than that. He was part of a legacy that would shape the future of the North and beyond.

“He’s beautiful,” Cregan murmured, the weight of everything hitting him at once. The responsibility, the joy, the pride—it was overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

“He will be great,” his wife said quietly, her voice soft but filled with certainty. “I can feel it.”

Cregan nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, his gratitude for her—for everything—too deep for words. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice rough.

She smiled, though her eyelids were drooping with exhaustion. “We did this together.”

He stayed by her side as she drifted off to sleep, their son still cradled in his arms. As the night deepened outside Winterfell’s thick walls, Cregan knew that the world had indeed changed forever. The child in his arms was not just his son—he was the future of House Stark and House Targaryen, the bridge between ice and fire.

And as Cregan looked down at the tiny face peeking from the furs, he smiled—a smile that his bannermen had not seen since the wedding, a smile that would be remembered in the histories of the North, alongside this day, as the day the first dragon-blooded Stark was born.

The sun hung low in the sky, its orange glow turning the snow into a strange mix of fire and ice. Cregan Stark, now a bit grayer around the edges but still every bit the Lord of Winterfell, stood near the training yard watching his men practice their swordplay. His face, as usual, was etched in concentration, though every so often, his gaze flickered toward the godswood where his daughter had spent most of the afternoon.

He knew her well enough to sense when mischief was brewing, and today, there was something in the air that told him she was up to something. He just hadn’t quite put his finger on what.

It wasn’t long before his suspicions were confirmed. His daughter, all of ten years old but with the same silver-gold hair and fiery spirit as her mother, came bursting through the courtyard gates with something bundled in her arms. Cregan immediately recognized the familiar look of determination in her eyes—he’d seen that look before, mostly when his wife had her mind set on something impossible, like teaching him how to fly on a dragon without looking like he was going to throw up.

“Papa!” she called, her voice a mix of excitement and urgency as she half-skipped, half-ran toward him. “Papa, look what I found!”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, though a part of him braced for whatever his daughter had gotten herself into this time. He folded his arms over his chest, his deep voice calm as he spoke. “What have you brought me this time, little one? A dragon egg, perhaps? Another wild idea about climbing the walls of Winterfell?”

She shook her head, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Better,” she declared, and with that, she opened her cloak to reveal a small, squirming ball of fur.

It took Cregan a moment to register what he was seeing. A direwolf pup—tiny, scruffy, and with impossibly large paws for its body—peered up at him from the folds of her cloak. Its wide, blue eyes blinked curiously, and its little tail wagged as though it had already made up its mind that this was where it belonged.

Cregan let out a deep sigh, the kind that comes from years of parenting and knowing exactly what was coming next. “Where did you find that?”

“In the woods by the godswood,” she answered cheerfully, holding the pup up as if presenting him with the greatest treasure the North had ever seen. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

The pup let out a small yip, clearly eager to be part of the conversation. Cregan eyed the creature with a mix of fondness and exasperation. The wolf looked like it had been born to cause chaos, and somehow, his daughter had already taken a shine to it. He could almost hear the arguments forming in her head.

“And what exactly do you expect to do with this… wolf?” he asked, trying to sound stern, though his resolve was already weakening at the sight of her beaming face.

“I want to keep him,” she said, her tone so matter-of-fact it was as if she had already made the decision for him. “He’s too little to survive on his own. And I’ve always wanted a wolf, Papa. You have one! Why can’t I?”

Cregan rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the smile that was threatening to break through. “I have a wolf because I’m the Lord of Winterfell, not because I found one wandering around the woods and decided to bring it home like a stray dog.”

His daughter’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head, giving him that look—one that made him feel as though he were about to be outwitted by a ten-year-old. “But you are the Lord of Winterfell, and that means you get to decide things like this, doesn’t it? You could say yes, right now.”

He sighed again. “That’s not exactly how—”

“Please, Papa?” she interrupted, stepping closer and cradling the pup against her chest, her eyes wide and pleading. “He won’t be any trouble. I’ll take care of him, I promise. I’ll feed him, and train him, and everything.”

Cregan glanced down at the pup, who seemed entirely unfazed by the conversation, content to nestle into his daughter’s arms. The little wolf let out another soft yip, as if to back up her case.

“Do you even know how to train a wolf?” Cregan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll learn!” she insisted, her excitement growing. “He’s smart, I can tell. And I’m smart too. We’ll figure it out together.”

Cregan stared at her, knowing full well that he had lost this battle before it even began. She had that same stubborn streak as her mother, that fire that wouldn’t be extinguished no matter how hard he tried to reason with her. And truth be told, he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of her having a wolf. A direwolf was part of the Stark legacy, after all. And though it was a bit earlier than he had planned, this felt… right.

He took a deep breath, looking from his daughter’s hopeful face to the pup in her arms. “Fine,” he said at last, his tone resigned but soft. “You can keep him.”

Her face lit up, and before he knew what was happening, she had thrown herself at him, wrapping her free arm around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you, Papa! Thank you, thank you!”

Cregan chuckled, placing a hand on her head. “But you’ll be responsible for him, understand? That means feeding him, training him, and making sure he doesn’t tear through Winterfell like a wild beast.”

“I will, I promise!” she said, pulling back to beam at him, her eyes bright with joy.

The pup let out a soft whine and squirmed in her arms, wiggling until his head poked out from her cloak again. He gave Cregan a long, inquisitive look, his tiny tail wagging with uncontainable energy.

“I suppose we need to give him a name,” Cregan said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “What will you call him?”

His daughter thought for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. Then, with a grin, she said, “How about… Storm? Because I found him after that big storm last night.”

Cregan nodded, glancing down at the pup who was now chewing on the edge of his daughter’s cloak. “Storm it is, then. A fitting name for a troublemaker.”

As they turned to head back inside, the newly named Storm trotting happily at their heels, Cregan couldn’t help but smile. His daughter had her wolf, just as he had his. The pack was growing, and despite his earlier reluctance, he felt a deep sense of pride swell in his chest.

He leaned down to ruffle his daughter’s hair, his voice warm with affection. “You’ll do well with him, little one. Just don’t let him eat all my boots.”

She giggled, glancing down at Storm, who was already sniffing the ground with intense curiosity. “I’ll try, Papa. But no promises.”

Cregan chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

The years had settled quietly over Winterfell, and though the seasons had come and gone, bringing with them both harsh winters and gentle springs, the castle remained the sturdy heart of the North. Cregan Stark, now older, with silver threading through his once dark hair and lines etched into his strong features, stood at the window of their chambers, looking out over the snow-covered courtyard. The sky was a soft grey, typical for this time of year, but the wind had stilled, leaving the world in a peaceful, almost serene silence.

Behind him, the familiar crackle of the hearthfire filled the room, its warmth seeping into the stone walls, casting a golden glow that softened the edges of everything. He could hear the gentle rustle of fabric as his wife moved about, though they no longer rushed through life the way they once had. These days, time was kinder, moving slower, allowing them to savor the quiet moments.

Cregan turned from the window, his gaze settling on her. She was seated in the large, cushioned chair by the fire, her silver-gold hair, now streaked with strands of white, falling loosely over her shoulders. Her beauty, undiminished by age, was not the fiery, untamed force it had been in their youth, but rather something more enduring, more graceful—a calm, steady flame that had warmed him for decades.

She looked up as she felt his eyes on her, her violet gaze meeting his, and a soft smile touched her lips. “What are you staring at, my wolf?” she asked, her voice still carrying that playful lilt, though it was quieter now, softened by the years they had shared.

Cregan smiled, crossing the room to her side. “Just thinking,” he replied, lowering himself into the chair beside her with a soft grunt. His joints weren’t quite what they used to be, but he still moved with the strength of a man who had led Winterfell for decades.

She raised an eyebrow, setting aside the book she had been reading. “You’ve always been a man of few words, but thinking? That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Dangerous for some, maybe. For me, it’s just remembering.”

Her smile deepened, and she leaned back in her chair, the firelight flickering in her eyes. “And what are you remembering, Cregan Stark?”

He reached over, taking her hand in his. Her fingers, though not as nimble as they once were, still fit perfectly in his. He traced the lines of her palm, thinking of all the years they had spent together—of the battles fought, the children raised, the moments of laughter and sorrow that had woven their lives into something greater than either of them could have imagined.

“I was thinking of the first time I saw you,” he said, his voice quiet. “When you rode into Winterfell on Vaetrix. I had never seen anything like you, and I was certain, in that moment, that my life was about to change.”

Her laugh was soft, more of a breath than a sound, but it filled the room. “I remember that day. You looked like you were trying very hard not to run for the hills.”

Cregan shook his head, grinning. “I wasn’t about to run. I was too busy trying to keep my mouth from falling open. You were this fiery, untouchable force, and I was just a man standing in your shadow.”

She squeezed his hand gently, her thumb brushing over the back of his knuckles. “You were never just a man, Cregan. Not to me.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire filling the space between them. Cregan let his gaze wander around the room, settling on the small tokens of their life together—the furs draped over the bed, the carvings of direwolves that adorned the wooden posts, a tapestry that depicted both the wolf and the dragon entwined, a gift from one of their children.

“I never thought we’d come this far,” he said quietly, his voice almost wistful. “Through everything. Wars, winters… raising our children.”

She laughed again, this time with more warmth. “Oh, the children. They were more of a challenge than any war we faced, weren’t they?”

Cregan smiled, thinking of their brood—strong, stubborn, each with their own fire. Their son had grown into a man of great strength, a natural leader who now stood as Lord of Winterfell. Their daughter, with her direwolf by her side, had become a force in her own right, a woman who carried both the blood of wolves and dragons with equal pride.

“They were. But we managed.” He looked at her, his gaze softening. “We did well, didn’t we?”

She tilted her head, studying him with that knowing look she had always given him, the one that told him she saw right through him—through his walls, his defenses, straight to the heart of him. “We did better than well, my love,” she said softly. “We built something that will last long after we’re gone.”

He nodded, feeling a deep sense of contentment settle over him. She was right. The legacy they had created together, the family they had raised, would endure. House Stark and the blood of dragons would continue to thrive, long after their bones had returned to the cold ground of the North.

Cregan lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “I’m glad it was with you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else by my side.”

Her eyes shimmered with emotion, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “I know, Cregan,” she whispered back, her breath warm against his skin. “It’s always been us.”

They sat like that for a long while, the fire crackling softly beside them, the weight of the years they had shared resting lightly on their shoulders. They didn’t need to speak—everything that mattered had already been said.

Outside, the night deepened, the stars beginning to peek through the grey skies, but inside Winterfell, there was warmth, and love, and the quiet peace that only came with a life well-lived.

And in that moment, as they sat together, hand in hand, Cregan Stark knew that he had found everything he had ever needed—here, in the heart of Winterfell, with the woman who had brought fire to his life and warmth to his winter.

[misspygmypie]

A One-ce Upon A Time Celebration

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x reader, Lando Norris x Baby Maebry, Max F x Maebry Charles and Oscar make an appearance :) Words: 1647 Request: By the lovely @landossainz "for meet and greet universe, can you write where it is Maebry's first birthday and they celebrate it with their families and friends." Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

On this special day the Norris family backyard was transformed into a fairytale wonderland. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the sound of joyful laughter as Lando and Y/N prepared for a celebration that would mark their daughter Maebry’s very first birthday. Their chosen theme, “One-ce Upon a Time,” promised to be a magical day and they had spared no costs in bringing their vision to life.

Lando was the epitome of Prince Charming in an outfit that looked like it had been plucked from a storybook. His ensemble featured a dazzling jacket with golden embroidery, a crisp white shirt and a smile that seemed to outshine everything. He moved with pride, his heart swelling each time he glanced at his little princess.

Y/N, ever the elegant queen, was dressed in a flowing pastel gown that shimmered with every step she took. The gown was adorned with delicate embroidery of magical creatures and enchanted forests and her crown of flowers added a touch of fairytale magic. She floated through the garden, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she greeted guests and ensured that everything was perfect for their daughter.

Maebry, the star of the day, was a vision of cuteness in her stunning gown of layered yellow tulle and blue ribbons, resembling her favorite Disney princess: Snow White. Her head was topped off with a giant red bow that made her look every bit the princess she was wanting to be. Her tiny red shoes twinkled with each step she took and her face was a picture of wonder as she explored her “One-ce Upon a Time” world.

Noah was dressed as a brave knight, his silver armor shining in the sun. He had a toy sword strapped to his side and his little chest puffed with pride as he took his role as protector of his baby sister very seriously. He was the guardian of the day, always nearby to defend Maebry from any imaginary dragons or mischievous trolls that might dare to disrupt the celebration.

The garden buzzed with excitement as guests arrived to experience the fairytale wonderland. There was a “Royal Tea Party” corner where children and adults alike could enjoy tiny pastries and sip from small teacups. A “Prince and Princess” dress-up area especially made the little ones happy, they were able to pick crowns and capes to join the royal festivities. Nearby, a “Storybook Reading” nook featured comfy cushions and enchanting tales read by Y/N’s close friends, adding an extra touch of magic to the day.

Lando’s parents, who had traveled to Monaco from Bristol to celebrate their granddaughter’s special day, were absolutely besotted with Maebry. Cisca had been knitting a blanket for Maebry since before she was born. Today she was thrilled to finally present it to her granddaughter, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

“Look at this beautiful girl,” Cisca cooed as she wrapped the soft blanket around Maebry. “I’ve been working on this for so long and it’s finally here. You truly are our little princess, darling.”

Maebry giggled as she felt the softness of the blanket, reaching out to touch her grandmother’s face. Lando’s father Adam, with a proud grin, showed off pictures of Maebry to the other guests. “Have you seen these? She’s grown so much since the last time we saw her. And just look at her in that gown!”

A group of Lando’s Formula 1 friends arrived, among them Max Verstappen with his girlfriend Kelly and daughter Penelope, Carlos Sainz, Daniel Ricciardo and also Charles Leclerc who immediately started gushing over Maebry.

“Wow, Lando, she’s absolutely adorable,” Charles said as he crouched down to Maebry’s level. “Are you sure she’s only one? She’s already got her own fan club.”

Maebry’s giggles grew louder as Charles made playful faces and he gently lifted her into his arms, rocking her back and forth. “This little princess is stealing all our hearts today.”

Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate, also made a grand entrance and immediately made a beeline for the “Prince and Princess” dress-up area, where he enthusiastically took a toy crown and cape, playfully pretending to be a prince alongside Maebry.

“Look at me, I’m the prince of this land,” Oscar declared with a grin, playfully spinning around. “And I’ve got the best little princess by my side!”

Lando, watching the interaction with a smile, was surprised at first. Oscar was usually more of a quiet type but everytime he was around Maebry he turned into the fun uncle instantly. 

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Lando said eventually to the other drivers, “it means a lot to us that you’re here to share this day with us. Maebry’s been looking forward to celebrating with all of you.”

Charles waved a hand dismissively. “It’s our pleasure! We wouldn’t miss it for the world. And you know, she’s already got us all wrapped around her little finger.”

“Absolutely,” Oscar added, adjusting his crown, “she’s the real star of the show. I think we might have to make her our team’s official mascot!”

Maebry’s birthday party was in full swing and one guest was extra excited. Max Fewtrell, Lando’s best friend and Maebry’s godfather, had been eagerly waiting for the perfect moment to present his special gift. Dressed in a perfect Flynn Ryder outfit Max smiled as he approached Lando and Y/N, who was holding Maebry.

“Hey, guys,” Max called out, catching Lando’s eye. “Can I borrow Maebry for a moment?”

Y/N, not hesitating at all, gently handed Maebry over to him. “Of course, she’s been looking forward to seeing her favorite uncle.”

Max cradled Maebry in his arms, his face lighting up and everyone could see how much he adored her. “I’ve got something really special for you, little one,” he directed at the girl just as he was sitting down at a table. “It’s not every day you turn one, after all.”

He reached into a large, pink gift bag and carefully pulled out a beautifully crafted storybook. The book was bound in rich, deep blue leather with gold lettering on the cover that read, “Maebry’s Magical Adventures.” It featured illustrations of mythical creatures, enchanted forests and twinkling stars.

“Look at this,” Max said, showing the book to Maebry as she gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes. “I had this made just for you.”

Max opened the book to reveal its contents, which were not only filled with personalized stories but also featured memories of Max and Maebry together. The first few pages contained charming tales of a brave little princess who looked remarkably like Maebry, embarking on magical quests and discovering new lands. Each story was accompanied by illustrations that included subtle nods to special moments Max and Maebry had shared so far, like their first meeting or a day spent playing in the park.

On the final page was a special dedication from Max, written in elegant script:

To Maebry, my dearest goddaughter,

May this book be the start of many magical adventures. Whenever you open it, remember that you are loved beyond measure and that there is always a world of wonder waiting for you. With all my love,

Max

Max’s voice softened as he continued, “I thought this would be a great way for you to have a little piece of magic with you every night as you grow up. And when you’re older you can read the stories together with your parents. It’ll be a special keepsake from your first birthday.”

Maebry’s eyes widened in delight as she traced the gold lettering on the cover. Lando and Y/N watched and Y/N couldn’t hold back the tears from forming in her eyes. “That’s an amazing gift, Max,” Lando said. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Max looked up at his best friend, his eyes shining with sincerity. “She’s my goddaughter, after all. I want her to have something magical to remember this day by and something she can cherish as she grows up. I’ve been showering her with gifts and little surprises since she was born and I’m not going to stop, ever, but I wanted this to be extra special.”

Y/N reached out and gave Max a heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Max. It’s perfect. Maebry will treasure it forever.”

Max carefully placed the book into Y/N’s hands and she held it close to Maebry. “I hope you love it as much as I loved picking it out for you,” he said softly, giving the girl a loving kiss on her cheek.

Maebry clapped her hands with joy, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at her new book but soon Max whisked her away to rejoin the birthday activities.

As the sun began to set Lando and Y/N took a moment to themselves. They watched as Maebry played with the other kids, her eyes sparkling with happiness. Lando’s gaze, however, was not just filled with pride, it was also tinged with just a touch of sadness.

“It’s hard to believe my little princess is already one,” Lando said softly. “It feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital. Watching her grow up so fast… it’s both wonderful and a little heartbreaking.”

Y/N noticed the look in Lando’s eyes and gently took his hand. “I know,” she said, her voice soothing. “It’s incredible how quickly time passes. But look at her now, she’s so happy, surrounded by people who love her. We’ve made so many beautiful memories already and there are so many more to come.”

Lando nodded, his gaze returning to his daughter as she giggled. “You’re right. Today has been perfect and I’m so proud of her. I just wish time didn’t move so quickly.”

“We can’t stop time but we can cherish every moment,” Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

________

AN: Thank you so so much for requesting this @landossainz UGH I was so excited to write this, I may have gone a biiit over the top lol! I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya @sltwins

[childrenofcain-if]

AS THE WREN SHEDS HER FEATHER (ELIAS’S POV AFTER SEEING YOU OFF TO UNIVERSITY)

one of the servants unlocked the door to the manor and elias stepped inside, the peculiar quietness pressing down on him like an unexpected weight. it was strange—to be met with silence when he expected his little apple to come bounding downstairs or to be already lounging in the living room to greet him. he thought he’d have an easier time getting used to it, but now? he wasn’t so sure.

elias handed his tailor-made suit jacket to another servant, glancing at the framed picture on one of the mantles near the fireplace: you, as a young kid, perched on his shoulders, a grin lighting up your face. your mother’s arm is looped around his, a laugh in her eyes so identical to yours as she holds onto the two of you.

he could remember the day that picture was taken, but it wasn’t enough—just memories which grow blurry each day. so he went to his study, where he kept the home videos. the cabinet was hidden behind a stack of old books, almost as though he’d been trying to bury it. but tonight, with you miles away at yale and his heart feeling like it was suddenly too big and too heavy for his chest, he wanted to see her. he wanted to see both of you.

after a few minutes of sorting through the SD cards, he found one simply labeled, “to be remembered.” he slid it into the player, and the screen flickered, a bit staticky, before the familiar image of the manor’s living room filled the screen.

the camera was shaky at first, moving around as your mother laughed, “elias, you’re terrible at this. here, let me…” her hand appeared in the frame, reaching for the camera.

“no way!” elias’s voice, younger and far more cheery, filled with laughter, protested from behind the camera. “i’m the cameraman. you, mijn liefje, are the star.”

“oh, so you just get to sit back and watch, huh?” she teased with a fond roll of her eyes.

the camera settled, a little less wobbly, as elias zoomed in on you, toddling around with your hands outstretched for balance, your whole face lit up with excitement. you must have been barely two, still unsteady on your feet, wobbling a little as you reached for her.

“come here, sweetheart,” she said, crouching down to your level, arms open. “you can do it, just a few more steps.”

elias chuckled as he watched her coax you forward, a surge of warmth flooding his chest. he remembered how her face would soften every time she looked at you, the way her eyes would light up. and then he saw it again—how she laughed when you finally tumbled forward into her arms, her joy bubbling over.

the tape lurched forward in fits and starts, as if elias had just recorded whatever seemed meaningful at the time without thinking about how it would piece together later. the screen shifted to a birthday, candles on a homemade cake—your fifth birthday. you were wearing a crown made of a long balloon that you’d insisted on, sitting cross-legged at the table, and there were flecks of icing smudged on your cheeks. your mother was holding the cake, careful to keep it level, beaming as she leaned toward you.

“go on, make a wish!” she encouraged.

you closed your eyes so tightly, putting your hands together with exaggerated seriousness, lips moving silently as if asking the universe for something only a child could imagine. then, with a deep breath, you blew out all the candles in one go. the room erupted in cheers—your mother, your father, your kindergarten classmates, even some of elias’s business partners they’d invited over that day.

“what’d you wish for, apple?” elias’s voice asked from behind the camera.

“i can’t tell you, dada, or it won’t come true,” you said, grinning, eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

the camera lingered on your face, the pure joy and belief shining in your eyes. elias could remember how the moment felt then, with both of you so young and so certain that everything good could be held together just by love and laughter. he felt a pang in his chest, a memory too nostalgic to hold without pain.

the video cut to the christmas morning of 2009—your mother was filming this time, narrating with a chuckle as she zoomed in on the chaos of ripped wrapping paper and new toys scattered across the floor.

“look at this mess! who do you think is going to clean all this up?” she asked, mockingly stern, zooming in on you hiding behind the couch.

“dada!” you’d shouted, giggling as you peeked out from your hiding spot.

“wow, selling me out, huh?” elias’s younger self chuckled as he leaned into the frame, pretending to growl and chasing you around as you giggle and try to run away from him.

the frame then jumps to another clip of you in the center of the frame, small and wide-eyed, your tiny hands busy, your concentration fixed on hanging ornaments on the lower half of the tree. you were talking to yourself in that way only small children do, a quiet monologue about which ornaments went where and how important it was that they were balanced just right.

“that’s the glittery one!” your mother’s voice came through, rich with warmth and humor. the camera wobbled slightly as she adjusted the focus, trying to capture your handiwork up close. “are you sure it should go there?”

“mama,” you said, in that exasperated tone only a preschooler could muster, “i know where it goes.”

“oh, i see,” she laughed, the sound a warm, gentle ripple through the screen. she shifted the camera to capture elias as he stepped in, feigning seriousness, hands on his hips.

“is the decorating committee open to suggestions?” he asked, crouching down to your level with a grin.

“no,” you replied without missing a beat, making him chuckle.

he then reached over, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion, swinging you in a wide circle. you shrieked with delight, half trying to wriggle free, half clinging to him.

in the background, your mother could be heard laughing too, her voice just as bright and full of love as your giggles. as he lowered you back down, she moved closer, still holding the camera as she leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“who’s the little ornament expert now?” she murmured, voice so close, so impossibly tender. she kissed you on one cheek, and elias joined in, kissing you on the other, making you squirm between them, giggling with each kiss.

“stop, stop!” you squealed, caught between pushing them away and clinging to them. “you’re both squishing me!”

“we just can’t help it,” your mother said, a soft laugh trailing off as she kissed you again. “you’re so loved, my sweet baby, you know that?”

elias’s voice was quieter but equally warm as he added, “we love you so, so much, little apple. more than anything.”

he pressed another kiss to your cheek, lingering, his voice almost catching, as if he was holding onto the moment where he truly felt like he was the richest man on earth.

elias hit pause. the screen froze on her face—her smile bright, eyes crinkling at the edges. he swallowed hard, feeling the tears well up before he could stop them. the years had done nothing to soften the edges of her absence. the house still echoed with her laugh some days, in small ways that felt like nothing and everything. he let the tears fall, a quiet acceptance of how deeply he still missed her.

finally, he pressed play again, as if he couldn’t bear to stop watching. he watched you grow through that grainy screen: you with your first lost tooth, your first day at school, your proud insistence on making dinner—omelette burnt to a crisp that elias and your mother had eaten anyway, praising every bite.

and then the last video came, a quiet day at the beach. the camera showed you and your mother on the sand, the waves lapping at your feet. she held your hand as the wind whipped through her hair, her smile soft and quiet as she watched you point excitedly at the seagulls swooping overhead. she bent down, saying something to you that he couldn’t quite hear over the sound of the waves, but he remembered the feeling of that day, of everything feeling just right in that one moment, sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of color.

he watched as the sun began to sink lower in the video, casting a warm orange glow across the sand. and then she looked back at the camera, at him, her gorgeous eyes meeting his through the lens.

“come here, darling,” she called, beckoning him with a smile.

the camera dropped slightly as he walked toward her, and for a moment, all that was visible on the screen was a blur of sky and sand. then he set the camera down in the sand, angled just so, and the three of you were together, laughing as you stood side by side, the waves lapping at your ankles, the horizon stretching endlessly behind you.

and then, just like that, the tape ran out, the screen going to static.

elias sat there in the silence, his chest tight, the memories pressing in on him, so beautiful and aching all at once. he hadn’t let himself revisit these moments in years, too afraid of what they’d stir up, but now the memories felt as vital as air. he could almost hear her voice, feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder, see the way her eyes had softened every time she looked at you both.

he leaned back in his chair, one hand covering his mouth as he closed his eyes, letting the repressed emotions wash over him. the tears spilled over, hot and unbidden, the kind that left him feeling vacant and full at the same time.

he never cried in front of you like this, too afraid that it’d break the fragile tape that held the dam of your devastation upright. but now, elias didn’t even try to wipe the tears away. he let himself feel it all, the bittersweet ache of love and loss, the memories that filled the empty spaces your mother had left behind.

the silence seemed different now though, less hollow, filled with echoes of laughter and whispers of promises he’d made, long ago, to keep always keep going—for you, and for her.

[i-am-pinkie]

Whoa! This is BEAUTIFUL!! 😍❤️

Did some messing around and cleaned up that Fili painting a bit for fun.

[reds-skull]

CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

[robin-evry]

What do you think dan heng or imbibitor lunae/yuu

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆!𝐘𝐔𝐔

A cold and reserved young man who is reticent about his past. To avoid his kin, he decided to travel with the Astral Express. Dan Heng's true form from his Vidyadhara lineage carries the residual power left behind by his past incarnation, the Imbibitor Lunae. Upon accepting the majestic horns atop his crown, he must accept all the merits and faults attributed to that sinner.

During their appearance at twst for the first chapter, Dan heng!yuu hide their lineage as well not revealing their true lineage to anyone.

They try not to stand out a lot, only staying at the back and observing the situation but not attending to the problem and will intervene in case it gets out of hand.

But during chapter 2, they use their imbibitor lunae form to defeat overblot Leona, after the fight was over before anyone can react to Dan heng!yuu has already left the area. But many students have already witnessed their true form so there's no point in hiding it.

Dan heng!yuu continue to not show up to school for a few days until Crowley asks them to return back to school, they decide to avoid the first years due to being scared of their judgement.

They will still continue to wear their human form even though their identity was revealed to the public, they become the popular topic of gossip but grim is there to protect them from it.

Most of the time, dan heng! Yuu will be in the library reading and managing the books Crowley gave them an official job as the librarian of the school.

After their secret was revealed many students started to treat them like royalty which is something Dan heng!yuu isn't very fond of it because they wish to be treated the same. Even Crowley started less annoying because of this.

Lilia originally had a hinge about dang heng!yuu being more than what they appear but turns out it was true and was happy to finally find another dragon for malleus to play with. So when Dan heng!yuu was in the library Lilia approached them inviting them to a tea party that was hosting malleus and Dan heng! Yuu to meet.

At first ace and deuce started to ask questions about them because they were upset about them hiding their lineage but soon let it go and they accepted Dan heng!yuu.

Dan heng!yuu sometimes meditate in the forest behind the ramshackle and was spotted by rook who was hunting, and for the next hour rook admired Dan heng!yuu imbibitor lunae form. And they soon became one of rooks muses.

Another thing is that Dan heng!yuu sometimes visit the ignihyde dorm for peace and quiet since sometime NRC can be quite hand full.

Sebek admired or hated Dan heng!yuu, he admired them being a part of a noble prestigious dragon blood line but saw them hiding their true lineage as a sign of being ashamed as well as someone that is threatening malleus position.

Malleus on the other hand was happy that another dragon had a drop of NRC, he and Dan heng!yuu would discuss a lot of topics together. As well as him being interested in Dan heng!yuu lineage.

Sometimes, Lilia would invite Dan heng!yuu on a spar or training day and will ask them to spar with sebek or silver as well asking them to teach them some pole arm tricks.

They often take long walks at night, enjoying the serenity of the moonlight and the stars. Sometimes, Malleus or Silver joins them for these reflective moments.

Dan heng Yuu carry a personal journal where they sketch or write down their thoughts, though they guard it fiercely. This journal contained notes as well for school and work as a personal diary for Dan heng!Yuu to write everyday.

Their voice is soothing, and many students find themselves unintentionally relaxing when Dan heng Yuu speaks, even during stressful situations.

Leona originally saw them as a small fry but after chapter two and their secret was revealed, Leona held a disdain over Dan heng!yuu due to them being the one that defeats them and they remind him of malleus.

Dan heng!Yuu is very talented of cloudhymn magic, they have the ability to control and create water at a large scale being able to control the entire ocean. This magic as well is a noble dragon and they have become one of Azul targets.

Azul after the reveal has been trying to rope them to a contract but Dan heng!yuu is very much sharp and is not easily fooled by his schemes and is able to see through it. As well being one of jade and floyd entertainment sources wanting to get a reaction from them.

[radiance1]

Danny is so, oh so very tired about the amount of marriage proposals that popped up in front of him. Not even a day past his announcement as Crown prince either.

He's thankful that neither of his four parents are pushing him towards accepting it, but it's everyone (besides his friends of course) else who either try and subtly suggest it or outright asks him if he's chosen a spouse yet.

He's only 14! He doesn't need a spouse! And they were probably far older than him too!

Even Vlad of all people took some kind of pity on him and just decided to be a normal (for a billionaire) guy who isn't trying to kill his dad.

...However, that doesn't mean he wants him to seduce him either!

(Danny: Stop trying to seduce my dad you low-budget vampire!

Vlad, calmly sipping tea: No.)

If he wasn't majorly burnt out from the number of proposals he has to sort through, he would most definitely throw him far across town, away from his dad and mom.

He needed to find a way to stop all of these letters that just keep coming, and fast. He doesn't know how much longer he could take of reading fancy script over and over and over again, his eyes already hurt enough.

He tried to ask his Father for help, his only response was to choose a consort that he saw fit to stand alongside him. Then he had to flee before he gushed about his pops.

He asked his pops, who only said that the answer would come to him in time. Which was of no help whatsoever.

He asked his mom, she at least tried to help somewhat. Giving him some equipment to ward off any ghost who would try and forcibly take him as a consort, which had a low chance of happening considering his strength, but he was happy about it regardless.

He then finally asked his dad, after making sure that vampiric leech isn't near any of his human parents. Surprisingly, he had a pretty good idea of what to do.

He was a halfa, wasn't he? Why limit himself to just ghosts? Surely, due to his half-human status he could choose someone near his age among humanity.

Well, not in those exact words, but it was a great idea regardless! Plus, they never did specify if he had to choose a ghost consort anyways.

Now he just had to decide who to pick, really. His two best friends are out of the option, they're close, but not in that sort of way. Plus, Sam is busy with Undergrowth and Tucker bonding with Technus who was apparently apart of his family tree somewhere along the line.

Then, when he was sorting through the letters and was sure his eyes were about to bleed from reading so many fancy words, he felt it. A tug in his chest, gently urging him somewhere, and you know what, it's way better than what he was doing now, so he answered.

He felt the clothes he was swearing in that moment fade into away into the outfit he wore for his coronation. A suit, a crown made of the coldest ice from the Far Frozen, a cape made from the stars along with various little knickknacks made from various gems and a veil hung over his face.

He looked pretty good, if he says so himself. Though he didn't and still doesn't know the purpose of the veil.

He appeared in what looked like an event for a high society party, most likely filled with various rich people. He floated up and quickly looked over the people and released a sigh of relief that Vlad wasn't here, say what you will, but he doesn't fancy meeting with someone who's actively trying to seduce his dad.

He folded his arms behind his back, trying to imitate the imposing figure of his father from his place in the air, looking down at the cultists(?) below who summoned him.

"Who dares summon me." He stated, rule number one, statements hold power, questions do not. The cultist below fell to his knees, either out of devotion or fear, he didn't know.

"Oh, Prince of the infinite, we called you today for the sole purpose of serving this world to one of your standing, please let us be your servants and spare us when you plunge the world into ruin!" Ah, devotion, then. His eyes bore into the woman (from the sound of her voice) below, his silence working well to unnerve her and the other guests.

"Hm." The reward was already stated, but he neither wants too nor will take over the world. "Denied." It was short, swift, and to the point in his books, he thinks he's doing well acting out Pariah Dark!

"B-but my liege, the king-"

"What the king has been known for in the past, has nothing to do with me. You dare to assume something about me, lowly human." The human below him was actually fully blown shivering, now, slamming her head down onto the floor and shouting out a number of apologies.

Rule number two, do not take back requests you have already denied.

Ok, now he feels bad, that probably hurt a lot. But he's already come this far so-

"Is that the only reason you have called me, or do you require something else. Much of my time is not something you can afford." The woman was most undoubtedly about to say something, probably more apologies, or maybe something else, but the sounds of fighting reached the room and the doors slammed opened, the body of a cultist(?) flying through the air and the appearance of what were most likely heroes.

"Well?" He let that question slide, the cold around the room descending around the woman below as a bunch of other cultists tried to fight off the heroes.

The woman seemed hysterical with worry, most likely not wanting to go to jail, perhaps. She quickly took her head off the floor and tried to stand up, almost falling back to the ground but managing to find her footing. "M-my liege, please help us!"

He tilted his head. "And as to what, would you give me?"

"The sacrifice, yes! The sacrifice!" The woman quickly pointed below him, and only then, did Danny realize there was a boy bound below him, only to be met with a glare.

Danny hummed. Yes. That will do. "It shall be done."

Danny waved his hand, ice sprouting from the ground to force the heroes and cultists apart and then blasting a hole through the nearby wall and to the outside, a path of ice leading down to the ground. "Go." He commanded, the woman nodding her head quickly and calling to the others and disappearing outside, he then blocked off the hole with ice.

He then slowly floated downwards, besides the bound human, ignoring the shattering of ice and footfalls of no doubt the heroes trying to stop him from what he was doing. He leaned over the boy- about his age- and asked one question.

"Do you wish to become my consort?"

[fairysluna]

Helloooo, thanks for sharing your writing with us, I love all of your fics specially sinners 🤍🧸⭐️

For the short drabbles could you do Maegor + asking for his niece’s favor at a tourney

this is such a cute idea! i love this so much. Also, thank you for your kind words, I hope you like this🤍✨

tags — fluff, rhaena being lowkey a hater, reader being delulu (like all of us).

The way the whole crowd roared with excitement when the royal prince came out victorious from the tournament was deafening. You were laughing excitedly, clapping as your smile couldn't get any bigger. Eyes shining as bright as stars at midnight as you watched your beloved uncle smiling back at you from afar. Your beloved older sister, Rhaena, was sitting next to you wearing an unfazed expression on her face, completely opposite to the cheerful attitude you had.

From your seat, you saw Maegor galloping slowly towards the royal family, wearing that winning smile that you loved so dearly as he rested his lance against his shoulder. The butterflies that appeared on your belly were hard to ignore when he started to get closer and closer to you. You fixed your hair, nervously played with your fingers and impatiently waited for him to get close enough to hear his voice. At your side, your sister scoffed, already annoyed by your attitude towards your uncle, with whom you wished to marry; she had heard all of it, and she was tired of hearing that man's name coming from your lips.

But you couldn't care less about it.

Your attention was all over the man on the horse in front of you, standing proudly and looking so gallant inside that thick metal armor of his, you couldn't help but to bite your lip before he decided to open his mouth and say, “May I have the honor to ask for the princess' favor?” He didn't even have to specify which princess he was talking about, for every single person knew he meant you. They all certainly knew about the close relationship you had with him.

You slowly arose from your seat, taking with you the crown of flowers that you made early that morning, especially for him. You walked closer to the railing and looked down at him, feeling the air getting caught in your throat as you saw him more up close. He removed the helmet of his armor, wanting to look into your pretty eyes before he uttered the next words. “I'm convinced that everytime the sun rises you become far more beautiful, my princess.” He spoke slightly lower, as if he wanted just you to hear. You couldn't help but to feel suddenly shy under his mischievous stare, the heat on your cheeks growing as you tried to look away from him.

“You flatter me, uncle,” you replied, managing to throw the crown of flowers down the lance. “I feel like the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms whenever you speak with such kindness to me.”

“Well, you are, my dear.” He winked at you. “Before I leave, allow me to remind you that this victory, as well as the ones that are yet to come, are dedicated to you. My beautiful princess.” A silly, enamored smile was drawn on your lips as he turned around in his black horse and galloped away from you. He made you feel all kinds of things in such a little amount of time, including a strange, new sensation located in your lower belly which you decided it was best to ignore.

Once you returned to your seat, you found your sister staring at you with a visible frown on her face. “Could you be any more obvious? You left a path of your drool behind you.”

“I will marry him someday,” you told her, your voice filled with the purest of illusions.

Rhaena could only roll her eyes.

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GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

MAEGOR TAG LIST — @targaryen-dynasty @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariahossain

[death---dealer]

Taken. ( Noa x Human!Reader ) Part Twelve.

*sobbing into my breaksticks*

Title: Taken. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications, injury, mentions of blood. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 8.1K ( ha ha I'm in danger ) Summary: You had accepted that you were going to die. The future was such a stingy thing, even now as it flashed in front of you like a thousand lives were being lived at once. Noa was never going to know. Never going to see what you saw. And for that, you were so sorry.

READ THE SERIES HERE.

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Death was not something that you admittedly confessed to your conscious mind about often, one of those innate fears that seemed to be festering in every being on the green Earth, but only a few who were daring really thought about it on a day to day basis. It happened to all living things, you thought to yourself and pressed your forehead against the heated ground below you skull to kiss whatever was left for you goodbye. There was no point anymore, the mind was willing to give itself up in an effort to save some semblance of who you were, who you were going to become at the end of the day.

Nothing, your eyes squeezed shut. You were to become nothing. Another score on the card of the sky, another tender moment that flashed before someone else’s entire vision, encasing to the outer edges of their peripheral, there one minute and gone the next even though you wanted to stay longer, just to make sure they knew what happened to you. Puffing out air hurt as you did just that, the dirt dancing from the ground below and chapping itself against your lips. With what moisture, you were unsure. The flames were taking that, too along with the sweep of the entire Eagle Clan. At--- At least they appeared to get out, there was an utterance in the back of your mind you had been tugging to ignore since you fell to your knees and then to your stomach. Cautious fear tore through you, not quite willing to let yourself be burned alive as was evident by the skid marks on the ashen laid ground below as you had managed to grasp yourself but less than a meter were the inevitable was coming for you. Maybe… Your lips parted and it appeared like you were physically kissing the ground where the young Master of the Birds had previously been, sensing the drip of iron against your tongue which you were unable to deduce as being your own, or his, this was meant to happen. When… He had accepted you into the Eagle Clan, pre-destined to be the star to help consume it all but then take it all away in an instant of self-gratification as you sacrificed your entire life force for the count of many others.

Not that it mattered, there was bitterness rising along the crown of your forehead as the blood began to seep from there, down the curve of your forehead, captivating in a dance with your eyebrows before it leaked into your eyes and you were forced to hold them shut as to not cry your own agony to the Earth.

She… She had seen enough today, fighting that tore at her flesh like yours had been, crying as the ash sunk into the dirt below and became one with something it was not meant to be, like you had wished, blood pouring into the torrents of browned and gunked soot that smeared along your face as you cried to vast cradle of empathy for the ground where you laid; riding along your senses as your fingers pressed themselves into the dirt once more, your fingernails unable to carry anymore underneath them and the numb tingling of your hands driving you insane as you were unable to tell what you were holding onto, if anything at all. You just wanted him safe; your eyes managing themselves to look towards the forest of where Soona had carried your cherished heart, having torn it right out of the warmth and security of the ribcage it pounded so heavily against when you were in his presence, even in the instant that you had pulled his heavy, dead-weight over and then atop you like a shield of protection. With him, ran your will to live any longer. With Noa, leaving the notch in your chest vacant and empty. Soona would care for him as she always did. Care for Noa and Anaya… Your irises blacked and you dropped your eyelids, not even enjoying the shutter of your eyelashes against the toppened height of your cheekbones.

You--- Releasing another shot of air onto the ground, you felt a shutter trail its way down your spine as you released a gut-wrenching cry that mimicked the sound of Eagle Sun crying above you. Not able to turn your head towards the Heavens, you made the safe bet that you were imagining things, that your racing brain was trying to remember the smaller details about your life before you were gone. One more flash, it told you on your eyelids as you stared into the pitch black, now swirling with stars. One more good look at everything you have done in your life, everything… 

Sobbing, you knew your shoulders were moving but you were unable to detect the motion as you willed your arm to lift to the right side of your body and into the bowels of your tactical pants, so warm and flooded with your own being, gushing at the sight of your mangled calves as blood smeared and poured out of you without care, your fingers couldn’t tell if you were brushing against the blue feather that you carried with you, the last piece of him you were ever going to have or if it was flushing against the cotton base of your pants themselves.

Like you ever did leave the feather to its own devices, you wanted to retort to yourself in sarcasm but even that was lost to yourself in the muddled mess of the possibility that it was even obtainable to you. The day Noa gave it to you became the day you said goodbye for the first time. 

There was nothing else for you to feel here, eyes opening into slimmed slits as you cried a weakened ‘help’, coarse, your throat was too dry to even make anymore please and your whimpers began falling to the crackling of the destruction of the village behind you, a wave of embers running along the side of your body and singing off the small hairs that were exposed to the air as the Eagle Enclosure finally brought itself down under the heavy weight of expectations. The cracking of the foundation was felt against your chest, deep in the ground. 

You wanted to give it… one more fleeting attempt… Something… Anything to get yourself to move forward, to… To… Live to see everything you were meant to be instead of a marauder for a Clan of which became a piece of you. Anaya, his smile and jokes, never taking himself too seriously as he showed you the collection of Echo items that he had scavenged, your fingers tickling against the delicate nature of what appeared to be a very, very old stuffed animal. Soona, her fingers brushing through your hair on the evenings after dinner as she talked to you softly about the Eagle Clan itself, even taking in some gossip she had heard and managed to pry out of---

The hand you had tugged into your pocket, seemingly stuck in the tight space, stiffened as you brushed the lightest edge of the feather he had given you months and months ago. Noa… He--- There was the feeling inside of you that he was alive, somewhere out in the woods that surrounded the village that was nothing more than simmering huts that were crumbling down just like the last relics of civilizations were within the Echo Ruins.

They… Were to become ruins themselves, you philosophized and chortled, feeling ash tug itself way to the back of your throat as you let a strangled cough out in an attempt to stop your lungs from liquidating the particles into a fine mix of concrete and suffocating you from the inside out. Noa, the very heart of these ruins, was still alive. You knew, you knew. 

Otherwise all you had done was for nothing. You needed that, the last bit of reassurance you were able to promote yourself to. That… was okay… A dry smile parted on your lips as you subsided and rested your forehead against the ground once more, letting the night imagine that you were pressing it against Noa’s, you were sinking into him, giving him whatever life you had left in a bid to get him to survive. 

Yes… You were always meant to save him, it was true, and that meant… He had to live. For his Clan, for his future that you were not going to be apart of and take in the delectations of him getting other in front of your eyes, the once warmth nature of his fur peppering countless white hairs in a tanglement of wisdom, your stomach turning in on itself out of an incredible sheer will of oddly placed jealousy as if you were now seeing Noa’s life flash before your eyes, two circling Eagles in the long abyss of the blue sky that rounded the Earth, always destined to meet wings, but never destined to truly glide side-by-side. He was going to be great, you felt tears crawling into the cracks around your mouth, into the open wounds where you had been beaten within an inch of your life.

Noa--- Noa would grow. His gait would strengthen, he would teach his fellow Apes of the world beyond the Eagles and assure them there was nothing to be afraid of, your lips whispering to his ear what to say to them for the past year. It was a deepened feeling that you had, assured that the Ape would do what he needed to, almost feeling a sense of pride and you could see the dance of his shoulder as he boasted to you when you were destined to meet again, allowing the soaring to take place again above the Earth, that he had done good by you. That Noa had learned, that Noa… Had lived a full life. Finally, your fingers managed to tug the feather of your pocket out and you drew it upwards towards your face, wanting it to be the last color against the blaze that your eyes were able to comprehend. 

Noa would find another more suitable for him, your heart turned in on itself, beating harder than it needed to to keep you alive for the last sustained minutes you were able to spare to think about him, there had to be another if destiny allotted you the privilege to die for him, to die for the Clan to survive. Maybe even Soona, you laughed at that inside of your mind, she would be good for him.

Smart, funny, caring… An Ape herself, able to give Noa what he’d never admit to wanting but was always there in the animalistic pull you had towards each other. With the thought of your laughter came the inconsequential visual of your head tilting back with knowledge that Noa was piercing right to your jugular with the motion vivid and clear like you were living that moment from the many times it happened in the past. Another Mate, he’d be happy, the white vivid coldness that consumed you began spitting back memories of the future that were not going to live. 

There were moments you wanted to hold onto, knowing they were never yours to being with. 

Noa grasping the back of your head and holding your forehead against his own, explaining in his own terms that… There was more here, your hands digging themselves flushed into the fur of his forearms to keep you steady against the hold he had for you, the hold that was tethering you to the Earth, no longer worried about gravity. 

Spliced, taking from your grasp.

Your lips ghosting over his own as Noa brought his thumb up to your bottom lip, your legs… Bare and naked around his tapering waist as he was positioned under you for assurance that you were not hurt as he asked, so soft and so tangled with adoration mixed with carnal desire that was also speaking in his pupil's blown eyes as the Ape looked right at your naked chest, the hackles of his fur-lined body raising in anticipation of the moment. “Are you… sure… I am what you want?” That wasn’t a question, you wanted to whisper but as your hips drew themselves down in assurance you were spat to another remembrance of the future that was not meant to be.

Never to be and you were chasing the pieces of faded obscurity. 

The lazy sun pierced your eyes as you squinted at the crystal clear blue of the sky above you, head resting in the surprisingly familiar lap that you had grown accustomed to. The ripping of the thigh muscles ensuring that you were always going to be safe, mouth curling itself into a content smile as you looked at your mated beloved. Echo behavior, Noa’s voice rang in your ear as you felt a pull towards that nature as your lips parted as you whispered the smallest utterance of an ‘I love you’.

Time will forget all things Echo, they were all dying.

‘Child? My…?’ Noa’s voice was barely more than a whisper in your eardrum as you nodded in acute fear and confirmation. His own, your own. Two species sharing in something kind and gentle that would be raised as both. The idea that he could… That he--- Was able to do this with you running rampant as you were pulled so tightly to his chest, your hands drawing themselves into the fur at the base of his muscular neck, ripened now with age as you figured time had passed now as things were going linarily forward, rubbing it in your death-ladened brain that you were never going to experience these moments yourself. The running film in your mind came to a stuttering stop, no more your subconscious told you. Those were going to be reserved for the day you met again and he told you what he had accomplished, letting you, a measly little Echo that blipped his heart for a year, live vicariously through because deep down, Noa would be able to admit that it should have been you.

He’d… Your lips closed themselves as you no longer wanted to taste your tears. Noa would become a father, some day. Hopefully soon, you wished. The Eagle Clan deserved preservation of their greatness, their goodness and kindness that they had shown you despite your differences.

Their acceptance… Would be graced onto a baby Chimpanzee, Noa proud beyond belief, but scared… You swallowed hard. You knew he was going to be so afraid, the feelings drastic in your mind. Failure is always on the horizon in his acute self-deprecation and you could feel your hands holding his baby, so vivid like the softened fur was encasing your senses as you looked down at them with tendered eyes. Their features were not clear, but the green of their eyes was always going to be alight with curiosity and obsession just like Noa’s.  

You… are going to become the future that Noa wants, you whispered to the baby you held carefully, maternal in all aspects as you loved the blessed wispfulness of fur that laid upon their hair. Bringing your forehead down to touch them so gently was the easy part, like you were giving them your blessing, your mergerance with Noa so clear that you knew death was coming for you. The future that he deserves, Echo and Ape alike, no animosity… Be… kind to him, he’s doing his best…  You told the baby in your arms. Please, do this for me since I cannot do it myself.

You shared them with him as intended, Noa coming into vision out of the corner of your eye, but they were torn from your grasp at the moment of fruition once you had reached for him and handed the baby Chimp back to the Ape with solemn sadness and he said nothing in your hallucination but gratefully accept the invitation you gave him, his arms strong and caressing the child, so small against his chest as their hands grasped at his chest, the bare nature of his scar, downwards to nestle deep into their fathers chest to sleep… To bond…. He would be afraid of failing them like he feared failing his own Father, but you hoped that he…Would… Remember this, that he knew you had seen this and that things would be okay, and that you were going to be with him without actually being there. 

I hope he does know that. You looked at the feather between your bloodied pointer and middle finger and gave it a twirl which seemed to deplete you of all other energy as your eyes blurred and the feather and its fine detailing became nothing but a blur in your vision. Don’t become the rage that rests beneath the surface of guilt. Shutting your eyes, you brought the feather in and lightly placed it to your face. Nothing was felt, nothing was brushing or tickling at your skin and you knew it was time then.

Duty was served, your eyelids were heavy even though they had been shut. No, you wanted to cry, it wasn’t a duty! It was a privilege to sacrifice but you were still clinging to that notion of fear mentioned before. How afraid you were to let Noa go, afraid to let Noa live another life without you, afraid to let Noa endure love from his child when you were not there to help him understand. You calmed yourself though; he’d remember you. Until he didn't.

Until that life that you had spliced together in your own crying and jealous mind became a reality with another and you were left to be forgotten, just another Echo in the long history of your staggering clinginess as you were holding onto an Ape you never had confirmation of feelings with regardless. Fantasies were tearing themselves apart, reality was falling from under you. Yeah, your breathing was shallow and slow now, shoulders barely rising and falling, Noa would forget… And… You wanted him to. It would be unfair to say otherwise. 

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Eagle Sun squealed as he came to rest on top of Noa’s shoulder that was dulled to the misery that was still tearing through the muscles there. A plump of small ash rose into Noa’s nostrils as he himself were teetering between sleep and lucidity, taking in no conversations with those around him as he had dragged himself in parallel to seclusion behind a toppled over boulder. Soona had tried to get him to stay, she tried to convince him to conserve whatever strength he had, Dar tried to get him to stay, telling him that the Clan needed his guidance but there was nothing there for him at the moment. 

The Clan was fine, he said sharply, eyes coming in and out of focus as he looked at Soona first and then his own Mother with aggravated animosity. He would be fine, he needed--- Nothing else was said and he was gone, leaving them to deal with what he was unable to process.

Mourn, his body told him, mourn for the Clan, mourn for the Eagles of the past, mourn again for your Father, but more factually, mourn for you. Green eyes were falling ahead at nothing in particular anymore, even the dim light of the flames of the village were nothing more than a scape of black and white to the Ape, his fur crying to be brushed of the ashen wood particles of his people’s history that rained down from the gray heavens, no stars to be seen, no clarification for Noa to look upon and ask advice as if there were any. There was not, he was stupid and childish to think that there would be any advice out of the drill of ‘you need to be strong’ or ‘you need to lead your people.’ 

He did not! Noa bared his teeth and felt them grit together, his canines drilling so hard into the gummed enclosure that he caused himself pain to take away from the ripping of his chest that he felt. Anything--- His hackles were rising and falling with each thought that ran through his mind, the sweeping wrinkles under his eyes incredibly prominent as they were now highlighted red and were dripping moisture down his entire face, catching on the fur of his beard. Noa did not bother wiping them away, the clear vision of your fingers pressing under the delicate skin under your eyes and doing just that, not leaving the forefront of his mind. Such an Echo thing. Such a foreign thing. 

He--- would not think about that. About Echo’s. About how… Right his Father was, his heart blistering itself into grief ridden paranoia and hatred that was not justified if he were in his right mind. Echo’s brought nothing more than destruction with every step they took, even you. 

Every glance you gave him set him on fire from the inside out until he was charred with nothing but thoughts of what it was going to be like once Noa actually had you, every touch you gave him caused him to feel bile of want to rise in his throat especially when it was fleeting, when your shoulder did nothing but swiggle against his own furry shoulder, something that should have never happened, every smile you flashed him were ingrained into his retinas and Noa was sure to keep his eyes stagnant as to not see it. To not let himself remember that at the end of the day, this destruction of his Clan and his very own self-being were caused by you.

The Eagle Clan’s leader  wanted it so badly too, for you to step on him and take what was yours. What he had given you. Noa would still beg for it if it meant you would come back to him this very night and even with a heavily injured body, he’d somehow make you his, awkward and rigid, his blood smearing into your own as Noa desperately brought his weight down on you, crushing to the point where you had no room for air any longer, face contorting the way that was remembered in his own mind, and the Chimpanzee would ride you until the sun came up out of self-gratification and indulgence. Mine. This beautiful onslaught of hatred, muddled with adoration and perfection, leaking around the very edges of the glass with brimmed primal intent… Was all his.

“Leave… me alone…” His voice was tearing itself apart with self-loathing riding along the very edges with regret seeping into the more puddled middle. He did not want the sympathy of an Eagle who had lost their Master. Any rational thought was eradicated, his gaze sliding to intensely stare towards the bird who was perched on his right shoulder, talons now seeping into the wound that would not care to stop bleeding. Noa seethed at that, baring his teeth towards Eagle Sun, and in one sharp and twisted motion, Noa was on his feet and flew his free and uninjured hand into the air like he was going to take off himself and shouted at Sun. “LEAVE ME.” The sun would come up soon, he thought ha-hazardly, now drawing back down to the ground to resume the crumpled up position that he had been in before… Noa growled and rolled his shoulders despite the screams that he was getting from the tendons to stop movements so they could begin healing. That stupid bird bothered him! Stupid, dumb… Pointless… Bird… Noa felt a chuckled sob swipe the back of his throat. You… Loved that bird even if Eagle Sun was cautious of you. The attempts you had made to get close to him, your fingers being pecked into oblivion. That… Noa tilted his head and sniffed, the air condensed with thick burnt undertones. That was the first time that he had seen you bleed, your very first attempt to get Eagle Sun to come to you and his beak caused your fragile skin to break.

The blood was vivid in front of Noa’s eyes as he thought about that time, months upon months ago. You… bled just like an Ape, gasping loudly and letting out a strangled cry, just like an Ape as you pulled yourself away from the Eagle, muttering under your breath as you brought your finger in for inspection as Noa heard you say ‘what a jerk’. 

Your blood… The scent was still heavy to Noa like you were there with him and he was the one responsible for your breaking down form. That he had done what he carnally wanted, canines sinking themselves into the most tender piece of flesh that he was about to find upon inspection of your jugular. The pressure point pulsating for him headily, Noa’s eyes falling shut as your sweat encased his taste buds first and then the gush of crimson that he imagined would come from digging straight into the light veins that traced your skin.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Noa signed towards nothing in particular, there was no one around to see the words that fell deftly into the world, now tracing themselves with the words that you had spoken so freely and so affectionately towards him. They felt like they meant everything but nothing anymore…

Noa drew a hard breath in and felt the flooding of his lungs and the pushing of the shattering of his ribs against the flesh that rested not outside his bruised body, but inside of it. Maybe his Father, Noa thought vaguely. That’s who he was talking to. In life, he never sought advice from Koro. He--- Never understood Noa. Never took the time to understand the way that Noa thought and for good reason! The young Ape stiffened when his body racked itself with an intense wash of keen agony at the viciousness of his thought. 

For good reason… It was Noa’s mind and his openness, his want to understand Raka, to understand the way of Caesar, that got him to this point. It made no sense, he began down that trail that was laid down with the skulls of fallen Echo and fallen Ape, arm in arm in death, but never eye to eye in life. Why… keep the teachings of the first Ape to deny the embrace of being locked in cages?

Why were… Raka’s ideas are so important to Noa, why… did he get so obsessed with them when his Father’s words were so clear? Even in his death, Noa felt he disrespected his people and refused to listen and heed any good advice from Koro. He was… Naive… You had made him naive and made him believe in the ways that Raka spoke about, perhaps taken a bit too literally as there was never emotions that equated into the agreement that was sealed in a handshake, something so Echo that Noa, thinking about it now, could only feel the imprints of your palm against him. Urging him upwards, urging him to look at the sky and he felt the glazing of your forehead against his, green, lush and remarkably alight eyes imagined how it must have felt for his half-conscious state to feel that. The kiss of your bloodied forehead against the Apes, a symbol and a mark that was never to be broken but it was when you chose to let him live in place of your own self. Noa peered at the sky, longing for something to make sense, longing for you to be there with him, to tell him that it was alright and that the emotions he were feeling were all justified.

Noa wanted to feel the tender caress of your fingers so far into his fur that there was nothing else that mattered… Because… Bringing his eyes back down, they shut for a few moments as they stung with the ash that clung desperately to the air that wanted nothing more than to cause aggravated assault. Nothing here mattered without you. Noa squeezed himself tighter and felt a snap in his shoulder, something that would have caused him to double over but it felt good compared to the rundown nature of the rest of his nerves that were flaring and desperate to start their journey to heal him. He did not care then, it felt so good to have some form or relief. Green eyes that were always so lively with color that flitted the most beautiful gold were now dull and driven to despair. Where did he draw the line in the sand?

Where did you fall into this, death coming for you twice? Once when he found you, once again when he was forced to say goodbye in Soona’s arm as he had heard your last declaration to have her save him instead of you? You were death itself, walking around him and tempting him over again with your lips against the shell of his ear, your mouth licking at the fur below and skyrocketing fear and electricity through his senses. Temptation drew him in, the idea that Echo were the same as Apes and over time it became more and more clear that it was the case, that both sides refused to see that. Temptation placed itself in your actions as you cleaned him of all doubt that he had made a mistake to offer you refuge. Greed… Seeped into every pore of his body, every fluttering aspect of his fur down to the very small hairs that lined and coated closer to his skin.

Noa was greedy and now he was willing to admit that. He had done what he wanted out of greed and desperation to break the norm and to prove to himself and others that Echo were good because you showed him that they were! You--- Noa shut his eyes and felt himself tear into an open sob. You were good… So good for him, so good to him and now he needed to grapple that there was no longer a future to envision. You were gone, you were dead, assured by his Mother for only a moment as he tore himself open to be exposed to the elements of bereavement. You were gone, the breeze was no longer bringing your scent to him and he was holding his hand out for you to take but you were so far under the water that he wasn’t even able to feel your fingertips grazing against his.

Noa rocked his body- front and then backwards viciously to get himself to stand- To motivate himself to turn his face forward and look at his Clan and admit that he had made such a drastic mistake and to promise that… He would serve them in the future and never serve himself. Noa would force himself to find a mate, maybe one of the Elders' daughters who had interest and knew the ways, Noa would force himself to bear children with them and never take in the delectations that were associated with what he imagined Echo mating to be like. The sweet caress of your body against his leathered and callus skin, the rolling of your head backwards as you arched against him and desperately pleaded for him. No more, to be forgotten. Noa would love his children surely, he would support them and give them what they needed unlike what he felt happened with his own Father but he would never let himself forget the idea that even if it wasn’t possible with an Echo - he could at least try. Noa could have at least tried to drive himself into you as many times as it took to assure the future of his Clan that seemed so bleak and droughted now to him. Noa needed to stand, to face his people instead of turning his back on them… They… He thought and looked over his good shoulder and finally turned himself into the bustle of the Apes behind him, a few meters to the west as they were being tended to by Soona and Dar. They needed him… They needed their leader to take them to the promised land and to raise them from the very ashes of history. “Noa---”

That… Narrowing his eyes, there was a wash of panic that rested in his fellow Apes that he had been so ignorant of, voices overlapping each other as twigs broke underfoot as they shuffled in the dark, soon to be twinkling with the dawn that was at the cusp of the horizon, he could hear the drawing of chittering from deep in their chest, a form of communication that was verbal but used no words followed by harder barks of aggression.

Something--- Noa’s eyes amply lit themselves up at the sight of a torch that was lingering too close to the Clan now. That voice was Soona calling his name, his eyes forcing themselves onto her movements as she was hunched on all fours, skidding to a stop on the floor of the woods and tore into the dirt and sediment below.

 “Another! There is another!”

He opened his mouth to say something, to ask anything but his voice was gone as he felt terror resting in the back of his throat at the realization. Echo. There… had been more. They… Came to seek revenge for their fallen comrades and were going to kill the rest of the Clan! Noa stiffened, “Must hurry. Get---” He grunted as he stood, his knees buckling under the sheer weight that he carried, only muscle and no fat. ‘Any ape…’ He signed to Soona and followed her closely back towards where the Clan were gawking at the appearance of another devil. ‘That can fight.’ 

The female Ape beside Noa only nodded and broke apart from him once up the small embankment of the boulder he had secluded himself behind earlier. Noa felt his movements to be slow and shining with aggravation that he was priming his taut muscles again to fight, this time, he accepted, to the death. The Earth moved below his weight, not helping the fact that he was already unbalanced beyond what he was capable of correcting in his right mind. Another assault and it would end in either their own demise, or his. The latter seemed to realistically attainable, he wanted to see you, wanted to greet you and finally tell you all the things that had been plaguing his mind since he handed you that blue feather, setting in motion a very tangly dance of courting that neither of you were actually aware of happening. 

The brushing of his shoulder against yours that would displace his scent against your sweetened notes, the stares you gave one another as you spoke of things outside of your own cultures, hands inching closer, one by one, feet stepping one motion at a time before the entire world shifted and you were gone from in front of him and Noa’s reaction time was too slow to grab at any idea that you were even there in the first place. The Master of the Eagle Clan only had one thing to fight for left. It was a male Echo that Soona drew worry to, that was the first deduction. Male, not armed…? Nothing cased his smaller body, thinned from malnutrition as most Echo were. That’s what made them so easy to hunt and kill as a sport. Noa’s brow hardened as he stared down the small hill at them as he heard a few hisses from the Apes that the Echo was passing as they were brought to Noa’s utmost attention, his brain feeling nothing more than a scrambled Eagle Egg on a hot simmering rock.

“You---” Their voice caught in their throat, nothing more than a jumbled mess of high pitched noises as they looked up at him, Noa feeling a drench of intimidating factor radiating off him, even from the very tips of his fur were they shivering and shoving down this Echo’s throat. “You’re-you… You’re the leader?” “What do you want?” Noa barked at them, letting his canines slip into display as his eyes were turned from the softness of thinking of you to the bitterness that this Echo had the audacity to come find them to finish the job as if taking you along the waist side with them wasn’t bad enough. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

The tenacity in his vocals surprised everyone, the Echo falling nearly flat on his back but that was nothing compared to the stares that he was garnering from the Apes themselves. Chimpanzee eyes were widened with fear that he could kill them if he chose, if they did not pull their weight in the Clan, Bonobo green glances were shared amongst each other as no one knew Noa to be aggressive, to use force. He was an intelligent fighter, hackles began to arise on all the Apes' fur in thinned anticipation of what this meant, all minds like a hive sharing the same notion and idea of radicating revenge.

The fact that Noa was displaying such an air of arrogant hatred and encroachment evident in his powered stance, his thighs pained but willing to put forth one more effort, his shoulders, one rendered completely useless in the idea of another tussle, but the other rolling as to show the Echo that even one handed, he was more than capable of tearing their face off. “S-She’s alive!” The male held his hands up as Apes began to enforce themselves into their personal space, the clear indication of fear rising and hitting all their noses. Sweat and adrenaline as if that were going to save them if they decided to attack him. Noa’s mouth opened for only a moment as he stared at him, their eyes afraid to look into the soul of an Ape as a Bonobo next to him hissed nearly directly into his ear before his lips drew themselves back together to keep rational though his train of conductive thought began tearing itself apart. You… were alive? Where?! He wanted to rattle this Echo by the neck. TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!!!! Noa’s eyes widened minutely before resuming their narrowed glance. The Echo whimpered and shifted away but only caught the attention of another bonobo on his other side. 

“What.--- did you say?” The control in his voice was gone and Noa knew that he was running the risk of being played again but the greed he had discussed in introspection earlier was rising in the back of his skull, tickling at the notion that… The male Echo here spoke the truth. You were alive. Breathing, succulent as ever in wafted graces of smell, but hurt beyond compensation to the point where Noa wanted to rip this Echo’s face off and lick the blood off the insides for even speaking of you. No one was allowed to anymore, it was law. You were reserved in memory encased glass now, to be locked in Noa’s mind for the rest of his lie.

“The one th-that got us here! She’s AH!” A Chimpanzee grasped his forearm, looking up at Noa as they did and Noa did not give them the time of day, waiting for more baited words from this man. “I--- Was never a part of them, they threatened to kill my family… My…” He looked around frantically at the Apes around him, “My family… I cou-couldn’t do it, so I hid in the for-forest… I---” It was clear that he was bargaining with Noa, with all of them. Probably to save his pathetic little life as Soona came rounding to Noa’s right side and stared alongside with him.

“Could have saved her before---”

“They would have killed me!” “They should have.” Noa snapped back without empathy or remorse leaking out. They should have killed this worthless excuse of an Echo. No, not that affectionate in nature. This absolutely disgraced Human who probably came here to save his life rather than to be hunted by another group of ruthless Apes that would gut him alive. Noa gestured with his muzzle to take the Echo away, to let him die out in the wilderness.

A death by the hand of an Ape would come too swift to this creature, Noa decided, his eyes widening as the Echo dragged his hand into his pocket, shifting aggressively against the Apes that had a hold on him. Everyone assumed a weapon, the flashing of several pairs of teeth indicative of that along with raised fur, hardened breath and heavy beady weight drawing flat and wide feet into the ground. Echo weapon like what injured Noa so badly.

“She gave me this!” Blue. Noa’s eyes were broad with reminiscent melancholy. Eagle… Sun’s… Feather… 

“Where did you---” Soona shot Noa’s side profile a glance as his voice wavered unconfidently, not believing what she was hearing.

“She gave it to me, I’m telling you she is alive! She said you would recognize this!”

‘He lies.’ Soona signed towards her sunset brother but Noa raised his good hand and cut her off. 

‘Why risk coming here when he’s alone? Where did he get the feather?’ 

Soona responded but Noa did not pay it any attention as the feather was captivating his reddened eyes. Noa bargained now, washing into a dream-like state at the appearance of something that very clearly carried your scent within the tiny bristles. So warm, the smell was even though it was just a trace of blood, but it was there and it was catapulting the Ape into the great unknown of what lay beyond the offering this Echo just gave. Wanting nothing more than truth so he could see your face, hold your face and tell you that he was sorry for everything knowing fully well that you would say the same thing if you saw him, Noa swallowed hard. 

He felt his heart yearn for that… Even if you were actually dead, he wanted the morbid satisfaction of being the last hands to touch you. You were his and only his, even in death and Noa would never let the mounting guilt that flooded his senses ever forget that. There was always the intent to go back for you, even once the fires dissipated. Alone and torn to shreds the few things that he never cared about. He’d place you next to his Father. He’d--- He looked at Soona with a softened gaze of assurance, he’d hoped that you were with Koro and you were telling him the ways of the Echo just like you had done to his Son. 

Noa…knew that Soona was going to disagree with this much like she disagreed with the agreement you and Noa made nearly a year ago.There was no way to tell her, to describe to her that even though he knew it come be a threat, that he could die, he was more than willing to try. Willing to see you just once more after his harsh abandonment left him feeling more gaped than the wound that inflicted his chest, the blood around itr now drying in heaps and heaps upon the clotted fur that was tangled with dirt. 

She growled at him, a deflection to get him to stop considering what he was about to do. He was playing around with the emotions of one of his closest friends, teetering on the very thin line of distrust. If Soona was right, she’d never believe in Noa’s judgment again, none of the Apes would. But… If this Echo were right then… Noa was wrong, and you were still alive out there, saved by this Echo who came here… He sniffled a bit, the fur that was raised on his shoulder falling down slowly as he tried to keep his breathing rational but the feather’s appearance was dragging him into the ground below, his emotions frayed from no sleep, his brain not comprehending anything outside of getting you back to his side. 

‘I will let him take me to her.’

‘She is dead! Noa.’ Her hands quickened as the human watched them communicate in utter silence, a cruel contradiction to the loudness that Echo seemed to carry with them to all corners of the land. ‘What if he brought more!? We cannot defend ourselves with what we have!’

“You need…” Noa looked at the ground and spoke in nothing but a wistful whisper and felt a stifled cry rise in him as he lifted his tendered shoulder and placed it against Soona’s smaller body, right against her outer shoulder and he pulled her to him languidly, “To trust me… If I do not…” Soona opened her mouth to protest but could see the contemplation written on Noa’s face as he had thought this through as he so often did. And like the conversation of the past to get them all convinced to let you stay, Soona did not agree with his reason or justifications… She did not understand but she chose to do as Noa wanted. Trust.

“If I do not come back, you must take the Clan to the place we scouted out. Let them take me… to save… Eagle Clan.”

“Noa…” Her voice was soft as he tore himself from her, every step he took towards the Echo antagonistic and threatening just to drive home the fact that Noa was indeed a predator and he was willing to do what he needed to do to defend himself. Cross me, his gait said to the male who cowered as he got closer and crouched down, ignoring the sensation of intense crunching of his ribcage from the motion of his body once again closing on on itself and he peered into a set of eyes that should have been so familiar, they were Echo like yours were, but were drawn to fear much like yours had been the first time you laid eyes on Noa and he felt a prickle of familiarity at that.I will be the one to kill your family, every last one of them, his green eyes said, pupils dilated to eclipse any of the color. I will drive them to the very ends of the Earth and put their bodies up on display on wooden sheared spears if you dare.

Spotting Soona one last glance as she moved slowly on all fours towards Noa, her lacked movements evident that she was uncomfortable with his choice but once his eyes set on Dar, who had been moving to help the baby Apes move away from the fight that she sensed could break out, she looked at her Son tenderly. You… Do what you need to do to save your mate, she said softly, Noa feeling the pang hit him at the idea that Dar… 

His own Mother… Wanted nothing more than to turn back time and do the same for Koro, to help aid Noa in the fight in hopes that three against one gorilla would give them any chance. Noa knew - His mind playing the moments of his childhood where he had seen his parents foreheads pressing, his tongue out of his mouth at the display of affection, talking to Anaya and Soona about the lack of interest he ever had in fulfilling that, in setting another female Ape to take his Mother’s position that was garnered with respect and adoration. Noa knew Dar would have done what he could to save Koro and she was giving him the chance, confident her Son would succeed to do just that. 

Noa narrowed his eyes and puffed his breath against the Echo’s face. He cowered again and grunted as he fell almost straight on his back but got caught by another Chimpanzee behind him as Noa’s hand delicately plucked the blue feather right from his shimmering fingertips with acute ease and sacredness of what the item meant to the two of you. It glistened with crimson blood, dark and whispering to him that you were still alive, this blood was fresh and not dried and flaking off. Noa brought it to his lips and let his tongue swipe at it just once, coating it with a glimmer of saliva. Alive, it tasted… Tucking the feather into his armband, careful and gentle as the moistened feather now tangled into the dryer nature of his fur, he muttered.

“Take me to her.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Midnight meetings

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 31

Prompt: Midnight

Rated: T

Tags: Fantasy AU; Fae!Eddie; Knight!Steve; Contracts; Bargains; Mind control

Notes: Continued from day 8

There's three things Steve knows about the fae.

First, their power is greatest on the night of the winter solstice, just around midnight.

Which is why he's not surprised when he is awakened by the rattle of armor, the clang of swords and the screams of his father’s men. He doesn’t need to ask what’s going on. The chill in the air, unnaturally cold even for a winter’s night, and the tingle in his blood tell him all he needs to know.

He tumbles from his bed, throwing on his boots and chainmail. He’s been keeping them within reach, even in his sleep, ever since the day he let the fae boy escape. Grabbing his sword from its place by the wall, he yanks open his door and flies into the corridor.

It’s mayhem.

The castle’s knights are no match for the attackers, not on this night. Steve doesn’t bother joining them. He holds no love for these men, and neither do they for him. Instead, he takes off running, jumping over dead and injured soldiers and weaving between those still standing.

He’s prepared to be attacked on his way to his destination, but nobody so much as looks at him as he hurries down the winding staircases. The air is abuzz with magic. It whirrs past his head, singing the tips of his hair and making his ears ring, but by the time he stumbles into the kitchens, there's not a single scratch marking his skin.

Maybe this should've given him pause, he thinks later.

Except he doesn’t have any time to pause, because the moment he barges into the room, his worst fears are confirmed.

He sees the castle kids, huddled into a corner of the room, sees the fae warriors advancing on them, graceful and unbearably beautiful even in their silvery battle armor.

And then he doesn't see anything, he just acts.

“Run,” he barks at the kids, throwing himself between them and their attackers. “Take the secret passage, you know the one.”

He waits just long enough to make sure they’ve taken off running before he whirls on the fae again, brandishing his sword.

“Leave them alone. They haven’t done anything to you.”

They take a step back and lower their weapons. Maybe that's the second thing that should've given him thought.

For a few moments, the only sounds in Steve’s ears are the rush of his own blood and the faint screams of the men being slaughtered upstairs. Then, one of the attackers - a tall, blond one with cold blue eyes - scoffs.

“Nobody in this castle is to be spared. Step aside, boy.”

Steve grips his sword harder. “You'll have to kill me first if you wanna go after them.”

The warrior's eyes light up with glee.

“With pleasure,” he says, and raises his rapier. Steve plants his feet.

“Enough.”

It’s only one. Still, it slices through the air like a blade of ice. The fae sheath their weapons and bow.

“My lord,” says the one at the front. “You commanded us to-”

“Kill every single soul in this wretched place,” confirms the man who has appeared at the center of the room. “Except for one. Do not try to play me for a fool.”

“It's you!” Steve blurts, and eyes as dark as the midnight sky flick over to meet his.

“Leave us,” commands the man, striding past his soldiers without so much as a side glance. “Make yourselves useful elsewhere.”

The warriors hesitate for a moment, but then they bow and duck out of the room.

“What are you doing, sweet thing?” sighs the man, almost mournfully. He's even more magnificent than the last time Steve saw him. Robes the color of the night, speckled in stars. Dark curls crowned in a wreath of dead branches and frost-covered winter berries. “Is this how you honor my gift?”

Steve grits his teeth against the onslaught of guilt that wells up inside of him.

“You can’t kill them all,” he mutters. “There’s innocents in this castle, they didn’t all-”

“They all serve your father, don’t they?” the man says. “For that, they need to die.”

Steve feels the color drain from his face.

“But I saved you,” he says. “And you can’t even grant me this small favor?”

The man shakes his head.

“You saved me and I am sparing you. We are even. Unless …”

The second thing Steve knows about the fae is that you don’t bargain with them.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks. “Just say it, and-”

A cold hand cups his face, long fingers tracing the outline of his chin and jaw, pressing down on his lips.

“Life can only be repaid for with life,” the man says. “You humans are frail and short-lived creatures, but to make up for this many? You’d have to pledge yourself to me for centuries.”

Steve swallows. The man’s eyes are two black holes, sucking him in.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says.

The man’s lips twitch into a smile, eerily alike to the one when Steve freed him from the cage.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?”

The third thing Steve knows about the fae is that names hold power for them. Which is why you should never, under any circumstances, tell them yours.

“Steve. Of House Harrington.”

“Very well then, Steve of House Harrington,” says the man, and kisses him again. The touch zaps from Steve’s lips all the way into his blood, clouding his mind and making his insides buzz like the finest wine laced with the deadliest of poisons. “You’ll make a splendid thrall, I think. Come now, I’ll take you home.”

Steve has taken the offered hand before it even occurs to him to resist.

More holiday drabbles

[wheeboo]

venus | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which the love between you and the prince is forbidden. PAIRING. prince!choi seungcheol x servant-commoner!reader (ft. servant-commoner!chan very briefly) GENRE. fluff, angst with a hopeful ending?, forbidden love, royalty au, arranged marriage au (cheol is in an arranged marriage), established secret relationship WARNINGS. cheol and reader both have a lil argument, terms of endearment (darling, love, sweetheart), kissing WORD COUNT. 3.8k

note: fic is vaguely inspired by the bridge part of this song called "venus" by regina song 🫶💕 this is also my first time writing a royalty au, so i hope you enjoy! this also features the very iconic "you came" "you called" line 😭

The ballroom of Pledis Palace is charged with an air of enchantment. The time had just reached the peak of evening. Moonlight filters through the large, grand windows, bathing the open room in an ethereal glow. Along the sides of the ballroom are intricately carved golden marble columns, each one painted with a different tale of the kingdom's past.

In the middle of the ceiling sits a majestic chandelier hanging from a massive, golden chain. The piece is the crown jewel of the ballroom, one that easily draws visitors into all its glory and beauty, and it casts a radiant gleam that seemed to rain down like stardust upon the guests below.

The dance floor reflects the light from the chandelier, creating an illusion of stars twinkling at one's feet. You watch all the elegantly-dressed guests move with grace across the room. The women are all dressed with precise attention to detail, their gowns and jewelry like works of art on a canvas. Some wear dresses in shades of amethyst, emerald, and sapphire, embroidered with beautiful beadwork that glistens like constellations, while others prefer flowing gowns in delicate pastels, as if they've stepped out of a fairytale.

They all hold onto their partners𑁋lavish gentlemen dressed in sophistically tailored suits matching the colours of their ladies' gowns𑁋with utmost love and enjoyment, while you find yourself standing at the side, holding up a tray of drinks as a particular heaviness settles in your chest.

And as your eyes drift ever so slightly, you swear that regardless what direction you look in, he's always there at the end of it, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Yet the light this time was dim and lacked almost all the hope that used to be there when you looked at him.

Not only is the royal family of Pledis here, but also a second one. The Choi royal family of Pledis, and of course, the future in-laws.

Prince Choi Seungcheol is dancing with poise that appeared almost effortless, eyes locked in a tender gaze to his future betrothed, yet the smile to his face doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's the same kind of gaze during the times he would be with you, like in the secret corners of the royal garden that only the two of you knew, or in the times you both snuck out of the castle at the wee hours of the night to stargaze, or the intimate nights you spent with him in his quarters where you had to leave just before daybreak.

It's those times where the certain line between nobility and commoner could be momentarily blurred. It's those times where you both truly felt free in more ways than one.

As you continue to watch the dance and see the way he twirls his betrothed with ease, the world seems to blur, and it felt as if it was just you and Seungcheol in this grand ballroom. His eyes, so familiar yet so distant, meet yours in a fleeting moment. His face falls instantly.

The world and time may have pulled you apart, but in that stolen glance, you were brought back together. In your eyes, you saw the prince who had defied tradition and chosen to be with you without boundaries. In his eyes, he saw the commoner who had been his confidant and, more importantly, his secret love.

"Why are you just standing there? Go tend to your duties," the steward advises you annoyedly, snapping you out of your focus. With a start, you fix your posture, offering a quick nod of understanding to the stern-faced steward.

Hastily, you resume your duty, walking through the large crowd, presenting the tray of drinks and feeling their odd looks linger on you as you move past them. They're taunting you, not with words, but with their subtle, condescending glances. The weight in your chest only deepens with each step you take.

You reach the outskirts of the dance floor, casting another glance towards Seungcheol. His elegant moves and the seemingly affectionate way he held his betrothed gives a bittersweet feeling to your chest, and you can't help but briefly imagine yourself there with him instead𑁋being the one at the end of his smile, the end of his touch.

As the music swelled, the dance finally comes to an end. You watch as the prince gracefully leads his betrothed back to her seat, a warm smile on his face. You know he didn't have much of a choice. He had an obligation to the kingdom, to his family, and to the future over the love he had once whispered to you in the hidden corners of the royal gardens.

Your heart aches again, but you understand. You couldn't be a part of his world, no matter how much he cared for you.

You don't catch the way his eyes follow you once you dismiss yourself out of the ballroom, struggling to hold your tears back.

"Y/N, don't you think you overwatered this area right here?" Chan, a fellow gardener for the royal garden and closest friend, taps lightly on your shoulder, startling you out of your daze and nearly the watering can in your hands. You blink rapidly, bringing yourself back to the present.

All you manage is a weak smile, some embarrassment and guilt flooding your senses. "Sorry, I... I guess my mind was elsewhere."

He gives you a knowing look, gaze sympathetic yet encouraging. "It's okay. I know things haven't been the best recently." He gestures toward the grand castle behind you, its towers standing tall and proud. You know exactly what he's talking about, and it makes you let out a sigh, facing back towards the garden in front of you.

You've poured your heart into the royal garden for so long, finding comfort in its quiet beauty and the therapeutic rhythm of tending to its blooms from day to night.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the moon begins to rise, the garden transforms into a world of magic. The abundance of flowers surrounding you seem to glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and their scent becomes more rich in the cool night air. The air carries a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of leaves soothes your troubled mind.

There was just something about simply being with nature𑁋in the royal garden and with the beauty that exists outside its walls𑁋that allows you to breathe more freely. Sometimes, you swear that even the flowers are capable of whispering words of their own, as if sharing stories with you alone, or stories that you used to listen to with one particular man.

Just as you're about to finish watering one last final section, you hear Chan's distant voice from afar.

"Y-Your Highness! What brings you here at this hour?"

You freeze in place, the almost-empty watering can slipping from your fingers as you turn around.

Prince Seungcheol stands at the edge of the garden, his gracious figure silhouetted against the moonlit scenery. He's dressed in his nighttime attire, a pair of simple yet elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt that flows slightly in the cool breeze. His gaze flickers between you and Chan, a hint of curiosity in his expression, and the two of you both offer a respectful bow in his direction as he approaches.

"I just wanted some fresh air," Seungcheol answers sharply, locking his eyes with yours, and there's a small smile that graces his lips once he catches sight of you. "It's peaceful here in the garden, isn't it?"

You heart only flutters to his words, yet that arrow of sadness pierces through your chest. However, even below the auroral skies and with the intoxicating fragrance of flowers all around, your heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

"Chan, you may excuse us for a moment." He gestures to the young boy, his voice carrying a warm, reassuring tone that you've longed to hear.

With a quick nod, Chan offers a polite bow, shooting you a glance before slipping his way back in the direction of the castle, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol approaches you, the distance between you decreasing until you're standing just a breath away from each other. You both remain in a contemplative silence, neither of you wanting to break the fragile moment that has been rekindled after so long.

Finally, he speaks in a hushed tone. "You've been avoiding me."

Your gaze is quick to fall to the ground in guilt, unable to meet his eyes.

"You know I had to," You reply simply, voice barely more than a whisper. "We can't be together, Cheol. You should know this better than me. It was the only choice you had. Duty called, and you answered."

Seungcheol's face only contorts with a mix of anguish and frustration. "Duty? Duty won't keep me warm at night, Y/N. Duty won't make me feel alive. You are what my heart longs for. You should know this. This is all purely arranged, don't you remember?"

You let out an audible scoff, feeling your hands crumple into fists at your side. "You're being selfish right now. Think about the kingdom, your family, and the future you're meant to build. Don't you see why we can't... we can't be together? It's inevitable. We shouldn't..." Your find your voice drifting away, words getting caught in your throat.

He steps even closer, his frustration boiling over into desperation. "I am thinking about them. I think about them every day, but I... I can't stop thinking about you either. I can't stop loving you."

"This love won't feed the hungry, Seungcheol. This love won't protect our people. This love won't secure the kingdom's future. This love won't change the fact that I'm merely a commoner and you're a prince."

The moonlight accentuates the sadness in his eyes as your words sink in, and you find yourself unable to hold back the tears that have welled up. The two of you only stand there for a few long moments, simply gazing in each other's glassy eyes, feeling like the garden itself was holding in a breath of its own.

Then in a sudden moment of vulnerability, you step closer to him, resting your head against his chest, taking in his familiar warmth and the scent you've longed for as your tears stain his shirt. Seungcheol wraps you in his strong arms, pulling you closer, and you feel his heartbeat against your body, steady and comforting. It's a sound you've always loved listening to whenever you embraced each other.

"I've missed you, darling," he mutters quietly. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me?"

With his arms around you, you feel a warmth that fills the void in your heart. It's a sensation you've yearned for the past few torturous months.

"I-I've missed you too," You confess, voice trembling. "But... but we can't𑁋"

"Please," he pleads softly, tightening his hold around you. "Can't I just hold you?"

The tenderness his voice holds cuts you off, and you can't help the way your fingers instinctively knead at his shirt.

Seungcheol holds you tightly, as if he's afraid that letting go will make you vanish into thin air. In this fleeting moment, there's no kingdom to rule, no traditions to uphold𑁋just the two of you, reunited in an embrace that disregards the confines of your roles. It's as if the world beyond this secluded royal garden has ceased to exist, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly alive.

"I love you," he murmurs, voice heavy with sorrow, his lips brushing against your hair. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Usually that particularly intimate exchange brings those flutters to your stomach and a giddy smile to your face, but instead, it only makes your heart throb. Though you know with every fibre in your body that it's true𑁋that you love each other. It's not a secret, nor a feeling to deny.

You find yourself pulling away slightly, angling your head up to be able to take a look at him. His gaze meets yours halfway, and the intensity in his dark pupils nearly takes your breath away. He searches your eyes for a moment, before drawing his lips near yours, his intent clear. For a heartbeat, you're tempted to give in𑁋to taste the sweetness of his kiss once more.

But then the weight of responsibility, the duty you've always known, everything, pulls you back.

"I-I can't," You whisper, the words escaping your lips shakily. "We can't, Seungcheol. It-It's not right."

Seungcheol's breath hitches as you pull away. His lips hover just inches from yours, yearning for a connection that seems increasingly unattainable.

"I know," he replies quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. He still doesn't want to let you go. "I understand. I'm sorry."

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, caressing his skin softly. "The kingdom needs you. Your people need you. They need a strong, capable leader. They need their prince."

Seungcheol's jaw tightens. "And what about what I need? What about what my heart seeks?"

You only gaze longingly at him. The two of you know the answer to that. You don't have to say anything before he understands with a sigh. His expression softens with a mix of resignation and affection, and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"Your Highness, your presence is requested back in the palace," Chan's voice calls out from behind, breaking the fragile moment between the two of you.

Seungcheol releases your hand defeatedly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

However, instead of backing away, he leans back in close to whisper into your ears, "Come meet me at the royal ballroom tomorrow at midnight," Then he pauses, contemplating, and adding on, "if you wish, of course."

Then his lips curl into a bittersweet smile before turning away to leave. The sound of his footsteps gradually fades as he walks away back towards the palace, leaving you standing amidst the fragrant blooms and under the rays of soft moonlight.

Come meet me at the royal ballroom... midnight... if you wish. Seungcheol's words have been echoing in your mind for the entirety of the day, sometimes even distracting you from the duties you are assigned to in the royal garden.

The more you thought over his invitation, the more it felt like an impossible temptation, knowing well of the risks and consequences it could bring.

The day passes in a blur, the sun making its daily journey across the sky, casting a warm and inviting glow over the palace and the royal garden. And when the late night finally takes over, and the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself cautiously walking down the large corridor of the palace, your feet instinctively bringing you in the direction of the royal ballroom. It's eerily quiet at this time, nothing but skeleton staff that still heightens your paranoid senses of getting caught.

Yet as you stop in front of the grand doors of the ballroom, your heart quickens its pace. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Should you really be doing this? Was it entirely a good idea to be here?

But just the thought of simply him draws you in, your hand briefly gliding over the glistening doorknob.

With a determined sigh, you take the leap and push the heavy doors open. The ballroom lies before you, bathed in the silvery luminescence filtering through the grand windows. Your heart races as you step inside.

The ballroom is empty, deserted practically. All of the lights, including the large chandelier, were switched off, the only source coming from the outside world through the tall windows.

As you step further into the room, the sounds of your shoes echoing throughout, the sheer emptiness of the place becomes more apparent. You swear you even hear your own thoughts bouncing off the walls of the room. Doubts start to creep into your mind. What if he doesn't come? What if this was all a mistake?

However, just as you're about to give in to the feeling of hopelessness, you hear a soft sound from behind you. You turn to find Seungcheol entering the ballroom and closing the door shut. He's dressed in a simple black suit, and there's a twinge of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrors your own.

"You came," he says, and his voice is so soft that you can barely hear it over your racing heart.

You fully turn yourself to him, swallowing down a nervous lump in your throat.

"You called."

Seungcheol's eyes light up, and a faint smile crosses his lips as he steps closer to you. The moonlight bathes him in an celestial glow, accentuating his princely features. But in this moment, he's just the man you've been in love with for so long.

He extends his hand toward you, eyes locked onto yours, inviting you to share a dance with him.

"May I?" he asks gentlemanly, and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You hesitate for a brief moment, glancing down at his hand and back up to his face. "I... I don't know how..."

Seungcheol's smile remains warm and encouraging, his hand still extended toward you.

"It's okay," he says softly. "I'll teach you. Just follow my lead."

Tentatively, you place your hand in his. His grip is firm yet gentle as he guides you to the centre of the empty dance floor, a certain eager bounce in his step that you notice, and the stars painting the ground seem to come to life as you stand with him. Seungcheol places his hand on your waist, and the warmth of his palm against your skin sends shivers down your spine. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to steady your breathing as you prepare to follow his lead.

At first, your steps are awkward, but you try your best to mimic the elegance and grace that he naturally possesses. He's probably had personal training for this kind of thing, You think.

You chuckle at the small moments where your feet accidentally bump or you step on his toes, and Seungcheol's laughter mingles with yours. Nothing but a soft melody of an imagined song fills the silence as the two of you move together in the middle of the ballroom.

"You're doing great," he whispers, breath brushing against your ear as you sway together.

It's scarily easy to lose yourself in Seungcheol's eyes. They're the same eyes that once whispered secrets of love to you beneath the stars. Now they say a lot without saying anything.

You don't know how long you've been dancing, but it feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. The world outside the ballroom may be waiting, filled with your separate responsibilities and expectations, but in this moment, it's just you and him.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?" Seungcheol comments, even though you were only dressed in your servant uniform.

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, and offer a shy smile. "I'm not as stunning as the ladies at the court, nor your betrothed."

Seungcheol gently tilts your chin upward, making sure you meet his eyes.

"Every time I look at you, I feel like I fall in love all over again." His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek. "Every time I watch you down tending to the garden through my quarters, I feel as if you're tending to my heart. I can simply say that you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, sweetheart."

His words make your heart swell out of your chest, his grip on your waist tightening imperceptibly, drawing you closer to him. The space between you vanishes, and you can feel the heat of his body seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you. Seungcheol could shower you with praises all day long, and you would never tire of hearing them. He has a way of making you feel special, cherished, and utterly adored.

"Cheol?" You call out, voice tinged with vulnerability.

He raises an eyebrow, still guiding you through the dance. "Yes, love?"

"Are we crazy for doing this?" You ask. It's meant to be rhetorical in a way, but the uncertainty in your voice lingers, and Seungcheol's expression becomes more serious.

He slows the movement between you two, his pensive eyes locked onto yours.

"Perhaps we are," he admits wholeheartedly. "but I'd rather be crazy with you than live a life without you."

His words quietly suspend in the air around you. The moments pass, but they feel eternal, as if time itself has momentarily paused to let the two of you be together. You're captured in his eyes, just like he is with yours. You see the emotions he's trying to convey: love, longing, and the knowledge that this moment is both a blessing and a curse.

And then without a word, you both lean in at the same time, lips meeting each other's in a kiss both softly and tenderly. It's a stolen moment; it's a secret scene that only the moon and stars witness.

His arms pull you closer, fingers dancing along your spine, as if he's trying to bridge any space that might exist between you. It's a kiss that tastes of bittersweet nostalgia𑁋something of what once was and what could never be. You savour the taste of him on your lips, knowing that once the morning light arrives, this moment may become nothing more than a distant memory.

As your lips break away, you both draw back slightly, foreheads touching, breathing heavily as you savour the precious seconds of closeness.

"You know that I'd give up everything for you," he whispers, breath warm against your skin.

You only smile, tracing your fingers gently over his lips. He leans into your touch.

"I know," You say softly. "And I would do the same for you."

"But just for tonight." He pushes back some strands of hair behind your ear. "Can we pretend that the world doesn't matter?"

You peer into his eyes, and for a moment, you see a reflection of your own pining. Your heart sinks, but it also rises. A smile drifts across your face, but it also carries a trace of sadness. Leaning in, you nearly press your lips against his once again, but then you take in a deep breath.

"Yes," is all you mutter. "I'm all yours."

That's all it takes for him to kiss you again, a bit more fervently and urgently that it nearly makes you stumble in surprise. But the second you pull back from each other, he's grabbing your hand in his, a bright smile to his face, before twirling you around and pulling you in close once more, your laughter echoing in the empty ballroom together. You share one more kiss, and then another, and another, whispers of hushed I love you's against each other’s lips as the night goes on like it will never end.

And it's with each minute that passes that only strengthens Seungcheol's determination𑁋that in some way, he will make sure you both will be together, whether that means escaping the constraints of your worlds, finding a way to keep your love alive in secret, or even sacrificing a part of himself.

With each kiss, he silently promises you that he will find a way. With each kiss, you silently promise to love and wait for him.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1

[oct0bra1ns]

It's been so long i forgot how i formatted my posts, oops. @keencoffeefox here ya go

The throne room echoed with silence, broken only by the heavy rustle of your ceremonial robes. The crown on your head weighed more than gold—it carried the burden of resentment. Across from you stood your older brother, Prince Adrian, the rightful heir who had everything ripped away. His sharp gaze followed you like a predator, cold and unforgiving.

"Enjoying the weight of my crown?" Adrian’s voice dripped with scorn. He stood too close, his lips curving into a sneer. "I hope it crushes you.That crown doesn’t suit you,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth curling in disdain. “It’s just waiting for you to fail.”

Ever since you were named the new heir, Adrian made no effort to hide his contempt. His presence felt like a constant threat—sharp words, veiled glares, and subtle reminders that the crown would always belong to him. Even the warmth of family dinners had turned into silent battles, with him watching your every move as if waiting for you to slip.

And yet, despite his hatred, a small part of you still wanted his approval, the approval of your older brother who used to play with you, who used to sneak you out of lessons to go into town.

The brother who once looked at you with love, now looked at you like you were his greatest enemy.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The attempt on your life came without warning.

It was a quiet night in the palace gardens. The scent of blooming roses filled the air, and the moonlight cast a pale silver glow over the winding stone paths. You had stepped away from the banquet to breathe—just for a moment. Alone, under the stars, the crown’s weight felt almost bearable.

Then, out of the shadows, a figure appeared—a glint of steel in their hand. Before you could react, the assassin's dagger plunged deep into your side, pain searing through your body. You staggered, blood soaking your clothes, your strength draining with each breath.

Your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air. The world blurred as the garden spun around you, voices dimming into distant echoes. But just as the darkness threatened to pull you under, you felt a familiar, frantic grip on your body.

"NO!"

Adrian.

He was there, catching you before you could hit the ground. His hands pressed hard against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, crimson staining his fingers and sleeves. His perfect composure shattered, leaving only raw panic in its place.

"Stay with me!" he whispered harshly, his breath ragged. He cupped your face with one trembling hand, forcing your unfocused gaze to meet his. "You can’t die. I won’t let you die."

For the first time, there was no trace of the cold, condescending brother you knew. His usual scorn was replaced by something far more terrifying—desperation, fear, and obsession all tangled together.

He looked down at you as though the thought of your absence was worse than any betrayal.

"Guards!" Adrian’s voice sliced through the night like a whip. "Find whoever did this! Bring them to me—alive!" His expression twisted with fury, a storm brewing beneath his calm mask. "They’ll pay for even thinking of touching you."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You woke to the soft glow of candlelight flickering across the room. The scent of cedar and smoke was unmistakable—this wasn’t your room. Your side throbbed beneath tightly bound bandages, every breath a reminder of the dagger that had nearly ended your life. The silk sheets were too heavy, too warm, cocooning you in a false sense of security.

As your vision cleared, you saw him. Adrian sat at your bedside, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers threaded through his hair. His royal poise was gone—he looked dishevelled, haunted, like he hadn’t slept since the moment you were attacked.

The moment you stirred, his head snapped up. The intensity in his gaze pinned you in place, making your heart race.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, the tension in his shoulders unravelling slightly. But instead of relief, there was something fierce in his gaze��an intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned forward, resting one hand on your shoulder to keep you from sitting up further.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” he said, his voice quiet but edged with a sharpness that left no room for argument.

“I’m fine, Adrian,” you muttered, though the pain in your side made it clear you weren’t. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you regretted speaking. “Not as bad?” he repeated, the words brittle with disbelief. “You were bleeding out in front of me—do you think that’s something I can just forget?”

There was no anger in his voice, only fear masked by frustration. His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you that, in his mind, this was serious.

"Adrian, it’s not your fault—"

“I should’ve been there,” he interrupted, his voice low and trembling. "I should’ve been the one taking that blade, not you." He exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his forehead, as if trying to rein in emotions that threatened to spill over. "You’re my little sibling... How could I let something like this happen to you?"

You shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his words, but Adrian leaned closer, his eyes clouded with something between guilt and obsession.

“I thought I hated you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying the words aloud made them heavier. “I thought losing the crown was the worst thing that could happen to me. But when I saw you lying there—” He broke off, his hands curling into fists. “I realized I didn’t care about the crown. I just wanted you to live.”

Silence hung heavy between you. The brother who had once stared at you with cold resentment now looked at you as though you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

"Adrian," you began cautiously, "I’m not going anywhere."

His lips twitched into a small, fragile smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes. “You say that now. But if I hadn’t been there..." His voice trailed off, his jaw clenching as if the thought alone was too painful to finish.

“From now on,” he whispered, his voice low and resolute, “you’ll stay close. No more wandering off alone. No more reckless decisions.” His hand slid from your shoulder to hold your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You frowned, pulling slightly against his grip. “I can take care of myself—”

“No,” Adrian said firmly, his voice sharp and final. “You won’t do this alone. I won’t let you.”

Adrian leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours in a rare, tender gesture. "You’re my little sibling," he murmured,"And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No matter what."

You felt his arm slip around your shoulders, drawing you closer into an embrace that felt suffocating.The warmth of his touch was overwhelming, as if he believed holding you close would be enough to stop the world from taking you away again.

"You don’t need the crown," he whispered against your hair. "You only need me."

[deathlessathanasia]

Everyone: gods can't reveal their real forms in the presence of mortals because it would literally kill them!

Demeter in Homeric Hymn 2: When she had so said, the goddess changed her stature and her looks, thrusting old age away from her: beauty spread round about her and a lovely fragrance was wafted from her sweet-smelling robes, and from the divine body of the goddess a light shone afar, while golden tresses spread down over her shoulders, so that the strong house was filled with brightness as with lightning. And so she went out from the palace.

Apollo in Homeric Hymn 3: Then, like a star at noonday, the lord, far-working Apollo, leaped from the ship: flashes of fire flew from him thick and their brightness reached to heaven. He entered into his shrine between priceless tripods, and there made a flame to flare up bright, showing forth the splendor of his shafts, so that their radiance filled all Crisa, and the wives and well-girded daughters of the Crisaeans raised a cry at that outburst of Phoebus; for he cast great fear upon them all. From his shrine he sprang forth again, swift as a thought, to speed again to the ship, bearing the form of a man, brisk and sturdy, in the prime of his youth, while his broad shoulders were covered with his hair: and he spoke to the Cretans, uttering winged words: ... So speaking, he put courage in their hearts, and the master of the Cretans answered him and said: “Stranger —though you are nothing like mortal men in shape or stature, but are as the deathless gods ...”

Aphrodite in Homeric Hymn 5: But at the time when the herdsmen drive their oxen and hardy sheep back to the fold from the flowery pastures, even then Aphrodite poured soft sleep upon Anchises, but herself put on her rich raiment. And when the bright goddess had fully clothed herself, she stood by the couch, and her head reached to the well-hewn roof-tree; from her cheeks shone unearthly beauty such as belongs to rich-crowned Cytherea. Then she aroused him from sleep and opened her mouth and said: “Up, son of Dardanus! —why sleep you so heavily? —and consider whether I look as I did when first you saw me with your eyes.”

Zeus in Moschos' Europa: And verily Crete appeared, and Zeus took his own shape again, and he loosed her [Europa's] girdle, and the Hours arrayed their bridal bed.

Just saying, it's a very bizarre excuse for why a god would supposedly need to have sex with a mortal in the shape of an animal or their spouse or anyone or anything else, because evidently it is perfectly possible for them to reveal their identity to mortals without killing them, or at least there is no consistent rule stating that they can't.

[scottingmysummers]

KNUCKLEHEAD

-a Stan Pines angst one shot-

words- 1378

(A/N: very rusty on my fic writing so take it as u will 😁 also leave me and my obsessive use of metaphors alone)

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

Stan hadn’t smoked in years. When he first arrived in the sleepy little pacific northwest town, after the incident, he gave it up to keep the appearance of his brother. Cold turkey was tough, or maybe it was just the stress, but either way he was sick as a dog for weeks until the withdrawal had its fill of wracking his body. But now he sat on the back porch of the shack, a cheap and aged cigarette between his fingers. He was surprised he could even find the pack- he had tucked it behind a loose baseboard in his office and even covered it with his rug for good measure.

The worn couch hugged his hips, the fabric rough underneath him. He had spent many nights out here, listening to the birds, mind replaying the last time he saw Ford. The way his six fingered hand reached desperately for him, the way he screamed out his name, the echo of the book hitting concrete. He memorized every part of the scene- the calluses on Ford’s palm, the way his beard was disheveled, the broken test dummy in the corner. The deafening silence that followed was the worst; He heard it in his sleep. The crackling of the broken portal, his heart pounding against his chest. Burnt flesh and fear, the weight of his actions settling on him like a bloody crown of thorns.

He blew out smoke. His eyes followed as the cool night air wafted it up into the stars. For a moment, he was ten years old again. The sand of the New Jersey beach was cold, and Ford was explaining how matter is not created nor destroyed. Everything is made up of atoms that have been around for millions of years. When you think something is gone, it’s essence lingers always, never truly leaving. That simple memory stuck in his mind. He would still give anything to sit on the beach again, his only care in the world was what he and Ford would have for dinner and what they would do tomorrow. Together.

Even with Ford’s return, everything was..different. Stan didn’t know what he expected, but this? Ford was the same loser he grew up with, but he was worn. Serious. Whatever he went through in that portal messed him up, and part of Stan ached that he didn’t get the portal finished sooner. Maybe he could’ve saved his twin from his fate.

“Stanley?”

Stan coughed out smoke, holding the cigarette to his side and squinting to see who was standing in the dark doorway. He half expected Soos or Mabel, tensing once he saw Ford. Stan leaned into the couch, lounging and acting like it didn’t matter at all that Ford was there. They had fought every single night about something- about Dad’s funeral, about the shack, about the kids. Their relationship was a frayed cord, ready to snap at any moment, and Stan’s hands tore from trying to keep the ends together.

Stanley gave a grunt, taking another drag of his cigarette. “That’s the same brand Mom smoked,” Ford mused, standing still in the doorway. Stanley lifted his fingers to look at the cigarette. He hadn’t even realized. “Huh. Guess it is.”

“…May I sit?”

“Knock yourself out.” Stan shrugged, scooting across the couch. His chest was tight underneath his worn muscles, but he blamed it on the nicotine.

Awkward, tense silence filled the air between them, The wall was thick- another reminder that the twin they both once loved was lost to time and circumstance. “Can we talk?” Ford broke the silence. Stan gave a nod, keeping his eyes trained on blades of burnt grass by the edge of the splintered porch.

Ford took a deep breath, tapping his fingers on his leg. His posture was perfect, his back stiff and upright. It pissed Stan off; It was just another way Ford was better than him. “…How did you put together the portal like that?..”

Stanley was caught off guard by the softness in his brother’s tone. He hadn’t heard that since the day before he was kicked out, all those years ago. The catalyst to his wasted life. His jaw tensed and he brought the cigarette back to his lips, speaking through smoke. “What, didn’t think I could do it?” he huffed back, not even looking at Ford.

Ford’s silence was all he needed to know. Of course Ford didn’t think Stan could do it. He was the dumb sibling. He was a con man and a mistake, the bottom of the barrel scum while Ford was the genius. The air of superiority that floated around his twin put a sour taste in Stan’s mouth. Stan put the cigarette out on the bottom of his heel, just like their mom used to do. He was a Mama’s boy always, even when he was literally dead to her.

“Shit, It wasn’t hard to do. You aren’t as groundbreaking as you think, Poindexter,” Stanley lied with an eye roll. Teaching himself advanced physics and high level science was the hardest thing he had ever done. He had to actually apply himself for the first time in his life, and it was all for Ford. Everything he did was for Ford.

He felt Ford tense beside him. Was it annoyance? Frustration? Disappointment? Stan could no longer read the shell of his brother. “That's..incredibly impressive, Stanley.” Ford murmured, picking at the skin of his fingernails. A nervous habit, though his stoic face betrayed it.

“Yeah, whatever. You gonna thank me now?” Stanley leaned his head back against the couch, arms extended over the back. He couldn't help the bubble of rage that filled his chest at Ford’s inability to answer. So simple, two words to justify the three decades Stan relentlessly spent cooped up in that basement.

Stan scoffed, pushing himself up from the couch. His joints ached, his age only helping fuel his rage. “Of course not. Stanford Pines doesn’t thank anybody.” He hissed. Ford’s expression darkened, sitting up a little from the couch. “That’s enough, Stanley.” He warned, “I told you how dangerous it was bringing me back.”

“I saved you from whatever hell you were in! And you can’t even pretend to be grateful?!” Stan’s voice raised, and he was sure the twins could hear the argument. In this light, Ford looked just like their dad. In a blink, Filbrick Pines was glaring at him through his bushy grey eyebrows.

Stanley blinked rapidly, dispelling the thought. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll show you dangerous!!” Stan roared, pulling up his sleeves. Ford stood up in response, a vein in his neck bulging. “Stanley, you knucklehead, you’re going to wake up the kids!!” The word was like a trigger. Knucklehead, knucklehead, knucklehead. His dad’s favorite word to describe him. It filled his bones with a heat he hadn’t felt for 30 years. He gave his life to Ford, and this was how he repaid him?? With snide remarks and side eyes??

Stan’s hands gripped his brothers shoulder before he could think- he was never good at doing that. His fist collided with the nose identical to his. The punch was filled with years of rage and emotion. Ford stumbled back, hand over his face and blood dripping through his fingers.

You could cut the intensity with a knife. Stan stood, panting, hands clenched. Ford deathly silent. Moments passed like that, wondering how their relationship ever became like this. How did the two boys repairing a pirate ship turn into two men glaring at each other in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Stanley.” Ford huffed out, holding his bloody nose. He shoved him with his shoulder as he walked past, disappearing into the shack that used to be his own. “Pfft. Yeah. Run away like you always do, Stanford! That’s always worked out for you!” Stan yelled back. He sat back down on the couch, huffing and rubbing his bruised knuckles. The birds continued their chirping, and the sounds of the forest resided around him. He put his head in his hands, unable to stop the hot tears of frustration. Ford wasn’t the same- hell, neither was he- but was he really that bad?

Maybe he’d be the same fuck up knucklehead forever.

[tashs-stories]

District Baby In The Capitol🔱🩵

Finnick Odair × Fem!OC

Finnick Odair, the Capitol darling, was a name whispered on every lip and adored by countless hearts. To the outside world, he was a vision of charm and allure, a man who had captivated the Capitol with his striking features, effortless charisma, and tragic allure. But behind the carefully constructed facade of his life, there was a secret he guarded fiercely: he was a father.

His daughter, Briar-Sea Odair, was his anchor to a world far removed from the glitz and cruelty of the Capitol. Just two years old, she was a beacon of purity and light in Finnick’s otherwise tumultuous life. She had her mother's crystal blue eyes, framed by lashes so long they looked like they’d been painted on, and a crown of golden blonde hair that shimmered like sunlight. Every time Finnick looked at her, he felt an ache—equal parts joy and sorrow—because he knew his time with her was fleeting.

Her mother, Pearl, had been a Capitol girl born into privilege. Their story wasn’t the fairy tale it appeared to be on the surface. Pearl had once been indifferent to Finnick, seeing him as just another pawn in the games her father played. She was beautiful, sharp-tongued, and stubborn, never one to fall for Finnick’s Capitol persona. But her father, a wealthy Capitol businessman, had paid for Finnick’s company more than once. What started as cold and transactional grew into something warm and undeniable.

Finnick had fallen for her because she was different—someone who saw the cracks in his armor and never looked away. And Pearl, in time, fell for the man beneath the mask: the kind, fiercely protective soul hidden behind the Capitol darling’s smile.

At just 22, Pearl discovered she was pregnant with Briar-Sea. Finnick was overjoyed and terrified. He vowed to protect them, but life in the Capitol was a cage with gilded bars, and Finnick was bound by invisible chains.

---

When Finnick could visit them, those stolen moments felt like a dream. He would cradle Briar-Sea in his arms, pressing soft kisses to her tiny forehead, and whisper, “My little sea star, Daddy loves you so much.” Her giggles were his favorite melody, and every touch, every laugh felt like a lifeline.

Pearl would sit nearby, watching the two of them, her heart torn in two. She loved Finnick and saw how much he adored their daughter, but she also saw the weight he carried—the Capitol’s demands, the fear of exposure, and the pain of being unable to protect the people he loved most.

“Finnick,” Pearl said one evening as Briar-Sea dozed in his arms. They were sitting on her couch in her luxurious Capitol apartment. “We need to talk about the Quell.”

He stiffened, his smile fading as he gazed down at his sleeping daughter. “Not tonight, Pearl,” he whispered.

“Finn,” her voice broke, and he looked up at her. Tears glistened in her blue eyes. “You can’t pretend it isn’t happening. They’re sending you back.”

“I know,” he said hoarsely, his grip on Briar-Sea tightening. “But I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

Pearl reached out and cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. “Then we make the most of the time we have,” she said firmly. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll pay for you to be here every moment you can. You’re her father, Finnick. She needs you. I need you.”

---

Over the next few weeks, Pearl made good on her promise. She spent a fortune ensuring Finnick could spend as much time with them as possible. Those weeks were a blur of stolen happiness and unbearable heartbreak.

Finnick would wake up to the sound of Briar-Sea’s laughter as she toddled around the apartment, her tiny feet pattering against the marble floors. He’d chase her around, scooping her up and spinning her in the air as she squealed with delight.

“Again, Daddy!” she’d cry, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with joy.

And he would, over and over, because he wanted to memorize her laugh, her smile, the way she felt in his arms.

At night, he and Pearl would sit on the balcony, watching the city lights twinkle below them.

“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Finnick asked one night, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pearl’s breath hitched, and she reached for his hand. “Of course she will,” she said, her voice trembling. “We’ll talk about you every day. I’ll show her the shells you brought her, the stories you told. She’ll know who her father is.”

Finnick nodded, but the doubt lingered. He didn’t trust the Capitol to let him come back, and the thought of Briar-Sea growing up without him was a pain he couldn’t bear.

---

The day he was to leave for the Quarter Quell arrived too soon. Finnick knelt in front of Briar-Sea, who clung to her favorite seashell, a gift from him.

“Be good for Mommy, okay, sea star?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Briar-Sea nodded solemnly, not fully understanding what was happening. “When you come back, can we go to the beach?” she asked.

Finnick’s heart broke. He forced a smile and kissed her forehead. “Of course we can,” he whispered, even though he didn’t believe it.

Pearl stood behind him, tears streaming down her face. Finnick pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. “I love you,” he murmured. “Take care of her. Take care of yourself.”

“I love you, too,” she choked out. “Come back to us, Finnick. Please.”

He pulled back, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice shaking. Then he kissed her, pouring all his love and desperation into that single moment before he turned and walked away.

---

As the hovercraft took him back to the arena, Finnick sat silently, clutching a small trinket—a tiny shell necklace Briar-Sea had made with Pearl’s help. It was his anchor, his reminder of what he was fighting for.

Back in the Capitol, Pearl held Briar-Sea close, whispering stories about her father. She promised herself she would keep his memory alive for their daughter, no matter what the future held.

Finnick Odair, the Capitol darling, was more than just a survivor or a symbol. He was a father, a lover, and a man who carried the weight of a world that never truly understood him. And as he stepped into the horrors of the arena once more, his heart remained with the two girls who were his entire world.

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did please react in anyway.

🌊🔱