#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!

[novelistwriter]

Bar for Rogues

DP x DC Prompt

There is a bar that is only open for the Rogues of Gotham, a bar that even Batman and his flock cannot find.

The bar had appeared a few years after Batman began to fight crime. It did have much of a presence at first, but slowly, it began to get the Rogues attention, at first as something to rob/destroy, but then it became a place they can enjoy (and avoid the Bat when they want to).

Joker has been on thin ice since the beginning of the Clown being in the bar, and it further cracked when the Clown had killed the second Robin. The Clown was shunned by the bar owner after he crippled the commissioner's daughter.

And despite Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn being reformed, they are still welcome to the bar (some speculate that the bar owner had something to do with those three turning a new life).

When Red Hood had appeared, rhe up and coming Crime Lord had found the bar during a big gathering, but before Red Hood could shoot them all, the bar owner had quickly intervened. The bar owner had used some sort of power on Red Hood, ordering him around, and Red Hood looked to be resisting the commands but wasn't successful (and some say they saw the bar owner with a crown above his head, a glowing ring on his finger, and a cape full of stars hanging off his back).

Danny, Ghost King of a few centuries, is living in Gotham because of his sister, Jazz had wanted to be a human again, so Clockwork had put Jazz's core into a dying little girl, thus Jasmine Fenton was reborn as Barbara Gordon.

Danny is a bar owner because it was the thing that would get the Rogues of Gotham to come to him than him going to them. He's going to reform the Rogues using a little what Jazz taught him before she became a ghost to reform them. Right now, he's in the process of reforming the Riddler and Mr. Freeze, he just needs to convince Eddie that escape rooms are for him and wait for the things he requested from Frostbite for Victor Fries.

[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.

[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.

[i-am-pinkie]

Whoa! This is BEAUTIFUL!! 😍❤️

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

[domxmarvel]

Mine 💚

Masterlist

Pairing: Billie eilish x Female!Reader

After years of work you got signed to a major horror movie studio,throwing your name into the spotlight. And quickly tossing you into multiple interviews to promote yourself and your new movie coming out. The press tour taking you almost all across the US. Including an appearance on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon. The interview was mostly about your new movie,the previous roles and the new studio you were signed to. Of course because it was Jimmy Fallon he had to keep the mood light and make jokes. During the interview, the audience was shown clips of you at various Billie eilish shows from the Hit Me Hard and Soft Tour. You had been to several shows and had the time of your life. Which was embarrassing and all you could do was just laugh.

“I’m guessing you had fun?”

“She’s just incredible” You chuckled,praising Billie.

Hours later the clips were all over the internet and your phone dinged with a message.

@ billieeilish Her name popped up,seeing that she sent you a message. 

@  billieeilish: “hey just saw you on Jimmy Fallon, you’re funny and congrats on signing to the new studio”

"Well I dabble in comedy 😉,and thanks" you added a winking emoji to emphasize the joke.

@ billieelish: "Dabble in comedy and final girl roles, apparently. your screams are iconic."

"So are your songs,I mean you saw the footage of me making a fool of myself at your concert 😂😅"

@  billieeilish: "I think you spelled 'living your best life' wrong 😂” You chuckled to yourself. 

"I guess I really did spell it wrong"

@  billieeilish: "glad you cleared that up 😂 so which song is your favorite?"

"Well I have two favorites 'You should see me in a crown' and 'lunch'"

@  billieeilish: "taste 🤌🏻 you might be the first person to not say all the good girls go to hell or something in my dms 😂"

"Or bad guy 😂"

@  billieeilish: "omg yes 😂"

"You really should consider adding copycat to the set list,if you're taking suggestions that is"

@  billieeilish: "oh, I'm always open to suggestions. 👀 I'll see what I can do. "

@  billieeilish: "You seem to be a big fan. How many of my shows have you been to?”

"Honestly I've lost track,I've been to almost every show for the past three years"

@  billieeilish: "Damn, okay, hardcore. I'm impressed. have you been to the international ones too?"

"Some,when they were close to the filming locations" you explained.

@  billieeilish: "Ah, right. acting superstar, I forgot 😂 what's it like filming horror movies? I bet it's nerve-wracking"

"Not really,it wears off after a while and you lose the 'scared' part of it. You gotta learn to fake being scared really well" you explained further.

@  billieeilish: "You're a great actress then, because you looked terrified in The long night"

"Let you in on a little secret,that shot was filmed like 13 different times and they went with one of the later takes. Meaning that terrified look and scream was entirely fake,at that point I had been screaming all day but no one can tell"

@  billieeilish: "Damn, respect. all that screaming, and you still look amazing 😂 I'd be a mess. you probably have a killer throat game" You chuckled.

"So I've been told but don't expect me to sing. You heard how horribly off key I was,but if you ever need someone to scream or something like that,you know the right person 😂"

@  billieeilish: "Well, if I ever need a scream queen, I know who to call. and don't worry, off-key is the new in. You'll start a trend 😂"

"Sureeee" you spelt it in a way that showed you were being sarcastic. "Whatever you say Billie"

@  billieeilish: "don't mock me. I'm a very influential person. I can totally change trends with one flick of my pretty hand 😂"

"I don't doubt that" you smirked but she of course couldn't see it.

@  billieeilish: "good, you shouldn't doubt me. I'm always right. just ask my best friend Zoe, she'll confirm it 😂" You chuckled,before texting back.

"I don't think I need someone to confirm it,I already believe you. Unfortunately I'm gonna have to let you go,I have a premiere tomorrow and if I show up one more time with dark circles under my eyes from staying up all night the makeup team is not gonna be happy with me"

@  billieeilish: "Aww, alright. Gotta let my new fan rest. Can't have those circles under your eyes ruining that perfect look 😉  have fun at the premiere, darling. Break a leg"

"You too,and get some sleep because I know for a fact you have a show tomorrow"

@  billieeilish: "oh, so you're keeping tabs on me now? 👀 I'm honored, really. and yeah, you caught me. I have a show tomorrow. but I'll be sure to rest up so I can give my best performance for my number one fan ;)"

"Oh,I'm not gonna be there,with the premiere the time just won't work out. But I know you'll do great"

@  billieeilish: "Aww, that's a bummer. I was definitely looking forward to seeing you there. But I get it, the timing sucks. At least you'll be there in spirit 😂 and don't worry, I'll make sure to put on a show worthy of you, even if you won't be in the audience. I'll pretend you're there watching, front row, screaming for me"

"Good night,Billie 💚"

@  billieeilish: "Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams. can't wait to chat again"

The next day you sent her a few photos as you got ready with the makeup team.

@  billieeilish: "wow, looking absolutely radiant! The makeup team works miracles. I'm jealous, all I have to do is wake up and get dressed 😂"

"You're the lucky one here,I had to be up at five am for this. I wish I could just get up,get dressed and head out 😂"

@  billieeilish: "Ugh, five in the morning? brutal. I don't envy that. I'm already exhausted just thinking about it. but hey, at least you get to wear a gorgeous dress and walk the red carpet. I just get to run around on stage for two hours 😂"

"I'd still rather be there watching you than the red carpet"

@  billieeilish: "Aww, you flatter me. but really, don't underestimate the power of a red carpet moment. I've seen those photos, your fans go absolutely crazy over you. I'm jealous of that 😉"

"I gotta go,they're calling for me. Good luck with your show 💚"

@  billieeilish: "alright, break a leg out there! I'll be thinking of you while I'm onstage.Have fun ❤️" You got to the red carpet and took photos,did some interviews which consisted of questions about the movie and filming before you headed inside.

@  billieeilish: "How's the premiere going? I bet you're absolutely killing it on the red carpet. I wish I could be there to cheer you on"  You sent her a photo from the red carpet. 

"It's going pretty well although I still wish I was at your show instead"

@  billieeilish: "Wow, you look stunning! they could totally use that photo as a movie still. And aww, I wish you were at the show too. But know that I'm thinking about you every time I sing. Maybe I'll even dedicate a song to you 😉"

"Really,which one?"

@  billieeilish: "hmmm, let's see... I'll let it be a surprise 😉 But trust me, it'll be one you'll love. You have great taste in my music, after all. I hope you're settling in for the movie now, but I gotta get ready for mine. Talk to you later, darling" As soon as everyone got into the theater to watch the movie you snuck off,changing your shoes so you weren't wearing heels. You made your way over to her show,already having a ticket that you bought months before. You walked in and heard her singing. You listen closely to see which song it was. Billie was on stage, performing with infectious energy, and the audience roared in approval. The song she chose was ‘Happier Than Ever.’ Soon you were screaming the lyrics with her,but begin cautious to not be too loud. As the song ended, Billie took a moment to catch her breath. The crowd cheered on, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline from the performance. She spotted you and shot a subtle smirk your way, clearly enjoying the fact that you were there. You smiled back at her,clearly overdressed for one of her concerts. You saw her chuckling,probably at how overdressed you were. As the concert continued, Billie continued singing, her eyes occasionally darting back to you, You continued to sing along with her,knowing every single word. As the concert reached its climax, the energy reached its peak. The crowd was electric, and you were right in the middle of it all, singing and dancing like you were the biggest fan. After the final song had ended and the lights went down, the crowd erupted into applause, and Billie's adrenaline was pumping. But as the audience began to file out, she looked around for you, realizing you were gone. A mix of disappointment and curiosity filled her mind.

"Sorry about running off,I had to get back in time for the after party so they wouldn't know I snuck off. I wish I could've talked to you but I had to be fast" You were gone but you did leave a message. "And your performance was absolutely fantastic," you added. You arrived back at your hotel room, kicking off your heels and collapsing onto the bed with a sigh of exhaustion. The after-party had been fun, but all you could think about now was how much you had enjoyed Billie's concert and the stolen moment with her. You were in the middle of washing your makeup off when you noticed tweets popping up with your name, mentioning that you had been at the concert. Curiously, you started scrolling through the mentions and comments, reading what people were saying about your surprise appearance.

"I'm dying! Y/N at Billie's concert? This is the crossover we didn't know we needed."

"I still can't believe I saw Y/N in the audience at Billie's concert. She was jamming out like the biggest fan."

"Wait, was that Y/N I saw at Billie's concert? OMG, she's such a huge fan! #Y/NAtBillieConcert" Immediately these were followed by others confused as you were supposed to be at the premiere.

"Yeah,she had premiere tonight,she must really be a big fan to sneak off just for Billie"

"Isn't she supposed to be at the premiere of her new movie?"

"Gotta admit, that's pretty impressive. Who would skip a premiere for a concert? Only a true fan."

"Wait, what? She left the premiere for Billie's concert? That's some serious dedication." You couldn't help but laugh at the confusion on Twitter as people started speculating about your whereabouts. And less than an hour the news outlets had picked up on the story,swarming with headlines such as.

@ EntertainmentWeekly: "Y/N Caught at Billie Eilish Concert: A Night to Remember!"

@ E!News: "Y/N Spotted at Billie Eilish Concert Amidst Premiere: A Surprising Fan Moment"

@ CelebBuzz: "Y/N’s Surprise Appearance at Billie Eilish Concert Sparks Speculations of a Romantic Connection!"

@ GossipCentral: "Y/N Skips Movie Premiere for Billie Eilish Concert: A Secret Romance?” You filled up the bathtub just as your phone dings with a message.

@ billieelish: "Hey, I see you made quite the impression on the media tonight 👀"

"Sure did,now everyone thinks we're secretly dating"

@ billieelish: "Haha, well, you know how the media is. they'll take any opportunity to spin a story. but just so you know, I'm not complaining about being associated with you like that 😉"

"They'll take anything,huh?"

@ billieelish: "Oh, absolutely. they're like sharks, circling any piece of drama or gossip they can find. but honestly, I wouldn't mind the media thinking we're secretly dating. could be worse, right?😏"

"It's pretty funny too,maybe you should come with me to the next premiere?" You suggested.

@ billieelish: "Haha, you know what? maybe I will. it'd give the media something to really talk about, right? and I have to admit, I wouldn't mind being your date to a premiere 😉"

"In that case I'll text you the details once I get them"

@ billieelish: "Perfect, I'll be looking forward to seeing you again and giving the media even more to write about 😉”

A few days passed and you talked less,mostly because you were both busy. You doing promotions for your next movie and she was filming for a music video,but she was stumped on one thing. The music video needed a princess of sorts to tie in with the song about how someone and their life looks like a fairytale. She just couldn't figure out who should play the princess,every actress didn't give the look in her eyes that she wanted. She was quickly running out of hope,having gone through a big amount of the actresses that auditioned.

@ billieelish: "Hey, I know this might be a bit random, but I've been stuck on something and I was hoping you could help me out. Can I ask you a favor?"

"I'll see what I can do,so what do you need help with?"

@ billieelish: "Well, I'm filming a music video, and I'm having trouble finding the right actress to play this princess role. I know it's probably a long shot, but I was wondering if you'd be open to trying out for it? I think you'd be perfect for the part."

"Sure,I could give it a try"

@ billieelish: "Really? That's amazing! Honestly, I was a little worried you might think it's a crazy idea, but I'm so glad you're game for it. When would you be free to come down to the set and give it a shot?"

"I have one more interview,so send me the details and I'll be there in one hour maximum"

@ billieelish: "Awesome, I'll have my team send you the address and any other necessary details. And don't worry, the scene is pretty simple. You just need to look pretty and act like a princess."😏

"Lucky for me I'm pretty good at that" you jokingly typed back.

@ billieelish: "Haha, I have no doubt about that. I've seen your red carpet looks, you totally dress the part of a princess. can't wait to see you in action 😉"

one hour later

When you arrived at the set, you noticed that the crew were already preparing for the shoot. Billie was in the corner, looking over the scene. She noticed you and quickly walked over.

"Hey, glad you could make it. ready to give this princess thing a shot?" she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Sure,now what should I do?" You looked around,trying to deduce what the scene was about.

"Well, we're shooting a scene in the forest. We want to capture the whole fairytale vibe, so I think we're going for a soft, almost floating kind of walk. you know, like a princess walking through the woods, lost in her own world." Hours passed as you filmed,the last scene was her laying on your lap as she sang.

Days later you were back on the set of your movie when you got a notification of a money transfer from Billie with a note that said “Thanks princess” Your eyebrows raised, and a small smile played on your lips, realizing that Billie had sent payment for you appearing in her music video.

"You know that's way too much,it wasn't that many hours" you texted her.

The one thing about it was,it was too much for that few hours of filming.

@ billieelish: "lol, don't worry about it. I wanted to make sure I paid you well for your time and the amazing job you did. consider it a bonus for being the perfect princess 😉"

"Okay,sugar daddy," you joked back.

@ billieelish: "Haha, sugar daddy? I like the sound of that 😉 but seriously, I just wanted to show my appreciation, and I think you deserve it. so consider it a thank you gift from your favorite musician 😉" A few hours later you had finished filming for the day,the music video was released and you sat down to see what people were saying. You scrolled through your phone, checking social media to see how fans reacted to the video. Comments were rolling in, and the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. People were going nuts over your appearance and some even speculated about your relationship with Billie. Comments like 

"OMG, the princess is a literal goddess! Who is she?"

"Billie and the princess are giving us major fairytale vibes"

"The way Billie looks at her 😍" filled the comment section. Fans also took notice of the fact that the music video had a more light and cheerful tone than her usual dark and somewhat depressing tone. 

"The chemistry between Billie and the princess is off the charts!"

"I think the princess is the reason for the happier vibe. There's something about her that really brings a smile to my face."

"Is it just me or does this music video feel different than Billie's usual ones? It's so light and cheerful!"

"The princess, the lighting, the vibes—this music video is perfect. it feels like a whole new side of Billie we haven't seen before."

"I don't know what it is about the princess, but she really makes this music video. The chemistry between her and Billie is unreal."

"I've never seen Billie look at someone the way she looks at the princess. there has to be some real-life chemistry there! the tension is insane."

And the comments continued as you took her to your premiere as your plus one. The fans went wild on social media after seeing photos of you and Billie together at the premiere. The hashtag "billieandprincess" started trending, and the speculation about your relationship reached new heights.

"Omg, did you see that look in Billie's eyes when the princess walked down the red carpet? pure love. I can't handle it." 

"Billie and the princess are owning this red carpet. seriously, they're giving us goals #billieandprincess"

"I can't believe they came as each others' dates! they look so cute together.”

"The chemistry is off the charts. I can't stop staring at their pictures. this has to be more than just a friendly outing, right?" 

“The way they're posing together is everything. I'm officially on the 'billieandprincess' train. this is the ship I didn't know I needed."  It was clear the fans wanted you together and that wasn't helped by her continuing to have you in music videos,playing various characters but always close to her.

"I'm fully convinced they're secretly dating. who else gets to be in this many music videos with an artist like Billie?"

"I can't believe they're in another music video together! every time they team up, the chemistry is just unreal." The idea that you were secretly dating quickly made its way out of the fans and reached the headlines in newspapers and magazines.

@ PopCultureInsider: "The latest scoop: are Billie Eilish and her onscreen princess truly an item? read more here to find out!"

@ TrendingNow: "Billie Eilish's latest music video sparks romance rumors with mystery actress. Could this be the real deal?" With both of you not confirming or denying it,which only served to make them speculate more.

You were both at her place,she had invited you over to watch a movie. You had a couple of drinks before she started talking.

"So, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about... about us." she paused, her eyes searching yours. "You know how the media's been going crazy with all the speculation and rumors about us, right?"

"You wanna tell them that we're just friends?" You asked.

"No, that's not exactly what I was thinking." Billie shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. You moved closer to her,her hand quickly moved to your waist.

"If we do..." you couldn't think of what to say,the alcohol clouding your mind.Billie's hand on your waist sent a shiver down your spine, and the alcohol in your veins made your heart pound faster. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, but the proximity was making it hard to think clearly. She leaned closer, her face just inches from yours, her eyes fixated on your lips.

"If we do..." she repeated your words, her voice barely above a whisper. You leaned closer and kissed her,your hand moving into her hair and she pulled you into her lap. With a soft moan, she deepened the kiss, her tongue seeking yours. The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in the moment, the taste of her and the intoxicating heat of her body against yours. You ran your hands through her hair, holding her close, your body trembling with anticipation. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and soft moans, a symphony of pleasure that only fueled the fire between you. Only for the moment to be interrupted by someone's voice. 

"Well, this is... unexpected." Just as things were getting even more heated, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. You both turned to see Billie's brother, Finneas, standing at the doorway, his eyes widened with surprise. "Looks like I interrupted something." He smirked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the two of you, still cuddled closely together on the couch. His playful tone was evident as he spoke. Billie's voice was filled with embarrassment.

"Finneas, hey... um, you're home early."

"Sorry, didn't realize this was a private party." Finneas chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation.

"Oh, shut up. Don't you knock first?" she retorted.

"Oh, my bad. I'll make sure to wait for an invitation next time."

"Well, you just ruined the mood." You couldn't help but smile at their banter despite the initial embarrassment. Finneas's easy-going nature made the moment less tense as he leaned against the doorframe. He grabbed something and left,but not without some remark.

"Oh, and just remember kids, protection is important." Billie tossed a cushion towards him, which he dodged. "Thanks, we'll keep that in mind. Any more sage advice, oh wise one?"

“Hey, just lookin' out for you two lovebirds! Safety first, remember!" You and Billie exchanged a look before bursting into laughter. Finneas had a knack for lightening the mood, and his playful banter eased the embarrassment you both were feeling. She tossed another pillow his way.

"We get it, we get it! Now, can we get back to our moment, please?" Finneas ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the pillow. He smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. He turned his back and you tossed a pillow his way,this one hit him.

"Hey, that was a cheap shot!"

"Maybe now you'll think twice before interrupting next time." Billie was clearly finding it fun that you stood with her,despite your moment having been ruined. He scurried off,leaving her looking up at you as her hands held your hips still.

"Where were we again?" Billie looked up at you, a mixture of desire and affection dancing in her eyes. Her hands remained on your hips, a possessive touch.

"I don't know,the shock sobered me up" you got off her and stood up. "I could use a shot of something"

"Yeah, Finneas has that effect on people. Always pops up at the most inconvenient times." You both moved to the kitchen. "As for that shot you need, what's your poison?"

"Something strong"

"How's a shot of good old whiskey sound? It'll definitely kickstart your mood." You both downed the shots,the whiskey burning on its way down. She set the empty shot glass on the counter with a soft clink, her gaze fixed on you, a mixture of desire and anticipation in her eyes.

"So we're doing this?" you gestured between you two.

"Unless you've changed your mind." She took a step closer to you, the space between you growing smaller with each moment. Her hand found your hip again, drawing you in even closer, the heat of your bodies meeting.

"I haven't" you moved closer,pressing yourself against her. You picked her up and set her down on the counter. Sitting there, she looked up at you, her gaze dark with desire and a hint of mischief. Your hands moved up her thighs to her waist as you kissed her.Her hands found their way to your hips, pulling you even closer as she deepened the kiss, a soft moan escaping her as her desires heightened.

"Maybe you should write a song about me," you teased,trailing your hand between her thighs.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being the subject of my next hit single." She looked up at you with a playful look, biting her lower lip as your touch sent sparks of pleasure through her. Trying to keep her voice even, she responded, her tone both amused and slightly breathless. You pulled her right to the edge,right up against you.

"Doesn't your princess deserve a song?" You knew what you were doing,playing with her.

"Oh, does my princess want a song all to herself?" She wrapped her legs around your waist, her arms looping around your shoulders as she looked up at you, a mix of playfulness and lust in her eyes. She leaned in closer, her words a playful challenge. You kissed her neck.

"What do you think?" It was a sarcastic question,one that didn't demand an answer.

"Maybe I do... maybe I want a whole album."

"Really now? Tell me more" you bit her neck,making her moan. "Make that album and I promise I'll give you the best night of your life" you whispered,moving your hands underneath her oversized t-shirt.

"You'd better keep that promise." You moved to pull off her shorts,moving to whisper. 

"Oh,I will" you spread her legs,your fingers hooked her panties and pulled them off. "I'm keeping these,I hope you don't miss them too much. And if you need more 'inspiration' call me"

"Trust me, I'll remember this for future inspiration. But I think you might need to give me something in return." Her panties had a massive wet spot,clearly she was enjoying this. You unzipped your top to show your chest as you leaned closer. She bit her lip, trying to control the wave of arousal that coursed through her at the sight. 

"That's a pretty good exchange... but is it enough to inspire a whole album?"

"Then touch them" you smirked

"Giving me instructions now, are you? I should've known you'd be the bossy type." Her hands slowly traced your skin.

"You should watch that pretty mouth,it'll get you in lots of trouble" your lips glistened with your lipgloss which had somehow stayed despite everything.

"And what if I like trouble? What if I want my pretty mouth to get me into some fun situations?" Your hand brushed against the inside of her thigh,before two fingers plunged into her. Your fingers slipping in so easily. 

"God,you're so wet for me"

"Y-You have that effect on me... It's incredible..." Her body arched into your touch at your words, a soft moan escaping her lips."Really" You pulled your fingers out and licked them. She whined and whimpered the second you pulled your fingers out. "Please... I need more, don't tease me like this" You smirked,knowing you had her at your mercy. You moved her body,putting her feet on the counter which made her spread her legs wide. Letting you see her fully as you drew lines from her ankle to her inner thigh. You took her hand and placed it between her legs. 

"Now,show me how you've touched yourself." You smirked,your hand covering hers. She moved her hand,circling her clit, her breath shallow and quick. "How many times have you done this,pretended,wished it was my hand?" You whispered into her ear. She let out a shuddering exhale as your words washed over her, the sound of them sending chills down her spine. Your free hand moved to her chest,softly squeezing as you kissed her collarbones and neck. You kissed her cheek,your hand moving hers in quicker circles. Her back arched and she moaned loudly. It didn’t take long at all for her to cum with your touch,you took over and let her ride it out as long as she could. “That’s it,good girl.”

Months later she had finished the album and was working on a music video with you. This one was completely sexual and you played along perfectly. One scene was her scribbling the word 'mine' all over you. Pretty much confirming your relationship to the media. You both knew that this moment was more than just a scene for the music video. It was a statement to the world that you belonged to each other. You were covered in the word and decided to post a photo to your Instagram,with the caption 'I think they got the message 💚' and tagged her on one of the 'mine' she had written on your skin. 

[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.

[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

[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

[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.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

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

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

[anika-ann]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + forehead kiss ☺️

GASP!!! I was blessed by the visit of the hoe fairy herself 😍😍 Thank you 😭 As I can see, the Shameless One knows me well 🤭

Apparently, I am a hoe for fluff. Who knew? 🤭Everyone who knows me

The Constellation of You and I

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1,7k Warnings: soft NSFW, 18+, smut-adjacent really, FLUFF, brief mention of Steve's job as Cap... and barely proof-read but with stars metaphors to make up for it A/N: Divider by @firefly-graphics

You could feel it surging though your nerves; light echoes of tingles of bliss still humming within, with every frantic beat of your heart, from your midriff to your fingertips, your hands feeling too warm as they remained laid over the bulge of Steve’s shoulder, over the slight curve of his lower back.

For every breath of his you gave two of yours, the bundle of your bodies, rising and falling slightly as your ribcage expanded against his hot skin, the firmness of his body and the welcoming softness of his touch like a touch of heaven itself.

He held you close as you sat in his lap, gently; arm wrapped around you to keep you flush against him as you still remained one, his other hand tenderly tangled in your damp hair as you rested your cheek against his shoulder, your quick breaths fanning his throat; his cheek in turn rested carefully on top of your head, occasionally shifting so he could press his lips to the crown of your head.

The afterglow was almost as blissful as reaching your peak had been.

However, the afterglow was slowly fading as reality and embarrassment was setting in, your face burning not only from the cardio you had engaged in, but because of the pouncing you had done not two seconds after Steve had walked through the door, fresh out of a mission.

Fresh out of two week apart for the first time you had started dating over three months ago.

That was what young love did, you supposed; it blinded rational thought and erased all plans for the meal you had prepared and the blankets on the couch you had set there so you could ease Steve back into the reality of a simple life rather than a damn near battlefield where any moment of distraction could mean catching a bullet or worse.

You had missed him like crazy – of course you had. He had texted you whenever he could, a short message at least to let you know he was well and wishing you to be well also, occasionally telling you he missed you. With his mind laser-focused on his mission and the team he felt responsible for, understandably so, you expected nothing more, grateful for the scraps, even as written in half-hearted hurry.

Then, he had let you know he was coming home, with everyone safe and sound, tired but nearly unscathed, himself having but bruises already halfway healed. You had planned a quiet evening to reconnect with him, ecstatic at the premise alone of seeing him, trying to tame your less-than-decent needs with the sensation of genuine relief at him being alright and coming home, claiming to be happy to spend an evening with you if you’d like. A nice, grounding evening full of comfort.

And then this goddamn man appeared at your doorstep with a sheepish smile and a spark in his eye upon seeing you, a bouquet of pink roses and you had to physically hold back for long enough to put the gorgeous gift of his into water at least. And as soon as you managed that, your lady brain cut in and took full control, practically assaulting him and the lovely blue shirt he was wearing.

Steve certainly didn’t protest and participated rather enthusiastically as you kissed him breathless and walked him – pushed him almost – to your bedroom, discarding his and your clothes, hands wandering, gentle and needy and wicked, his red red red kiss-swollen lips parted so beautifully as you bounced on top of him until you both saw stars behind closed eyelids and reached for them eagerly with your fingertips, the sweet taste of stardust exploding on your tongue and consuming you with its light; but now, as the afterglow flickered away, bitter shame and sour vulnerability creeped in and began to swallow you into a black hole instead.

Yes, Steve was alright.

Yes, he was happy to see you.

Yes, he was all in, praise falling from his lips, whispers of how he had missed you too, how he needed you.

But dammit. You felt like the most socially inept and least empathetic person in the world, awkward in her impromptu display of desire.

And Steve, brilliant, beautiful Steve, must have caught on by now, because one of his warm palms sprawled on your cheek, tenderly leading you to lift your head and meet his gaze. And for all your messy feelings, you could not resist but do so.

You could never resist. Not to Steve.

“Where’s that beautiful mind of yours, sweetheart? Are you alright?” he whispered, eyes roaming your face, the spark, that damn spark that could set the world ablaze and heal it all at once, being a sweet tell of his. A tell of how he was happy to have you in his arms, all around him, despite your… enjoyable shortcomings.

“Why, right here with you.”

You awkwardly tried to mirror his smile even as your face still burned, succeeding somewhat – you must have. Because Steve’s lips curled up further, fingertips caressing your brow, following the line of your cheekbone, your jaw.

You melted against his body despite yourself, warmth humming in your veins as his gaze followed his touch, as if he was committing your features to memory.

“Good,” he said, leaning to kiss your forehead. “I missed you being with me. So close, in my arms. So sweet and w-“

“I’m sorry I pounced at you like that!“ you blurted out, cursing your tongue which always seemed so loose around him as soon as the words were out.

Steve’s fingers froze in their tender exploration, his lips remaining not further than an inch from your hairline, his body turning rigid and you could smack yourself.

“I mean… I just—I made calmer plans and I know it must have been hard out there and I… I didn’t want you to feel like--- I missed all of you, you know? I didn’t want to make you feel like… I don’t know, I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

Steve was yet to move, even his ribcage still, not even drawing in a breath. Your heart thundered against your sternum, in your temples, all over you, consuming you with the heat of embarrassment, a whimper-like plea for the ground to swallow you forming in your throat. You did not dare to move either, your hands having curled into fists against his shoulder and back.

And then he chuckled.

Steven Grant Rogers, the loveable jerk, chuckled and kissed your hairline again, making you actually whine.

“Nooooo-“

“Sweetheart, are you embarrassed for wanting me?”

Your denial of the statement – a blatant lie, but not really – died on your tongue as he moved to cradle your cheek again, meeting your gaze, the previous spark lit aflame with new life as he observed you with a smile that made you squirm on his lap and lit your face hotter than a supernova.

“I-“

“I’m not. And I want you, always. You drive me crazy in the most wonderful ways,” he said, his smile only widening as you lowered you gaze and worried your teeth over your lower lip, the soft admission brining a smidge of relief and confidence.

“I mean… I’m not ashamed. Not of that...” you whispered, taking a deep breath and gathering courage to look him in the eye again, met with a gaze so tenderly inquiring you felt yourself relax just a bit, trying to scramble for coherent thought. “I just feel like just because I missed you it doesn’t give me the right to jump you without a chance to… to allow you to return to the right headspace for something like that. I was here. Safe, in my little apartment and life I built, meeting friends and colleagues and… simply being. You, on the other hand…”

You trailed off, your voice catching in your throat as you caught into the emotion written all over Steve’s face.

The sheer wonder – and dare to say love – shining in his irises almost chased tears into your eyes; stealing air from your chest and replacing it with glowing warmth of the Milky Way on the clear skies in the countryside upstate.

You were still but the air shifted; neither of you moved but the whole planetary system seemed to tilt off its axis, a new star born to became the centre of the universe right between you, in Steve’s featherlight touch and the hoarseness of his voice.

“That’s—I’m not--- You’re incredible. I… really appreciate the thought,” he whispered, the soft edge of his smile like a caress to your soul. “But despite everything, I need you to know I meant what I wrote. I thought of you and missed you, every day-“

“Steve, you don’t have to--- I know that when you are on a mission it’s hundred percent and you have a huge responsibility and there’s no space for-“

Two fingers slid under your chin, carefully but effectively stopping your slightly self-deprecating but entirely true words from flowing; Steve’s eyes, suddenly incredibly serious, bore into yours.

“Every. Day. Do you believe me, love?”

A shudder rushed through your body, a shaky inhale expanding like a nebula inside your lungs, the single word, endearment and declaration in one, causing your heart to tremble with affection. You read no doubt but a speckle of distress in Steve’s widened pupils, making it seem as if he had left slipped something he might be sure of, but did not mean to reveal; and it made your own love for him grow tenfold, your eyes turning a little glassy.

You willed your lips to curl up in a smile, hands coming up to cradle his face, erasing the slightest flicker of panic in his features.

You kissed him on the lips, lightly, but with taste of a new emotion born out of his confession; a confession on your own.

“I do, love. I do.”

He kissed you back with a tender grin and this time, when hands began to roam and he laid you on the bed, they roamed in sync; they explored the galaxies and eternity written on your skin and his, your lips rewriting the stars so they would align to pave the journey you’d set on together.

You kissed him without shame and he reciprocated, every touch and every gaze a promise:

I’ll miss you, whenever I’ll go.

I’ll think of you, wherever I’ll be.

I’ll love you, whatever you and I are meant to be.

My Steve fics // All my fics

Thank you so much, Siri, for blessing me 🥺

No, I don't exist on sharing only thots when sent an ask, I WRITE 😂

Thank you, lovlies, for reading and potential feedback/reblogs and such 💕

Have yourself a lovely day/night ✨

[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?"

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Star Nursery

Words: 4660 Characters: Clockwork, Danny Warnings: None Also on AO3

Sometimes, the timeline needs a little nudge to get things going in the right direction. And sometimes, it needs more than one. At least, that's why Clockwork tells himself he's showing Daniel the stars.

---

The room was dark when Clockwork appeared. Around him, dark shapes were distinguishable only by a night light, by Clockwork's own glow, and by the window, blinds open to a snowy December night. Lit by the neon sign out front, the flakes drifted down outside like falling stars.

The soft silence of the snowstorm would have swaddled the room, if not for the muted rises and falls of voices one floor below. Though the sound was dampened, the cadence was that of an argument. Occasionally, snatches of it survived the smearing effect of the walls. A careful listener could probably discern the topic.

Clockwork didn't care.

He focused instead on the bundle in the crib. Daniel was tiny, his hair fluffy on his head. One hand was curled into a fist, impossibly small. 

He was sleeping soundly. 

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

There was a thump loud enough to rattle the walls. The argument fell silent.

Daniel had been sleeping soundly, at least. He shifted, grimaced, and prepared to scream at the interruption to his nap.

Before he could, Clockwork picked him up.

"Hello, Daniel," he murmured. He pulled Daniel to his chest, rocking him gently to soothe him.

After a moment, he added, "Daniel, I have something to show you."

Mistily, the baby’s eyes opened, focusing on Clockwork. Too young to know fear at a stranger's face, he reached clumsily for his hair.

Clockwork gave him his index finger instead. Daniel wrapped both his tiny hands around it. Eyes wide, he studied it a moment and then pulled it towards his mouth.

"Yes, I am fascinating, I know,” said Clockwork, as Daniel gnawed on his glove. “But you'll like this much better."

He held out a hand and a circle of blue swirled to life at his fingertips. He carried Daniel through the portal, and–

—

"Look," said Clockwork, and directed the child's vision.

Daniel's eyes grew wide, and he reached out a hand as if to grab at what he saw.

Above, below, and everywhere around them was the inky void of space studded with countless stars. In an immense cascade of light, a great strip of them split the sky in two.

Each and every star seemed to hold hints of a different color, a sincillating rainbow of red to blue. They varied in brightness and as the moments passed they seemed almost to dance among themselves.

No, they were dancing. In a slow waltz, the brightest points of light sped past the dimmer, stars exchanging places with one another in a dizzying spectacle: a mobile to put all others to shame.

Daniel stared, transfixed, and did not look away until sleep weighed his eyes closed.

—

"Daniel, I have a present for you," murmured Clockwork, nudging the two-year-old awake.

Blearily, he squinted at Clockwork. His serious expression lent him a gravity that was entirely undone by his chubby cheeks and the incredible cowlick rising from the back of his head. 

Clockwork didn't let his amusement show, instead letting Daniel wake at his own pace. He'd been showing up long enough and often enough that Daniel would recognize him.

After a moment, he was rewarded by Daniel widening his eyes and twisting to get a good look at their surroundings.

Already wide, his eyes grew even wider.

Beneath them, the rings of Saturn stretched like an immense road. The stars were cradling the pair of them, solid and steady.

And beside them loomed the immense bulk of Saturn itself, banded and pale and breathtaking, crowned by a circlet of glowing blue.

Danny squealed in delight, wiggling to be set down. Instead, Clockwork let go--

—

--and Danny giggled, hair floating free in a halo that glowed in the light of the binary suns behind him and for a moment, it was as though he had his own corona.

At Clockwork's back was a tiny, frigid planet coated in a filigree of white.

He smiled and reached out to catch Danny's hand.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Danny nodded.

—

Clockwork had shown Daniel many, many planets by now. The one below them was dark and small, but growing. Every few moments, impacts spiderwebbed out into tiny red lines that faded just as quickly.

The planet's star hung to the side, close enough that it resembled a coin instead of a point of light. 

"Daniel, do you know which planet this is?"

He shook his head. His hair twisted gently in the low gravity, like seagrass.

Clockwork smiled and said, "Watch."

At just the right moment, he pulled their progress through time from blistering speed to something far closer to real time and pointedly looked at a particular point in the stars around them.

Daniel followed suit.

It started as a pinprick of light just barely brighter than the backdrop. And in slow motion, the shadow of an asteroid grew from it. It grew from a pinprick to a coin, and grew again until it loomed enormous before them, and before the infant planet. So close, it was easy to see that it was rounded by the strength of its own gravity; a planetary mass in its own right.

And then it struck.

Even so early in the existence of this solar system, the gas surrounding the planet wasn't thick enough to carry sound. But the impact before them kindled to a blaze so bright it had a roar of its own.

Time for them may have been allowed, but it was still significantly faster than real time, so in the hours that followed, the cataclysm unfolded before them like a dancer’s skirts.

The planet deformed terribly, countless flakes of it crumbling away or rippling outwards, away from the impact site. Yet more were flung outwards in a cloud of cosmic debris. And then, finally, the paired masses began to pull apart again, taffy-like.

Slowly, the masses separated. The furiously flowing bridge between them cooled and broke apart, pieces beginning a slow fall back to the planet where they splashed back into the gaping wound of the impact. The planet’s new moon lingered nearby, just as disfigured. The glow from its scar was bright enough to wash away the stark shadows of space on its dark side, and the molten rock shimmered like an angry burn.

Slowly, they dimmed. First to orange, then red, then just a hint of it brushing the edge of the visible spectrum like a slumbering giant just out of sight.

Shadows returned. 

By the time Danny's eyes grew heavy with sleep again, the smaller of the two objects was round and gray in the light of the star.

He'd rested his head against Clockwork's shoulder as he watched, and now Clockwork bent his head to ask him, "Do you know now?"

Danny shook his head, looking up with sleepy eyes.

"It's Earth. Your home."

—

"This is what a nebula looks like from the inside."

Around them, the stars seemed almost to trail veils. Or, to decorate them like gems.

"They're also known as star nurseries."

"Star Nusr'y"

"That's right, Daniel," Clockwork said. He combed a hand through Daniel’s hair. "Isn't it pretty?"

One finger in his mouth, Daniel nodded fervently.

—

The moment they appeared through the portal, Clockwork spread an ectoplasmic construct beneath them before letting Daniel down. 

He swirled his cloak from his shoulders and spread it out before settling atop it in a coil. He patted the spot beside him and Daniel turned from where he was peering at the ground and half-floated, half-stumbled over. 

The gravity where they were was odd, partway between Earth's surface gravity and the absence of it. In it, Daniel was adorably clumsy.

Clockwork hid his amusement in his smile. Daniel was three – "And a haff," he'd insist, stubby fingers held up to emphasize the point – and very serious. He wouldn't take it well if he thought Clockwork was laughing at him. 

Clockwork offered his arm as an anchor as Daniel settled beside him, and pulled him close once he was seated. Daniel's little hand grabbed hold of Clockwork's tunic, and Clockwork felt a surge of fondness. He'd watched it grow from a hand that could barely grasp his finger, and yet like the rest of him it was still so very small. 

He spent a space of breaths savoring the contact.

"Well Daniel,” he said at last, “do you know where we are?" 

From the shelter of Clockwork's arm, Daniel looked up and shook his head. 

"Do you want a hint?" offered Clockwork. 

A nod.

Daniel wasn't in a particularly talkative mood yet. Clockwork had woken him only minutes before; he was still fuzzy from sleep.

And in other ways. His hair wasn't quite so unruly here as it was in zero gravity, but it still stuck up at odd angles. In places, it puffed out like the down of a baby bird.

"You should be able to recognize where we are," said Clockwork. "Not here specifically, but the colors and landscape should remind you of somewhere you've seen before." 

"'peficaly," muttered Daniel, and scrunched his face into a grave frown. 

Clockwork filed the sight away, then did the same with the heartache. He still had a little time. 

.

Daniel had decided he wanted another, more careful look at the landscape beneath them. He was smushing his face into the platform in his focus, and muttered softly to himself as he puzzled out where they were. 

Clockwork felt a smile wrinkle the corners of his eyes and kept quiet. The landscape beneath them was distant, he thought, but recog nizable. With only the dark of space to compare it with, the land was pale. It was craggy, too, and dotted with countless craters.

He wanted this night to be memorable for Daniel for more reasons than the conversation they would have, and Daniel had longed for this sight for as long as he'd been able to form sentences. 

He would piece together the clues.

Had pieced them together. He scrambled onto all fours and whipped his head to look at Clockwork. His eyes were huge and shining. 

"The Moon?!" 

After a teasing moment to let Daniel’s anticipation build, Clockwork nodded. 

Impossibly, Daniel’s eyes grew even larger. The emotion radiating off him built like a volcano until Clockwork could imagine it humming under his skin. 

The squeal of excitement that erupted would have been deafening if Clockwork hadn't anticipated it. Still, he was glad the volume cut significantly as Daniel slammed himself back down onto their platform and continued to yell his delight directly into it. Or tried to, at least. With the reduced gravity what he managed was more of a float. 

Clockwork chuckled and settled in to watch his little boy try to expel more excitement than he could physically contain. It would be a while before the excitement died down, and Clockwork intended to savor every moment. 

.

Clockwork stroked one hand through Daniel's fluff. With his other, he pointed to features on the moon's surface. They were overlooking the far side of the moon, and though Daniel had spent much time looking at maps of both sides, the low angle was contorting even landmarks from satellite images into something more earthly.

With each feature explained in terms he could understand, Daniel made appreciative little oohs and ahs. Even at three (and a half) his attention for all things space outstripped all other topics. Clockwork was grateful for it: each crater, peak, and exposed basalt plain meant another scrap of time like this.

…

He was putting off the conversation they needed to have.

He knew that.

It didn't make it easier to stop. 

Clockwork had the power to slow time, and to stop it. If anyone could, Clockwork was the ghost who could hold onto a moment forever. A ghost did not gain power like that without wanting it, without needing it as a human needed air.

Clockwork held a reputation as cool and reserved. As almost uncaring in his distance. As impersonal as a mountain river, and just as cold.

Clockwork was reserved. Clockwork was distant. He had to be, because he was also deeply, terribly, cruelly sentimental. He loved as a river ran: swiftly, deeply, ceaselessly. 

He loved Daniel.

He knew that soon they would part, and so soon was not happening.

Outside their little bubble, the world was frozen. 

But while Clockwork had gained his powers over time from sentimentality, he'd mastered them with discipline. He steeled his resolve. 

"Daniel," he began, "there is something I should tell you." 

Not want. He did not want this. Nor must. He could avoid this conversation. But for Daniel… 

For Daniel's sake, he would have it. 

Daniel looked up, floppy contentment draining from his limbs. 

"Cl’work?" he said, slurring the first half like he hadn't done since he’d mastered Clockwork’s name. His eyebrows furrowed as he pulled himself to his knees. 

Clockwork had planned this conversation. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he'd charted it, tracking the best paths through a multitude of futures. His sight had shown him how Daniel might or might not react with every spoken turn.

What it had not shown him was the grief like lead in his chest. 

He took one of Daniel's hands in his. It was so small. 

And yet. 

It felt like there was something stuck in his gears. But his ticking was regular. His pendulum’s sway was familiar. He was functioning.

And yet.

Had he been human, Clockwork would have wet his lips. He was tempted to do so anyway. Just a fraction more time…

He was deviating from his script.

“You’ve grown in these past few years,” he started. Saying so felt comical, with Daniel’s hand still so tiny in his own.

“I already knew that,” said Daniel, wrinkling his nose.

“Of course you did,” said Clockwork. “You’ve been there for all of it.” Was his voice thick? Could Daniel tell?

Footing lost, he opened his mouth to continue.

I’m leaving was too heavy to leave his lips. As was, We will have to say goodbye soon.

I love you felt feather-light on his tongue. He stayed it for other reasons. To say such to Daniel shortly before vanishing–he was cruel. He liked to pretend he was not that cruel.

“You’re growing up,” Clockwork said. It was not in the script.

“Oh,” said Daniel. His voice was small.

Even with such a small deviation, the timelines were starting to shift and sprout new branches. It caught Clockwork off guard. He found himself surrounded by a sensation of space, vast like their surroundings.

Adrift.

The possibilities here…

No. He needed to stay focused.

“‘r you gonna say,” Daniel’s tone shifted to mimicry, “A Fenton isn’t scareded of anything and. ‘m too smart not to start early or the other kids wouldn’t havva chance an’. It’s only acoupla hours anyway?”

The sentence had been too long for Daniel to manage at once, full of awkward pauses and trailing sounds as he lost his breath and found his words. But the point of it was clear, regardless.

“Your parents told you that,” Clockwork said. It wasn’t a question, but it would let Daniel follow the conversation.

Daniel nodded, looking down so his hair fell over his eyes.

Clockwork hummed. Daniel was three, nearing four. It would be some time into the school year before he turned four, so registering him for preschool was unusual. A more common choice at his age would be daycare, but with his parents’ rock-solid belief in Daniel’s intelligence…

Daniel was looking up through his hair at Clockwork.

His core ached.

The parenting books had said that children of preschool age would feel afraid of starting preschool for a number of reasons. They did not say what children of Daniel’s age would be afraid of, starting preschool.

“And you would like me to say something as well?”

A nod.

He pulled Daniel into a gentle hug, and ran a hand through Daniel’s hair. It was the same motion he’d long used as Daniel fell asleep watching the stars around them. It should be soothing.

Softly, he asked, “Can you tell me what you’re worried about?”

Daniel ducked his head and muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“Jazzy’s got friends.”

This was not all Daniel would say. Clockwork waited.

Daniel had grabbed hold of Clockwork’s cloak. Now he twisted it in his hands. Contemplative. Fretful.

“What if,” he said. “What if.”

Clockwork tugged their hug a little bit tighter. “I see.”

And Daniel relaxed, head falling against the pane in Clockwork’s chest. He could feel it, warm and solid, hair feathering against the glass. It tickled, a bit.

“You’re worried you won’t make friends?”

Daniel nodded.

In the timelines he’d so meticulously navigated before bringing him here, Daniel had made them. Though the timelines were spiraling and blending around them now, Clockwork had little doubt that was still the case. For all his youth compared to his classmates, Daniel was a bright and friendly child.

For a moment, Clockwork considered telling Daniel that his fears were groundless. But. For all that this was an unexpected conversation, it was not an unforeseen one. Clockwork had expected to steer around it with Daniel none the worse for its lack. But he’d done his research. The paths through this conversation had been sparse at first: Clockwork could only consider paths one of the participants might take, and he hadn’t known to consider some options put forward in the parenting books.

He was the ghost of time, not parenting.

Do not minimize, the books had said. Do not dismiss. Acknowledge the fear. Saying that there is nothing to fear, that they will succeed may not alleviate their fear, only pile fear of disappointing you atop their fear of rejection.

They’d gone on to list other fears a child could have, starting preschool.

Separation anxiety…

Clockwork tugged his thoughts from the path with a twinge of guilt. Neither he nor Daniel’s parents gave enough attention to him for that. Regardless, the shape of his reassurance was clear enough.

He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze and selected a response. “Ah. A whole new group of children your age, and you don't know how well you'll get along with them.”

Daniel said nothing to that. Instead, he kept his head leaning against Clockwork’s chest, soft breaths misting the glass.

“Maybe it won't be all new faces. Have you seen children your age at the park?” He had, Clockwork knew.

Daniel nodded again.

“Did they play with you?”

Another nod.

Not every child had. Some had parents who were leery of the elder Fentons. But others encouraged their children to play with Jasmine and Daniel. Clockwork could not say the reason–he could not read minds, after all. But he could guess they were the same.

“If they go to the same park and are only a little older,” said Clockwork, “they may be in your class. So maybe it won’t be only new children. Does that sound a little less scary?”

Still quiet, Daniel nodded.

In all, about five of Daniel’s classmates would be children he’d played with before. Not that he should tell Daniel that precise figure. This was enough. Any human could have guessed what he’d said aloud.

Clockwork should pull the conversation to what he needed to say. To what needed to be said.

But if Daniel was content to rest his head against Clockwork’s chest awhile, then perhaps it could wait.

Just a little longer…

.

But all things must come to an end.

Clockwork shifted, and pulled his hand from where he’d been using it to cradle Daniel's head against his chest.

Sleepily, Daniel murmured in confusion before bringing one fist up to rub at his eye.

“Cl’wrk?”

It was time. The anticipatory grief in his chest found an echo outside the bubble. Slowly, in shudders, time was beginning to move on.

“Daniel, I brought you here because I have something to tell you.”

Daniel peered at him, suddenly tentative.

The rest of this conversation would be so very difficult.

“Daniel,” Clockwork began. Haltingly.

It would be so very easy to lie.

…

He was looking at Daniel’s hands. He should at least look him in the eye. He dragged his eyes up.

Daniel’s eyes were so very blue.

“I–” love you, he wanted to say. He mustn’t. 

He forced himself to say what came next.

“I am not going to be able to visit you much longer.”

And there was the shock Clockwork had so dreaded.

And there were the tears.

.

Eventually, the tears slowed.

The repeated “no no nos” had too, and Clockwork was left with a wet shirt, a little limpet gripping the fabric of it so tightly his fingers quaked, and a guilt he adamantly ignored.

This was for the best.

He was holding Daniel close, of course. Stroking his back to calm him and humming soothing nothings. It was–It wouldn’t matter if Daniel knew how much Clockwork regretted this. He would forget it anyway. Clockwork could grant himself the indulgence of being kind.

It was nothing to all the other indulgences he’d already taken, with his child. All the other sights. The joy on his face at some new wonder–

Daniel hiccupped.

“We have a month,” offered Clockwork, moving his hand to muss Daniel’s hair. “Two more trips like this.”

“‘ree.”

“Hm?”

“Three,” bargained Daniel. His voice was muffled by Clockwork’s shoulder.

“Two,” said Clockwork, biting back more regret. “One for a bad day, and one for goodbye.”

“Today’s bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Daniel tensed in his arms, and Clockwork closed his eyes. Of course he didn’t believe him. Of course he was angry. Why should he be anything else?

Clockwork sighed. “I’ve visited you far too often in the past few years. I want you to know you can handle a few weeks without a visit before we say goodbye.”

At that, Daniel was silent. Clockwork let him be, instead savoring the feel of Daniel’s weight against his chest, even if he was angry. What he would give to have it longer.

But he already had.

Clockwork pinched his eyes shut.

“What if I can’t?" Daniel asked.

“I think you may surprise yourself."

Daniel frowned.

“But if you can’t, you’ll have my help.” He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze. “We can figure it out together.”

In this, Clockwork felt no guilt in the untruth. Daniel would never need his help, so what might happen if he did was immaterial. Irrelevant.

“And besides, you have your parents and sister.”

“Jazzy’s baw, baws.” Danny began, stumbling over the second word before abandoning it entirely. “Jazzy’s mean.”

“But she makes sure you’re safe, doesn’t she?”

“I guess.” and then Daniel clutched harder at Clockwork’s shirt. “But I want you.”

“You have your parents, too.”

“Want you.” Daniel’s voice was higher now, and plaintive. On the verge of tears.

I want you, too.

“I only show you the stars,” said Clockwork. “Your parents do much more than that. Your sister, too. In a few years you won’t even remember me.”

“I will!”

“It will be kinder to forget, little star.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You will.”

Daniel was silent for a time. Then, barely a whisper: “I love you.”

Clockwork’s hug squeezed tighter. Fiercely, briefly. Like if he bundled everything he wanted, everything he felt into the action, then Daniel would understand.

I love you, too.

.

Clockwork tucked Daniel in.

He adjusted the covers. He wiped the tear-tracks from Daniel’s cheeks. But the frown still marring Daniel’s face could not be fixed so easily.

It could. All he had to do was–

Core twisting cruelly in his chest, Clockwork stroked his hand through Daniel’s fluffy mess of hair before backing away.

Daniel had refused to give up the idea that he would remember Clockwork, doubling down and insisting and insisting until.

It wouldn’t matter.

Clockwork had let him fall asleep in his arms.

It wouldn’t matter.

Daniel would forget him.

With a swirl of blue, Clockwork vanished.

—

Daniel launched himself at Clockwork with a wail. Clockwork closed his arms around him in a hug, letting his child cling to him as he sobbed in great, wracking heaves that should have consumed all the air in his lungs. They did not die down quickly. For long minutes he alternated sobs with shuddering gasps and for longer still he just tucked his head against Clockwork’s shoulder and whimpered.

Clockwork swayed, watching the expanse around them. It was a simple scene, tonight. Nothing new. Just Clockwork, and Daniel, and the familiar stars of the Milky Way from Sol’s neighborhood, only a few years distant.

As simple and humble as a scene like this could be.

Tonight, he wanted Daniel to find comfort in familiarity rather than distraction in the novel.

He was still sniffling.

Clockwork coiled his tail into a lap and set Daniel in it.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked..

—

Clockwork hitched Daniel up on his hip, and pointed. He was leaning his head a little against Daniel’s, letting his cheek rest on Daniel’s crown where his hand was not. 

"Do you see over there?"

Danny squinted. "Yeah."

"Just watch that spot."

Clockwork had pointed to a patch in the sea of stars surrounding them which seemed veiled by a shadow. Daniel’s eyes trailed uncertainly over the area, back and forth, back and forth.

Clockwork smiled to himself, savoring the bittersweet loss on his tongue. 

Only eleven years. An eyeblink, to Clockwork. Thousands of times that period were unspooling before them every instant as he drew time along for Daniel like film across a movie projector. At his age he'd never have the patience for these wonders otherwise. 

But only eleven years without Daniel carried a different weight, didn't it? Lonely, in an empty tower filled only with visions of his child, come home at last. Visions, for all they would feel like memories.

Eleven whole years indeed. 

As they waited, the stars behind the veil flickered a little, rippling in brilliance as the clouds of gasses in front of them gathered. As they built on themselves, thicker and thicker. The formation of a protostar was a quiet sort of spectacle, like this. Just the sort to put an exhausted young child to sleep. Just enough to fill his dreams with wonders of a similar kind. 

Clockwork hoped.

For all his sight, he wasn't able to see them.

He held Daniel close, and let the hours trail smooth across mental fingertips. Slowly, as Daniel must still have counted it, there came a flickering glow that strengthened into brilliant yellow. Even so, he watched it with the rapt attention which had so captured Clockwork’s mechanical heart. 

Eleven years. 

Clockwork slowed the play of time. Just a fraction. Just enough for a little more time. But of course, there was one thing he couldn’t control here.

One little boy.

Daniel’s eyelids were drooping, his breaths lengthening. Every few moments he would jerk one awake, or twitch. He was fighting so very fiercely to stay awake. But it was a losing battle.

His head dipped to his chest, once, twice, thrice and didn’t lift back up. 

Clockwork looked down at him, a fond smile playing on his lips.

He’d fallen asleep holding Clockwork's hand.

A few stolen moments of indecision later – could he wake Daniel to show him one last sight? Should he? – a portal swirled open before them, and Clockwork left Sol's earliest years with Daniel in his arms.

In his bedroom, stars and space paraphernalia cluttered every surface.

Silently, Clockwork raised the comforter on the bed, slipped Daniel beneath the sheets. When Clockwork wrested his hand from Daniel’s grip and tucked him in, his brows furrowed at the loss.

Clockwork ruffled Daniel's hair for the last time in more than a decade, and leaned down to murmur into his ear.

"Until we meet again, Daniel. Be good."

There was a flash of blue.

And then, the room was dark.

[flowerbloomsworld]

The Star of the Party

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: At Sophie’s birthday party, Jobe becomes the center of attention, charming the little girl and her friends. Between games and Lily’s teasing, an unexpected desire emerges.

𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨.

-------------------------------------------------------

Jobe was sitting on the living room couch, scrolling through his phone while waiting for Lily to finish getting ready. They were going to her little cousin’s birthday party—Sophie was turning six that day. Sophie was absolutely in love with Jobe. She saw him as a prince charming, a giant and cool hero, and everyone thought it was adorable how attached she was to him. But the funniest part was that Jobe also adored Sophie. He always made sure to play with her and give her attention, which only made the little girl idolize him even more.

He was wearing light jeans and a white shirt—a simple combination, but on him, it looked perfect. He was naturally stylish, effortlessly. He was distracted, scrolling through his feed, when Lily appeared at the living room door.

"I'm ready!"

Jobe looked up, and for a moment, he just watched. The green dress highlighted her skin and eyes, her voluminous wavy hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and the light makeup only enhanced her natural beauty. Without saying a word, he stood up and pulled her close. His large hands rested on her waist, and before she could say anything, he kissed her.

The kiss was slow and deep, the way it always was when he wanted to compliment Lily without using words. Jobe wasn’t much of a talker—he preferred to show what he felt through actions. Lily felt her body heat up. His kisses always affected her, but this time, it felt even more intense. She slid her hands over Jobe’s firm chest, trying to push him away.

"If you keep this up, we're going to have to stay home," she said, breathless.

Jobe chuckled softly and, in his quiet way, replied:

"Then let's stay."

Lily laughed and lightly slapped his shoulder.

"Come on, Jobe!"

She walked toward the garage, and he followed, still with a little smirk on his face.

The drive to the party was peaceful. Jobe drove while Lily scrolled through her phone. As soon as they arrived, before Lily could even open the car door properly, Sophie came running toward him, her blonde curls bouncing as she screamed:

"JOBE!"

He barely had time to react before being hugged tightly.

"Hey, birthday girl!" He effortlessly lifted Sophie into his arms.

"You came!" she said excitedly, holding his face between her tiny hands.

"Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss your party, would I?"

The party was lively. Sophie made sure to drag Jobe into playing, and soon, other kids joined them. The contrast between him and the children was hilarious—Jobe was huge and muscular, while the little girls were tiny, wearing princess dresses and shiny crowns. At some point, they decided it was tea time.

"Jobe, sit here!" Sophie pointed to a tiny chair.

He looked at the chair’s size, then at the girls.

"I don’t think I’ll fit in there, Sophie."

"Yes, you will!" another girl insisted.

After much discussion, he managed to convince them to let him sit on the floor instead. Even so, the kids were fascinated by him. Sophie wasn’t the only one in love with Jobe at that party.

Meanwhile, Lily was chatting with some of her aunts, but they were also distracted by the sight of Jobe surrounded by tiny princesses.

"I never thought I’d see that serious boy playing tea party," Aunt Helena said, laughing.

"And look at how the girls look at him! I swear, they’re all in love!" Aunt Tatiana added.

"I don’t blame them… If I were their age, I’d be too!" Aunt Laura joked, winking at Lily.

"The real question is, is Lily ready to have one of those at home?" Aunt Vera teased.

"One of those?" Lily frowned.

"A baby!" Aunt Camila answered, laughing.

Lily rolled her eyes but laughed along.

A little while later, Aunt Helena, Sophie’s mother, called Lily.

"Honey, help me out for a second? Ask Jobe to grab that big box from the storage room. I tried, but I can’t reach it, and it’s heavy."

She walked over to Jobe, who was still surrounded by the kids, and crouched beside him.

"Girls, can I borrow Jobe for a second?"

"NO!" Sophie crossed her arms.

"He promised he would play with us!" another girl complained.

Jobe laughed.

"What’s up?"

"My aunt needs help. There’s a big, heavy box, and I can’t reach it."

He looked at the girls and said:

"I’ll be back in five minutes, I promise."

"But five minutes is too long!" Sophie protested.

"I’ll count to 300, and if you’re not back, I’ll come looking for you!" another girl threatened.

"Go ahead and count. I’ll be back before then."

He stood up and followed Lily upstairs. In the storage room, Jobe lifted the box with ridiculous ease.

Lily laughed.

"Impressive. You pick that up like it’s a pillow."

"It’s not that heavy."

She crossed her arms and watched him for a moment before smiling.

"Now you’ve got at least two more girls in love with you."

Jobe chuckled.

"And I want one more."

She frowned.

"What?"

"I want a daughter."

Lily fell silent, surprised. Instead of answering, she stepped closer and pulled his shirt down, making him lean in. Then, she kissed him. Even holding the box, Jobe kissed her back with the same intensity as always. But after a few seconds, he broke the kiss, put the box on the floor, and pulled Lily back into his arms.

The kiss deepened, became more intense. His large hands squeezed her waist, and Lily felt something press against her stomach. She smiled against his lips and whispered:

"Control yourself."

Jobe sighed, glancing down at his situation. He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm himself.

Lily bit her lip and teased:

"When we get home, you can enjoy yourself."

He looked at her.

"That doesn’t help."

"Of course it does! I’m saying you can enjoy it later."

"That just makes me more anxious."

Lily laughed, satisfied with the effect she had on him.

After a moment, Jobe picked up the box and said:

"Let’s go downstairs."

Lily walked ahead, and he followed closely behind. He always said she had to walk in front of him so he’d never lose sight of her. They returned to the party, and Jobe resumed playing with the girls. But eventually, he was released and got to spend time with Lily and her family.

And when the night came to an end… well, he definitely made the most of his time with his girlfriend

×

×

×

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ♡

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Twenty

Summary: Geta & his reader are finally wed, Geta remembers when he first saw reader, when he first wanted her.

Notes/Warnings: 18+, p in v consensual sex, squint dommy/darker Geta, squint breeding kink, mentions of voilence, dated views of marriage..man/women dynamics, flashbacks in italics. I give a backstory to the little girls (from the deleted scene…included in the collage) seen tossing flower petals. Mixed in some traditional Ancient Roman practices with some bits that are the “writer” in me. Enjoy!

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” : “Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia." traditional Roman wedding vow, stola & palla: parts of women’s clothing in Rome.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback are all welcome. 💐 (sorry for the delay on this chapter) Thank you for reading! ❤️

You bathed once again, fresh braids with new ribbons twined your hair. You ignored the sliver of red that remained Tertia’s dagger near your heart. It was vivid and red but had not drawn blood.

You were grateful no damage by the grace of the gods had been done to your wedding clothes. Through the pain during the violent attack you saw the stars. You were still unsteady by the attack. You wondered how long she had been planning it. The thought made you ill.

Stirring in Geta’s arms was truly a gift. A soft look had come from him. His eyes like warm like a summer’s soil despite his sharp appearance; the finely crafted ebony lines that traced his eyes or powder that dusted his smooth face. His softness, made your affections for him to grow.

*******

The spice of incense filled the air. He stood waiting for you. He had wrung his hands behind his back in anticipation. It had felt like this day was longer than most in his life. His eyes settled on the follows Mila and Flora had sprinkled in their wake.

He had always thought, Caralla would be impulsive and marry. It would be a scandal. It would have been frowned upon and it would have been nulled. There would have been a lot of drama.

As he grew into a man, first son his mother reminded him of the importance of marriage and having a heir. His father when not beating on him and Caracalla, more him would speak of expanding the empire. It was the only thing he was ever in agreement with his father.

He wanted Rome to be as large and as powerful as possible. Marriage and having a heir bored him. It made him vulnerable. He never wanted that. And yet a solid party or particularly in fight in the arena pleased him. Punishing foes in it brought an invigorating enjoyment to it.

It was in his royal box, when everything changed for him. A gentle breeze swirled into the royal box; it drew his attention away from his gladiator that was astride a rhino. He watched as a stray strands blew into your eyes. You were as delicate as the petals that were now thrown at his feet.

The room brightening, he looked up as Aelia holding a robust torch stood a safe distance behind you. The sight of you with the crown and gold veil obscuring your face made his heart skip.

*******

Candles flickered, the scent incense swirled in the air. Distantly, the small coin shifted in your shoe as you walked. You focused on the one you held. As Aelia, followed with a brilliant torch which brought a great warmth as she followed close.

Just ahead of you; you saw as the little girls who were always called upon to toss flower petals. They were always called upon when needed, last you saw them was when Rome was seeing off General Acacius. He was atop his large, strong horse that he would ride to his ship. Now they were there for you. The petals you saw underfoot, were lovely and rich in color.

The two girls were sweet, well cared for. Aelia, was a mother to them. From the handful of moments, you had seen them with her. The whispers you had heard, spoke of their parents having taken ill and Aelia had taken up the care of them.

Geta, had bestowed them to her. Though, it was well known that she carried out all of her duties for Geta and Caracalla; along with the duties of the little ones. Usually, you saw them helping with the culina. Helping to clean and gather the fruits and nuts for Geta, Caracalla and now for you to enjoy. Their clothes for this grand day was even lovelier than ever.

Finally, glancing up you saw that you had reached where Geta stood, the sight of him before you stole your breath. He looked absolutely magnificent, your heart squeezed with excitement.

********

As you drew closer, he remembered the stolen moment. He had needed some air, Caracalla was being particularly excessive with his drinking so he needed to just step away. Hearing voices, he paused in the shadows. It had not taken him long before he realized it was your voice he heard. As he heard how you knit words together kept him listening. It made him more curious about you. He was certain the gods chose you to be the embodiment of the poetry and art he loved so dearly. The more he heard you speak, he knew he had to have you. And now he did.

******

Gently, you opened your veil. The material was as soft as a breath. You barely felt it. Blinking, you looked and met his eyes. A warmth, a happiness came over you. A soft smile curled his lips.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” You whispered, offering a gentle hand to him.

He gently took your hand in his. “Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.”

With his other hand, he easily slid a far grander ring upon your finger it nestled the one he had given you prior nicely.

“My heart.” He whispered.

His soft words made your eyes water.

Gently turning his hand you placed the ceremonial coin into his palm. It had been made during the time of his father. On the side opposite his father’s face was one of venus. Now, that he would lead as emperor, a coin would be made in his honor.

Once in the city walls of Rome, you had seen and even used a coin that had the profiles of both him and Caracalla. It had an astonishing resemblance to the both of them. You would have had never thought, one day you’d be in the same space of them or even come to love of them.

Your affection for him continued to grow. He had chosen you to be at his side; yet there was a distant tingle of apprehension. Silently, within your heart you gave prayers of gratitude to the gods, goddesses. Yet, you wondered what they chose for the both of you.

*******

As you drew close, he could barely discern, your silhouette under the delicate golden colored veil. How delicate you were at this moment, made him pause. This was it. A new life for him was beginning and he felt exhilarated.

His mind’s eye easily knew the curve of your lips, the apple of your cheeks and the vibrance of your eyes; he grew hungry for the feel of you.

He gently took your hand in his. “Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.”

You easily revealed yourself from behind the veil and his breath caught despite all the tribulations of the day, you were his beauty.

Your voice soft and ever so pleasing to his ears.

Easily, he placed your hand within his. Barely pausing, he slid a far grander ring upon your finger it nestled the one he had given you prior nicely. You were now, his wife…his empress; and the spoke the part that remained.

“My heart.” He whispered.

As he saw tears in your eyes, he longed to brush them aside with his thumb, or even kiss them away.

He was ready to truly lead and have you at his side.

*******

He had held above you the cake, easily crumbling it far above your laurel crown and the animals had been given to the gods, goddesses; now the celebration was in full swing. The finest foods were displayed and passed around on beautiful plates. Music filled and swirled in the fragrant air.

“Blossom, you are now the empress of the world.” Geta’s whispered in your ear, he brushed away some crumbs of cake he had broke above your head, as he did he saw a shaving from a walnut that lingered on one of your shoulders.

A flush filled your cheeks as you turned to look at him. “As long as I am by your side, that is all that truly concerns to me.”

He smiled. “You will always be my sweet blossom.”

You nodded.

He reached and held your hand, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “Does this all please you?”

“I don’t know where or what to enjoy first?” You confessed. “But the dancers and singers are lovely.”

“They are. They arrived from one of our new providences.”

You nodded.

Sitting back he smiled, pleased. Many a wonderful tribute had been made to the two of you. Despite Thraex and his attempt to dampen the mood of this union, the people in attendance appeared happy.

He would have to keep an eye on that power hungry senator.

Your brother and his continued to get along, this helped his spirits. That illness that had taken ahold of his brother could let itself known at anytime and was violent. He had worried it would bring a sourness to Caracalla since they both knew that the marriage would mean. At the moment, he saw him smiling and enjoying the company of a dancer that swished closer to him. A large plate of food sat in front of him and had a wine in hand. He could see just how content he was, this meant the night would end well considering how badly the day had begun.

Silently, in his heart he spoke prayers for his gratitude over how well had turned. He could have lost you. Glancing at you, he squeezed your hand that he still held. He was also beyond grateful that his brother’s illness had not brought a shadow of madness today.

Taking a sip of his wine, he felt good.

*******

Excitement tingled within you, as you stood in the middle of the chambers that the two of you now would share. Your laurel crown and veil sat beside his at a nearby table. You still marveled at how you had kept it atop your head the entire evening during the festivities. You had stood up and sat, a handful of moments, had it remained unwavering.

Glancing, at his grand bed which looked far bigger than he had previously, you longed for to join with him as a man and wife did. Idly, you wondered if it would feel different since you two were now married.

You watched as Geta, took a hold of the ceremonial dagger. His clothes swung and flowed as turned back to you. There was a twinkle in his eye that shone as brightly as his good mood.

He reached out and pulled you to him by the knotted belt that had hung from your waist. Seeing, feeling that small display of strength pleased you.

“My wife, my empress.”

“I am.”

“With slice of this dagger, I cut to free you from your previous bonds of life.”

“Yes, my sire.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“It You will free you to be my wife, mother of the children we will surely have, empress of the Roman people and so that you can accompany me the underworld when death has come for me.”

“Free me, my love.” You replied softly.

Once again nodded. Your heart beat harder as he tugged harder on the belt, pulling you even closer. He rose his hand that held the dagger, the belt hung tautly onto you. Lowering the sharp blade it easily sliced the knot at the center of the belt.

You wilted into one of his waiting arms as the belt then fell to the ground at your feet. His eyes met yours as he looked down at you. A smile curled his lips. He brought the dagger up once more. He glanced at it and then you.

“My brother in one of his fits, would have wished me to plunge this into your heart.”

“Yes. It would have been your right. He suspected, I wanted to take you from this world.”

“Yes.”

He threw the dagger into the shadows of the room, the metal clanking against the floor as it tumbled. He brought a hand to your throat.

“I would have much rather stolen your breath with hands around your subtle throat.”

“I would have let you. To perish by your hands would have been a great pleasure.”

His words, the look that entered his eyes made your heart thud harder. A sharp, aching need to feel and have him above you grew between your legs. His lips curled from a smile into a smirk, as you felt as his thumb caress your throat. You trembled gently.

“I still wish to steal your breath but only as our passions are met and we become one.”

“Then do not delay our passions any further my husband, my emperor.”

********

He did not know what had taken him over. The dark edge that had first emerged between the two of you brought an exquisite contrast to the warmth and love he felt for you.

“You are beautiful.” He breathed. “Get onto bed, I don’t want to wait.”

He loved seeing the dusting of pink that reached your cheeks. You slipped from his arms and your wedding clothes, he loved being able to see your curves once again especially as you were crawling over the expanse of the bed.

******

He pulled himself free of the many layers that covered him, before finally crawling over and settling happily between your legs. With a smirk still across his face, on he relished the sight of your legs opening wider for him. Moving just so, he captured your mouth with his. He could taste the fruit and sweets, you both indulged in. Though they tasted better on your lips.

As he kissed you still bracing himself on the bed, he reached down. Laying a hand on your soft mound, he allowed his thumb to graze your special bud that was nestled at the apex between your legs.

“Geta.”

His stomach tightened in pleasure at how his name was a mixture of a purr and a moan.

“Did that feel good blossom?” He met your eyes, he could see the fire of your passions in them.

“Yes.” You licked your lips.

He needed to watch as you writhed under him once again. His thumb grazed you once more.

His desire, knotted in his stomach. Biting back his own moan, he wrapped his fingers around himself.

“We will become one blossom, my empress.”

“Yes, yes please.”

Gently he rubbed his tip against to soft petals that were you. Were as dewy as a spring morning. He loved knowing he was the cause of this. Taking a breath, finding your entrance with the greeting of gentle snugness he then slid into you. He finally could not contain the moan that erupted from him. You felt amazing.

******

Pleasure ripped through you as you felt him enter you. Moans, whimpered poured from your lips. As your eyes met, you felt as he took a hold of hip and soon the passions ignited between the two of you. Lips met, both of you moved together and moans became you one.

“Perhaps this time, since we are man and wife, your belly will take my seed.” His voice was deep and raspy in his pleasure as he spoke in your ear.

“Yes. Yes.” You moaned softly, writhing in his arms.

Thoughts barely filled you. The pleasure was intense.

“Call out for me, wife. Call out for me.” He urged.

Distantly, you felt as one of his hands drifted between the two of you. Next, stars burst as if from the heavens as his touch sent off your pleasure.

“Ooh Geta.” You called out. “Geta!” His name burst from deep within you. You trembled.

“Look at me.” His hair was a mess and wild, like true fire and his eyes matched it.

He moved what felt like deeper within you. It made you call out in pleasure, as his fingers dug into your hip.

Through your half open eyes, heavy with bliss you watched as he arched between your legs, your name one mingling with his own moan. He choked, gasping for air and called out as you felt his seed spilled, filling you.

********

Stirring, a soft sound came from you. Your eyes fluttered open to find Geta holding your hand. The rings were flush as they fit snugly on your finger.

“Something drifting in your mind?” You asked softly.

“I am fond of this. This is very pleasing to me.”

You smiled. “I do like these rings you chose for me. They are truly beautiful.” Any words you could express would truly pale to how you actually felt.

You glanced up at him. It gave you the view of how he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss just above the rings.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

*******

Aelia, fluffed the purple. The vividness of the purple palla contrasting the whiteness of the stola, made you truly feel like the flowers Geta always compared you to.

“They will love you, girl.” She whispered. You met her eyes and nodded.

“Don’t make her nervous, Aelia.” Even with the trumpets as loud as they were, you could still hear the jest in his voice.

“Far from it sire.” Her whispered.

You met her eyes over your shoulder, you shared a fleeting nod.

His hand met yours and squeezed.

“Yes, sister.” Caracalla, quickly added. Dondas, followed with a chirp as if to agree. “They had better. Or I will have their heads taken.”

You looked in his direction, just to his own laurel crown. You were not completely comfortable with this new dynamic to your relationship of sorts. You did not wish to upset his temperament. “Thank you.” You replied softly.

*******

“Citizens of Rome!” The herald called out.

Silence fell over the crowd, high and low born alike.

Your stomach twisted. You reached and squeezed Geta’s hand, he replied with his own squeeze once again.

“Today is a day of celebration. We are in the presence of Emperor Geta and his wife, the empress….”

The excitement pounded in your ears that you could barely hear as he announced you.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringwhore @justalittlebitshy @littlemissholy @ruinedbythehobbit

[mehiwilldoitlater]

(requested by @silenthopper)

The first time he saw you, Bulkhead never planned to get so wrapped up in you. Damn, he didn't even plan to walk in the park that night, but Sari insisted since there were some cool activities in Central Park. Of course she never mentioned something like a ballet representation and didn't even plan on seeing it.

The first thing that caught Bulkhead's attention was the structure, an open-air theater installed just at the side of the artificial lake, and, of course, the music. Bless his heart, he wasn't so invested in knowing every detail of earth, but he had enough to recognize something beautiful when he heard it. When he finally got his attention towards that structure, he saw a young man, armed with a crossbow, running in a forest made of fake trees, meeting another, dressing something that reminded him of those black birds that he saw sometimes here and there. Prowl had called them crow? He didn't know, but that man had a strange, ominous look. They moved strangely, but it wasn't a strange bad; they moved pretty! Like seeing some birds moving here and there on the concrete, it wasn't made up; it had a purpose.

Then the lights went off, and the forest scenery changed; now the bright and full moon reflected its entirety on a lake made of fabric and glitters. The ruins of an old structure were covered in fake vines and wildflowers. Then, something white appeared, something soft, light, and swift.

Your white tutu stood out on the dark scenography; the small crown on your head shone like a star in the cold space, alongside the diamonds on your gown and your small slipper.

His jaw dropped open, amazed by the scene.

He decided to stay and observe, near enough to see and hear the music but not too close to bother anyone; he just sat there, observing. Bee and Sari, of course, couldn't understand what was so interesting about some people in costumes that like to dance, but there was something captivating for Bulkhead, and that something was you.

Were you real? You seemed pretty real, but you look so…non-human. Up on those two small feet, your graceful movements on the wooden floor, your expression too was completely different. He couldn't describe it, but the only thing that he was able to come up with was beautiful; everything about you was beautiful.

"What is it?" he asked, concentrated but curious.

"Ah, the opera house does these shows every summer. It's ballet…"

"Ah…and…what are they doing?"

"Dancing, of course. It's a kind of dance; I would never do that, but some people like it."

"She seems scared of that man, the one with the black feathers…!

"Uuuuh… It's the Swan Lake, I guess. A girl is turned into a swan by a bad wizard, and a prince tries to save her."

He wasn't sure that he had understood the thing; what he knew was that the curious man with the black feathers was bad because you, the princess, who has the crown and it seems logical, were scared of him, while the other male was protecting you from him… So in the end, Sari's story seemed true!

He had stayed there, curious and fascinated by this curious activity that humans seemed to have created on their own. He wondered if Prowl was able to move like that; he was the most agile of the team after all, and so he stayed there, now curious to know how the story ended, while his group decided to head up to some more interesting activities.

At some point the story had come to an end; the music roared stronger than all the night, all the dancers on the stage, the bad man, the prince, and the princess. Previously, something bad had happened because the prince danced with another one in a black dress, and you seemed like you were crying. He tried to understand the integrity of everything until…. YOU JUMPED? He stood up, panicking, starting to run to where he thought you must have landed! BEHIND THE STAGE!

Poor Bulkhead, he hadn't thought that this was all part of the show like he had missed the finale! He was so genuinely concerned about your well-being that he completely forgot that everything was just fake!

Behind the theater, while the orchestra started to play again after the roar of the applause, you and your companion were slowly getting down from the mechanic scaffold after the last scene; Odette and Siegfried unite in eternity by love in death. You both were completely breathless, just like everyone around. The cheers covered the laugh and the screams from the dancers, everyone so helplessly enthusiastic for the good result of tonight's show.

"Everyone! Everyone!" The maestro tried to hide his happiness too, but he was clearly over the moon: "All of you have been GREAT! But the show is not over! We must end the"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

Suddenly the sound of metal steps startled you all, and the presence of one of those Autobots suddenly changed the atmosphere of the crew.

"Where's she?! Is she okay?!" He started to look around, everywhere! The maestro tried to stop the frantic searching of the bot.

"W-wha-whaT-STOP! Hey hey hey QUIT THIS!" he finally intervened, holding a ballerina all dressed in white, but putting her down gently noticing that she didn't had a crown on her head.

"CUT IT OUT! You can't stay here, out from the backstage!"

"She jumped! How can you not be panicking?! SHE JUST JUMP!"

"WHO JUMPED?!"

"The princess! THE PRINCESS HAS FALLEN! Is she hurt?!"

Everyone needed to make two plus two to realize what he intended and about who, the maestro had enough time to make the orchestra take some more time, excusing himself for some troubles.

"First, no one here is hurt. Secondly, of course she's fine! It's just a spectacle! Look!"

The maestro showed you and the other male looking confused at Bulkhead. Ah…it was true…you were fine! Thanks, Primus! He sighed in relief.

"Oh… Oh, I thought… Primus, I thought something bad had just happened!"

"Oh…" you finally took some courage to speak. "It's…fine. I mean, you must have been influenced by the story and—"

"Yes, yes, yes, everything here is amazing! NOW MOVE AWAY! Hero or not, you're stopping us! EVERYBODY BACK ON STAGE!"

He muffled an apology while everyone moved between his legs trying to get on stage on time, trying to look like it was just a small delay. That wasn't even backstage, he thought; it was the park ground… That grumpy man had no right to tell him to not stay there… Nah, those were some silly excuses; he was just too embarrassed to admit that he had looked like a fool.

You, on the other hand, have found this event quite cute.

The next day he came back; he found out that this kind of event was supposed to stay for a few more days, and he decided to take this opportunity to properly apologize to you and, of course, to the rest of the crew.

"Bring some flowers! And launched them!" said Bee, laughing. "On TV, they do this every time!"

And of course, that day, just a few hours away from the starting of the spectacle, everybody in that half-made backstage found himself under a curious rain of flowers.

"Look!"

"What's happening?"

"Some prank?"

By looking around, you spotted the figure of the same giant of the previous day, occupied by throwing flowers… A lot of flowers—the cargo of a small truck was full of them!

When you approached him, he was still focused on that, not acknowledging your presence from the other side of the small fence that delineated the area.

"Hi!" He jumped, throwing on himself a bunch of those flowers, surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Oh, um… Hi!" He scoffed away a few flowers. "Haven't seen you there… You're very good at sneaky!"

"First time someone said that to me." You chuckled a little, noticing then his nervousness. "But I'll take that as a compliment! So… Are you still checking if I'm hurt?"

"No, no, no! I…wanted to apologize about yesterday; I didn't mean to ruin…whatever thing that was; I was just so so worried!"

"It's alright! Even heroes can make mistakes, right? ...so…" You moved away a few petals from your shoulder. "About the flowers…"

"Oh yes! My friend Bumblebee told me to throw them!"

"…AH! Oh my!" You started to laugh; Bulkhead still looked confused. "At the end of the show, not during the rehearsal!"

"Oh…,he scratched his head. "I had mistaken…again…"

You took one of the flowers, one of the few blue ones that stand alongside those sugary pink that prevail on the multitude, and put it on your ear.

"No, it's just the cutest thing that could have happened to us… So… Bulkhead, right? Can I presume that you enjoyed the show?"

"Oh! Enjoyed?!" His face converted into a giant grin, especially knowing that you knew his name. "I loved it! You were amazing back there! I don't need to breathe, but WOW, you were breathtaking! You were like…flying on that thing; you were…you are…um…"

He felt the weight of his words, feeling a rush of awkwardness on him, realizing that he let his mouth move faster than his thought.

"…I think you were so pretty…"

Your mesmerizing look was on him, and…you started to laugh again, mostly for the nervousness and the cuteness that this big robot had brought you. You were used to compliments, critiques, or children that think of you as some kind of fairy, but receiving a big amount of them from a big robot that saves the day as an occupation? That was…new! For a moment, he thought that you may have found him ridiculous, but then you offered him your hands for a handshake.

"Thank you, Bulkhead… I'm Y/N, by the way!"

From that day on, the biggest of the Autobots became the biggest of you fans, too.

You couldn't resist, but besides the fact that he was able to destroy everything thanks to his herculean strength, he was surprisingly adorable for his way of acting around you. When facing an enemy, he was unstoppable, courageous, and prone to the attack more than the thinking. But around you, he was completely different!

He was shy, unsure about how to say things and how to express them. He was clumsy, things that you had found almost cute, but he had tried several times to be careful about things that he knew people cared about.

You had tried to invite him to some of your shows, but he had to decline many of those invitations, with a heavy heart too. The theater was too small for him!

Well, he didn't know that the first ballerina of the opera house had a few friends here and there! And how could they deny the desire of one of Detroit's protectors to enjoy one of their spectacles?! When he found out that they did recreate a nice place just for him, he couldn't hold his joy!

You even found time to spend with him on some dates, as you love to say, just to tease him a little, a thing that made him look even more cute than ever!

But mostly, he loved when he could find some time to see you practice. He loved how concentrated you were when you needed to practice one of your performances; he loved the passion that you emitted from your eyes! You were a contrast, delicate and strong, gentle but powerful, elegant and passionate. He couldn't not stare at you, admiring your tiny foot supporting your entire body without a trace of fatigue.

He could have never even dreamed of doing something like that.

He had found himself, in his alone time, painting things that reminded him of you, like flowers, river streams, or those animals that gave the name of the first spectacles that he had seen you in. And yet, he never found the courage to give you one of those, too embarrassed that you could find them silly or stupid…damn, you would have found him stupid.

"You know, Bulkhead," you spoke on one of those many walks in the park near him, "I was wondering, would you save me from a deception if it was the case?"

"Uh? Why do you say such a thing? …ARE THEY TARGETING YOU?! ARE THEY NEAR?!"

You calmed him down, caressing his giant servos.

"No, no, Bulky, no! No one is targeting me! It's just a guess! It's just that you remind me of a knight… so strong, so brave… It just makes my heart bump a little!"

You made his spark completely go shut down… He scratched his head again, coughing a little.

"I'm…not sure if I'm a knight, but...I'm pretty sure if one of those boozos tries to hurt you, they'll face me first!"

He truly was your knight!