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baelarys · 3 months ago

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𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗

cregan stark x reader velaryon

Word count:2277

Warninig:Spontaneous abortion,angust.

You hated this place. Even when wrapped in countless layers and furs, the cold always found a way to seep through to you. It was a cold that not only chilled the bones but also the spirit, reminding you of how foreign you felt in this inhospitable land.

From the start, you had considered this marriage unnecessary. Lord Stark would have supported your mother’s cause without the need to wed you. At least, that’s what you believed. The Starks always honored their promises, or so you had heard in Dragonstone. You arrived in Winterfell with your brother Jacaerys, thinking it would be just another visit. However, that same night, before his return, the plans changed: your marriage to the Lord of the North was sealed, unexpectedly.

Fear consumed you. You didn’t want to marry, and certainly not him. The Lord of Winterfell was as cold as the landscape that surrounded him, distant and reserved. Although you now bore the title of Lady of this house, you knew that to the people of the North, you remained an outsider, someone who neither shared their blood nor their customs. The looks they gave you were not of respect but of mistrust.

You wondered if you could ever come to consider this place your home, but every gust of icy wind that struck the stone towers reminded you that you did not belong to this realm of shadows and ice. The Stark promises of loyalty may have been steadfast, but their hearts were as cold and distant as the winters that ruled these lands.

However, not everything was so bleak. Despite the discomfort of your new surroundings, you were far from the war and the conflicts that divided your family. In Winterfell, the echo of battles and internal struggles was silenced by the vast expanse of snow and mountains. Here, in the solitude of this fortress, you found a strange peace, a temporary respite from the intrigues that had always marked your life.

You walked from the courtyard, leaving behind the cold, gray walls, toward the gates of the fortress. Your feet sank into the snow, soft and frosted, as the wind swirled small flakes around you. In the distance, you spotted the imposing silhouette of your dragon, Sunset. Her wings, a coppery color that contrasted with the cloudy sky, stretched out majestically as she settled on the ground, her enormous body creating a temporary refuge from the cold.

At the sight of Sunset, a familiar warmth enveloped you. The dragon, with her majestic form and scales that seemed to glow like embers in the snow, was the closest thing to a reminder of home in this distant corner of the world. You approached slowly, and she, with a soft rumble, lowered her head toward you, awaiting the touch of your hand. The warmth of her scales against your skin and the hot breath she exhaled as she relaxed immediately comforted you, driving away the cold that had seeped into your bones since your arrival.

Suddenly, the crunch of snow under boots interrupted the peace of the moment, but you didn’t turn around. It wasn’t necessary; you knew only he would dare approach you and the imposing creature that had accompanied you since your youth. You expected him to come closer, but his steps halted as Sunset’s violet eyes fixed on his figure.

“Come closer, boy,” you said with a slight smile, barely tilting your head to glance at him. “She won’t eat you... unless I command her to.” Your words hung in the air, laced with a hint of challenge. You watched Cregan Stark, with his severe expression and indomitable presence, usually accompanied by the sword that rested in its sheath. Today, however, something about him seemed different. His hair, which he always wore tied back, fell loose over his shoulders, giving him a less restrained, more wild appearance, like the North itself.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the dragon’s, cautious but determined. He was not a man easily intimidated, not even by the mythical creature that posed a constant threat to anyone but you. Yet, in that moment, there was more than just respect in his gaze; there was an unspoken understanding of the power you shared with Sunset, a power he could not ignore.

“Do you not trust her?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, as you continued to stroke the dragon, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her scales relax under your hand.

Cregan kept his distance a moment longer before speaking, his deep voice resonating with the gravity of a man accustomed to the dangers of the North but still unable to fully comprehend the bond between rider and dragon. “I trust you,” he finally said, taking a step closer to you, though still with a cautious eye on Sunset. “But any man who approaches a beast like that would be a fool not to do so carefully.”

You smiled at his response, sensing that despite the cold façade Cregan Stark usually displayed, he wasn’t indifferent to you or to what you meant in his life.

“They're asking,” he suddenly blurted out, breaking the silence that surrounded you. His tone was grave, loaded with a tension that needed no further explanation. It took you a moment to realize who he was referring to.

“Oh... they already have Rickon, why do they insist so much on this?” you replied, your voice tinged with bitterness as your fingers continued to stroke the warm scales of Sunset. The simple act of caressing your dragon helped you contain the frustration you felt. “Do they really care that much about having dragon riders?”

Cregan remained silent for a moment before responding, his footsteps crunching in the snow as he slowly approached you. “Rickon is not yours,” he said, his words slow and measured, as if wanting to make sure you fully understood their implications.

You felt a pang in your chest upon hearing those words, though they were not new to you. Rickon, Cregan’s son, had been an important part of your days in Winterfell. Still, you knew that no matter how attached you had become to the boy, he was not your blood, and that fact was impossible to ignore.

“I know,” you responded with a hint of resignation in your voice. “But they think I’m not trying,” you added sincerely, lowering your hand from Sunset’s scales and starting to walk back toward the fortress.

The weight of your words hung in the air, much like the mist that enveloped the towers of Winterfell. With every step, the coldness of the stone and the northern wind seemed to tighten the knot of pain in your chest. The whole process had been painful, more than anyone outside of your situation could understand. You had lost three pregnancies, each one more devastating than the last. Some of those children had never seen the light, born deformed; others had barely survived a few hours, leaving in their departure a void difficult to fill. The bleeding, the unbearable pain, each loss had left an invisible scar that marked both your body and spirit.

Cregan walked a few steps behind you, silent, but his presence was palpable. There were things he could never fully understand, and though you had tried to keep him distant from your pain, you knew you couldn’t hide everything from him.

“They don’t see it,” you continued, stopping at the threshold before entering. “They don’t see how much it hurts. They don’t understand what it’s like to lose… over and over again.”

The cold wind seemed to remain outside as you crossed the door, but the weight in your chest was as present as ever. Cregan, walking beside you, appeared to be carefully considering his next words, as if knowing that any attempt at comfort could break the delicate calm you both shared.

“We could try again,” he suggested, his tone as practical as ever, as both of you entered the intimacy of your room. The fire crackled weakly in the fireplace, barely offering warmth compared to the tide of emotions bubbling within you.

You stopped abruptly, turning your back to him for a moment before facing him again, your eyes locking with his, defiant. “For what? So the next one can die or kill me?” The harshness in your voice surprised even you. It wasn’t just anger you felt; it was the weight of despair, of a constant struggle against something that seemed beyond your control.

Cregan held your gaze, his expression hardened but not unfeeling. “That’s not what I want,” he finally said, his voice low but firm, as if his intention was to pierce through the armor of pain you had built over time. “But I also can’t ignore that the North needs an heir, and everyone’s eyes are on us, waiting…”

“Waiting for me to give them a child,” you finished for him, your words bitter but real. You knew the burden of producing an heir weighed as much on you as it did on him. It wasn’t a matter of desire or affection; it was a political necessity, one that came with impossible responsibilities and expectations.

You turned toward the fireplace, staring at the flames for a moment, trying to find in the fire some kind of answer that wouldn’t come. “I’ve tried, Cregan. I’ve tried to the point of breaking. And each time, the result is the same.” You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it before continuing. “I don’t know if I can take any more.”

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. Cregan stepped closer to you, his presence firm but respectful. “I’m not asking you to break for them, not even for me. What I’m asking is that we think together, that we don’t make decisions out of fear or desperation.”

His words, though sensible, did not alleviate the weight you carried. But in his tone, you could perceive something more: a willingness not to let that burden crush you alone. Despite the circumstances that had brought you together, despite the emotional distance that sometimes imposed itself between you, there was an attempt, however clumsy, to share that load.

Still, the pain remained yours. And in that moment, you didn't know if you would be able to face another loss, another disappointment.

Cregan, as always, was pragmatic, but in his pragmatism, there was also a sort of acceptance. "If you decide that you don't want to try again, I'll understand," he said, and though his words were calm, there was a resolution in them that you recognized as genuine. "I just want whatever you choose to be because you want it, not because they demand it."

You carefully settled down next to Rickon, the little one absorbed in his game with the wooden figures representing wolves and other creatures of the forest. His tiny hands skillfully moved the animals, making the wolves howl in their own imaginary world. His hair, darker than Cregan's, was a striking contrast to the cold landscape of the North, and although you never knew his mother, you could guess that Rickon must have been the spitting image of her.

You adjusted yourself, resting your hands on your rounded belly. It had been five months since that conversation with Cregan when, after many sleepless nights and doubts, you decided to give the possibility of an heir another chance. This time, without the shadow of fear looming so large, though anxiety still lurked in the darker corners of your mind. Every movement, every sensation, was a reminder of both hope and risks.

The voice of one of your handmaidens pulled you from your thoughts. "My lady," she said softly, approaching with a parchment in hand, the unmistakable seal of House Umber presiding over the paper. You took it carefully, breaking the seal as Rickon continued to play by your side.

You unfolded the parchment, and a small smile appeared on your lips as you recognized Cregan's firm handwriting. He had set off north weeks ago, leading his men to confront the wildling raids that were disturbing the lands of House Umber. Winterfell had been strangely quiet without him. Though the fortress was never empty, his strong, unwavering presence had been missed. With each passing day, you had grown more accustomed to his company, to the silent security he offered.

His words on the parchment were concise, typical of a man like him, yet they contained enough details to assure you that he was well. The issues with the wildlings were being resolved, and while there were still some pockets of resistance, he expected to return soon. He also mentioned how the Umber, despite their stubborn and proud nature, had offered their hospitality, though it was clear he missed the tranquility of Winterfell and, less directly, your presence.

You lingered over the parchment a moment longer, stroking the edge of the paper with one hand while the other rested on your belly, where the life you had feared so much seemed to be developing normally this time.

Rickon, oblivious to everything, lifted one of his figures toward you. "Look, mother," he said, using the title that Cregan had taught him to call you for the past few months. Though it had surprised you at first, you soon realized it was a gesture as natural as it was necessary. Rickon had accepted you as family, and in that moment, as you held his father's letter, you felt that perhaps this cold and distant North could start to feel a little more like home.

You felt so happy to have him back, enjoying his warm hands and the long conversations you shared about your childhoods. The warmth of his presence filled the room, and every moment together felt like a gift after his absence.

As you quietly contemplated the dance of the flames in the fireplace, you felt his hands wrap around you tenderly. Your back rested softly against his chest, where the steady, comforting beat of his heart resonated. You could feel his warm breath brushing against your cheek, an intimacy that enveloped you and made you forget the cold outside.

His hands, now resting on your belly, left gentle caresses, as if he wanted to connect not only with your skin but with the life growing within you. That physical connection transformed into an emotional bond, a reminder of everything you both meant to each other.

Cregan leaned his head closer, whispering soft words that resonated in your heart. "I’ve missed you," he said sincerely, his voice enveloping.

"I’ve missed you too," you admitted, feeling how vulnerability mixed with joy. "Your absence has left a difficult void to fill." The words came from you with an honesty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As the fire continued to illuminate the room, you both shared a moment that seemed to suspend time. In those moments, every caress, every whisper was a step toward building a shared life, one that embraced the hope of a future together, filled with love and the promise of a family that, one day, could become a reality.

#house of the dragon season 2 #hotd season 2 #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #angst #aemond targaryen x you #fanfic #medieval #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark #house stark #asoif/got #game of thrones #lord cregan stark

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dreamescapeswriting · 11 months ago

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Blooms Of Serenity ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

GENRE: comfort fic, chan being very sweet and comforting toward a reader who has had a hard time with their anxiety/panic attacks lately, cute boyfriend chan, NON IDOLVERSE, established relationships

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Sliding out of the seat carefully you held your hand out to Chan who was still refusing to let you take off the blindfold he'd put on you about an hour ago. Part of you was a little sad he'd refused to let you see, you loved going on night drives with Chan since you'd spend all of your time looking up at the stars that were scattered across the sky it was one of your favourite things to do.

"Are you going to pout all night?" Chan whispers in your ear, his breath catching on your skin making your whole body shiver.

"No, but I'll stop sooner if you let me see," You giggle trying to tempt him but it wasn't going to, Chan had been working on this surprise all week long and he wasn't going to ruin it now.

In the heart of a packed city, where life echoed everywhere and it didn't matter how far you went you'd still hear the sounds of car horns or people yelling there existed a small haven of tranquillity known as the Serenity Garden. After extensive googling, Chan had managed to find the little slice of heaven for you.

Its charm lay not only in its lush greenery and vibrant blooms of flowers but also in its ability to soothe troubled souls. And it was here that Chan decided to bring you.

The gardens were said to be completely silent, breaking away from the hustle and bustle of life which was exactly what you needed right now.

As Chan stepped into the garden, the air seemed to change, becoming lighter, and more fragrant and turned his attention to you, his hands shakily taking off the blindfold as he studied your reactions. As soon as the blindfold was off and your eyes had adjusted to the light your once tense shoulders relaxed slightly as you took in the sight of the colourful flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The place looked like something straight out of a fantasy romance book.

"Chan...Where did you even find this?" Your voice barely came out as a whisper as you walked further into the gardens, being careful of the flowers as you strolled.

"I'll never reveal my secrets, Google did play a huge part," He winks at you playfully as he smiles to himself. He was pretty proud of his find and happy with himself that it seemed to ease you, even if just for a little while.

Your eyes were still busy trying to take everything in, the garden stretched out like a patchwork quilt, with winding pathways meandering through lush greenery and colourful blooms. Huge trees provided perfect picnic spaces underneath them.

"This place is...beautiful," Your voice cracked a little as you turned to look back at Chan, who had a giant grin on his face.

"You needed time away from everything, so I found a small home away from home," He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing it softly before making his way through the garden with you.

Every corner of the garden held its own enchantment, there were clusters of roses in shades of pink and red, and beds of vibrant tulips that swayed gracefully in the night breeze. There were even patches of wildflowers dotted around the landscape, something you truly never thought you'd see in person.

"This is like something from a book," You whispered to Chan, somehow it felt wrong if you were to speak too loudly, like somehow you would disturb the peace that was around.

"I knew you'd love it," He chuckled softly, taking you toward the centre of the garden where a majestic water fountain was sat. It was a marble basin adorned with intricate carvings that all depicted mythical creatures and flowing vines. The water trickled from the spouts filling the night air with the sound of cascading water.

"I love it and you," You told him as he carefully sat down on a brick bench that was sat in front of the fountain.

"I love you too, this is your sanctuary," He told you as you carefully sat down beside him, smiling and letting out a sigh of relief as you just let the world be.

Sitting there amidst the blooms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a welcome respite from the storm raging within your mind. But even in this serene setting, the echoes of your anxiety lingered, threatening to pull you back into its grasp.

As if he could sense your distress Chan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

"I'm here, Yn," He whispered softly, his voice soothing your frazzled nerves as if like magic,

"You're not alone." You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his presence, something you'd always managed to do with your boyfriend. There was something about him you couldn't quite explain, something you never thought could be possible but he calmed you.

He made you feel safe and secure whenever you were together, safe enough to let your mind go blank as you just relaxed against him. Sleeping next to someone had never been easy for you before but with Chan you always found yourself able to fall asleep with ease and even sleep through the night. Your body trusted him.

"Just close your eyes and let it be," Chan whispered, you closed her eyes, letting the sound of the water fountain and the sweet scent of flowers envelop you like a protective cocoon, Chan's strong arms around you helping all the more. With each breath, you felt the tight knot of anxiety within your chest slowly begin to unravel.

"Listen to the leaves." He said, his breath warm against your ear as you kept your eyes closed.

"Each one carries a message of hope, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, light is always there to be found." Chan pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his hands gently running up and down your arms as you felt a lump in your throat beginning to form.

"You're stronger than you realised, Yn." He continued, his voice filling you with hope and confidence.

"You've faced so many challenges before and you've emerged stronger every single time...You have the courage and the resilience to overcome this..." He stilled his hands before moving closer to your ear,

"I believe in you," He whispered as your tears began to flow, you turned to bury your face in Chan's chest and he smiled weakly.

"I know it's hard," He told you as his arms tightened around you.

"But you're not and never will be alone in this. I'm here for you, every step of the way." He tells you as you snuggled closer to him.

"We'll face this together and we'll be stronger on the other side." He promised you, and you knew you could believe him, you just knew.

As you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you, a beacon of light in the darkness you'd been consumed in for days. With Chan by your side, you knew that you could weather any storm, and conquer any fear. Together you'd be able to emerge from anything victious.

"Thank you, Chan...for everything," You sniffled a little and Chan smiled using his hands to gently swipe away the tears that had fallen.

"You never have to thank me for something like this, I just want you to come to me in the future." He told you as you nodded, cuddling into him and smiling warmly.

After a few hours of sitting there, enjoying the night sky and the sounds of water you knew it was time to head home but there was something different. It felt as though there was a renewed sense of purpose coursing through your veins. You knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but you also knew that with Chan by your side, you were going to be able to face anything that came your way.

In the days that followed your visit to the Garden, you found yourself leaning on Chan more than ever, which he was adoring every second of. All he ever wanted was to be there for you, it was part of being a boyfriend he was supposed to be there to support you in times of hardship. He became your rock, your steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. With his unwavering support, you began to face her anxiety head-on, armed with newfound courage and determination.

The two of you had developed different coping mechanisms that would help you out whenever your mind would become stormy. You took walks to the park almost every other night, leaving your phones at home and just walking hand in hand, breathing in the crisp air as you tried to let things go. Throughout every single part of it, Chan had been there, a constant source of love and encouragement, never once letting you go through any of it alone just as he had promised.

Through everything, Serenity Garden was your sanctuary, a place of refuge and where Chan would take you when everything would get too much again. You both returned to it often, seeking solace amidst the flowers and fountains and every time you came back you felt a little lighter as if the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders, even for a short time. The two of you were back again tonight, cuddled together on the brick bench, surrounded by the gentle melody of the water fountain and the fragrant embrace of the flowers. Chan had his arms around you, pulling you close to him as his arms were a comforting shield around you.

"I love you, Yn," He whispered, his voice soft but fulled of unwavering sincerity.

"I will always be here for you, through the good times and the bad." Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stared up at him, overwhelmed by how much Chan truly meant to you and how deep his love went for you. At that moment, you knew he was absolutely your soulmate, your partner in life's adventures.

"I love you too, Chan." Your voice choked with emotion/

"Thank you for being my rock, for never giving up on me even when I felt like I was giving up on myself." Chan brushed a gentle kiss across your forehead,

"I'll never give up on you and I'll never let you give up on yourself," He whispered to you, kissing your forehead one last time before you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, your love burning amidst the tranquil beauty of Serenity Garden and you felt peace completely wash over you.

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serverusslaype · 1 year ago

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The Yule Ball, pt. 1

Severus Snape x professor!reader

omg wow two posts in one day? who am i?

i also wanted to post this because i asked about it a while ago lmao, but i'm going to split it into two parts and finish the end of the second part tomorrow after work, it's mostly done, i just need to tidy it up hehe. this isn't very long, however, in part two, it gets good of course. pls don't hate me :( </3

i hope you are all doing well!! :)

warnings: slight harassment? ew, karkaroff

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was sparkling and lively as loud laughter and chatter filled the wintry and festively decorated room. Several large round tables were dotted around the sides of it, laden with beautiful white centrepieces and matching silver cutlery and glittering glassware. Long, blue-grey curtains adorned with artifical snow hung from the walls between the majestic and mythical stone statues, as if imitating frozen waterfalls. A warm and fuzzy feeling settled in your body as you glanced around the gorgeously decorated Hall, a small smile finding your cherry-red painted lips.

You sat alone at a table in a silky, backless, long-sleeved dress with only a goblet of wine for company as you watched students and teachers alike dance joyously on the floor to a melodious tune. You had to bite back an amused grin as your eyes caught sight of Hagrid's hand slipping down to Madame Maxine's rear. She quickly swatted it away, and you couldn't help but chuckle quietly to yourself. Ever since the international schools arrived at Hogwarts, Hagrid seemed to be smitten with the enormous witch, and you could see why. Madame Maxine was stunning and classy; always dressed in the finest attire you could ever imagine - and of course, always carried herself with elegance. You envied her slightly as you watched the pair sway sweetly together.

Speaking of the international schools, a certain Headmaster had taken a liking to you during their stay and Hogwarts, and it didn't please you at all. In fact, it made you rather uncomfortable. Well, he made you uncomfortable. You shivered slightly at the thought of Igor Karkaroff and lifted your goblet of wine to your lips, downing the rest of it carelessly. You'd been avoiding him all night, and you hoped you wouldn't have to speak to him for the rest of it.

As you placed the goblet back down, you glanced around, catching sight of Minerva stood to the right of Dumbledore and Snape who were currently observing the dancing students. Though you were looking at the older witch, your eyes were magnetically pulled to the wizard dressed in all black - surprisingly without his signature cloak.

Professor Snape.

You'd spoken to him a few times, but not many - he wasn't the most welcoming man you'd met. In fact, he was rather cold and short with you, which wasn't too unsurprising since he'd taught you back in the day when you attended Hogwarts as a student. So, you knew exactly what he was like. In those days, despite his harsh and cruel attitude towards you and your classmates, you developed a silly little crush on him. You weren't exactly sure why - perhaps it was the mysterious aura that he possessed, or his deep, sultry and silky voice he spoke with, or maybe it was just the plain simple fact that he was... attractive to you. Gods, your classmates would have disowned you, had you admitted such a thing.

Regardless of your history here, being the youngest professor here was a little intimidating to say the least, and the need to prove yourself was overwhelming. At times, you felt as if you didn't deserve your post as the professor of Astronomy - how could a twenty-something-year-old be qualified enough to teach students less than ten years their junior? Doubting yourself was bound to happen, especially in the presence of such talented, wise wizards like Dumbledore, Flitwick and McGonagall - Flitwick was a duelling champion, for goodness sake. And what were you? Merely infatuated with the nightsky and everything that possibly dwells beyond it? Merlin.

A deflated sigh swiftly fell from your lips as you quickly stood up from your seat, beginning to reluctantly head over in the direction of your fellow colleagues. It's not like you didn't want to stand with them, you just felt awfully out of place, and you didn't want to look weird by sitting all by your lonesome all night. Being the new person at the new job was never fun.

As you neared them, your eyes were drawn to the gloomy Potions Master again. As if he could sense someone watching him, his deep black eyes flicked to you, and you quickly glanced away with burning cheeks, walking forwards to stop beside Minerva. Maybe your crush never went away, and you winced slightly at the thought.

Turning to Minerva, she looked at you with happy eyes, a smile gracing her lips. "Y/N," Minerva beamed, her shoulders relaxing in a cheerful manner, "we'd wondered where you'd disappeared off to."

You hummed happily at her words, your stiff body relaxing slightly. McGonagall had been your favourite professor when you'd studied at Hogwarts, even though you didn't exactly excel in her class of Transfiguration. She never berated you for your lack of skill in the subject and that was probably what solidified your preference.

You looked at the witch beside you, though a silhouette of a prominent nose and a mop of black hair clouded your vision. "Just needed a sit down, really." You replied with a soft voice, smiling as you linked your fingers together in front of your waist. "Also, I fancied some more wine, it's rather moreish." Minerva and Dumbledore chuckled at your light-hearted joke, but Snape did not. You swallowed awkwardly.

"Perhaps it isn't wise to be drinking in the presence of students, Professor L/N." Snape drawled in a demeaning tone from beside Dumbledore, side-eyeing you.

"What makes you think I'm going to get drunk?" You frowned, his subtle dig at you twisting your insides. Crush or not, he was getting under your skin.

Snape snorted slightly, "A history of misbehaviour at Hogwarts doesn't bode well." He said, turning his head to face you. You fought the itching urge to roll your eyes at his words, remembering that one time you had pranked his class.

"That was one time, Snape." You sighed, fighting hard not to groan. Apparently, he wasn't going to let this go. "And it was years ago now."

"I wouldn't want to take any chances." He sneered at you, and your stomach twisted horribly. Did he really despise you that much? It hurt to say the least, you thought he would've put that in the past and moved on, but apparently grudges are the next best thing.

"Right." You huffed quietly, and Minerva cast an awkward glance to Dumbledore who also looked rather uncomfortable. Yes, this was a terrible idea coming to stand with your colleagues. A fucking terrible idea. Snape always had to make you look childish. Suddenly, you pathetically wished that Karkaroff would suddenly appear and bother you so you wouldn't have to deal with this awful interaction. Anything would be better than this right now.

As if on cue, someone called your name. "Would you excuse me?" You sighed, casting an apologetic smile towards Dumbledore and McGonagall, purposefully ignoring Snape. Dumbledore also excused himself, leaving only the Heads of Slythering and Gryffindor together.

As you and Dumbledore walked off, Minerva turned to Snape with scornful eyes. "You shouldn't be so harsh on her, Severus," she huffed, "she's not a child anymore. Y/N is an adult, capable of making adult decisions. There's no need for such hostility."

Snape didn't reply, he only sighed heavily at Minerva's comment, prompting the older witch to roll her eyes at his petty behaviour. Though, underneath his cold and dismissive attitude towards you, there was something else. Something he did not want to unfold, nor understand. It wasn't a familiar feeling, and that was what worried him. And so, each time you spoke to him or looked at him, he had chosen to push that feeling away by being malicious to you. Snape wasn't fond of it, and he did resent himself slightly by acting so horribly towards you. Something inside of him tugged at his heart each time your face fell due to his sharp words, or the way he'd glare at you whenever you looked at him. It was the only thing he knew. Snape wasn't familiar with nor welcoming to feelings other than hatred or disdain.

The Potions Master cast his eyes over the crowds of students, absent-mindedly looking for your small figure. It's not like he wanted to check on you, he just wanted to see who had called for you, out of... curiosity. And there you were, chatting with the Weasley twins. Snape couldn't remember your exact age, but he was sure you were mid-twenties, perhaps early-twenties. Your youthful face and essence said so. As he observed you, his chest burned unusually as you laughed at something the twins had said, and it burned even hotter when he saw them hand you something. What were they doing?

"It's just a little something," Fred grinned goofily in his tuxedo as you held a small, neatly-wrapped box in your hands. It was a pale red, with a shining green bow. You looked up at them and smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, we just wanted to say thanks for being a brilliant teacher," George added after his brother, making you grin amused. The two of them always made you laugh in your classes, it was like they were the same person from how well they bounced off of each other.

"Oh, thank you, boys," you grinned, a little shocked at their kindness, "you didn't need to get me anything." Both Fred and George grinned together, their fluffy ginger hair bouncing a tad as they glanced at each other.

"You're our favourite, you know," George said, and Fred nodded with him, beaming. You chuckled at their silly smiles.

"Yeah, you're a thousand times better than any of the other professors," Fred agreed cheerfully, folding his arms against his chest.

"Especially Snape-" George interjected. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, he's a right old miserable git, he is." Fred grumbled, nodding behind you. "He's staring right at us, too." Your stomach dropped the second Fred said those words, and you quickly whipped your head around, your eyes meeting with Snape's own fierce ones. As quickly as you looked at him, you turned back around, your face becoming hot and pink.

"Are you blushing, professor?" George grinned wickedly, glancing at his brother who also shared that same expression.

"No!" You answered quickly, gasping.

"Don't tell me you like that horrible arse," Fred laughed, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"I wouldn't have expected you to fancy a Slytherin like him." George frowned, his nose turning up in slight disgust. "I mean, he hates everything and everyone, why would you-"

"I never even said I liked him! You two just assumed so!" You scoffed, folding your arms against your chest. The twins laughed at your reaction, glancing at each other. "Anyway, boys, thank you for the gift, but this conversation is over." Another hefty sigh fell from your lips as you looked between the two of them, smiling politely.

"Professor L/N," A raspy, deep voice came from behind you, and instantly, your blood went cold. You knew that thick accent very well. Fred and George Weasley looked like they were on the verge of busting out laughing. They knew of your dislike for the Durmstrang Headmaster, and you were sure that the majority of the school knew of his weird, little thing for you.

"Headmaster Karkaroff." You turned around hesitantly, fighting back a scream of utter frustration. He looked a little more groomed than usual - his messy, dark brown hair with specks of gray in it was brushed through, and his long goatee had been neatly manipulated into a sharp point. You were also surprised to see him dressed in such expensive looking clothing. The dress coat he sported was a creamy-beige, adorned with a shining black leather belt around his middle, accentuating his lanky figure.

"You look like you need a dance," The corners of his lips turned upwards into a mischievous smirk, and an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine. "May I help with that?" Karkaroff held out his hand, and your eyes shot down towards it.

"Erm," you stuttered, "well-" You couldn't find the words at all, and it wasn't helping that you could hear the twins behind you snickering to themselves. Before you could even answer, Karkaroff had his hand grasping yours and tugging you to the dancefloor. You stumbled slightly at how fast he had pulled you, and with your other hand, you reached down to grab your skirt to hike it up so you wouldn't trip over.

As the pair of you reached the floor after winding through hoards of dancing students, Karkaroff spun you around a little too quickly, and you ungracefully fell into his chest with a squeak. "Sorry," you mumbled, using a hand to push yourself away from him, "I wasn't really expecting you to do... that."

"You know," Igor chuckled, ignoring your previous comments, "I've been waiting for this moment ever since I arrived here at Hogwarts." He admitted with a wicked smirk, allowing his rough, bony fingers to slide down your bare back, gripping you a little too tightly for your liking.

"...To dance?" You frowned, using your free hand to fidget with his hand that laid flat against your bare back, silently telling him to ease off a little. "Don't be silly." You chuckled awkwardly, casting a glance over to where you had previously stood with the other teachers as you and Karkaroff swayed. Only Snape remained, and your face grew as hot as a firepit as you noticed his eyes were already stuck on you. His face was the usual unhappy, scornful, sour frown.

"Oh, but I am not being silly, little bird." Igor murmured, pushing his face closer to yours. Instinctively, you pulled your head away from his, scrunching your nose up at the awful pet name.

"Little bird?" You repeated, almost choking the words out. You squirmed within his uncomfy grip, casting another glance to Snape, hoping that he'd have just an ounce of human decency to realise that you were asking for help. Surely, he wouldn't be that much of an arsehole to ignore the sign of a colleague in trouble.

"Yes," Igor smiled, making your skin crawl. "You remind me of a little bird - tiny, beautiful..." Your eyes widened at his words, and again, you glanced to where you had seen Snape. Your heart dropped like a rock as you noticed the empty space where he had previously stood. You knew he was a dick, but not so much of a dick to let you get taken hostage by a man you hardly knew - and didn't want to know. "So beautiful... why don't we ditch this party and head back to my quarters? I could show you around." Karkaroff muttered and pulled you even closer, grinning lecherously as he brushed his nose against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched - but not in a good way.

"Igor..." Your voice was shaky, yet low, indicating that you weren't comfortable at all.

"How about we go somewhere more private?" Karkaroff's hands tightened even more as they slipped down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his. A quiet gasp left your lips as you pressed your palms flat against his chest, attempting to push him off of you. Your eyes flicked to where Snape once stood again, but he was no-where to be seen.

"Something caught your eye, pilentse?" Karkaroff hummed lowly, his eyes narrowing, evidently upset that your attention is busied with something or someone else.

"No." You quickly replied - almost too quickly. "I just need a refreshment, do you mind?" You forced yourself to glance up at Karkaroff's intense, wrinkled eyes.

"Oh, no, that can wait. I've waited almost the whole night for this moment..." Igor grumbled with a sneer as his grip on you became deeper and a little tighter, as if to say you weren't leaving until he deemed it so. That was until you saw that same sneer fall from his face, replaced with what looked like fear. Instantly, your brows furrowed together into a confused frown as you noticed his eyes dart from yours to something behind you, and so you turned around, curious to see why Karkaroff looked like he was about to flee.

"Karkaroff." Snape's deep, almost threatening voice reached your ears, and immediately, your mouth went dry as your heart leaped up into it. So... he did notice you? A rush of relief filled your body and your shoulders relaxed a tad. Snape glanced down at you, his thick mop of black hair framing his pale face. The blue-white light from above highlighted his prominent, handsome features perfectly, and you felt a sense of warmth prickle your skin, pooling in your stomach. You looked away, certain that if you kept staring, he'd assume you were weird or something along those lines.

Igor swallowed thickly, his bony fingers digging into the skin of your back in fear. You winced slightly at the sharp prod, catching Snape's attention. His eyes darted down to where Karkaroff had an iron-grip on you, and his lip twitched into the beginning of a sneer as he looked back to Igor's worried eyes. "Snape," The Durmstrang Headmaster greeted the gloomy Potions Master, clearly a little afraid of him. Apparently everyone was fearful of Snape, except for a select few, you realised. "What can I help you with?" Karkaroff's thick accent had slipped slightly, his voice wavering. You had to stifle a laugh at that - how was a man like Igor Karkaroff afraid of Snape? There was definitely something that you were missing here.

"Professor L/N," Snape ignored Karkaroff and shifted his bored expression to you, though you didn't miss the venomous look that he'd shot at the Bulgarian. You were still in disbelief that Snape had answered your silent cries for help, let alone actually come to save you from Karkaroff's slimy grasp. "I believe we have some important matters to tend to." Snape said matter-of-factly, arching a brow at you expectantly.

"Wait, what?-" You choked out with wide eyes. You'd been staring a little too hard at Snape, and so you stumbled over your words, unprepared. "Oh, right, yeah- the, erm, the... valerian root." You finished, turning a bright shade of red as Snape's brows furrowed at you in a judgemental fashion, as if to say 'seriously?'.

"Yes," Snape drawled, dragging his disappointed eyes from you to Karkaroff. You huffed quietly, embarrassed. "The valerian root." The Potion Master repeated, shooting you a glare. He held out his hand for you to take, and you reached out to grasp a hold of it, when you were suddenly tugged backwards by Karkaroff. Snape's narrowed eyes darted to the Headmaster's hand wrapped securely around your waist, his nostrils flaring in slight anger. This old, despicable man had no business holding a young witch like you in such a manner.

"That can wait, surely?" Karkaroff said, his voice low as he tucked you closer to his side. You shot a desperate glance to Snape, begging him to help you again. A frustrated breath shot out of his nostrils.

"Tragically, no." Snape quipped sarcastically, his dark eyes piercing a burning hole through Karkaroff. Snape looked furious - his body was rigid. He hadn't moved a muscle apart from his eyes to look at either you or Igor. "Professor?" He glanced to you, stretching his hand to you once more, and you took it happily, allowing him to pull you out of Karkaroff's slimy hands and to his safe side. Your cheeks flushed pink at the closeness between you two, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Snape shifted his hand to sit on the small of your back, guiding you away from Karkaroff.

Part 2! (wip) Masterpost

there is part 1, i hope you enjoyed it, and i hope it was sort of what you expected! i can't remember what i said i was going to do but this is what i came up with hehe. i'm always a sucker for jealousy.

let me know if you liked it/what you thought, i do apologise that it was kinda short, but it'll be finished tomorrow! <3

i hope you're all well! :)

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shapard · 19 days ago

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How about helluva boss satan x Dragon Slayer reader relationship headcanons? I've got the idea for one where the dragon slayer is loosely inspired by Piers Shonks and I'd be curious to see your take on it.

Satan x Dragonslayer!reader

Tw: Fighting (not too bad though)

Here you go! Hope you enjoyyyyy

The story begins under the cut

You were raised in a lineage of dragon slayers, sworn to protect humanity from mythical threats. Inspired by the legend of Piers Shonks, your training emphasized both physical combat and spiritual resilience. The Kasugai Crow on your shoulder was not just a guide but a manifestation of your bond with the divine, delivering cryptic messages and warnings.

The dragon in question had wreaked havoc—villages reduced to ash, families torn apart. The idea of failure was unthinkable. Your katana gleamed with enchantments, each one honed to slay monstrous entities. Yet you weren’t prepared for what you’d face.

When you first met Satan, he wasn’t the typical rampaging beast you expected. His form was both terrifying and oddly majestic—horns that spiraled like molten obsidian, scales that shimmered like burning coals, and eyes that bore the weight of eternity.

Your first strike was fierce, but his laughter cut through the tension. “A slayer with spirit,” he mused, catching your blade mid-swing between his claws. The metal didn’t even scratch him.

Bored of the infernal monotony and unimpressed by humanity’s petty attempts at summoning, Satan found you intriguing. Your techniques were different—ancient, laced with forgotten power—and your resolve unshakable, even in the face of certain death.

“You amuse me, little slayer,” he said, his voice a mix of mockery and genuine intrigue. “You can’t kill me, but you’re welcome to try.”

Satan decided to keep you close, like a curious pet or an unsolvable puzzle. He imposed a cruel condition: he wouldn’t return to Hell until you proved capable of killing him. For you, failure wasn’t an option.

Despite his monstrous nature, Satan took a strange pleasure in mentoring you—offering cryptic advice about your form or taunting you into improving your strength. “That swing was pathetic. Do it again, with intent this time.”

Over time, your clashes became a dance. Each swing of your blade, each strategy you employed, pushed you closer to the limits of human capability. Yet Satan remained unyielding.

In moments of respite, you found yourself speaking to him—not as an enemy but as a reluctant companion. He’d listen with a smirk as you spoke of your training, your family’s legacy, and the burden of your duty. In return, he’d share fragments of his own existence, painting a picture of a Hell that wasn’t so different from Earth.

The line between hunter and hunted blurred. You resented Satan for his superiority and his role in your failures, but you couldn’t deny his wisdom or the strange comfort his presence provided.

Satan, for his part, began to see you as more than a mere mortal. Your stubbornness reminded him of his own defiance in the celestial war. “Your technique is Incredible. You’re so fierce,” he admitted one evening, watching the firelight dance in your eyes. “I like that.”

One night, after another failed attempt to harm him, you collapsed in frustration. Tears pricked your eyes as you bit back sobs. Satan watched silently before speaking, his voice unusually soft. “Y/n?” You looked over to him, his claws went over your cheek. Shocked you looked at him as he whiped your tears away. “You’re strong don’t forget that.”

He didn’t comfort you outright—he wasn’t the type—but his presence that night felt less like a tormentor’s and more like an ancient force that understood your pain.

You grew stronger, not just physically but mentally. Your techniques became sharper, your resolve deeper. And while you couldn’t harm Satan, you began to sense a shift in his demeanor. His taunts grew less cruel, his advice more genuine.

Satan, too, began to change. His heart started to beat faster and he seemed to yearn for your touch.

The question lingered between you: What would happen if you succeeded? Would you truly be able to kill him, or would the bond you’d forged make such a victory hollow?

hough neither of you would admit it outright, there was a connection that transcended your roles. Satan teased you about it relentlessly. “Careful, slayer. You might start liking me.” Your reply was always sharp, but the faintest blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

In his human form, he was almost unrecognizable from the monster you had spent months battling. Gone were the horns, scales, and infernal glow. Instead, he appeared majestic, otherworldly in a way that made your chest tighten. His broad shoulders moved fluidly as he walked, muscles shifting beneath a simple, crisp shirt. The sunlight caught the gold in his hair and illuminated his sharp, regal features.

Your heart betrayed you. It pounded erratically, so loud you feared he might hear it.

“What are you staring at?” Satan’s deep, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie. He turned his head slightly, his piercing eyes catching yours. A smirk played on his lips, the kind that spoke of knowing far more than he let on.

“Nothing,” you muttered quickly, looking away. But your voice wavered, and the lie tasted bitter in your mouth.

Satan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm like distant thunder. It made your knees feel weak, your resolve falter. He took a step closer, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head with a playful, almost predatory gleam in his eyes.

You swallowed hard and nodded, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Your lips twitched with bitterness. You should hate him. You should kill him. Those words repeated in your mind like a mantra, yet they were hollow against the drumbeat of your treacherous heart.

Satan knew. Of course he did. He always seemed to know what you were feeling, even before you did. But he didn’t press further. Instead, he turned away, gazing out at the sea of flowers that swayed gently in the breeze. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful—content.

You hated that your heart ached for him in moments like this. The contradiction tore at you: the overwhelming guilt of what you felt for the very creature you were sworn to destroy, and the quiet, unspoken joy of being near him.

“You know,” Satan said suddenly, his voice soft but laced with something deeper. “For all your talk of duty and justice, you’re just as much a sinner as I am.” He glanced at you over his shoulder, his smirk gone. In its place was something more genuine—something that made you feel naked under his gaze.

“We’ve committed the greatest sin of all, haven’t we?” he continued. His tone wasn’t mocking; it was almost... wistful. “Falling in love.”

The words hit you like a blade to the chest. You couldn’t deny it. Not anymore. The truth was written in every glance, every unspoken word, and every fleeting moment when your katana remained sheathed by choice, not weakness.

Your hands clenched at your sides. You wanted to deny him, to shout at him, to swing your blade and end this dangerous game once and for all. But instead, you whispered, “Yes.”

He turned fully to face you, the golden light casting him in an almost angelic glow. It was ironic, you thought bitterly. The Devil himself looking like salvation.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt heavy with unspoken words, forbidden feelings, and the weight of your shared sin. Then, he reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You know this won’t end well,” he said softly, his voice almost tender.

“I know,” you replied, your heart breaking even as it raced. But for now, you let yourself fall deeper into the sin that bound you both.

Heheeee I hope this met your expectations✨🧚🏾‍♀️

💫

#satan #helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss #helluvaboss #helluvaverse #hellaverse #fanfiction #satanxreader #Helluva Satan #Helluva Boss Satan #Helluva Boss x reader

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bones4thecats · 1 year ago

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Can I please ask for Poseidon and Thor and Hades

But how would they react to kianna giving birth to a child that looks exactly like her

Same brown hair and brown eyes and same cat like pupils

But the child has their personality

( the God's personality)

Hopefully this isn't a bad idea

A/N: Hello there again, @nunezs-stuff!! For this request, I didn’t really lure it towards being focused on your OC, Kianna, but it’s just a reader there. I also named the children after their first, mythically correct, children, like Triton for Poseidon, but they are not the same person mythically to the dot. Anyways, enjoy~~

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

🔱 You had never imagined Poseidon wanting a child, but after the two of you had married and he saw the nymphs of his kingdom underneath the oceans

🔱 When he first learned you were pregnant, the smile that graced his face was something you hadn’t seen since the night after your marriage

🔱 Poseidon looked down at your son, Triton, and saw that his skin didn’t match his father’s, but your, and the slight amount of hair that grew from his scalp was your majestic color

🔱 He tilted his head as his son’s eyes opened and his eyes shimmered your shade, but not with the same sparkle that your’s carried

🔱 They looked just as empty, with hidden emotions positioned deep within

🔱 Poseidon held his son in his arms, watching him grip his finger with a strong grip, his father’s grip

🔱 Maybe this child wouldn’t be as bad to raise as he initially believed

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

🌩️ Magni, his son, his first of many to come from you, and you alone

🌩️ Thor had proven himself to be viciously loyal, and when he heard of your pregnancy, he proved to be even more loyal, somehow

🌩️ He watched as you held your son and rocked him to sleep in the rocking chair

🌩️ That was when he first noticed how similar you both appeared

🌩️ Magni’s hair matched your’s, his eyes did, heck, even his skin did, even if you were the same shade, it looked closer to yours for some reason!

🌩️ Thor walked up to you both quietly and patted his boy’s head, looking at your now closed eyes and smiled gently

🌩️ He grabbed his son carefully and laid him in his bed, kissing his head, and with how his son stared at him with the blank, yet faintly happy expression he used with you and him, he knew

🌩️ They had something in common, personality, and that was something he was alright with him having

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

💀 Your husband was quite the family man

💀 He raised his three younger brothers, and he took care of everyone who he believed needed it, he was perfect to be a father to your daughter, Macaria

💀 She looked a great deal like you, it was hard to tell at first, but she had just a slightly lighter shade of your hair, possibly tinted his shade of white, and the exact same eyes and skin color

💀 When your second daughter, Melinoe, and your son, Zagreus, was born, Macaria would watch over them with the same look Hades gave his brothers at meetings at the God’s Council every thousand years

💀 Hades was walking through the castle and looked inside Zagreus’ room and saw how Macaria looked at her younger siblings mess around

💀 You laid your head on his shoulder after approaching him and smiled as he saw how she patted their heads and hugged them, not knowing her parents watching her

💀 Hades definitely felt more connected to her afterwards, she may look like you, but she was a daddy’s girl inside

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 6 months ago

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Yan! Alucard post season 4 with a targaryen reader and has dragons like daenerys from game of thrones or house of the dragon, how would they meet and interact? Would the first meet when the trio see the dragons flying over the village and think it is a threat or a attack, sorry if I'm ranting I just think the idea has so much potential and I can't write to save my life so I'm passing it to you❤️❤️

A/N: Okay so full disclosure, I’m not the hugest Game of Thrones fan, but I did watch a fair amount of the series (mainly for Khalessi lol, they did her so dirty in the finale!). And sorry for being MIA, just lots of real-life crap I’ve been dealing with.

Yandere Alucard (Post S4) w/ a Targaryen Reader

When our Targaryen reader first hears of a village founded under a famous monster hunter's name, yet supposedly run by the Alucard operated out of Dracula’s castle, she decides she has to see it for herself.

Much like Trevor Belmont, she is the last of her kind, the bloodline ends with her, and as such, the dragon(s) in her possession are her utmost responsibility. If she cannot find someone worthy of continuing the Targaryen line, then she will have to settle for her family’s legacy existing solely as one more relic in the Belmont hold. Without any remaining relatives to marry to keep her lineage pure, she sets atop her noble dragon steed and sets out for Village Belmont, determined to find a worthy successor, and if not, then at the very least, a worthy grave.

When she first flies over the village, it is a cloudy day; her dragon’s looming shadow initially goes unnoticed. But soon enough her dragon’s large wingspan wafts the gray skies away, leaving her and her majestic beast very little coverage.

At first sight of the beast, villagers cry and scream out, as they mistake her dragon companion for yet another wandering night creature, hellbent on eating their children and pillaging their livestock.

They alert Greta, who arrives on the scene at the same time as Alucard, his heightened vampiric senses having heard the loud thwap, thwap of the dragon’s wingspan long before the villagers could see it.

Greta organizes her troops to gather their weapons- pitchforks, swords, scythes- those sorts of things and stand ready at the entrance to the castle while at the same time, the less athletically inclined villagers are ushered inside to safety.

As the Targaryen descends with her dragon, she gives clear instructions not to harm the humans gathered before her, even though the mob before them has their weapons drawn and ready.

Descending from the sky, our Targaryen reader looks like a goddess, some sort of mythical queen, the elements of both wind and flame at her command. Alucard is immediately drawn to her, her presence, and her power. Although, he is weary of her as well. Too many have come to claim the power vacuum left by his father’s death, and he will not tolerate any vampires or supernatural beings staking a claim on his childhood home, his new village. Even if they are both insanely beautiful and a dragon rider.

Sypha and Trevor make it outside by the time the young woman dismounts. As she does, she raises her hands in surrender.

“I am not here to cause anyone harm. I am here to ask a great favor of the keepers of this Village Belmont.”

The trio approaches her, Greta staying behind, her army of villagers at the ready.

She explains who she is, how special her bloodline is, and how she, the current mother of dragons, is the last of her kind. She speaks mainly to Trevor, as he is the last of the famed Belmonts which angers Alucad greatly, although he doesn't understand why. All he knows is a rather impudent voice inside his head insists that she should be talking to him! Not that stupid Trevor! After all, it’s his castle and his hold, Belmont gifted it to him for safekeeping!

The young Targaryen asks Trevor if he would accept the privilege and the honor of keeping her dragon eggs safe deep within his hold until the time is right for them to be called upon. Of course, Alucard interrupts, saying that while dragon eggs would certainly be a first for the Belmont hold, he should like to examine them, as well as her and her dragon before making any commitments.

There’s a tense moment. Behind her, her dragon’s nostrils flare as it heavily breathes out. It seems she doesn't like to be questioned, and neither does her rider.

Alucard must be careful here. Yes, he’s smart and manipulative as a yandere but we are talking about a Targaryen here. Make no mistake, if he steps out of line enough, or causes her enough harm, he and his whole town will get barbequed. (Despite the threat, this incredible amount of power is one of the things about her Alucard finds the most sexy lol.)

I imagine the group forms a fragile allyship at first. The Targaryen teaches the villagers about her people and dragons. The orphaned children of course fall in love with her dragon, who to their credit, is very patient with them, but also lets them know when to back off with a shake of their large head or a deep growl from within their belly. She wants them to experience some bonding with the creature but she also doesn’t want them to grow too friendly and become complacent when encountering wild beasts outside of the village. Dragons are not to be trifled with, and should they encounter any one of them in the wild they are to react with wisdom, but more importantly fear.

Alucard, of course, watches all of this very interestingly, in awe of the Targaryen reader's fortitude and dedication to her companion and her role as mother of dragons. In watching her interact with the children, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride, and a longing in his heart loins for her to perhaps bear his children so that they can become keepers of dragons too.

He can't stop fantasizing about it, how perfect it would be, how incredible she would look housing their combined legacies. Their offspring would be unstoppable. With his vampiric abilities and her draconic bloodline… Not to mention his mother’s medicinal knowledge and Belmont’s collection knowledge within the Hold… By god, they could form an empire! One for creatures and humans alike, all who wish to live in peace and choose knowledge over ignorance. If only his mother and father could see him now…

Alucard knows though he must tread lightly. The Targaryen reader is smart and cunning. She did not come to be the last of her kind by being naive, no. She’s hardened, and she’s been through a great deal. She will need time to adjust to his affections.

Alucard doesn’t mind though. He has all the time in the world.

#alucard x reader #alucard imagine #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard #castlevania x reader #castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #yandere #alucard castlevania #alucard #tw: yandere #yandere alucard x targaryen reader #yandere castlevania #targaryen reader

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eliotrosechild · 4 months ago

Text

The Seven Archangels

Lucifer – The majestic archangel of unparalleled beauty and power, Lucifer was once the brightest of the heavenly beings. His presence commands respect and awe, as he radiates elegance and grace. His wings of pure energy and amber light represent his divine origin and his connection to heavenly realms, even after his fall. He stands tall, regal, and mesmerizing, a figure of both light and shadow, embodying the complexity of rebellion, pride, and the quest for ultimate freedom.

Michael – The fierce warrior archangel, Michael stands as the eternal protector of righteousness and the leader of the heavenly armies. His wings blaze with pure amber energy, symbolizing his strength and determination. Michael holds a sword of light, prepared to defend against any threat to divine order. His presence is intense and commanding, inspiring courage in those who follow him and fear in those who oppose him. He is the ultimate force of justice and divine power.

Gabriel – The majestic archangel of revelation and messenger of God, Gabriel carries an aura of peace and divine wisdom. With wings of amber light that spread gracefully, he brings messages of hope and guidance from the divine realms. Gabriel’s presence is serene, calm, and full of grace. His trumpet symbolizes his role in delivering important divine messages, sounding the call to awakening and transformation. He is the voice of clarity, speaking the words of the heavens.

Uriel – The majestic archangel of wisdom and enlightenment, Uriel stands as a radiant guide, holding an orb of divine knowledge. His amber wings shine with the light of ancient truths and higher understanding. Uriel’s presence is calm yet powerful, representing insight, foresight, and the illumination of the mind. He is the one who brings clarity in confusion and light to those walking in darkness, offering the wisdom of the ages and a connection to the divine mysteries.

Samael – The mythical archangel of death – The majestic archangel of wisdom and enlightenment, Samael stands as a radiant guide, holding an orb of divine knowledge. His amber wings shine with the light of ancient truths and higher understanding. Uriel’s presence is calm yet powerful, representing insight, foresight, and the illumination of the mind. He is the one who brings clarity in confusion and light to those walking in darkness, offering the wisdom of the ages and a connection to the divine mysteries. destruction, Samael is a figure of mystery and power. His wings of amber energy exude an ancient, almost primordial force. Known as both an angel of death and a figure of temptation, Samael walks the line between divine judgment and rebellion. His role in balancing creation and destruction gives him a complex and enigmatic nature. His presence is both alluring and terrifying, embodying the mythic forces of life and death intertwined.

Azrael – The fierce archangel of death, Azrael stands as the guide for souls transitioning from life to the afterlife. His wings burn with amber intensity, signaling his role in escorting souls through their final journey. Azrael’s presence is both comforting and formidable, representing the inevitability of death and the solemn duty of releasing souls from the physical realm. His fierce demeanor reflects his role as the angel of death, who stands firm in the face of life’s greatest transition.

Raphael – The mythical archangel of healing and protection, Raphael’s wings shimmer with a soft yet powerful amber light. His presence is one of warmth, healing energy, and divine care. Raphael holds a staff, the symbol of his connection to health and the healing arts. His aura is infused with a gentle strength, capable of mending both physical and spiritual wounds. As the healer of God, Raphael guides and protects those in need of restoration, bringing peace and harmony wherever he goes.

#archangels #Archangel #Archangel Gabriel #Archangel Michael #Archangel Raphael #Archangel Uriel #Archangel Samael #Archangel Azrael #Archangel Lucifer #heavenly #heavenly host #majestic #Fierce #Mythical

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littlest-w01f · 5 months ago

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Papillon

Eris x Lesser Fae!OC (Celastrina)

ERIS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: During one of his hunts, Eris comes across a mythical lesser fae, he keeps coming back for her as she is way too happy to befriend the lonely high fae.

Cw: Hunting for leisure

A/N: This is a pure fluff series cause this got too angsty

part one

The forest was silent, not an insect in sight, it was the time when most of them hid, the time of hunting for the High Fae, the creatures of the forest were in tune with the hunting, knowing where to hide to not be found, what most of them had hoped would bore the High Fae the death only urged them to go deeper into the forest to hunt them down.

Eris drew his bow sharp, hands and eyes trained on a doe a few meters away, he kept himself steady, exhaling softly to not startle the creature. He'd been hunting for hours, following a trail that led to the majestic doe, the doe's skin looked like it was made of gold, humming with magic, its eyes black and a grace with which it ran that couldn't be found in many others. Eris had shot an arrow at it earlier, but the doe had managed to evade it with a jump unnatural for an ordinary deer.

He was drawing closer to the Spring Court border, he'd have to keep away from that place if he didn't want the High Lord to write a rather angry letter to his father to make sure he was kept in check, Eris rolled his eyes at the thought, yes, he was young but it didn't mean a High Lord could just rat him out to his father.

He tilted his head to the side as he watched a butterfly land on the doe's snout, with a little more focus, he saw the fairy, eyes wide at the creature. Fairies were harder to find than most creatures, even if they lived in a hive like the winged insects they could turn themselves into, the little things even harder to shoot with an arrow.

A few hunters had seen fairies, but even fewer had seen them in their full size. They were known to camouflage with the insects, the one Eris was looking at would be invisible with a few butterflies by her side. None of those hunters were believed, after all, fairies were what children's storybooks had, a sad little fae could find himself being befriended by a fairy, and everyone else would be jealous of that fae for their ability to draw out a fairy, to have a heart pure enough that one would be willing to befriend them. Eris had nearly rolled his eyes at that while his mother read him the tales.

Not many had believed that there were fairies in the Autumn woods, most of them were known to wander in Spring, till one of the hunters that now Beron held to a high respect, a hard thing to earn of Eris' father, had brought to their court wings that couldn't have belonged to a normal lesser fae.

The doe soon began to run, taking Eris' focus, but it was drawn back to the fairy almost instantly, the butterfly scenting of magic as she hid the tracks of the doe that Eris had followed. Eris looked back to where he had come from, without the tracks or trail, it would take him hours to figure out how to return to the forest house.

"You know, it's a horrible thing to hunt for fun."

A soft voice called to him, he spun on his heel to come across the fairy, now grown, still shorter than him but more of a High Fae's height, supporting large butterfly wings on her back, wings both of them knew people would die to have, to hunt down.

Eris did a double take, then another one, before he earned his footing back, there was something about her he hadn't seen anywhere else, "Ah, so you're one of these fairies that go around ruining people's hunts?" He'd meant to say the phrase as an insult but the way she smiled he wasn't sure he had.

"Yeah, I am." She was smiling like he was throwing the best of compliments at her. "Mama and Papa said a couple High Fae would be out for us..." She trailed off, marvelling at the sight of Eris, taking in his face, how it was different from hers, where Eris had sharp features, hers were soft, her ears were rounding, his pointed, his hair was burning red like a bright fire while hers matched the multicolours of her wings. "I've never seen a High Fae before."

Eris caught her eye, giving her one of his warmest smiles, or trying to, his thoughts should've been on her wings and how much they would earn him glory if they were the product of his hunt, but somehow they weren't. "Well, I've never met a fairy such as yourself, and may I say, you are exquisite." He took a step towards her and like clockwork, she took one back, "Not the trusting kind are you?" He chuckles.

"Your smile isn't pure." The fairy in front of him tucked her wings behind her tight, her warm expression turning into a frown.

Eris held in a scoff, of course, she could feel the 'purity' of his emotions. "You wound me, darling," Eris placed his hand over his heart, faking a grimace.

The fairy giggled at his grimace, "That didn't actually hurt you, did it?"

"Clearly," Eris cracked a real smile at the sound of her laugh.

"See, that's a proper smile," She mirrored his look.

"Fine, you have me." Eris leaned against a tree bark, "I've never seen a fairy before, I'm... Mesmerised." Eris was honest, there was something about her that pulled him to her.

"Most people are," The fairy smiled. "It's a natural reaction."

"I'm Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn," The male dipped his chin in the form of a formal bow, "I'm a pleasure to make your aquantance."

"Celastina, my lord." Celastrina gave him a curt bow, one leg crossed behind the other.

"Quite a pretty name, butterfly." Eris hummed, taking in her bow, "And quite a perfect form for a bow from someone who lives in the deep woods."

"I'm a lesser fae, my lord." Celastrine stood up, smiling, "Not a savage."

"Of course, forgive me for asuming-" Eris paused, picking up the sound of footsteps and the growls of hounds approaching them. "Hunters are approaching us, you should hide."

Celastrina's eyes snapped to the rustling from deeper into the woods, "Are those smoke hounds I hear?" Eris was sure he had hit his head somewhere because the fairy smiled as she spoke, her doe eyes wide from excitement.

"Yes, butterfly, hounds, not damn puppies." Eris scoffed at her reaction, "They are used to hunt your kind. Run." He didn't know why he wanted her to escape, he could've taken her himself, but instead he stressed, "Run." If she would found with him he would have hell to pay with Beron for making conversation with a lesser fae of all things.

Celastrina in an instant turned small, her form nearly the size of his pinky and shot up into the tree, in a second Eris couldn't place where she had gone and he exhaled a deep breath to calm himself before the hunters found him.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate}

#acotar #acotar series #acosf #acowar #acomaf #eris acotar #eris angst #eris fluff #pro eris vanserra #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #eris x oc #my oc #eris x reader #eris vanserra angst #autumn court #acotar fandom

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kusanagihaku · 23 days ago

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i will turn into clouds sanguine

⭢ lyca and mc, 1.2k

q is for qilin. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3

The front door of Obscuary creaks open under your touch.

Rui must have left it unlocked for you after you texted him earlier today about leaving paperwork for some new missions – you step inside and let the heavy door groan closed behind you. You make a left turn into where you told Rui you’d leave the files…

…only to come face to face with Lyca and a huge, huge canvas.

You blink. Woah.

It lays flat on the Obscuary dining table, long and white and half-covered in fine, black pen strokes. If you had to guess, it’d be Lyca’s height when propped upright, with a width double that.

“You’re here,” Lyca says. He flicks a glance at your shoes. “Did you get lost?”

You flush. You did make a wrong turn or two in the forest but… you made it, didn’t you? “Um. No.”

Lyca sniffs, frowning. “You smell like the soil from Rui’s garden. That’s not on the way in.”

“…maybe?” You can’t help the sheepish grin that breaks onto your face, and are rewarded with Lyca’s triumphant snort. “Anyway, what’s this?”

Lyca glances back down at the corner of the canvas he’s bent over. “Rui asked me to draw something we could hang in the bar. He promised he would buy me paints if I did it, so I did.”

You walk closer to the canvas to get a better look. The fine lines coalesce into four large shapes under the dim dining room light, vaguely reminiscent of mythical creatures you might have read about once upon a time. “What are these?”

Lyca points to his left. There is a small book propped open beside the pen he has just set down – comparing the yellowed page to his canvas, you realise he must have been using it as a reference for most of the details. “The idiot grandpa gave me this book and told me to do this. It was the only thing he suggested that Rui agreed to.”

You wince; you don’t want to imagine what else Ed suggested to Rui. You turn your attention back to the tangle of black strokes on the white surface.

Nearest to you is a completed tortoise, mouth open and claws pointed and sharp. It is seated atop a stone, and is angled to face a phoenix floating down from the top left. The phoenix, despite being only rendered in swift, short lines, is striking – its wings are outstretched and its glare fierce. Hidden under the furrow of its eyes is a desperate sort of determination you had no idea could be captured in pen.

In the top right corner, snaking down from a hastily sketched set of clouds is a majestic beast, teeth bared and horns like fire. Scales slick off its back in flames, and its claws extend towards the foreground. It is lit in part by the warmth of the overhead light, but in part by the soft moonlight streaming in through a nearby window; the silver of moonlight makes the creature almost glow.

You let out a low whistle, impressed. “Is that a dragon?”

Lyca nods. “They’re supposed to be the four is- es- suspicious beasts.”

You pause for a moment. “…auspicious?”

Lyca scrunches his nose. “Yeah. Anyway, Ed says Rui is supposed to be the dragon.”

You wrack your brain for mentions of the Four Auspicious Beasts – you know you studied something similar for a class two or three months back. “Isn’t it supposed to symbolise power or strength, or something like that?”

“Yeah.” Lyca scratches the back of his neck. “Rui has the most power out of all of us. Given his curse and all.”

You half-smile. Once upon a time you’d have said Ed was the strongest in Obscuary – knowing him now and thinking about the dynamics of the house, it makes more sense that their harried and lively vice-captain would be their dragon.

“What about the tortoise?”

Lyca frowns, as if it is obvious. He picks up his pen. “It’s that moth-eaten Casanova, of course. Slow and can’t do anything but make gross jokes.”

Well. You can’t refute that.

“Also, he said it was supposed to represent longevity and stability,” Lyca adds, adding a few pen strokes, “and he’s supposed to live forever, so.”

You look carefully at what Lyca is sketching. It is half-complete, details on its face yet to be finished. “Is that you?”

He nods. “Rui said this was a…” he squints back at the tiny reference book, “a Qilin.”

Makes sense. From what you remember, the qilin symbolised righteousness and integrity, both qualities Lyca possesses in bounds.

You hum, watching his hands work. “Did you know that qilin are said to be so gentle and respectful of life they don’t step on blades of grass?”

Lyca looks up at you, briefly. “I step on grass.”

It pulls a laugh out of you. “Yeah, well, but you’re still one of the most respectful ghouls I know.”

You feel Lyca straighten a little at that, almost like he’s holding back a beam. He lets out a small huff. “Well. That’s what Suba told me to do.”

If his tail was out it’d be wagging. You bite back a smile. “That’s good!”

A silence lapses over the both of you for a few minutes as you watch his pen glide across the canvas. Your eyes wander back, again, to the eyes of the phoenix.

Come to think of it, aren’t there only three occupants in Obscuary? You know that the set needs all four to be complete, but if Rui was the dragon, Ed the tortoise and Lyca the qilin, who was the phoenix?

“Lyca, who’s that supposed to be then? Since there are only three of you.”

Lyca slides a glance at you, brows furrowed as if he cannot fathom why you would be asking. “Isn’t it obvious? That’s you.”

You blink.

He taps the back of his pen on the reference book. The little taps are heavy on the lump growing in your throat. “The old man said phoenixes mean rebirth. After you’re cured, you’re gonna have your second life, right?”

His tone is so matter-of-fact, as if he has never had a doubt that you’d be cured, that whatever response you might have had swells in your lungs and stays there.

The weight of his conviction sinks into the surface of your mind. You know the Mortkranken ghouls have been working overtime for you, you know the Hotarubi ghouls have been poring over dusty old tomes for more information, you know the rest of the ghouls have been working on your curse in their own ways and yet…

And yet some part of you has never dared to hope for the success of a cure.

You swallow.

But here they are, holding a torch you have never dared to light – you will break your curse before the year is up. You will be cured. You will get to return to normal, life irrevocably changed by your time at Darkwick and bound to the ghouls that you’ve helped and been helped by, for better or for worse. You will get to live.

Your nose burns.

Lyca looks at you curiously.

“Nothing,” you say, quickly. You cough to cover up the thick in your voice. “The fact that you’d accept me into Obscuary… that’s really nice to hear.”

Lyca snorts. “Of course you’ll be with us. Where else would you be?”

You grin. It comes out watery, probably, but you don’t care. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#tokyo debunker #lyca colt #lin writes #short gen fic about lyca drawing heheh i love how they made him good at drawing #also slight rui/mc if you squint and are v familiar with Chinese mythology

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tylermileslockett · 7 months ago

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OLYMPIANS INTRODUCTION

Having defeated the Storm God Typhon, Zeus and his siblings: Hera, Hestia, Poseidon, Demeter, and Hades now reign supreme, along with Zeus children: Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Dionysus, and Hera’s son Hephaestus. After the Titanomachy war, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades divide up the three major realms, with Zeus taking the heavens, Poseidon the seas, and Hades the underworld.

One key point to remember is that the Olympian gods are ageless and immortal but not invincible. This results in fascinating episodes in The Iliad when the Greek hero Diomedes wounds Aphrodite and Apollo in battle, or the Poem by Hesiod “Shield of Herakles,” where Herakles wounds Ares with a spear thrust to his thigh in a chariot duel. Indeed, it is the consuming of Nectar and Ambrosia which sustains the god’s immortal blood like substance called Ichor.

Please keep in mind that Hades, although one of the original children of Cronus and sibling to Zeus, was given the realm of underworld to reign over, and because he does not live upon Olympus, is not considered an Olympian. Before we dive into the individual Olympian Gods, lets first turn to their Acropolis kingdom sitting majestically upon the peak of Mount Olympus.

Like this art? It will be in my illustrated book with over 130 other full page illustrations coming in Aug/Sept to kickstarter. to get unseen free hi-hes art subscribe to my email newsletter

Follow my backerkit kickstarter notification page.

Thank you for supporting independent artists! 🤘❤️🏛😁

#GreekMythology #OlympianGods #TitanomachyWar #IchorBlood #greekmythology #greekgods #pjo #mythology #classics #classicscommunity #myths #ancientgreece

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isnotwhatyourethinking · 6 months ago

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The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 3

Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 5.8K

A/N: sorry this took so long, I had to organize an auction T.T though I loved loved loved diving more into the plot and introducing new characters! hope u like this one, angst and all xx

Warnings: girl can't catch a break, angst, mentions of family abuse, blood, violence, waterboarding, language if you squint, some fluff at the end, sorry if I missed anything!

All ACOTAR rights to the genius of Sarah J Maas✨

Upon arriving at the Winter Court, I was greeted by a too-familiar frigid air that clung to my bones, making me long for the warmth of Velaris, and by a structure before me that loomed like a minatory giant, challenging me with its sheer presence.

The Hailstone Citadel stood majestically atop a rocky hill, its towering spires piercing the frosty air. Constructed around a grand meeting hall where the leaders of the Court gathered for official events, and made from spotless white marble with delicate veins of silver, its walls shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the pale winter sun. The battlements, adorned with intricate carvings of long-forgotten runes, were fashioned from pale blue quartzite, their surfaces glistening as if perpetually coated in a thin layer of frost.

Inside, the grand halls were lined with smooth alabaster, casting an ethereal glow that mimicked the natural luminescence of ice. Blue calcite pillars rose to support the vaulted ceilings, their icy hue deepening the castle's wintry ambiance. Even the floors, polished to perfection, reflected the cold beauty of the surroundings, with inlaid designs of glacial stone that told tales of ancient winters.

I stared at the mythical beasts that welcomed me, standing as majestic statues at the base of the blue pillars, symbols of the Winter Court’s strength and ferocity. Great white glacial bears, their fur eternally pristine like the marble walls, were carved to perfection. Snow griffins and frostfang wolves, their watchful gazes following my every move, guarded the halls with silent vigilance. They had always made me feel so small, as if they might jump and shred me to pieces at any second.

The entire structure exuded an icy aura, both in temperature and in its hauntingly beautiful design, perfectly encapsulating the essence of my court. I was caught off guard by the subtle shudder that thought caused.

As I made my way to the tactical wing, I felt a shiver run down my spine, and not just from the cold: a large group of soldiers greeted me with their imposing presence. Isarn might be playing the role of a vigilant warlord, but the overabundance of soldiers spoke volumes about his paranoia. Still, they were a formidable sight, their uniforms a mixture of elegance and intimidation. Each soldier wore a long, icy blue tunic of thick wool embroidered with delicate silver snowflakes. Over this they wore white, fur-lined cloaks, fastened at the shoulder with silver clasps in the shape of direwolves—the well-known beast form of our High Lord.

Trying to shake off the thought of what Kallias would do to me if he discovered what I was doing, I shifted my attention back to the formation of the soldiers, the details of their armor gleaming in the pale light, silver breastplates intricately engraved with frost patterns and beasts, polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the icy surroundings.

I slightly nodded at the formation, heading to Isarn’s office. I raggedly filled my lungs and held my pendant before walking into my cursed fate. No fear. One deep breath. No hesitation. Another deep breath. I knocked once announcing myself, and opened the door.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

Isarn's office bore none of the elegance of the grand halls of the Citadel. The walls were adorned with detailed maps of Prythian, some marked by battle plans. Shelves lined one wall, filled with tomes on warfare, tactics, and the history of the Winter Court. Weapons of all kinds—swords, daggers, and axes—were meticulously displayed, the room was lit by a single obsidian chandelier, its dark crystals casting sharp light across the space.

In the corner, a fireplace donned with a shiny grease black tile crackled with blue-tinged flames, the firelight casting eerie, flickering shadows across the room. The hearth was decorated with carvings of snarling beasts, and despite the warmth it provided, the fireplace only seemed to add to the cold, merciless atmosphere. A large desk dominated the center of the room, made of dark, polished ebony that looked almost black in the dim light. Behind it sat a high-backed chair, its design as austere and commanding as the man who occupied it.

Despite his stature, the General's presence was overwhelming, his authority radiating with sheer force. He was a short, chubby male with skin so pale it almost appeared gray, the black ponds of ink he had for eyes missing nothing—a cold, calculating gaze that seemed to see through any facade. His gray hair, balding at the crown, was meticulously combed straight and sleek in a strict military fashion that only added to his stern demeanor. Dressed in the immaculate regalia of a warlord and topped with a prominently displayed black onyx blade, he projected an aura of intimidation and behest. I loathed this visit, though I was looking forward to hearing news of my mother.

"Sit down", he commanded in his screeching voice.

"I’d rather stand", I spat back. An evil smile crossed his features.

"Y/N… You’re in no position to negotiate, and I’m not in the mood for insubordination. Sit. the fuck. down".

Prick.

My back tensed as I reluctantly sat in one of the chairs located in front of his desk, hands still in my pewter cloak’s pockets.

"I hope, for yours and your mother’s sake, you’re not wasting my time."

I nervously looked at his chubby hands, adorned with rings shaped like bears, tapping rhythmically against his desk. Every other plump finger was wrapped in a band of platinum, a showy attempt to command respect, as if a reminder of his authority had to be displayed at all times, I thought.

"The Night Court is heavily secured since Hybern’s attack," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Thanks to the Ancient One’s powers and the Cursebreaker defending the city, Hybern did not stand a chance."

Isarn’s expression remained inscrutable as he leaned back in his chair, calculating. "Go on," he pressed, his voice a dangerous murmur.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the pendant around my neck grounding me. "Amren’s powers are… unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. She can seamlessly control mind and body, the Cursebreaker herself was impressed by her skills."

"What about that winged bastard? Did the treacherous High Lord reveal anything useful about their plans against Hybern?" he said in a mocking tone, each word a poisonous blade cutting through the tension in the room.

I hesitated, the memory of Rhysand mentioning a book to Feyre flashing through my mind. I knew, I knew this was wrong, and I hated the thought of putting the Night Court at risk. But the desperate need to gain leverage gnawed at me. No, I couldn’t reveal this information before negotiating my mother’s release. "Where is my mother?" I asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Isarn’s eyes narrowed, and he stood, moving around his desk with the grace of a predator. "Information first," he said, his voice unyielding.

A power struggle unfolded as he circled me, each step calculated. "Your dear mother is expecting you to fulfill your side of the bargain." He hesitated for a second, carefully measuring his next words to avoid giving anything away. "And the Night Court is not your concern," he added with a tone of casual malice, as if the subject was of little importance to him.

Interesting.

In a blink, he was beside me, and before I could react, I felt the cold touch of his onyx blade at the nape of my neck. Isarn was faster than I had anticipated, his military training evident in his swift, lethal movement.

I summoned a burst of chilling force to my upper body, just in case, trying to remain grounded.

"Tell me… what you know," Isarn demanded, slowly pressing the blade harder against my neck.

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my back—he had pierced my skin. The pain was sharp, but the realization of my vulnerability was even more cutting. My wound was healing quickly, though the gash hurt like hell.

He kept pressing with intent and what felt like... pleasure? I fought back tears until they finally broke.

"I heard Rhysand and Feyre talking about a book the Ancient One is working on. It could be a weapon, I don't... I don't know anything else."

Isarn’s smile was victorious as he released the blade from my neck. "A book?" His eyes gleamed with greed. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" he taunted, his voice mocking and triumphant. Then the bastard licked my blood from the tip of the blade, never breaking eye contact. Repulsive, dishonorable, evil shred of a male.

I forced a gag down my throat and kept an impassive expression on my face to avoid giving him a reaction, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I was disgusted, enraged, frustrated and tired. How much longer did we have to put up with this prick? From the moment I was recalled from the Boreal Retreat to the Citadel a few weeks ago, Isarn had made it his personal mission to humiliate me every chance he got. The Commander, Gods only knew how, had managed to convince Kallias to assign me to aid the Night Court, so I hadn't even had time to delegate my duties, and I often wondered how my patients at the Retreat were doing.

Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted my torment.

"Sir?" A soldier peeked his head in with hesitation and fear. He had been summoned by the Commander but clearly did not want to disturb him. He knew better than that.

"Alfson. Take the lady here to the lower chambers. Make sure she sees how her mother is being well cared for." Isarn snarled with disdain. Then he pinned me down with his resolute obsidian eyes as he reclined on his desk, their fixed stare anchoring me in place.

"We are done here. You're to remain in the Night Court until I say otherwise, and you better not try any funny business." He tapped the ebony with his fat fingers, emphasizing the last three words. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I've got eyes and ears everywhere," I scoffed in my head. Honestly, what was his interest in the Night Court?

What is your endgame, Commander?

A surge of strength coursed through me, a defiant fire igniting in my chest. While my resilience had always been a silent force, manifesting through actions rather than words, this newfound courage startled me.

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"You mean Hybern’s?"

His head suddenly snapped up, a shadow crossing his face. Without warning, his hand lashed out, striking me across the face with a force that sent me reeling. The sting of his platinum rings bit into my skin, and before I could even touch my cheek to ease the pain, his gaze shifted to the soldier. With a slight nod and a silent command in his eyes, he conveyed his next order.

A sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of my head, and my world turned black.

The barren, snow-covered ground crunched beneath our feet as we searched for anything to stave off our gnawing hunger. It had been two weeks since my father had left us to fend for ourselves, his absences a common trial we had learned to endure. The biting wind whipped through my thin clothes, but I barely felt it, my focus solely on survival.

I ran ahead of her, a small figure stood out a few meters away in the sea of whites and grays around us.

“Mama, look!”

We had stumbled upon a rabbit, its fragile body barely clinging to life. I looked at my mother with young, inexperienced eyes, searching in hers for an answer to the rabbit's pain, though knowing this could be our dinner.

She knelt beside the animal, examining it with gentle hands despite the harshness of our surroundings. Her eyes, a blend of resolve and sorrow, met mine with a weight that belied her calm exterior. She cupped her hand on my left cheek, a mother's heart breaking at the lesson she was about to teach her little girl.

"You must choose," she said gently, her voice trembling yet firm as strings of mist came out of her mouth. "Help it get better, or let it go peacefully. The decision is yours, my love."

Her tone carried not just the necessity of our survival, but a plea for understanding.

I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on my small shoulders. The rabbit's labored breaths filled my ears, and I felt a pang of empathy for the creature. But the growling of my stomach and the desperate look in my mother's eyes forced my hand. With trembling fingers, I reached out, knowing that this choice meant survival.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my strength, then made the call.

I snapped the flimsy neck, ending the rabbit’s suffering to provide us with a meal. The act felt heavy, its significance settling deep within me.

My mother’s gaze hardened as she stroked my hair and looked into my eyes.

"You did good. Sometimes we must do not what our hearts desire but what our needs demand, without fear nor hesitation”

Her words replaced the feeling of guilt and grief, they had etched themselves into my soul, becoming a cornerstone of my resilience and determination.

I bolted upright on the cold stone floor, my mother's voice echoing in my mind. The nightmare, the memory, had faded, but the longing for her warming presence remained.

As my senses returned, I realized I wasn't in my bed but in a dark, dank dungeon. The chains binding me were a deep, otherworldly blue, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Each link felt like liquid metal solidified into an unbreakable structure, wrapped tightly around my wrists and ankles. The subtle chill from their touch seeped into my bones, sapping my strength with powerful magic.

I groaned as I tried to reach for the back of my head where an intense headache originated, pounding behind my eyes, likely from the blow Alfson had delivered in Isarn’s office. My vision was still blurry, but as I blinked rapidly trying to clear my sight, the full extent of my situation became painfully clear: I wasn't healing.

I struggled against the chains, my movements slow and sluggish. Each effort to free myself only seemed to tighten their grip. Panic began to set in, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Then, amidst the silence of the dungeon, a familiar whimpering voice reached me over the ringing in my ears.

Across the cell, through the dim light and shadows, I saw her. She was huddled in a corner, her once-vibrant form now frail and broken.

No. No, no, no–

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the horror of her imprisonment. Isarn hadn't been keeping her in some quarters as I had hoped; all this time, she had been held captive in a dungeon cell.

"My child," she murmured.

It pained me to hear her voice barely audible carrying the weight of all the suffering she had endured.

"Mama," the call came from the bottom of my heart, out to my lips, hoarse and desperate. The sight of her, more than the chains, more than the cold, more than the headache, shattered my core. I fought against the bonds with renewed desperation, my mind racing to find a way to free us both. A thousand questions swirled in my mind, and I could see the same confusion and urgency reflected in my mother's eyes.

I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady, "I've been out assisting the Night Court."

Her eyes widened, a spark of shock briefly flickering through her weariness. I wanted to tell her everything, about the beautiful city of Starlight, the people I had met, the mission I had undertaken, about my mate, but there was no time. The sound of boots echoed faintly in the background, so I continued.

"Mama, I’ve been well, but I can't talk for long," I said, my words hurried. "They're coming."

She nodded, understanding the urgency. Despite her frail state, she reached out to me as if she could hold my hand from a distance. "Bjorn," she said, her voice dry and raspy, "he's been aiding me."

Bjorn. The mention of his name brought a flood of emotions. My uncle, my mentor, the one who had always been there for us. While my father abandoned us, Bjorn had stepped in, teaching me everything I needed to know to survive in this frozen hell. As the Captain of the border forces with the Autumn Court, he had been a figure of fortitude and tenacity, walking alongside me every step of the way, from treating soldiers in makeshift tents to becoming indispensable to the court. He was more of a father to me than my own ever was.

"He sneaks in when he can... Isarn still doesn’t know," my mother continued in a whisper, forcing a gulp. "He doesn’t know you’re related. It’s our only advantage."

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. The thought of seeing Bjorn again gave me a glimmer of hope. I had kept it together up to this point but gods knew I needed a lifeline.

"Do what Isarn says for now, my love. Find Bjorn. He’s been looking for you, too."

My mother fought a cough, struggling to talk. As her eyes met mine, I silently pleaded with her to stop, to save her strength, but she pressed on, defying my unspoken request.

"He mentioned tensions at the border are growing, and that he’s been looking for a way to undermine Isarn's influence, to exploit his vulnerabilities."

The sound of boots grew louder, the guards getting closer. Panic surged through me, but I held on to my mother’s words. "We’ll get through this," I promised. "I'll find Bjorn." As soon as Isarn grows bored of this hissy fit and sends me back to Velaris.

The Mother must’ve heard my prayers, as two soldiers finally approached the cell’s gate, each carrying a large bucket filled with what looked like water, and two thick linen cloths. This couldn’t be good.

"Rise and shine, ladies," one of them sneered.

Fuck, how long had it been?

The soldiers walked into the cell with a menacing air. "This is a mercy from the General, a little reminder." one of them said, his words dripping with that characteristic malice of Isarn’s personal guard.

Before I could react, they grabbed us and forced us to the cold stone floor. The first splash of icy water hit my face like a thousand needles, the shock making me gasp for air. The cloth was pressed over my face, and the torture began.

I struggled to breathe as they poured more water on me, each inhalation bringing it into my lungs. Panic and pain overwhelmed me as I heard my mother's muffled cries close by. I fought against the restraints, desperately trying to break free, but the chains held me fast.

Just when I thought I would drown, they stopped. I laid there, coughing and gasping for breath, my body trembling. The soldiers laughed, their eyes savoring their making.

"If you don’t comply with the General’s orders," one of them said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "or if you dare to question him again, he will personally stab you both with faebane, bathe you in cold water, and leave you out to freeze to death."

The other soldier removed the dark indigo bonds and spat on my face.

“Scum.”

But I ignored it all as I crawled towards my mother, every movement a struggle. "Mama, please," I begged, "stay with me."

Darkness was closing in, my strength fading. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was my mother’s frail form, her eyes filled with love and desperation.

I drifted in and out of awareness as rough hands grabbed me, dragging me out of the dungeons. My body felt heavy, my limbs barely responding. Through blurred vision, I saw the dimly lit corridors of the lower levels of the Hailstone Citadel pass by, the cold seeping into my bones.

"Keep moving," one of the soldiers muttered, his grip tightening on my arm.

They hauled me through a hidden exit at the back of the citadel, into the freezing night. The biting wind stung my face, jolting me closer to full consciousness. They dragged me into the bailey, the snow crunching under their boots, until they finally dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground.

I laid there, shivering, hardly breathing. I had to move. Summoning the last of my strength to heal the tightness in my muscles, I pushed myself up, staggering towards the stables I knew were nearby. Each step was a battle as I reached a horse conveniently saddled, its breath visible in the cold air. I had always prided myself on being self-reliant, I’d been taught to never depend on a male for strength or comfort. But now, as my body temperature kept dangerously dropping, I found myself wishing for Cassian’s warmth, his strong arms wrapping around me. I held onto that feeling for solace, while focusing on mounting the animal.

I urged the horse south, towards the Autumn Court border where I knew Bjorn was positioned. The ride was a blur of icy wind and snow-covered trees. I fought hard to stay awake and to listen to the rhythm of the horse’s gallop—it was the only thing keeping me from slipping back into unconsciousness.

When I finally reached the border at dawn, the outpost where Bjorn was stationed came into view. It was a watchpoint where the soldiers of the Winter Court kept an eye on the shifting lines between territories. Tents erected around a tall brick structure dotted the landscape as far as I could see, blending into the snow-covered ground.

A soldier approached as I dismounted, recognizing me from past encounters at the recovery camps. "Y/N," he greeted, his voice filled with concern as he saw my condition. He helped me unmount, his hands steadying me as I stumbled.

"I have urgent business with the Captain," I muttered as I could.

The soldier nodded, understanding the urgency. "This way."

He tied the horse to a post and guided me through the site as I made my way to Bjorn's tent. The sounds and faces of the outpost, once familiar and comforting, now felt distant and blurred as if they were fading away. At last, we arrived at Bjorn's tent. The soldier stepped inside first, clearing his throat before speaking, "Captain, someone’s here to see you." I followed, my legs barely holding me up.

Bjorn turned around, shock registering on his face when he saw me. "Y/N," his voice broke, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and worry.

I couldn't contain my tears any longer. I ran to him, collapsing into his embrace. He wrapped me around tightly in a fatherly comfort I had longed for since I left for the Night Court.

As we stood there, memories of our time together surged through my mind. I recalled the countless hours we spent in the training grounds, his voice calm and steady as he instructed me on how to hold a blade, how to keep my balance even on treacherous ice. He drilled me in the military structure of the Winter Court, ensuring I understood the hierarchy and strategies that could one day save my life.

His patience never wavered as he guided me in harnessing my healing powers, teaching me to channel my energy and focus it precisely where it was needed. Every lesson, every word of encouragement had shaped me into who I was today. He had been there for me in my darkest moments, offering his support and wisdom when I needed it most. Our familial tie was forged in those early days of hardship, and it had only grown stronger over the years.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bjorn whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I pulled back, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "My mother…" I pleaded, "she needs help."

Bjorn’s face set with resolve. "We’ll take care of her."

He turned and called for the soldier who had brought me to the tent. As the soldier approached, Bjorn drifted to his work table, quickly scribbling something on a piece of paper. He handed it to the soldier. "Take this to Eirik," he instructed. "He’ll know what to do."

The soldier nodded and swiftly left the tent, leaving me sighing with a sense of relief. Bjorn finally faced me, studying me with worry.

"I look like hell, don't I?" I managed a weak smile.

Bjorn chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. "You always did have a flair for understatement," he teased, his teal blue eyes scanning me for injuries. He quickly urged me to sit, gently helping me as I sank onto a nearby stool. As he helped me remove my wet cloak, no longer pewter but a light charcoal due to all the dirt, and my boots, he gazed at my wrists where they were still hurt. My powers were almost depleted.

When he took off my boots, he noticed the bargain tattoo. His lips pursed. "Your mother told me about..." He pointed at the tattoo with his chin. "When you left... I couldn't, I haven't forgiven myself. I should've been there for you. I'm sorry."

I reached out for his arms, like I always did many, many times when I was younger and none of this mattered.

"You had no way of knowing, and I won't let you carry the guilt of Isarn's doing," I whispered in our embrace.

I took a deep breath and slowly let go, still holding his hands. "I was in the Night Court, sent to work as a healer, but I was spying for Isarn. He..." I looked down at my wrists, cuts from the chains still open, "did not hold back when I returned. The moment I mentioned the King of Hybern, he snapped. I don't get it, why is he so interested in the Night Court?"

Bjorn's face hardened. "Because he’s an ambitious prick. I have spies within Isarn’s close circle. He's working with Hybern. He’s promised him the Winter Court in exchange for his help."

He saw the blood leaving my face as my heart sank, waves of blame and dread suffocated me.

Dear Mother. What have I done?

"Is that even possible?"

"The fool is a loyalist. He’d gladly sell his own pathetic life to bring back the days of human enslavement."

Weariness was creeping in. I hadn’t slept all night, though the gravity of the conversation was enough to keep my mind alert.

"It gets worse," Bjorn continued. "Isarn plans to help Hybern destabilize the Night Court by kidnapping the Cursebreaker. Apparently Hybern wants to use her powers against all humans down the Wall, though we still don’t know how."

"Feyre... But why would Isarn do this?"

Despite his cruelty, Isarn was a military commander through and through, his loyalty to the Winter Court woven into the very fabric of his being. Betrayal felt out of character.

Bjorn's eyes locked into mine, his demeanor to the brink of desperation. "Isarn has long harbored resentment towards Lady Viviane for commanding the Winter Court armies during Under the Mountain. He felt..."

The soldier that brought me to the tent interrupted, bringing two steaming bowls of stew, the savory aroma filling the tent.

"This might not be a feast, but it'll keep you going," he remarked while he offered me a shy smile, approaching me with a bowl.

Ever the overprotective parent, Bjorn grabbed both from his hands, dismissing the soldier with a nod, and continued.

"He felt small and undermined—no surprises there." He winked at me conspiratorially. I would have laughed at the joke if the guilt within me wasn't drowning me.

"Especially after discovering Lady Viviane's leadership role. His supposed captivity by Hybern was a ruse; he was collaborating with them all along."

I felt a sickening twist in my gut. I lowered my head into my hands, resting them on my legs, overwhelmed by exhaustion and frustration, and unable to process any more information. Telling Isarn about the book had been a mistake. A grave mistake. But I couldn't burden Bjorn with the weight of my call, I'd rather keep him focused on my mother's well-being. Then there's the safety of my mate… I had to fix this. I knew what I had to do.

"I have to go back to the Night Court." I uttered with a stammer.

Bjorn's eyes blanked with a resolve that startled me, he’d seen right through me and instantly knew my intentions. He stood up and started pacing around the tent.

"If you plan to share any information about Isarn and his plans with the Night Court, you need to be prepared, Y/N.”

He was right. If I approached Rhysand and Feyre, laying out everything I knew about Isarn while also proposing a solution, they could not only be warned but might also offer resources and intelligence to our advantage, in a joint effort. A pang of gratitude hit my core when I realized that, in the rush of the moment, Isarn wasn’t too specific with the terms of the bargain.

A fool, indeed. This might just work.

I felt a hint of pride in my chest.

"Not bad for an old captain," I winked at him, and replied with a smirk when I shared my conclusion.

"I'll need to devise a plan that ensures Isarn can't retaliate. If I can present them with a strategy to counter his, they may be able to support us."

Bjorn agreed, his expression serious.

"Exactly. They have as much at stake as we do."

He slowly leaned towards me, placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, his gaze full of emotion. I knew this moment would come once more, the moment we part without knowing when we’ll see each other again, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It seemed like all we had now were these fleeting moments, and there was still so much I wanted to share with him.

"You can do this, Y/N. But remember, you must keep up the facade with Isarn until the very end. Any slip, and he will come down on you hard. On both of you.”

"I understand," I said firmly, taking his calloused hands in mine.

Then he searched my eyes for the tenacity he'd taught me to maintain in these situations, and found another emotion seeping in instead.

A longing for the male I'd been relentlessly pushing away, leaving him behind at the Night Court.

"Alright, spill it, child. What’s going on?" Bjorn pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated, my thoughts a whirlwind. I wanted to tell him about Cassian, but how could I explain this to Bjorn when Cassian himself didn't know about the mating bond? Not that I was planning to tell him either.

The risk of exposing such a deeply personal truth made me feel incredibly vulnerable. Still, I wanted him to know. I needed his guidance and support, now more than ever.

"I..." I started, struggling to find the right words. "There’s someone at the Night Court. Someone... important to me."

Bjorn's thick eyebrows burrowed, but he waited patiently for me to continue.

"I think... I think I've found my mate. He's very well known and a person of trust in the Night Court. He doesn't know though, about the bond."

Bjorn's lips drew a line.

Oh, Gods.

I hadn't been this nervous since the first time I met Kallias. I forced a swallow down my throat and continued, the words coming out of my mouth in a hurried tirade like a child who had been caught being naughty.

"I cannot, will not risk this mission for a male I barely know, though," I continued, determination hardening my voice despite the pounding in my heart. "There's too much at stake, and I need to focus on what matters now."

Bjorn’s lips twitched, and for a moment, I saw the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.

"So, you’re just telling me now that you found your mate?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "And here I thought you were keeping all your secrets from me."

Despite the tension, a small smile crept across my face as I lowered my chin and looked at my bare foot. "It's not like that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I know, child. I’m just teasing. But seriously, a mate? And an important one in the Night Court, no less,” his hands reaching his hips. “You sure know how to pick them."

I mentally sighed as all the light-hearted taunting eased some of the anxiety gnawing at my insides.

"I didn’t exactly choose this, you know."

Bjorn’s expression turned more serious, though the warmth didn’t leave his eyes. "I admire your determination, Y/N. And I’m happy for you, really. But you need to be cautious. Especially if he’s a significant figure in the Night Court."

He elbowed me with complicit eyes, "Can I know who this significant other, I mean, figure is?"

I rolled my eyes, tempted to fall into more of his tease but instead I hesitated, thinking about the answer.

"You’ll know, Bjorn. In time. If everything goes well after Isarn is dealt with. For now, we move forward with the plan."

Bjorn nodded, understanding the boundary. "Fair enough. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And be smart. Remember your training."

"I promise," I said, knowing that I would cling to those words when the moment demanded it. I stood there for a moment, trying to hold on to this precious instant with him. His concern for me was evident, and it mirrored the worry I felt for him.

"Good," he replied with a reassuring smile. Bjorn’s blue eyes softened as he pulled me into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of mist and pine enveloped me, grounding me in the moment.

“Please be strong, petal,” he murmured, his tone carried a hue of anguish. I nodded against his shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall upon hearing the affectionate nickname he’d given me since I was a child. “I will.”

We pulled back slightly, our hands still clasped together. His rough palms were a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I looked into his eyes again and recognized the unspoken devoted love that had always been there.

"This isn't goodbye," I said softly, squeezing his hands. "Please keep her safe. Who knows, the next time we meet I may bring some allies, Mother willing."

"I'll hold you to that. Now go," he held my chin up gently, with a caress. "Go back to the Night Court and show them what you're made of," his eyes shone with affection.

With a final nod, I gathered my now somewhat-dry cloak, and some clean clothes and supplies for the journey he'd packed for me.

Before I walked out of the tent, he called after me.

"He better be good with a sword."

I hid a grin, knowing the answer. "Something like that."

taglist:

@bravo-delta-eccho @yamisuke @randomperson1234sblog @anxious-cactus @lilah-asteria @darkbloodsly @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

dividers by @estrelinha-s

#cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fan fic #heal me #acomaf #acofas #acowar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #bat boys #cassian x you #winter court #winter court acotar

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sirenizer · 2 months ago

Text

The Warm Embrace

[part 1] [part3]

As you made your way through the dense forest, the thrill of exploring for treasure filled your mind. You were so focused on the adventure ahead that the small dangers of the wilderness barely crossed your mind. That is, until something cold and many-legged crawled up your leg. Your body froze for a moment, and then, without a second thought, you let out a scream loud enough to send birds scattering from the trees.

Back on the ship, the crew’s conversations halted as your scream echoed over the water. Whitebeard let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. The older crew members exchanged knowing looks; they recognized that scream all too well. Grace might be one of the toughest people on the crew, but everyone knew there was one thing that could get that kind of reaction from her—centipedes.

“That had to be Grace,” Haruto said with a grin, glancing in the direction of the island.

Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “Probably another centipede. She doesn’t hold back with those things.” He looked over to Ace, who had a slightly bewildered expression, clearly unfamiliar with the situation. “Hey, Ace, mind checking on her?”

But before Marco even finished speaking, he noticed that Ace had already bolted, racing toward the forest.

Tartch smirked, watching Ace disappear into the trees. “Didn’t even know what was happening. He just took off the second he heard her scream.”

Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Ace was dashing through the trees, concern etched on his face. His mind raced through possibilities—maybe she’d encountered some dangerous animal or enemy. He pushed forward, brushing aside branches, leaping over rocks, and following the sound of your scream.

When he finally reached you, he found you frantically shaking your leg, your eyes wide and filled with panic as the centipede crawled higher. You didn’t even notice Ace at first, too focused on trying to get the insect off without actually touching it.

“A centipede?” Ace’s voice broke through, half-relieved and half-amused, as he took in the scene.

You didn’t care about his reaction; your only focus was on getting rid of the creature. “Yes, and it’s disgusting!” you said, practically hopping on one foot as you tried to shake it off, a trace of genuine fear in your voice. “Just get it off me!”

Ace tried to hold back a laugh as he stepped forward, brushing the centipede off your leg with a quick flick of his hand. He shook his head, amused at the sight of you so calmly demanding help despite the scream that had led him to think something terrible had happened.

"Really?” he said, grinning. “All that noise for a bug?”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his teasing grin with a serious look. “If it’s got more than four legs, it’s got no business near me,” you replied flatly. “And I don’t care who hears it.”

Ace laughed, thoroughly entertained and a bit impressed by your honesty. “Alright, noted. I’ll be on centipede duty from now on,” he said, smirking.

You rolled your eyes, brushing off your leg. “Better be prepared,” you said with a smirk of your own. You continued down the path, glancing at the ground to make sure there were no other unwelcome creatures in sight, while Ace followed, still chuckling to himself.

As you and Ace ventured deeper into the lush island, the thick foliage gradually gave way to a stunning clearing bathed in golden sunlight. Before you stood the ruins of an ancient civilization, their stone structures looming majestically against the vibrant greenery, draped in vines and moss. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of bravery, adventure, and mythical creatures.

Ace’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he strode toward the archway leading inside.

“Look at this place, Grace!” he called, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Bet we’ll find something incredible in here!”

You gave him a wary smile, unable to deny his infectious energy, though your instincts urged caution. “Just remember, ancient places like this often come with traps.”

But before you could say more, Ace dashed forward with a grin, disappearing inside. You sighed, quickening your pace to follow him. It felt nice being by his side, even if it was a little intimidating. In those moments together, especially after sharing watermelon and laughter under the stars, something within you had started to shift. You couldn’t ignore the spark that ignited whenever you were close to him, the way his presence warmed you from the inside out.

As you stepped onto the stone floor, a loud crack echoed through the ruin, and the ground beneath you gave way.

“Ace!” you shouted as the stone crumbled under your feet.

Reacting in an instant, Ace whirled around and lunged for you, his hand catching yours as you fell. You gasped as he pulled you close, his arm wrapping securely around your waist as both of you tumbled down into the shadows below.

For a moment, everything was a blur of motion and muffled sounds. But as you came to a stop, you found yourself still in his arms, your faces mere inches apart in the dim light. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his strong, steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips as his gaze softened, his surprise melting into something more intense.

“You… alright?” Ace asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant as his dark eyes lingered on yours. His face was so close, you could see the flecks of amber in his gaze, feel the heat of his breath.

Absolutely! We can seamlessly weave in the earlier moments from the story, emphasizing the emotional connection and development between Grace and Ace. Here’s how the narrative could flow, connecting the two parts while building on their feelings and experiences:

The ancient ruins loomed ahead, their towering stone structures cloaked in vines and shadows, promising mysteries and long-lost treasures. Ace’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he strode toward the archway leading inside.

“Look at this place, Grace!” he called, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Bet we’ll find something incredible in here!”

You gave him a wary smile, unable to deny his infectious energy, though your instincts urged caution. “Just remember, ancient places like this often come with traps.”

As you stepped onto the stone floor, a loud crack echoed through the ruin, and the ground beneath you gave way.

“Ace!” you shouted as the stone crumbled under your feet.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, a bit breathless, surprised by how your heart seemed to race at his touch. “Thanks for… catching me.”

He chuckled softly, his usual easy grin returning but not quite hiding the way he, too, seemed caught off guard. “Guess it’s lucky I was close enough,” he said, though there was a new warmth in his voice, his grip around you firm but gentle.

You found yourself momentarily forgetting the ruins, the dark cavern you’d fallen into, as you met his gaze—both of you suddenly aware of the closeness. There was a spark between you, something unspoken but undeniably there. It was fleeting, gone in a heartbeat, but it left a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

Realizing the moment had stretched longer than usual, you both drew back, slightly awkward as you steadied yourselves. Ace’s cheeks had a faint flush, barely visible in the low light, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

“We should… probably figure out where we are,” he said, the usual confidence in his voice softened.

“Yes, right,” you nodded, feeling the heat fade as you regained your focus. Taking in the darkness around you, you noticed that the walls glowed faintly with symbols, giving the place an eerie but beautiful light. “It looks like some sort of hidden passage,” you said, stepping closer to inspect the symbols as your heart settled.

Ace moved to your side, but he seemed unusually quiet, stealing glances at you as if he, too, felt something new between you. He’d always been bold and carefree, yet in that instant, he appeared as uncertain as you, his usual bravado tempered by a new, quiet awareness.

As you both continued down the dark corridor, the silence between you felt different—not awkward, but charged with something unspoken. You brushed it aside, focusing on finding a way out, yet a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

After a while, you both emerged into a massive chamber, your footsteps echoing in the vast space. Tall pillars reached toward the unseen ceiling, adorned with carvings that told ancient stories. The room was silent, a tranquil yet eerie presence filling the air.

“This place is something else,” Ace murmured, his usual grin returning as he took in the sight.

But as you both stepped further inside, a faint rumble reverberated around you, chilling the air. The temperature dropped, sending a shiver down your spine—though this time, it had nothing to do with the centipede.

“Ace,” you whispered, instinctively moving closer to him. “We should stay alert. There’s… something here.”

As you ventured deeper into the ruins, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of your adventure, with treasures and secrets still waiting to be uncovered.

#ace x you #portgas d. ace #ace x reader #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #romance #fluff

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