#sacred bundle

[a-modernmajorgeneral]

Just after noon on 4 June, Yellowstone photography guide Jordan Creech was sightseeing with clients when he spotted the freshly-born white buffalo calf, taking its first steps in the park’s Lamar Valley.

Bison calves can walk within two minutes of being born, and run alongside their herd within the first seven minutes of life.

“It’s the most unique experience I’ve ever had,” Creech says.

Erin Braaten, a photographer of Native American descent from Kalispell, Montana, also witnessed the calf’s first moments of life before it disappeared into the herd.

"I thought I'd have a better chance of capturing Bigfoot than a white bison calf," she tells BBC News.

For the last 2,000 years the people of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakoda tribes have told the story of a woman who arrived during a time of need.

A version speaks of two scouts searching for food and buffalo in the Black Hills of South Dakota.

The mysterious woman appeared and offered their tribe a bundle of sacred gifts, including a pipe carved from red rock, and instructed the people on how to live and pray.

She transformed several times before taking the form a white buffalo calf with a black nose, black eyes and black hooves. As she departed, a great number of buffalo returned to feed the people.

Dozens of other tribes have white buffalo stories, interpreting its arrival as both a blessing and a warning.

Chief Arvol Looking Horse, a spiritual leader of the Lakota Tribe, is known as the Keeper of the Sacred Bundle — the bundle and pipe left by the spirit. He likens the white calf’s return to the second coming of Christ.

Looking Horse, 70, said that before she departed, the woman told the people that she would return as a white buffalo calf “when everything is sickly and not good, and when people are with a not good mind”.

“This is spirit. It means spirit is happening,” he added.

On 26 June, more than 500 supporters formally celebrated the white calf at an event in West Yellowstone, just outside the park. Nearly a dozen tribes were represented.

Together, they heard the name bestowed upon the calf - Wakan Gli, meaning Sacred Returns or Comes Holy in the Lakota language. An altar of three buffalo skulls and three buffalo robes marked the occasion.

Waemaetekosew Waupekenay, 38, who travelled from Wisconsin to attend on behalf of the Menominee Tribe, said the birth of the sacred calf has been a spiritual awakening.

Its arrival, he says with amazement, shows that “there's a lot of healing, a lot of love going around. People are being united.”

National Park rangers at Yellowstone have confirmed the white bison's birth, but rangers have not reported any sightings themselves.

“The birth of a white bison calf in the wild is a landmark event in the ecocultural recovery of bison by the National Park Service,” the park said in a statement on 28 June confirming it as the first white bison ever seen inside Yellowstone.

They added that it "may reflect the presence of a natural genetic legacy that was preserved in Yellowstone’s bison, which has revealed itself because of the successful recovery of a wild bison population".

"The National Park Services acknowledges the significance of a white bison calf for American Indians,” it added.

[dungeonofthedragon]

PCRF Tiltify Bundle: solo games

I've been checking out the solo games included in this incredible bundle. $15 for over 190 games and game supplements- and all proceeds go to the great cause of helping Palestinian kids in the aftermath of the horrors they've endured.

Early thoughts on three solo games below:

Dwelling by Seb Pines

(Reflective- Horror- Artistic)

As much an exploration of yourself as an exploration of the titular dwelling; a haunted house. The specters your draw present scenes and encourage you to explore the personal memories these bring to the forefront. It's a journalling game, played on scraps of paper and in the rules text itself. My favourite mechanic is that you mark your own body after each encounter to cement your connection to it.

High Above Them All by Damian Oddson

(Whimsical- Flexible- Low-key)

This game has a Ghibli-esque feel to it- the precise vibe I was hungering for this morning! Using a standard deck of playing cards (or a generator like this one), take on the role of a solitary individual floating high above the world and witnessing the splendor below. In the three prompts generated so far; I have saved a unicorn, observed ancient ruins, and speedrun social situations because strangers are scary (what a mood!)

In the Sacred Wood of Monsters by Stuffedtern

(Eerie- Pensive- Unhurried)

Even the introduction is so beautiful, written much like a fairytale. We are told the story of a duke whose beloved wife died, and who in his grief had a marvelous and terrible garden constructed in her memory. Hundreds of years later, this garden is a famous local attraction that the player has decided to visit. chari

The player randomly generates the features of the garden they encounter (using a d6 and a deck of playing cards), and receives impressions and sensations- inspired by the story of this place? Direct reflections of the past? Who can truly say?

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Perv!Toji who just hums when he hears you say that you need to go underwear shopping, again, over the phone. You explain how it seems like you have to buy more every month because they keep disappearing by the bundle, and that maybe you just keep forgetting them at his place. Toji says he'll be on the lookout for a pretty pair of your lacy, blue panties, in his room, which lures a laugh out of you, but he knows your reaction would be much different if you knew that he was just describing the current pair he has in his hand. His collection grew bigger than he ever intended it to, but he thinks that as long as you remain unsure of why your sacred treasures keep disappearing, he's in the clear to continue stealing them.

Perv!Toji who props his phone up against a pillow with a picture of you making the screen glow in the darkness of his room. It's a picture he took of you on one of your dates, you turned around and gave him the prettiest, soft smile, and he was able to capture the shininess of your eyes. It was his lock screen for a while, but of course you always outdo yourself and give him something better. That doesn't mean the previous picture just gets lost in his gallery. No, no, no. It's good material for when he's missing your body against his. His spank bank is riddled with you, it's an unorganized shrine that mixes his pure and sinful memories of you. Just thinking of you is enough to get him off, but it's always nice to be able to turn his head in the direction of his phone to get that crystal clear image of you while he furiously fists his cock until his sticky cum is dripping down his palm and landing on the warm skin of his abdomen. Busting once isn't always enough and in those cases, he just swipes to the next picture of you and does it all over again.

Perv!Toji who always has his hands beneath your clothes. Sometimes, he'll come up behind you while you're cooking, and the second his hands start sliding down your waist, you know what he's up to. His hands keep lowering until they're under the waistband of your shorts, moving the material of your underwear slightly so that he can caress and squeeze your bare hips. He really loves the sudden jolt he earns from your body when his fingers explore a little further and he starts tracing the creases that join your pelvis and thighs. Even when you're out and about, if you're standing around for too long, waiting to order food or just figuring out what you want to do next, he'll stand behind you as if he's giving you a back hug, and his hands will go up your shirt to rub and pinch your tummy.

Perv!Toji who can't watch a movie with you without teasing and playing with your pussy. You'll be sitting on his lap and at some point, his hand will slide down the front of your pajama pants and he'll just rest his palm on your pelvis, not moving for a good while. Once he knows you're used to the feeling, and you're not so riled up about the placement of his hand, he'll "mindlessly" start feeling up the material of your panties. His hand does an opening and closing motion, spreading his fingers apart before bringing them all close together, again. On the inside, you're going insane over every chaste drag of his fingertips over your clothed clit, but it's translated into subtle, occasional, little squirms and shifts on Toji's lap. He won't stop the teasing motions until he breaks your focused bearing entirely, and you're the one greedily chasing friction from his hand.

Perv!Toji who is absolutely terrible at the 'guess who' game. The second he's behind you, one of his enormous hands goes over your eyes, while the other one swiftly goes up your shirt and under your bra to grab a handful of tit. While he shamelessly squeezes, you try to process how fast you were put in this position by him. His familiar scent engulfs your nose, and his lips press against your ear, a deep, goosebump inducing, spine tingling, "guess who?" murmured. You're speechless as you attempt to think of anything other than the throbbing going on between your legs. His lips attaching to the side of your neck doesn't help him at all, but it does bring you back so you're finally able to take your wild guess. "Toji," you breathe out. On the outside he chuckles and plays the defeated man, but deep down, he loves that your body has his touch memorized, and that his smell is distinct, but you're able to recognize it in an instant. He loves that when you hear the sound of his voice, nobody else comes to mind. He loves that you didn't hum as if there were options, and instead, confidently said his name, because it confirms that nobody else is touching you this way.

Perv!Toji whose perverted behavior amplifies every time you send him a video of you playing with yourself. He opens the message, and the sight of your bare body instantly makes his cock spring to life, even before he presses play on the video. Immediately, he's met with the sound of your moans mixed with the slick sound of your fingers going in and out of your drooling cunt. Toji's heart races and his cock twitches at the sound of his name being crooned so sweetly by you. Unknowingly, he looks like he's trying to go into his phone, with the way he holds it so close to his face. He's pinching the screen, zooming into everything, every inch of your skin, your heaving chest, your tummy, before reaching the lewd scene of your glistening cunt being stuffed by your fingers. God, he's like a broken faucet, leaking precum in his boxers because of you and your tendency to be so sinful, that it's holy for him to be the only one who sees you behave this way. He finally goes back up to watch your face, and thank god he always saves this part for last, because you look like hell. Every. Single. Time. His brows are slightly pinched and his breathing quickens as he watches your pretty face contort with pleasure. Toji impatiently unbuttons and unzips his jeans with one hand and pulls his cock out of his boxers, a deep groan leaving him when his hand wraps around his sticky length. He's watching you, hips bucking up into his hand as he imagines it's him making you feel that way. When you cry out his name as you orgasm, his breath hitches, and as if he was actually there fucking you, he follows right after you, groaning as ropes on ropes of thick cum land on his pants and his hand. He lets out a heavy sigh and curses under his breath about the mess he made on himself. His attention is brought back to his phone when he hears you giggle in the video, followed by a quick "Love you, baby" before the video ends. He groans and shuts his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind the couch as he thinks about how badly he needs you. The aftermath is sent to you, followed by a request for you to come over.

[seafoamaphrodite]

a beginner’s guide to…

✨ altars ✨

here are some materials you can use for an altar, whether it is for your spellwork, a deity, or any other use! altars should reflect your personality, and be a space where you feel happy and safe :D

none of these materials are required, and everything is completely customizable to your beliefs! (just practice respect and safety obviously)

🕯️ basics 🕯️

an altar cloth is a piece of fabric that covers your altar. this could be a bandana, a small blanket, or even a piece of paper!

a glass plate is a mundane but VERY versatile altar piece. it can work as an offering dish, a tray to collect wax drippings, or just a little trinket holder

candles are an easy addition to any altar. you can use any type of candle, but my favorites are taper and prayer candles. scented candles are completely fine to use as well! choose candles based on color and scent

natural materials like crystals, flowers, plants, animal bones (responsibly sourced), etc. are an incredible addition to any altar! if you have a deity altar, learn about their associations and use this to guide your choice

paper and pen/pencil will be your best friend if you write petitions, draw sigils, etc. keep them near your altar for convenience

🌱 cleansing 🌱

many people believe an area should be “cleansed” before it is used as an altar or sacred space

methods of cleansing include incense, water cleansing, sage smudging, and more

incense cleansing is often done by wafting an incense stick or cone through a space and visualizing the smoke clearing out negative energy

sandalwood, lavender, and rosemary are common incense choices for cleansing

water cleansing is something i do a lot, it can be done by sprinkling water in an area or even washing/pouring water. regular tap water is perfectly fine, but you can also incorporate moon water, sun water, rainwater, etc.

smudging with sage involves burning a bundle of sage and, similar to incense cleansing, wafting the smoke through the area. sage smudging is traditional to indigenous tribes like the Lakota and Navajo. as a result, sage smudging (especially the use of white sage) is often considered cultural appropriation when done by non-indigenous people. i am not indigenous nor do i use sage, so i am not incredibly well versed on the subject but i thought i should include it. always do research and practice respect and sensitivity 💌

🌙 takeaways 🌙

finally, your altar is YOUR space. you can include or exclude anything you want; your space doesn’t need to be “aesthetic” or make sense to others

my first altar was a cardboard box with one candle and a handful of crystals. it wasn’t expensive or fancy, but it got me into my practice

through the years, my altar has grown and changed as i have

if you want to make an altar, start with what you have! you would be surprised how powerful your resources are 🩷

[itsswritten]

Earth's Song

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 795 (she's a drabble)

Warnings: Difficult birth is briefly mentioned no major details though.

Summary: Fairies are made for the wind & sun <3

Wings Masterlist

You could see it, just beyond the archway. Only a step away, the golden streams of rays filtering over the flowers. The breeze, a scent of fresh grass, pollen and peonies filling your senses– so close you could almost taste it. The melody of the earth was calling to you, its creatures and plants singing in a verse only you could hear upon your arrival. Your lips tugged into a gentle smile across your tired expression. 

Oh you had missed this.

A soft gurgle pulled you from your musings, your gaze settling down on the little bundles that were swaddled to your front. Your babes, twin sons. Only weeks old. Could they hear it too? The earth's music? it’s song, it’s heartbeat– you were sure they could. Certain they felt it in their bones just like you.

“Isn’t it wonderful..”, you whispered to them, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on the tops of their heads. Wefts of hair as dark as their fathers atop, and their scent so inexplicably yours and his.

“My love…” Azriel spoke, an ache in his tone that seemed consistent with any action you did nowadays. You had tried to step forward, feet moving past the tiles of the River House subconsciously into the outside that was calling you–calling your sons too. Any action you seemed to make these past few weeks only made your mates heart lurch.

“Azriel…” your tone was gentle but firm, your free hand subconsciously rubbing the backs of your babes who were nuzzled against your chest. Their eyes slowly opened and closed under the gentle glow of the sun that reached within the doorway of the house. “I want to– need to feel the earth,” you replied. 

It had been several weeks since you had been outside, several weeks since you brought your baby boys into this world. The birth had been difficult. A thought you didn’t want to dwell on, but something you knew was still very prevalent as you felt your mate's supportive hand press against the small of your back. His free hand still looped with your arm for stability.

It had taken a great deal of convincing for him to bring you here, to let your boys experience the world beyond the safety of the house walls. Azriel, ever the protective Shadowsinger, had been beside himself when he’d almost lost you. The birth of your twins—Illyrian-winged miracles born of a meadow faerie—had been far from easy. The ordeal had left you in a deep, unnatural slumber, robbing you of those precious first days with your sons. It was a cruel twist of fate, one that left you fragile in body and spirit. Even the sacred traditions of your kind had been set aside in the wake of it all.

And well, Azriel’s protectiveness had grown to a level you didn’t know was possible. You understood though. Didn’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, if you’d almost lost him, you weren’t sure what kind of person you’d become in the aftermath. But you were still here. Healing, growing stronger with every passing day.

So you convinced him, explained to him how fairies were made for the wind and sun, your boys, despite only being half of you– needed this too.

You watched as your mate hesitated, bringing you this far had gone against every instinct he had, but as he gazed into your reassuring smile he nodded. Gently moving with you, each step at a time. Your bare feet feeling the soft grass under your pads. The sensation sent a shiver through your body and as you began to ground yourself tears filled your eyes.

The evening sun basked it’s golden hour upon your skin, it’s rays warming your flesh in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks. You had missed this. 

Your babes stirred softly, their tiny forms swaddled snugly against your chest. Their warmth grounded you further. You inhaled deeply, the scent of the flowers and the earth beneath your feet blending with the faint sweetness of your sons.

Azriel’s wings rustled softly behind you as he stepped closer, his shadowed presence a constant comfort as you let yourself lean back against him. You glanced up at him, your tear-filled eyes meeting his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. 

Wordlessly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead, his gaze moving to his sons pressed against you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “I love you– I love you all so much,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

Your smile was the only reply he needed. Your expression looking fuller than it had done in weeks. And then you hummed, eyes closed as you harmonised along to the earth’s song.

a/n: a little wings drabble, our first snippet at seeing the baby boys...which yes I've finally landed on names. Introducing...Rune & Rain <3

wings universe: @minaethrym @megscabinetofcurios @scorpioriesling @dottedhalfnotes

Permanent taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria @writingcroissant @searchingforbucky

[sturnmeovr]

Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader - Plan B

Your white sheets drape loosely around Matt’s waist, daring to fall each time he pumps himself in and out of you at a steady pace, going so deep he teases your cervix each time. Low, raspy grunts escape his lips with every snap of his hips, one hand glued to your waistline, not letting you squirm out from his grip one bit while the other dangerously thumbs at your clit. “Ahh! — Matt,” you croak out, your eyes low from the little ball of pleasure building up in your stomach, “I can’t — Fuck!”

You hadn’t had a senseless hook up in months, you were too focused on work and isolating yourself, you had no time for distractions. You didn’t know how you got in this position – pinned underneath your obnoxiously rude and loud upstairs neighbor whom you’ve hated up until twenty minutes ago when he was forcing his tongue in your mouth and clawing at every article of clothing you had on. 

His blue orbs suck you in much like a heavy current. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he stares down at you with a gruff expression sewn deep into his face. He was so focused on making those sweet, sacred moans roll off the tip of your tongue, he almost failed to respond. Too busy fucking you into a mindless state, studying the way your face contorted in pleasure with each thrust. It was all due to him. His mouth gapes open as your eyes roll back, "all that — Mph! — shit you were talking," he manages to get out all while plowing into your sopping cunt, "now you can't — take it, huh?"

Wetness drips from your arousal at the sound of his voice, so deep and husky like he had been holding back his groans. Your wet pussy spits out squelching sounds adding to the mixture of your heavenly moans and Matt’s thighs slapping against yours as he rams himself in and out of you. The sex sounds are so satisfying, you both find yourselves leaning in, foreheads pressed together just to watch how his cock glides in and out of your wet cunt with such ease. You look up at Matt, his eyes already fixated on your face, “look at you," he coos before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, "y’almost there for me, sweet girl?”

That euphoric feeling you had been chasing the last twenty minutes finally reaches its boiling point, sending you over the edge and making your legs shake in an uncontrollable manner. A loud mewl erupts from your lungs and your body goes limp, collapsing onto the memory foam bed beneath you as you moan out, “oh my – god!” You cling onto the bedsheets for dear life, digging your nails deep as he fucks your thru your orgasm, his thumb still working tight circles around your small bundle of nerves.

“Fuckk — y’pussy squeezing me so tight,” he drags out, his eyes clenching shut as your walls convulse around his thick shaft, the feeling becoming too much for him to handle. Matt gives you one final thrust, burying his cock so deep, your entrance sits around the base of him as he spills his full load into you, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum he shoots out. As much as he’d love to stay buried as deep as he could be in the best pussy he’s ever had, the realization quickly sweeps over his mind. Not only did he have his bitchy downstairs neighbor that he couldn’t fucking stand under his complete control, cumming so hard on his cock she was shaking, but he just came in her. He fucking came in her.

Matt tries not to let the awkward silence take over the mood. Letting exhaustion take over his body, he collapses on top of you. Your heart thumps in your chest as he presses a light sloppy kiss to your collarbone, almost like it's an apology. “Fuck, sorry. I’ll uh –,” he breathes out, his nostrils flaring in an attempt to catch his breath, “I’ll insta cart plan b.”

Meanwhile, all you could think about was his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the silky, freshly washed bed sheets below you. That asshole better buy you a plan b.

Introducing Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader

wc - 713

♡‧₊˚ New au incoming 🫣👀 ofc im still doing babydaddy!Chris, just miss writing about Matt 🥰 Let me know what you guys think?! Also want to say thank you @sweetshuga, @strnilolover & @chrislilcumslvt for their second opinions. This probably would've sat in my drafts forever if it wasn't for them lol

Posting the intro next!

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @sweetshuga @loveparqdise @emely9274 @frickin-bats @delusional-4-fake-people @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @thepubeburgler @shadowthesim @immy08 @trevorsgodmother @watercolorskyy @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @luvr4miya @strnilolover

© M00NL1GHTS1VT - please do noy copy my work

[suksatoru]

birthday baby; t. todoroki

touya is visiting home after his family decides to celebrate his twenty fifth birthday together at the todoroki household. maybe years ago, he would've debated on even making an appearance at all. but now he has you, his favorite girl right by his side to make the entire ordeal bearable and so much better.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FUCKING HUSBAND!! i love youuu touya. somewhere in another universe i am actively baking a cake and waiting for u to come home. touya has tattoos instead of scars + he's rocking the black hair because he's an icon. reader and touya have an established relationship. and he mayyyy be a dad. heh. enjoy loves!

word count: 3k

"touya,"

touya mutters something under his breath, tugging at the black collared shirt around his neck in irritation. his brows are furrowed, dark hair flopping over his forehead as he pushes the bangs back with a huff. he turns to you, praying you don't catch the nervousness in his expression.

"i'm fine, baby." he mutters, pushing a single finger into the collar of his shirt and loosening the constricting fabric. his eyes are a blur as his gaze snaps towards yours in an instant—and he holds up his hand, splaying all five fingers out before curling his knuckles into a fist.

"never mind. why don't we just stay in the car? we can get some takeout for us, no need to go inside." he deflates, slumping in his seat a bit as you smile softly at him. touya's nervous. you can tell by the way he taps his index finger against his knee, craning his neck to look out the car window and towards the sacred todoroki household looming outside.

you reach forward and tuck a fallen lock of hair behind his ear, before your hand falls onto his shoulder blades to massage the tensed muscles gently. you nudge his chin towards yours, and he begrudgingly meets your gaze. there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes—something out of the ordinary simmering under his usual cool and collected facade. he covers the hand of yours cradling his cheek with his own, pressing his lips together into a firm line.

"you know, your mom told me she was making your favorite for dinner. plus, we drove—how many hours, two for this? i'm surprised she was so good the whole drive." you smile, glancing into the backseat at the small bundle of white hair that was visible from your spot. a pair of adorably dinosaur socked feet kick back and forth expectedly. your baby babbles quietly to herself in her car seat, blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she drools into her fist.

touya takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as his eyes stay glued onto her. he unbuckles his seat belt slowly, turning to you with a frown.

"one of you will stay with me the whole time, yeah? i'll be fine then..." he trails off, frowning as he places his palm flat against the back of his neck in thought. you nod reassuringly, your soft promises and support prompting him to get out of the car. he groans as the sun hits his face, a grin finding its way to his lips when he hears you laugh at him.

"come on, princess." touya mutters, offering the baby in front of him a slanted smirk when she squeals with excitement—recognizing her father's face after such a long drive as he takes her out of the car. she reaches out, immediately fisting touya's shirt and snuggling into him as he lets out a huff.

"yeah, yeah. you better be on your best behavior, you got that? i don't wanna see you chewing on a damn thing that isn't edible. or else there will be consequences."

your baby babbles nonsense in response, squinting her eyes with childish excitement and not understanding a single word that comes out of touya's mouth as you all begin the short walk from the driveway to the front door.

touya shifts her so he can cradle her entire form in one arm. he uses his free hand to reach out for you, quickly grabbing your hand with a silent sigh as you intertwine your fingers. you turn towards him, and after placing a kiss onto your baby's cheek—you peer up at him with a grin. he tries to smile back—but it feels more like a grimace.

"ready?"

he nods, taking a deep breath as his grip on the baby in his arms tightens just the slightest bit. he can hear the wave of voices on the other side of the door—natsuo, fuyumi, shoto, mom—he hadn't seen them in months.

these family gatherings always made touya nervous. he's painfully aware he's the black sheep in his family—with his raven hair and inked skin, one that crawled around and over his limbs, coating the majority of his body in beautifully intricate designs. he did anything but fit in. he was also the only one who'd moved out—albeit when he was sixteen—but even though he and his family reconciled, he hadn't taken the step to move back in.

and he wouldn't. he had his own family to look after now.

he glances down at his hand, admiring the name y/n sketched in cursive on his ring finger. he can hear the footsteps approach the doorway now, and he makes a silent reminder to get your daughters name tattooed onto his pinky at some point. you'd like that—it'd be cute.

"touya nii! y/n chan! mom, they're here!"

the next hour is a flurry of hugs and loads of chatter. touya feels dizzy after greeting everyone, getting far too many kisses pressed onto his face than he'd like. it was only his siblings and mother home, no other party goers. but he was still overwhelmed. he stalks over to the living room, cradling your baby to his chest and settling onto the couches in the living room with an exhausted sigh.

"we gotta ditch 'em all, princess. look at mama—she's already getting comfy." touya grumbles to your baby, watching you and fuyumi make your way to the living room where touya was hiding relaxing with your baby.

"touya nii—y/n tells me d/n is learning how to walk!" fuyumi beams, tickling the baby's cheek as she coos quietly. touya shrugs, keeping a hand on her small back to help her sit upright. your baby would be turning two soon—time was flying by fast.

"yeah, i guess." he mumbles, frowning as he moves to peer down at the little girl in his arms. she peers back, round eyes watching him before she eventually crawls out of his lap and into fuyumi's. touya slumps into the cushions of the couch, eying you from where you sat across the couch and were too absorbed in a conversation to notice his stare

you're speaking with natsuo—eyes bright and animated as you talk, probably about something stupid touya did since his brother was laughing so damn loud—but he can't stop his lips from twitching upwards at the sight.

"nii-san,"

shoto poked touya's side as he settled into the open spot beside him. touya stiffens and with a loud sigh, he turns away from you and natsuo to meet his little brother's gaze. touya eyes shoto wearily for a few moments, before shoto takes the hint and starts talking

"i just wanted say that i'm really glad you came. and—thank you for bringing d/n. she looks a lot like y/n chan now."

touya is silent for a moment. he's staring into shoto's soul—and the younger boy tries not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. something shifts in his demeanor, and with a groan—touya wraps an arm around shoto's shoulder and pulls him into his side, offering the boy a deathly tight hug as he ruffles his hair. shoto's smile is wobbly and the hug was unexpected, but he leans into touya's warmth anyways.

"don't thank me like i'm some sort of a guest here. remember, my bedroom is still right down the hall, you brat. now—tell me what flavor cake mom made for me."

shoto spends the majority of the evening right beside touya. he asks questions every now and then about d/n, watching her chew on all sorts of things that clearly weren't food. babies are interesting, is what he'd said as he watched touya chase your baby—but she's a fast crawler, maneuvering under tables and giggling evilly as she carries the tv remote around the house with her mouth.

"she's teething," you say with a soft laugh as you hear touya yell "put that down!" from somewhere across the house. shoto nods quietly as the two of you watch touya make a fool of himself and get outrun—or out crawled—by a two year old.

"y/n," shoto finally speaks up quietly as you hum in acknowledgment. he turns to you, his voice almost nervous as he speaks quietly

"i have a gift for touya nii, but i don't think he's going to like it."

you frown at shoto's words, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you usher him closer. he moves quickly, grateful for your comfort.

"why would you say that shoto? what did you get him? whatever it is—if it's from you, i'm sure he'll like it." you say, squeezing his shoulder as shoto glances at you wearily

"i don't know. i think...i made a mistake. i should've gotten him a better gift. it's really bad." he confesses, a rare show of light blush coating his cheeks as you smile

"do you want to—"

"it's gift time!"

rei enters the room with a warm smile as she carries her own wrapped presents for touya and sets them down on the living room table. natsuo and fuyumi quickly rush out to go grab their gifts, and probably to call touya back to the living room, while shoto frowns.

"it's all right, shoto. trust me, you're a thoughtful boy and i'm sure you're not giving your present the credit it deserves! touya doesn't care for expensive things, if that's what you're worried about." you say with a gentle smile that manages to soothe a few of his nerves. eventually everyone is back in the living room—d/n in your lap now as touya sits on the ground, a party hat on his head and a paper party blower hanging from his lips.

rei spoiled him with gifts that would always remind touya of his family. knitted blankets, because he falls asleep anywhere. matching gloves for all three of you to wear, because she doesn't want her babies to catch a cold, and a thin gold bracelet with the name todoroki engraved into the back. there's seven hearts engraved on the other side—each one representing one of the people sitting around touya and, of course, himself.

natsuo's gifts included a new pocket knife for touya, dark and gleaming, a new motorcycle helmet, and some new picks for touya's guitar. the guitar picks seemed to be his favorite—they fit between touya's fingers nicely, and he grinned sharply at his newest friends. fuyumi had her kindergarten students make birthday cards for touya—and he spent a while cackling at their terrible writing and absurd drawings. she got him a pair of sunglasses she'd seen him eying on his phone the last time he'd visited, and a mug with the cheesy slogan "best dad ever!" printed on it.

your gift for touya was a handmade picture book. one with polaroids dating back to when you'd first started dating—pictures he'd thought you must have thrown away.

touya was nothing but a heartthrob in high school—all the pictures from his early years consisted of his smudged eyeshadow and silver piercings. your face was sprinkled into some of the pictures, too. but any picture you were in meant touya wasn't looking at the camera as it flashed, because he was looking at you.

the last pages consisted of more recent photos that included his siblings and your daughter. every single page had hand written notes and doodles from you, and touya struggles to not let the waterworks start as he traces the outline of your face on the page.

"you're such a loser for keeping all of these pictures of me, baby." he croaks, laughing as he closes the book—reaching over to place a gentle kiss onto your lips before he dips down and places another onto the little baby in your arms.

shoto watches touya nervously, fingers tightening over his present as he sighs quietly. he only had one gift—and he'd spent so much time on it that he hadn't even thought about getting touya anything else. he was too busy trying to make touya's gift perfect...which hadn't exactly worked, either.

"you," touya suddenly announces, pointing an accusing finger in shoto's direction with a predatory grin on his face that had poor shoto wincing as he swayed in his spot. he was the last person in the room to give touya his gift.

"happy birthday, touya nii," shoto rushes out in a quick breath, practically shoving the gift into touya's hands like it was too hot for him to hold as touya moves back in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion as everyone around him leans forward—curious to see the gift shoto had given.

silence. shoto swears he can hear his own blinking as even the baby looks at the gift curiously, wondering what it was.

it's a clay sculpture. it looks like two people. one with an explosion of black hair and another with half red—half white hair. they're holding hands, cheesy grins painted poorly onto both of them.

the black haired figure, touya, has ginormous eyes—big bright and blue and a little terrifying. and his head was shaped oddly—not as oddly as shoto's head, though. which seemed more like a square than a circle. touya swallows down his laughter, turning over the sculpture in his hand and glancing at the bottom of it where shoto's wobbly signature is.

clearly, art was not shoto's strong suit.

"wow..."

shoto's face is pink with embarrassment, and no one says a thing as touya silently stares at his gift—taking in every detail.

"i thought y/n was the real loser, but you must have really wanted first place with this, sho."

and for a second, shoto thinks touya doesn't like his gift. but he cradles it carefully as he reaches out and punches shoto's shoulder, offering him a cackle as he ruffles his hair—normally, shoto would smack touya's hand and duck away, but he grins widely—pleasantly surprised that touya liked his gift as he allows him to mess up his neatly kept hair.

"thanks, sho. i like it. a lot." he says a fraction softer, and shoto quickly nods his head. everyone passes around shoto's sculpture, giggling and praising shoto for trying his best. shoto's smiling regardless, because touya had liked his gift—that was all that mattered to him.

and then it's cake time; touya is seated on the ground and everyone huddles around him as natsuo brings the cake from the kitchen. touya's eyes and d/n's glimmer with glee at the sight of it—there was delicate wisps of frosting all over, velvety cream coating the layers as touya lights the candle with a simple snap, a string of fire connecting his finger to the candle as the blue flame twinkles to life.

you straighten the birthday hat on touya's head as everyone begins singing happy birthday, and his cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling too much. he blows out the candle—watching the fire fade to smoke before a flash goes off. he blinks quickly with surprise, rolling his eyes with a smile when he realizes you'd taken a polaroid picture of him.

"handsome," you murmur as you press a kiss onto his cheek. he tugs you forward and feeds everyone around him a bite. he yelps when d/n bites down fast and hard—she probably would've taken his fingers off if she actually had any teeth. she sends touya a gummy smile, opening her mouth for another bite of the sugary sweet cake as touya complies with a laugh.

after cake is dinner, and after dinner is movie night. after that, touya decides he wants to stay the night.

he had old pajamas in his room for you and him to wear, and rei had plenty of d/n's things stocked up. it's nearing midnight when you finally get your baby to sleep, and she lays on the middle of touya's old bed and snores softly, drool dribbling down her chin as she kicks her feet periodically—far enough into dreamland where you can leave the room and seek out touya.

he sits outside on the front steps of the house, the knitted blanket his mother gave him draped loosely over his shoulders as he stares up at the stars. his face is devoid of any emotion, at quiet and serene peace as he listens to the sound of the distant river flowing and animals in the nearby forest.

he smiles when he hears the door open, already knowing it was you on the other side. he stretches out an arm wordlessly, holding out the blanket with it and ushering you into the spot next to him as he cocked his head.

you plant yourself right beside him, and he wraps the blanket around both of you before resting his cheek on top of your head. he watches a rabbit paw its way through the grass quietly, settling down on a green patch in the front lawn before slowly drifting off to sleep.

"did you have a good day?" you question, and touya hums in reply. his arms tighten around you before he presses a kiss onto the crown of your head, admiring the way your face fits against the curve of his shoulder so perfectly.

"yeah," he says softly. he's silent for another moment, bouncing his knee in thought before speaking up again in a clearer voice.

"the best. d/n likes it here...we should come more often. if you want—that is." he quickly adds as you lift your head from his shoulder, a look of surprise on your face at touya's words.

touya's relationship with his family hadn't been the best. before you, he'd dissapear for months and pop in every now and then just to let them know he was alive. trying to keep in touch with him was impossible—touya was always busy wandering to pay much attention to how badly his siblings and mother wanted him around.

but, after he "accidentally" got you pregnant, there was only so much more time he had left to avoid his family. in a way, you were the invisible string that tethered him back to his roots. grounding him and finally allowing him to feel at home again

"i love you." he says softly, smiling when he feels your hands reach forward to hold his.

"i love you too. happy birthday, touya."

a/n; happy birthday touya!! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- btw he proposes to reader like 3 months after this and your baby is the flower girl at the wedding. imagine her wobbling down the aisle and everything in a cute lil dress heh. anywho!! dad touya is everything to me <3

[moonselune]

You're like one of my FWVEEEE authors!! And I'm so excited to see ur RQ's are open, because I've wanted to rq this for a bit.

Maybe surprising the boys, after you've given birth, with the babies name being something meaningful to them? Or something they wanted but didn't say anything bc they would assume you didn't like it. My sister recently did that with her husband, and I just am obsessed w the idea. Like, maybe with Wyll naming your daughter Francesca, after his mother? And Ulder hearing that? UGH I'm very sentimental lately.

ahhhh thank you so much !!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The quiet of the early morning hours in the tower felt almost sacred as you cradled your newborn in your arms. You had just returned to the tower after a long and exhausting labor, and Gale had been nothing short of a perfect partner, by your side for every moment, but you had made sure to keep one small, precious detail to yourself until now.

Your eyes drifted to where Gale sat near the hearth, engrossed in the flames that flickered softly in the fireplace. His expression was contemplative, lost in thoughts that you couldn’t quite read. He had been gentle and supportive throughout the entire pregnancy, but there was something he had held back—a hesitation you had sensed but never pushed him to express. You knew it had something to do with the baby's name. You suspected that he had a name in mind but hadn’t spoken it, perhaps because he thought you wouldn’t share the sentiment.

As you rocked your baby gently, you decided it was time to reveal the surprise you'd been holding onto for these precious first few hours. With a quiet sigh, you stood, cradling your newborn in your arms as you approached Gale. The soft glow of the fire illuminated his face, and he looked up as you neared, his expression instantly softening at the sight of you and the baby.

“She’s finally asleep?” Gale asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper, as though he didn’t want to break the serene quiet that enveloped the room.

You nodded, sitting down beside him, the weight of the baby still comfortably nestled in your arms. Gale leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss on your temple before glancing down at the tiny bundle. His eyes shimmered with pride and awe, as they always did whenever he looked at your child.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you murmured, your voice tender as you watched Gale’s expression shift to one of mild curiosity.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, concern flashing briefly across his face. “Is everything alright?”

You smiled at the worry in his voice and reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Everything is perfect. I just wanted to tell you her name."

Gale blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you hadn’t yet shared the baby’s name. He had been patient, never once pressing you on the subject, but you had seen the way his gaze had lingered on your daughter with a quiet longing.

“I know we talked about a few names,” you continued, your voice soft as you leaned in closer. "But there's one name I think is perfect. And I know it’s a name that means a lot to you."

Gale's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable, as though he was afraid to hope for what he thought you might say.

His eyes searched yours, filled with unspoken emotion. "What… what name?"

You smiled gently, your heart swelling with love for both Gale and the tiny life you had created together.

"Her name is Morena," you whispered, the name falling from your lips like a promise. "Mora, for short."

For a brief moment, Gale just stared at you, his expression frozen in shock. The name—his mother’s name—hung in the air between you, filling the room with its quiet significance. You could see the emotions flickering in his eyes: disbelief, joy, and a deep, aching sense of gratitude.

"Morena," he repeated softly, almost as if testing the sound of it on his tongue. His voice cracked ever so slightly, and you saw the shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes. "You… you named her after my mother?"

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently. "I know you never asked. I could feel how much you wanted it, but you never said anything because you didn’t want to push me. But Gale… the name is beautiful. And I want our daughter to have something meaningful to you. Something that connects her to the part of you that’s shaped who you are."

Gale let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as the weight of your words sank in. His free hand reached up to wipe at his eyes, and when he looked back at you, there was such overwhelming love and appreciation in his gaze that it nearly took your breath away.

“You…” Gale began, but his voice faltered. He swallowed hard and tried again. “You don’t know what this means to me. I… I never thought you’d want that. But… Morena, Mora.” His voice broke again, but this time with joy. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.”

He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing the soft blanket that swaddled the baby. Mora stirred slightly, her tiny face scrunching for a moment before relaxing again. Gale’s breath hitched as he looked down at her, his daughter, named after the woman who had given him life and shaped so much of the man he had become.

"I hope she’s as strong and as kind as your mother is," you said softly, watching as Gale gently stroked Mora's cheek with the back of his hand. "And I know that she’ll be loved just as fiercely."

Gale exhaled shakily, his eyes never leaving your daughter as he spoke.

"She will be," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll make sure of it. And you… you’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his touch full of reverence and gratitude. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, but his smile was full of warmth and love.

"Thank you," Gale whispered, his voice barely audible as he looked at you, his heart clearly overwhelmed. "Thank you for giving her this name. For giving me this family."

You rested your head on his shoulder, watching as Gale’s gaze returned to your daughter, his fingers gently tracing her tiny hand as she slept soundly in your arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the stone walls of your shared room, casting long shadows as you sat by the fire, cradling your newborn in your arms. The long and arduous process of giving birth had taken its toll on you, but the sight of your baby’s peaceful face nestled against your chest filled you with a joy so deep that the exhaustion seemed to melt away.

Astarion had been supportive throughout the pregnancy, doting on you in ways you never imagined he would, but ever since the birth, he had become quieter, more reserved, as if he wasn’t sure how to step into this new role. He had gone out earlier that evening, likely to clear his head, as he often did when faced with unfamiliar emotions. You hadn’t pressed him, understanding that this was a profound change for him, one he likely never expected to experience.

Now, with your baby in your arms, a surprise lay in wait for him. You had chosen a name—a name that held deep meaning, not just for you, but for him. A name that would connect him to this new life in a way you hoped would touch the very core of who he was.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. Astarion stepped into the room, his pale skin catching the firelight, making him look even more ethereal. His red eyes found you immediately, softening as he approached, though there was still that cautious distance he had kept since the baby’s arrival.

He was hesitant, not out of disinterest, but out of fear—fear of this new chapter, of his own ability to be what you and the baby needed him to be. You smiled warmly at him, your heart swelling with love.

“Astarion,” you called softly, beckoning him closer.

He approached cautiously, his eyes drifting to the small bundle in your arms, and you saw the flicker of something vulnerable cross his face. His hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out, but he held back, unsure of how to move forward.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Astarion said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I… I’m not quite sure what to do in all of this.”

You shifted slightly, making room for him beside you. “You’re not intruding. You’re her father. Come sit with us.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly at the word father, but after a brief hesitation, he sat beside you, careful and measured in his movements. His gaze flickered from you to the baby, then back again, his usual confidence overshadowed by a nervous vulnerability that you had rarely seen in him.

"She’s so tiny," he whispered, almost in awe. "So… fragile."

You nodded, adjusting the baby gently so Astarion could get a better look at her. “She’s strong, though. Like her father.”

Astarion gave a soft, breathless chuckle, though it was clear he was still overwhelmed by the reality before him. "I’m not sure I deserve that comparison."

You reached out, gently taking his hand and placing it on the baby’s back, encouraging him to feel the steady warmth of her little body. He flinched slightly at the contact but quickly relaxed, his expression softening as he felt the tiny life beneath his palm. The look of wonder in his eyes made your heart swell.

“I named her,” you whispered, watching his reaction carefully.

His gaze snapped to yours, a flicker of curiosity and trepidation in his eyes. “Oh? What name did you choose?”

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness at the surprise you were about to reveal. “Her name is Astra.”

Astarion blinked, his face momentarily blank as he processed the name. Then, slowly, realization dawned on him, and his red eyes widened in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, his breath catching in his throat as the meaning behind the name sank in.

“Astra?” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “You… named her Astra?”

You nodded, smiling at him with all the love you felt. “Yes. Astra, the female version of your name. I wanted her to carry a part of you with her, always. I know how much your name means to you—how it’s the one thing that’s truly yours after everything you’ve been through. I wanted to give you something else, something between just you and her.”

Astarion’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, he seemed utterly speechless. His gaze dropped to the tiny baby in your arms—his daughter—and the depth of emotion in his expression took your breath away. His hand, which had been resting so gently on her back, now trembled slightly, as though the weight of what you had done was almost too much for him to bear.

“You named her after me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never… I never imagined…”

He trailed off, his usual eloquence failing him as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes shimmered with a vulnerability that was rare for him to show, and you could see the mix of awe, disbelief, and gratitude that swirled within him.

“Astarion,” you said softly, leaning in closer. “I wanted her to know where she came from. Who her father is. And I wanted you to know how much you mean to both of us.”

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, and Astarion quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand, as though embarrassed by the show of emotion. But when he looked back at you, his face was alight with something that could only be described as love—a deep, profound love that he rarely allowed himself to express so openly. He leaned in, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You never cease to amaze me, you know that?" he whispered, his voice still thick with emotion.

When he pulled back, he looked down at Astra again, and a soft smile spread across his face—a smile that was filled with a mixture of pride and wonder. He gently traced a finger along the baby's tiny hand, and when her fingers instinctively curled around his, he let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"She’s perfect," Astarion said, his voice filled with awe. "Absolutely perfect."

You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body beside yours, and together, the two of you watched over your daughter, named in honor of a man who had been through so much yet had found love and light in the most unexpected of places.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, casting a warm amber glow through the windows of your shared room. You sat by the window, gently rocking the newborn in your arms, her small body bundled up in soft blankets as she slept peacefully. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion and exhaustion, but every time you looked down at your daughter, you were filled with a deep sense of love and pride.

Wyll had been nothing short of incredible during the birth—strong, reassuring, and steadfast, even when it seemed the weight of his emotions might overwhelm him. But despite his joy, you had sensed a subtle hesitation in him when it came to naming your child. He’d mentioned nothing specific, always deferring to your wishes, but you knew there was a name that held deep meaning for him, a name he hadn’t suggested because he didn’t want to push his own desires onto you.

You had been planning this surprise ever since you realized what name would mean the most to him. And tonight, after all the love and sacrifice he had shown, you were finally going to give him that gift.

The door creaked open, and Wyll stepped inside, his posture weary but his face lighting up when he saw you with the baby. His dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and adoration. He had spent the day attending to his responsibilities, making sure the city was safe and handling the myriad of duties that came with being the Blade of Frontiers. But now, here in the quiet of your home, he was just Wyll, your Wyll.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, approaching you with a tender smile. “How are my two favorite ladies doing?”

“We’re doing well,” you replied with a soft chuckle. “She’s been sleeping soundly.”

Wyll knelt beside you, his eyes fixed on your daughter. His expression was filled with awe every time he looked at her, as if he still couldn’t quite believe she was real, that she was his. Gently, he reached out, brushing a thumb along the baby’s tiny cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” Wyll whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “Just like her mother.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. He had been so patient, so selfless, never once pressing his own hopes or desires. And now, you were ready to surprise him with something you knew would touch his heart in a way that nothing else could.

“I’ve been thinking about her name,” you said softly, watching as Wyll’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “And I’ve decided.”

Wyll’s eyebrows raised slightly, his face a picture of attentive concern, but also restraint. “Oh? Have you? I know it’s been a difficult decision, and I didn’t want to rush you.”

You held his gaze, feeling the love you had for him radiating in every word you were about to speak. “I’ve named her Francesca.”

For a moment, Wyll didn’t react. It was as if the name hung in the air, sinking into him slowly, its meaning unravelling. His eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. He stared at you, his expression a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

“Francesca…” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “After my mother?”

You nodded, your smile soft and loving. “Yes. I know you never mentioned it because you didn’t want to sway me, but I’ve seen the way you talk about her. I’ve heard the love in your voice every time you’ve told me stories about her, that your father passed down to you. I wanted to honor that, and I wanted our daughter to carry that legacy with her.”

Wyll blinked rapidly, as though trying to hold back the sudden rush of tears. He stood up slowly, his hand coming to rest over his mouth as he turned away for a moment, struggling to compose himself. When he finally turned back to you, his eyes were filled with tears, but there was a smile on his face—a smile so full of love and gratitude that it made your heart ache.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Wyll whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I never expected… I never thought…”

He knelt beside you again, this time more tenderly, as if the weight of your gift had overwhelmed him. Gently, he reached out and touched his daughter’s tiny hand, watching as her fingers instinctively curled around his. His tears finally spilled over, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he looked at you, his eyes shining with gratitude.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion, “I will be the best father to Francesca. I will make sure she knows who her grandmother was, and I will teach her everything my mother taught me. I will protect her, love her, and cherish her, just like you’ve done for me.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know you will, Wyll. I never had any doubt.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat there, watching your daughter sleep, the room filled with the quiet warmth of your love and the promise of the future you would build together. Wyll wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he whispered into your ear.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Thank you for giving me this gift. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

The next morning, a warm breeze filled the air as you and Wyll prepared to visit Ulder Ravengard, Wyll’s father, with your newborn daughter. The weight of the decision you had made—the name that carried such profound significance—still lingered between you both like a quiet, shared secret. Wyll had held you close the night before, murmuring his love and endless gratitude. Now, it was time to share that gift with his father, a man whose stoic exterior hid the deep love and pain of having lost his wife, Francesca, so many years ago.

As you dressed your daughter in a soft blanket, Wyll stood by, watching with tender pride. His hands trembled slightly as he straightened the collar of his tunic, clearly nervous about the conversation ahead. He hadn't told his father yet. No one knew of the decision except the two of you.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his voice filled with love as he gazed down at you and your daughter. "Both of you."

You smiled up at him, sensing his anxiety. "She’s going to love hearing her grandfather’s voice. And she’s already wrapped around her father's little finger."

Wyll let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll have me wrapped around hers in no time."

With your daughter safely bundled in your arms, the three of you made your way through Baldur's Gate. The city was bustling with activity, the markets alive with voices and the scent of fresh bread filling the air. Wyll walked close beside you, his hand occasionally brushing your back in a quiet gesture of reassurance. You could feel the weight of the moment in his silence.

When you finally arrived at Ulder Ravengard's estate, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the grand stone steps. A guard greeted you and led you inside, where Ulder sat at a large, intricately carved table, maps and documents spread out before him. He looked up when you entered, his stern face softening slightly at the sight of Wyll and the baby in your arms.

"Father," Wyll greeted him, his voice steady but filled with something deeper—something reverent. He reached out, shaking his father’s hand before glancing nervously at you and the baby. "We wanted to come by and… introduce you to your granddaughter."

Ulder’s gaze shifted to you, and then down to the small bundle in your arms. His brow furrowed slightly, his usual unreadable expression slipping into something more curious. He rose from his chair, approaching slowly, almost cautiously.

"She’s beautiful," Ulder said quietly, his deep voice rough around the edges. "You must be proud."

"We are," Wyll replied, his voice tight with emotion. He cleared his throat, glancing at you before continuing. "There’s… something important we wanted to tell you."

You stepped forward, offering your daughter to Ulder. He hesitated for a brief moment before gently taking her into his arms, his hands surprisingly tender for someone so often defined by duty and discipline. He looked down at her, a soft light filling his eyes that you hadn’t expected to see in a man as hardened by war and loss as Ulder Ravengard.

"Father," Wyll began, his voice steady but thick with meaning, "we’ve named her Francesca."

The name hung in the air for a long moment, sinking into the room like a warm, bittersweet weight. Ulder’s hands froze as he held his granddaughter, his gaze locked on her small, sleeping face. His expression was one of shock, disbelief, and something much deeper—a pain that had never quite healed, a loss that had never truly faded.

"Francesca…" he whispered, his voice so low you could barely hear it.

Wyll stepped closer to his father, his hand resting gently on the older man’s shoulder. "We named her after Mother. We wanted to honor her memory, and… we thought it was the right way to keep her close to us, through our daughter."

Ulder’s eyes grew wet with unshed tears, his grip tightening slightly around the baby as though she were the most fragile thing in the world. He looked up at you, his gaze soft but filled with unspoken emotion, before turning his attention back to Wyll.

"I… I don’t know what to say," Ulder admitted, his voice thick with emotion. His usual stoic demeanor had cracked, revealing a depth of feeling that rarely surfaced. "It’s been so many years since…"

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. You could see the memories swirling in his mind, the image of his beloved wife, Francesca, whom he had lost far too soon, a loss that had left a permanent scar on both father and son. But now, here she was again, in a way—in the form of this tiny life, this new beginning.

Ulder blinked rapidly, as if trying to force back the tears that threatened to spill over. He looked down at his granddaughter again, his large hands cradling her gently as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you both."

For a long moment, Ulder simply stood there, holding his granddaughter with a tenderness you hadn’t expected to see in him. He was a man of war, a leader, but in this moment, he was just a father and a grandfather—grateful for the chance to remember and honor the woman he had lost so many years ago.

Finally, Ulder handed the baby back to you, his eyes filled with something deeper than gratitude.

"Francesca," he repeated, his voice stronger now. "She will grow up knowing who her grandmother was. I will make sure of it."

Wyll nodded, his eyes shining with emotion as he looked at his father. "Thank you, Father."

As you held your daughter close, you couldn’t help but feel the depth of what you had given Wyll, and by extension, his father—a piece of Francesca’s memory that would live on, carried forward into the future. Wyll wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you both watched Ulder wipe away the last traces of his tears.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The soft murmur of the forest outside your home was a constant, soothing presence as you gently rocked your newborn in your arms. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm golden glow over the room. You sat by the open window, the scent of pine and fresh earth drifting in, mingling with the soft coos of your daughter. The world felt at peace in this moment, and your heart swelled with love for the tiny life you now held in your arms.

Halsin had been an incredible partner throughout your pregnancy. His calm, reassuring presence had been your anchor, his strength your shelter, but also his tenderness, that unshakable connection to nature, was ever-present. Now that your daughter was here, he had been even more attentive—both in caring for you and in gently bonding with your newborn. His large hands, capable of such strength, were so gentle with her, cradling her as if she were the most delicate thing in the world.

But even with all his devotion, you had noticed something in him over the past few days. A slight hesitation, as though something was on his mind that he didn’t want to burden you with. It was subtle—Halsin was never one to impose his feelings on you—but you could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at your daughter, a fleeting glance of something unsaid. You had a suspicion about what it was, but you had waited for the perfect moment to surprise him.

That moment had come.

The door creaked softly, and you looked up to see Halsin entering the room, his presence filling the space as always. His expression immediately softened when he saw you holding your daughter, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He approached quietly, as though not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere you had created.

"How are my two loves?" he asked, his deep voice as warm as the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"We're perfect," you replied, smiling up at him. "Just enjoying the quiet and some time together."

Halsin knelt down beside you, his large hand resting on the arm of your chair as he gazed down at your daughter with an expression so full of love it made your heart ache. He gently reached out to stroke her tiny head, his fingers brushing through the soft tufts of hair.

"She is perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "Every time I see her, I am reminded of how precious life is… and how much I have to be thankful for."

You watched him closely, seeing that flicker of something unsaid in his eyes again. It was time to give him the surprise you had been waiting to share.

"I've been thinking about her name," you said softly, catching his attention. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his expression attentive but patient.

"Of course," Halsin replied, a gentle curiosity in his tone. "It is important to choose a name that carries meaning, one that honors the spirit of life she represents."

You smiled, your heart racing a little in anticipation. "I’ve already chosen it. I’ve named her Thania."

For a brief moment, Halsin froze, his expression one of pure shock. His lips parted slightly, and his golden eyes widened as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. He stared at you in stunned silence, as though trying to process the weight of the name you had just spoken.

"Thania?" he finally whispered, his voice so soft it was almost a breath. His hand stilled over your daughter’s head, trembling ever so slightly. "After Thaniel?"

You nodded, your smile tender and full of love. "Yes. I know how much he means to you. Thaniel was a part of your life in such a profound way, and I wanted to honor that. So, I thought… what better way to honor the bond you had with him than to give our daughter a name that reflects that connection to nature and life?"

Halsin stared at you, his chest rising and falling as emotion swirled within him. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the joy, the disbelief, the overwhelming gratitude that he struggled to put into words. His hand moved to cover yours, his grip firm but tender as if grounding himself in the moment.

"I…" His voice caught in his throat, and he paused, taking a breath to steady himself. "You’ve given her a name that is sacred to me. Thaniel was not just a spirit of the land… he was a part of my soul, a symbol of everything I fought for, everything I believe in. To name her after him… it is more than I ever could have asked for."

Tears welled in his eyes, though he did nothing to hide them. His usual composure was shattered by the depth of his gratitude and love. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his breath warm and shaky.

"Thank you," Halsin whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for this gift. You have honored not just me, but the land itself, the spirit of life. She will grow up knowing the importance of that connection."

You felt your own tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his touch. "She’ll know, Halsin. We’ll teach her together."

Halsin pulled back slightly, his eyes shining with unshed tears, but his smile was radiant. He turned his attention to your daughter once more, gently taking her tiny hand in his and brushing it with his thumb.

"Thania," he whispered, testing the name on his lips as if savoring it. "You are a child of the earth, of the wilds. You carry a name that is tied to life itself, and you will always know the beauty and strength of the world around you. I will make sure of it."

He gently kissed the top of her head, his touch reverent, before turning back to you. Without a word, he cupped your face in his large hands and kissed you deeply, a kiss full of love, gratitude, and promise. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of nothing but adoration.

"I love you," he whispered. "More than words could ever express. You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible."

You smiled, your heart overflowing with happiness. "I love you too, Halsin. "

For a moment, the three of you sat there in the warmth of the fading sunlight, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the forest. Your daughter, Thania, was nestled between you and Halsin.

Halsin gently cradled his daughter in his arms, looking down at her with a sense of wonder and awe. His voice, soft and full of promise, carried through the room as he whispered to her, "You will grow strong, little one. As strong as the land itself. And I will be by your side, every step of the way."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SO WHOLESOME OMFG; my heart died numerous times whilst writing this. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[novaursa]

Winter's Eve

- Summary: A short story for Christmas Eve.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is Rhaenyra's daughter.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: I'm wishing you all warm and happy Christmas Eve. Be kind to yourself. ❤️

The snow fell thick and silent outside the towering walls of Winterfell, blanketing the world in a hushed stillness that seemed sacred. The air smelled of evergreen and pine resin, mingling with the faint, rich scent of roasted venison wafting through the stone halls. It was Winter’s Eve, the North’s cherished celebration of hearth and kinship, a day to honor the gods for surviving the long night and welcoming the promise of lengthening days.

Candles glowed warmly in every nook of the Great Hall, their light shimmering off the polished swords hung as decorations along the walls. Evergreen boughs and red winterberries adorned the long wooden tables, filling the air with a faint, crisp fragrance. The hall was alive with laughter and song, the kind of revelry that made the cold beyond the walls seem a distant memory.

You stood near the hearth, the massive blaze casting your silver hair in a warm golden glow. Your gown, a deep blood red edged with silver embroidery, stood out amidst the furs and wools of the Northern lords and their families. At your side, Rickon, your stepson, and your eldest daughter, Lyanna, giggled as they shared a slice of honeycake. Your youngest son, Rhaegar, was bundled in your arms, nestled against your chest. His tiny hand reached up to clutch at the strands of your hair, cooing softly.

Cregan entered the hall, a commanding figure even among the gathered lords. His dark hair was windswept, and a light dusting of snow melted on his heavy black cloak. His presence always seemed to fill the room, his deep voice carrying as he greeted his bannermen, clapping hands on shoulders and exchanging hearty laughter.

“Y/N,” he called out as he approached, his grey eyes softening when they found you. “You’ve made the hall shine brighter than the stars themselves.”

“And you’ve brought the winter in with you,” you teased gently, noting the snowflakes still clinging to his beard. “Come here before the children think a bear has wandered in.”

Rickon laughed at that, reaching for his father, who hoisted the boy up onto his shoulder effortlessly. “A bear, is it? Perhaps you should be wary of this bear stealing your mother away.”

Rickon giggled, shaking his head. “Mother would never leave us!”

“Smart boy,” Cregan murmured, ruffling his son’s dark curls before setting him down again.

The merriment paused briefly as Lord Harwyn Manderly, a stout man with a booming laugh, entered the hall carrying a large bundle of fur. He set it down carefully at the edge of the fire, and the bundle shifted, revealing the unmistakable forms of direwolf pups. The room fell into an awed hush.

“Winter’s blessings, Lord Stark,” Manderly said, bowing slightly. “I thought it fitting to bring gifts for your children—a pack for the pack, as it were.”

The pups, four of them, were small but already carried the proud features of their species: thick, shaggy coats, sharp eyes, and strong paws. One was silver-grey, like freshly fallen snow; another was black as night. A third was mottled white and grey, while the fourth was a soft brown, almost tawny.

Rickon was the first to approach, his face alight with wonder. “Are they truly for us?” he asked, glancing at Cregan.

“Aye,” Cregan said, his voice warm with approval. “The North remembers its own. A wolf for each of you.”

You knelt beside Rickon, helping him approach the pups. The black one padded forward and sniffed Rickon’s outstretched hand before nuzzling into it. The boy’s face lit up with joy. “This one’s mine!” he declared, holding the pup carefully.

Lyanna hesitated before stepping closer, her small fingers gripping your gown. You encouraged her gently. “Go on, sweetling. They’re meant to be yours.”

The silver-grey pup seemed to sense her shyness and padded over, wagging its tail. Lyanna giggled as it licked her hand, her bright eyes wide with delight. “I’ll name her Frost,” she whispered, hugging the pup to her chest.

Even little Rhaegar was not left out. Cregan held the mottled pup up for him to see, and the baby cooed, reaching out to touch its soft fur. “He likes you already,” you said softly, marveling at how the wolf seemed to settle instantly in Cregan’s arms, as if knowing it belonged to the smallest Stark.

The brown pup, meanwhile, padded up to you, its head cocked as if studying you. Cregan chuckled. “Seems you have a wolf of your own, my love.”

You reached down to scratch behind its ears, smiling as it leaned into your touch. “Then we’ll call her Ember,” you said. “A wolf to match the fire in our hall.”

The celebration continued late into the night, with the wolves curling at the feet of their new masters and the children’s laughter echoing through the hall. Cregan pulled you close as the night deepened, the warmth of his presence as steady as the roaring fire.

“This,” he said quietly, his voice filled with reverence, “is what Winterfell was always meant to be—a home, filled with life and love.”

You leaned into him, watching your children and their wolves play in the firelight. “And it always will be,” you replied, your voice soft but certain, “as long as we’re together.”

The warmth of the previous night’s celebration still lingered, faint strains of music and laughter echoing in the air as a few lords and ladies, who had stayed the night, stirred slowly in their chambers. Fires crackled in the hearths, and the scent of bread baking in the kitchens mingled with the crisp winter air.

You stirred awake to the sound of muffled giggles and the unmistakable pitter-patter of small feet on the stone floor. It took only a moment to realize that the source of the giggles was your children. Rolling over, you found Cregan still beside you, his arm draped protectively over your waist, his breathing steady and deep in sleep. Smiling softly, you disentangled yourself from him and slipped out of bed, wrapping a fur-lined robe around yourself to shield against the morning chill.

The giggles grew louder as you stepped into the corridor, and you followed them to the courtyard, where Lyanna and Rickon were already bundled in their cloaks, dragging their new direwolf pups along on makeshift leashes fashioned from ribbon. Rhaegar toddled after them, clutching a toy carved from weirwood, while the brown direwolf pup, Ember, kept a watchful eye on him.

The sight brought a smile to your face, but the moment of quiet admiration was short-lived as you noticed what—or rather who—they were approaching.

In the far corner of the courtyard, nestled in the snow, lay your dragon, Balelyx. His massive, silver-scaled form shimmered faintly in the morning light, his great wings tucked tightly against his body to conserve warmth. Wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils as he slept, the ground around him melted into dark slush from the heat of his presence.

“Lyanna Stark!” you called out, striding quickly toward them. Your voice carried a note of warning, and the children froze mid-step, turning to look at you with wide, guilty eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Rickon, always the boldest, spoke up first. “We just wanted to see if the wolves liked dragons.”

“Dragons and wolves don’t always mix well,” you said, softening your tone as you knelt beside them. “Balelyx is still half-asleep, but if you startled him...”

“He wouldn’t hurt us!” Lyanna interrupted, clutching her silver direwolf pup protectively. “He’s your dragon, Mama. He’d know we’re family.”

Your heart softened at her innocent trust, but you still shook your head. “Balelyx is a dragon, my love. He’s not like the wolves. He follows his instincts first and foremost. Come, step back.”

The children reluctantly obeyed, though Rickon glanced longingly at Balelyx’s massive tail, which twitched faintly even in sleep. “Can’t we just sit near him?” he asked. “We promise to be quiet.”

Before you could answer, a deep rumble echoed through the courtyard as Balelyx opened one great, molten eye, focusing immediately on the children. The dragon lifted his head slightly, a plume of smoke curling from his nostrils. For a moment, the children held their breath, but Balelyx only huffed softly, his tail curling protectively around his body as if acknowledging their presence but not perceiving them as a threat.

“See?” Rickon whispered triumphantly. “He likes us.”

You sighed, reaching out to stroke Balelyx’s scaled neck, murmuring softly in High Valyrian. The dragon relaxed under your touch, and you turned to the children. “You may sit nearby, but no loud noises, no sudden movements. And if he so much as growls, you’ll come straight to me. Understood?”

They nodded eagerly, settling onto the snow-covered ground with their pups, who sniffed at the dragon curiously but kept their distance. Balelyx watched them lazily for a moment before lowering his head back onto his forelegs, his eyes half-closing.

The scene might have remained peaceful if not for the arrival of Lord Harwyn Manderly, still dressed in his fine green doublet from the night before. His booming laugh shattered the stillness of the courtyard as he approached, accompanied by a few other Northern lords who had stayed the night.

“Well, well,” Manderly said, clapping his gloved hands together. “It seems the little wolves are braver than most grown men, sitting so near to such a beast.”

“Lord Manderly,” you said, rising to greet him with a polite smile, “Balelyx is no beast. He’s a dragon of Valyria and far smarter than he appears.”

“Smarter, perhaps, but still dangerous,” Manderly countered, though his tone was light. He turned to Cregan, who had appeared in the courtyard as well, his dark hair still tousled from sleep. “What say you, Stark? Shall we make this a Northern tradition—dragons in the snow?”

Cregan chuckled, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene. “I think it’s enough that the children have wolves, Harwyn. Let’s not tempt fate by encouraging them to bond with fire as well.”

The lords laughed, their voices carrying across the courtyard, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth and camaraderie that lingered even after the festivities. Cregan approached you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he gazed down at the children.

“They’ve inherited your boldness,” he murmured, his voice tinged with pride.

“And your stubbornness,” you replied, leaning into him. “We’ll have our hands full with these three.”

“Aye,” he agreed, his tone warm. “But there’s no joy greater than this.”

The morning passed in a blend of lingering celebration and quiet moments like these, the North’s stoic strength softened by the warmth of family and kinship. Winterfell, in all its cold and grandeur, had never felt more alive.

[nickeverdeen]

Best Fort | JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Pairings: JJ x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: With it being cold outside and nothing much to do inside JJ figures a way to make you cheer up again, even if it’s something as silly as a… well, you’ll see

—————

The cold December air seeped into the small cracks of the windows, making the heater in the corner work overtime. You were seated on the couch, bundled in one of JJ’s hoodies, flipping through the channels with little interest. JJ sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, poking at the fire he’d started in the fireplace, the soft glow casting flickering shadows across the room.

“I’m bored,” you finally declared, letting the remote fall onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

JJ turned his head, the flames reflecting in his mischievous blue eyes. “Bored, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, dragging out the word. “It’s too cold to do anything outside, and there’s nothing good on TV.”

JJ stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Alright, Sunshine, if the great outdoors is out of the question…” He trailed off, looking around the room like he was sizing up the possibilities. Then his eyes lit up, that familiar spark of trouble dancing across his face.

“What?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

“Blanket fort,” he said simply.

Your eyebrows shot up. “A blanket fort?”

“Yeah,” he said, already pulling cushions off the couch and tossing them onto the floor. “You know, like when we were kids. Only better. Because now we’re cooler.”

“And because we’re adults, JJ,” you teased.

“Exactly! Adults who can build a fort and stay up as late as we want.” He gave you a pointed look. “Come on, don’t act like it doesn’t sound fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

The next hour was spent in a chaotic blur of laughter, cushions, and mismatched blankets. JJ had no real plan, which meant the “construction” process was a mess. He insisted on using fishing line at one point—“For stability!”—but quickly abandoned the idea when it tangled in his fingers.

You managed to rig a broomstick between two chairs as a support beam, draping blankets over it to create the roof. JJ stole pillows from every room, piling them into the center of the fort like a nest. By the time you finished, the two of you were out of breath, sitting back to admire your work.

“It’s… lopsided,” you said, tilting your head as you examined the fort.

“It’s perfect,” JJ countered, grinning as he flopped onto the floor and crawled inside.

“Only you would call this perfect.”

“Get in here,” he called, ignoring your teasing. “Trust me, it’s cozy.”

With a laugh, you followed him inside. He’d somehow managed to string up a few lights along the walls of the fort, their soft glow making the space feel warm and magical. You settled into the pile of pillows beside him, tugging one of the larger blankets over your legs.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, though your tone was more amused than critical.

JJ leaned back on his elbows, smirking at you. “Yeah, but you’re smiling. So, mission accomplished.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. There was something about being here with him, wrapped up in a tiny, makeshift world, that felt perfect in its own way.

“So, what now?” you asked.

JJ’s grin widened. “Now, we do fort things.”

“Which are?”

He tapped his chin dramatically, pretending to think. “We could make shadow puppets, tell ghost stories, or—” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “We could raid the snack stash.”

You gasped in mock horror. “The sacred snacks? How dare you suggest such a thing!”

JJ laughed, the sound warm and carefree. “Come on, Sunshine. You know you want some.”

It didn’t take much convincing. The two of you emerged briefly to grab an assortment of snacks—chips, candy, and a questionable pack of cookies JJ swore were still good—and retreated back into the fort.

Time blurred after that. You traded stories, teased each other relentlessly, and competed to see who could make the weirdest shadow puppet on the wall. JJ, of course, claimed victory with an unidentifiable blob he insisted was a dragon.

At one point, you leaned back against him, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders. The lights cast a soft glow across his face, highlighting the boyish charm that never seemed to fade, no matter how much life tried to beat it out of him.

“You know,” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, “this might actually be one of your better ideas.”

JJ pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and teasing. “Told you I’m a genius.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “Might be pushing it, Maybank.”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Admit it—you love me.”

“I do,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady.

JJ’s grin softened into something sweeter, his free hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. It was slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that made you forget the world outside even existed.

When he pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The fort creaked slightly in the wind, but neither of you cared. For now, this little world you’d built together was enough.

“Best fort ever,” JJ murmured sleepily.

You smiled, your eyes drifting closed. “Best December night ever.”

[flowerofbenevolence]

Royal Sword Academy Headcanons

Background information (mostly canon):

As it is canon, Royal Sword Academy, also known as RSA, is one of the top two most powerful and famous magic academies in the world of Twisted Wonderland alongside Night Raven College, also known as NRC. It is also sometimes revered as THE MOST powerful, famous, and best magic arcane academy due to having triumphed over Night Raven College in the SpellDrive/Magift Tournaments for nearly a century. It is also known for educating its students to not only be the most excellent of mages, but also the most noble and virtuous of bachelors.

Much like Night Raven College, Royal Sword Academy is an all-boys school. However, instead of being selfish, arrogant narcissists like the staff and students of Night Raven College, the staff and students of Royal Sword Academy are generally selfless, caring, and compassionate. Some are noble, princely, and heroic, while others are gentle, humble, and pure. Some are curious, adventurous, and outgoing, while others are reserved, brooding, and deeply thoughtful. However, one thing remains the same - the inhabitants of the school are natural leaders.

In contrast to how Night Raven College students tend to overblot due to being overly ambitious, confident, and competitive, Royal Sword Academy students sometimes struggle with low self-esteems, inferiority complexes, and expressing themselves, their needs, wants, and identities. For that reason, Royal Sword Academy students would also require a magicless, penniless prefect to guide them into being assertive, confident, and competitive by making them realize just how lucky they are to have such powerful magic and end up in such an amazing school.

Appearance and Location (also mostly canon):

Royal Sword Academy's main campus is located on the southernmost end of the tiny Isle of Sages, or Sage's Island. It is south of Night Raven College, which lies in the northern mountains of the island as well as the island's central village. Most of the school building's color palette consists of white and blue, and the school building itself resembles that of a castle. The school has a small bridge or moat that crosses over to the academy's main building, and behind that is the school's entire campus.

Emblem (also mostly canon):

Royal Sword Academy's school emblem resembles that of a shield, consisting of a light blue elongated pentagon topped with a matching, long, thin, horizontal rectangle, lined with a thin, dark blue inner rim, and a thicker, silver outer rim. Within the shield is a sword with a silver blade and golden hilt topped with a red, golden-striped crown or hat piercing through a golden shield with a castle-like top that has a royal blue shield inside with the words "Royal Sword Academy" written in white inside. At the side of the sword and castle-like topped shield are two white horses with dark blue manes and silver collars. At the bottom of the sword and horses and at the sides of the sword's tip are two pairs of bundles of laurel leaves, which are a symbol of glory.

Orientation Ceremony:

The students of Royal Sword Academy arrive at the school sleeping in a glass coffin in the Platinum Pumpkin Coach pulled by pristine white horses. Upon awakening, the students are ushered by the staff and upperclassmen to the Chamber of the Sacred Well, where they are sorted in one of the seven dorms the school in founded on based on the nature of their soul. After being sorted into a dorm, the students are also given a long, thin, silver baton that resembles a sword and is embedded with a magestone of their dorm's color. When the ceremony is over, the students are led by their dorm leaders to their dorms.

Dorms:

Royal Sword Academy is founded on the noble personality traits of the Magnificent Seven - seven mages, most of whom were royalty, that were said to uphold the most noble of virtues, were companions of the Great Seven, and are idolized as role models by those of Twisted Wonderland.

Wondaventure - The dorm based on the creative imagination of The Wondrous Lady in Blue (Alice from Alice in Wonderland). The students of this dorm seem to be crazy and insane at first glance, but they are also innovative, imaginative, and creative. They also seem to struggle with being misunderstood, though, and struggle to express themselves. Their main color is sky blue. Their secondary color is white. The magestones in their magestone brooches are also sky blue. 

Alexander “Alex” Wondrionne (twisted from Alice) - The Housewarden of Wondaventure. His adventurous, curious, and rebellious attitude contrasts greatly to his noble status and quickly led to the ending of his betrothal.

Chenille Sommerfly (twisted from Blue Caterpillar) - The Vice-Housewarden of Wondaventure. A quiet, composed, and serious yet forgetful and short-tempered young man who is known for giving useful advice and telling complicated riddles.

Che’nya (twisted from Chesire Cat) - A mischievous, whimsical, and mysterious cat beastman who often teases people and gets them into trouble.

Michael Bavarder (twisted from Tweedle Dee) - A playful and talkative gossip who often quarrels and competes with his twin brother whom he insists is younger than him. Always loves a game.

Gabriel Bavarder (twisted from Tweedle Dum) - A cheerful yet competitive social butterfly who often accompanies his twin brother despite frequently arguing with him. His slanderous gossip often leads to chaotic drama.

Safarimane - The dorm based on the noble leadership of The Royal Lion (Simba from The Lion King). The students of this dorm strive to be excellent leaders and are ambitious, hardworking, adventurous, curious, and eager to learn. However, they struggle with large egos and the great amount of responsibility being a leader comes with. Their main color is golden. Their secondary color is reddish orange. Their magestones are the same color as their main color.

Mfalme Lionheart (twisted from Adult Simba) - The ambitious and adventurous yet impressionable housewarden of Safarimane who is also a prince. Excited yet nervous about his position, he yearns to be the perfect leader.

Kufu Heshima (twisted from Timon) - A self-centered and lazy pariah who has been friends with Moyo for many years and has become a recent companion of Mfalme. Coming from a poor background, he deeply cares for his family.

Moyo Guluwe (twisted from Pumbaa) - A dimwitted and foolish outcast alongside Kufu, whom he has been friends with for many years. He is the smarter of the two and often tries to teach him.

Tritonelle - the dorm based on the adventurous curiosity of The First Mermaid out of Water (Ariel from The Little Mermaid). The students of this dorm are adventurous, inquisitive, and rebellious to a fault. Because of their curiosity, they often struggle with being contained and restrained. Their main color is emerald green and their secondary color is purple. The color of their magestones are green.

Rielle Poseidonius (twisted from Ariel) - The curious housewarden of Tritonelle who is inquisitive to the extent of rebelliousness. Hailing from merfolk royalty, he is extremely fascinated by humans and the world above.

Sean Hummer (twisted from Sebastian) - A strict and serious disciplinarian who was sent by the royal family to keep Rielle in check as his vice-housewarden. Believes spending time gaining knew knowledge is dangerous folly.

Flynn Fiskene (twisted from Flounder) - A shy, anxious, and timid boy who often accompanies Rielle wherever he goes, even if they are dangerous or against the rules. Loyal and protective, but a bit of a coward and rule-breaker.

Yatasima - The dorm founded on the cunning wit of The Prince who was also a Thief (Aladdin from Aladdin). The students of this dorm are observant, intelligent, and ambitious as well as kind, compassionate, and selfless. Their main color is dark indigo. Their secondary color is crimson. Their magestones are dark indigo. 

Jasim Al-Malik (twisted from Jasmine) - The housewarden of Yatasima. An icily cold crown prince who will have to find a wife one day amongst the vast nobility of his home country. Once someone wins his trust, his loyalty will know no bounds.

Jinn Thalatha (twisted from Genie) - A bright and cheerful boy whose posivity rivals the sun. While he loves granting wishes and seeing a smile on people's faces, he also has wishes of his own and secretly envies Jasim's housewarden position.

Apfelreine - the dorm based on the benevolent purity of The Fairest Maiden of All (Snow White from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves). The students of this dorm are benevolent, gentle, and selfless. However, they struggle with naivety. Due to their purity, they are blissfully unaware of the ill-intentions of others and the envy of other people. Their main color is bright red. Their secondary color is dark blue. Their magestones are red as it is canon.

Neige LeBlanche (twisted from Snow White) - The delicately beautiful housewarden of Apfelreine known for being the most beautiful in all of Twisted Wonderland. Pure and innocent, he is blissfully unaware of all those who wish him ill will.

Dominic (twisted from Doc) - An intelligent, responsible, and hardworking dwarf who is the housewarden of Apfelreine as well as the leader of the Seven Swords. While many would question why or how someone who short and childish-looking could possibly serve as a leader, he has never failed in his duties.

Grum (twisted from Grumpy) - A cranky and temperamental dwarf whose tough love often gets mistaken for rudeness. He detests it when people mistake him for a child, even though he sometimes acts like one.

Shelphie (twisted from Sleepy) - A somnolent and drowsy dwarf whose attempts to stay awake always end up in vain. As a result, he sometimes pretends to be awake using his sleeping mask.

Hop (twiste from Happy) - An optimistic and exuberant dwarf who vows to always see the bright side of things and is always seen with a smile on his adorable face.

Timmy (twisted from Timid) - A meek and bashful dwarf who often gets nervous around people. For that reason, he covers his eyes with his hair to avoid eye contact.

Snick (twisted from Sneezy) - A sickly and ailing dwarf with a weak immune system. He almost always has to wear his face mask due to frequently sneezing and wheezing.

Toby (twisted from Dopey) - A scatterbrained and empty-minded dwarf who forgets a lot of things, including his own name. His flightiness and immaturity often annoys the other dwarves.

Kyle Reinheit (twisted from True Love’s Kiss) - An ethereally beauteous hopeless romantic known for his stunning lip products. He despises being seen as weak.

Irotheikos - The dorm based on the heroic courage of the Hero in the Stars (Hercules from Hercules). The students of this dorm are ambitious, tenacious, and hardworking. Their flaw is vanity, as they often get caught up in their current achievements and stray from their initial objective. Their main color is royal blue, and their secondary color is golden yellow. Their magestones are royal blue.

Hector Dyneam (twisted from Hercules) - The flashy and boastful housewarden of Irotheikos who wants to help and save people even in the most dire of situations. His achievements sometimes get to his head, though.

Phillipe Daskalo (twisted from Philoctetes) - A gruff, easily-annoyed, and ornery goat beastman who is the vice-housewarden of Irotheikos. Always scolding the underclassmen for their mistakes and failures.

Angeamouria - The dorm based on the graceful virtues of The Slumbering Princess of Roses (Aurora from Sleeping Beauty). The students in this dorm are graceful, elegant, and virtuous. Their only flaw is being painfully shy and being extremely nervous around strangers. Their main color is purple. Their secondary color is golden. Their magestones are also purple.

Aurelius Rosantine (twisted from the Spinning Wheel of Sleep) - The housewarden of Angeamouria. An elegant and beneficent prince that struggles to approach people and make friends.

Florian DeCadeau (twisted from Flora) - A headstrong and no-nonsense fairy with very high and strict moral standards. Often frets over Aurelius' appearance.

Faunus DeCadeau (twisted from Fauna) - A gentle and loving young man who often comforts Aurelius during tough times and gives him singing lessons.

Merwin Decadeau (twisted from Merriweather) - A bold and hot-tempered fairy who is the youngest of his brothers and protects Aurelius with his life.

Tumbledown - An abandoned dorm that was once prosperous with students bustling about, but currently is vacant with its only inhabitants being a bunch of friendly, well-behaved ghosts. It is unknown why, how, or when it became abandoned, but some, particularly a magicless prefect, has begun to suspect that it may have something to do with a magical well just outside the dorm.

Yuu (twisted from ???) - Tell us about yourself

Hanns (twisted from Hans Christian Andersen) - Will be mentioned in the staff.

Uniform:

The school has several uniforms due to how the staff of the school view preparation for every occasion is imperative as well as a sign of sophisticated up-bringing, which the type of image they want to project. For that reason, the students of Royal Sword Academy not only possess a Daily School Day Uniform, a P.E. Uniform, Labwear, Ceremonial Robes, or a Dorm Signature Uniform, but also an Outside-School Special Events Uniform, a School Signature Sports Outfit, and Dorm Pajamas.

Daily School Day Uniform:

(Photo by @twistinghearts)

The schools' Daily School Uniform resembles that of men's fashion during the French Rococo Era as well as the outfit on the left (worn by Farena) in the image above. It consists of a white silk jacket that extends to their knees and is lined with gold lace trim, a silk vest of the student's respective dorm color, a white jabot collar, royal blue pants, a pair of black leather boots with golden trim, an armband of the student's respective dorm colors, white silk gloves, and a golden sword sheath belt that carries their sword-like, magestone-encrusted baton. The light colors and intricacy of the uniform's details are intentional and are purposefully meant to train the wearer to move with delicacy and grace and keep themselves clean.

P.E. Uniform:

Their P.E. Uniform is much less graceful and delicate. It consists of a white shirt lined with the student wearer's main dorm color and blue, as well as navy blue pants lined with the same main dorm color. The students are required to wear white sneakers and bring their magestone baton.

Labwear:

Their Labwear Uniform is perhaps the most practical, and similar to NRC's. It is comprised of a pair of lab goggles, a white lab coat that covers their jabot collar and collarbones, pockets with striped rims based on the student's dorm colors, black rubber gloves, and their golden sword sheath belt carrying their magestone baton.

Ceremonial Robes:

There are, surprisingly, actually two Ceremonial Robe Uniforms - one for the freshmen, and one for the upperclassmen. The Freshmen Ceremonial Robe Uniforms are white, with a few blue parts and minimal gold details. Its white color is meant to symbolize the purity and innocence of the freshmen's youth and how they have yet to learn, while the partial blue and minimal gold parts are made to represent their low rank amongst the student body. The Upperclassmen Ceremonial Robe Uniforms are much more extravagant, being bright royal blue, rimmed with silvery white, and embroidered and embellished with gold silk brocade. Its extravagance and dark color are made to represent nobility and wisdom. Both uniforms are made of silk, are long, flowy, and warm, and bear a resemblance to Headmage Ambrose' uniform and the other two uniforms above. They also contain a golden sword sheath for when they receive their baton.

Dorm Signature Uniform:

The Dorm Signature Uniform differs per dorm. For that reason, it will only be described in different posts where a specific dorm is being discussed.

Outside-School Special Events Uniform:

The Outside-School Special Events Uniform has been seen in-game since it is what RSA students wore during the VDC. It is what is worn during special events that take place outside the school itself. It consists of a white shirt lined with navy with golden buttons, a navy sash lined with white that ties into a bow at the wearer's right hip, navy pants, and black shoes. Unlike the other uniforms, the Outside-School Special Events Uniform is the only uniform to consist of a magestone brooch rather than a golden sword sheath and magestone baton. The reason behind this is because it would be too much to handle.

School Signature Sports Uniform:

The School Signature Sports Uniform is what is worn during the Spelldrive Tournament between RSA and NRC at the end of the school year. It resembles a knight's uniform. It is brilliant white, lined with blue and having blue letters on it, accented with golden shoulder pads, elbow pads, wrist pads, knee pads, and ankle pads, and of course, has a golden belt, sword sheath, and their magestone baton.

Dorm Pajamas:

The Dorm Pajamas differ from dorm to dorm. Therefore, like the Specialized Dorm Uniform, they will only be discussed in later posts.

School Subjects:

(Credits to @twstarchives and @phoenix-manga for inspiration!)

Practical Magic - The understanding, study, practice, and performance of spells, curses, hexes, and incantations

Magic Analysis - Analyse and observe demonstrations of magic

Ancient Curses - the study, analysis, and sometimes even the performance of casting a spell that has a negative intention and effect on another person or being

Conjuration - To create, summon, or transform objects

Defense Magic - Magic used to defend oneself from attacks

Alchemy/Potionology - the use of minerals, plants, and other substances to create potions and other things.

Astrology - The study and analysis of the stars and their magical connection

Biology - the study and understanding of life, specifically magical organisms

Poison Making - The usage of potionology and alchemy to create even the most lethal of poisons. Perfect for an assassin.

Mathematics - The study of numbers and quantities ranging from algebra, mental math, and geometry

Animal Linguistics - The study of animal communication. Talk with your favorite pet!

Etiquette - learn how to become a proper gentleman or lady through sophisticated manners, posture, and poise.

History of Magic - Discover magical developments, historical figures, and significant events and revolutions

Politics and Kingship - Perfect for all the royal and noble students, or anyone who wants to be a world leader one day. Learn and discover diplomacy, hierarchy, and monarchy.

Art - the understanding and creation of beauty that cannot be described.

Music - the students learn how to sing, play an instrument, understand music, or even compose

School Choir - Practically all the Disney Princes and Princesses sing. RSA would be incomplete without it!

Dance - Carry, move, and conduct yourself with grace beyond imagination

Staff:

Ambrose LXIII (twisted from Merlin) - The wise, old headmage of Royal Sword Academy who has held his position for many years. Hailing from a noble family with many ancestors that have done the same, his wisdom knows no bounds. Generously, he lends the player/reader the status of a student and the title of Tumbldown Prefect.

Hanns - A direbeast dog who dreams of becoming the greatest mage ever lived. Well-behaved and respectful yet mischievous and adventurous, he often accompanies the player/reader and leads them on a path to adventure.

Pierre Chenine (twisted from Pongo) - The goofy, fun-loving science professor of Royal Sword Academy who is also the son of a musician and the father of many. He believes strongly about caring for animals, especially canines and is always willing to help his students when they're struggling in his class.

Cendrionne Ashe - RSA's history professor who is renowned by the staff and students for his benevolence and diligence. Not only is he a great teacher, but he also great at chores! However, he is rumored to be the stepson of the history professor at Night Raven College . . .

Daniel Pedrosa (twisted from Beast/Prince Adam) - The kind yet tough-loving P.E. teacher at Royal Sword Academy known for his forgiving nature and belief in second chances. Rumored to be crushing on the town librarian.

Max (twisted from Tiana) - The owner of a small shop and restaurant located on school campus. His store supplies students with school supplies or whatever they need, and his restaurant serves the most delicious food.

Clubs:

Future Rulers Association - the members of this club learn how to become better, natural leaders for when they have to inherit a throne or start their own empire. They learn what it takes to be a leader and how to improve the school.

Theatre & Movie Research Club - The RSA equivalent of the Film Studies Club at NRC. The students hear strive to be the best actors they can be or work in the tech crew.

Magift/Spelldrive Club - These students strive to be the most competitive during the Interdorm Spelldrive Tournament as well as the Inter-scholastic Magift/Spelldrive Tournament.

School Band & Music Club - The most gorgeous melodies come from this club. The students here play a variety of instruments and some can sing.

Science Club - The same as NRC. The club members hold outstanding knowledge of potionology, alchemy, biology, astrology, etc. They perform countless experiments and conduct lots of research.

Inter-Species Culture Club - Inspired by how the First Mermaid out of Water managed to bring peace between the humans and merfolk, this club discusses the importance of learning about different cultures, breaking language barriers, and how to make peace.

Knights-In-Training Camp - this club is similar to NRC's Equestrian Club, except the students here not only learn how to ride and tend to horses, but also how to protect their future lords and rulers.

Basketball Club - The same as Night Raven College. The students here partake in the fun and hustle of the sport basketball.

Track & Field Club - The students here enjoy the thrill of running, racing, and winning.

Boardgame Club - The students here are hard at work challenging themselves and their minds on any kind of board game.

Relationship with Night Raven College:

As it is canon, Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College are currently in a bitter rivalry. This is mainly due to the fact that Royal Sword Academy has beaten Night Raven College in the Inter-Scholastic Magift/Spelldrive Tournament for nearly a century in the past. As a result, Royal Sword Academy students tend to look down upon Night Raven's college's many failures and lack of sportsmanship and refer to them as "a slew of petty, uncultured fools".

Royal Sword Academy students also look at Night Raven College's style in contempt. They think the school's buildings and uniforms are "dreadfully plain" and "with no sense of style".

Author's Note: Most of this is fanon. Everything that is canon and the photos are NOT mine!

[v33n4-c4rn1s]

"Promise."

Remy LeBeau x fem!reader

A/n: This is my first proper fanfic! it's over 2000 words lolol and it's just Angst/Comfort with everyone's favorite Cajun! I'm really proud of this and I'm happy Remy gets to be my very first proper fic..i hope you enjoy!! also tag for because they asked so nicely :3 @kaidan-z

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

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Maybe it’s the fact this was all so..confusing.

I mean how are you supposed to feel when you come face to face with a ghost? 

Well, not really. A ghost would still remember, clutching time in its weary hands, allowing freedom and the soft embrace of closure. A ghost would know. Instead you’re both faced with the haunting idea of a lost memory. Something to yearn and claw for, barely scratching the surface of remembrance. A flame of longing and desperation that’s snuffed out by the force of time. 

- - - - - - - 

You were forced into this mess, against your own will really. One minute you’re sitting in your own misery, clutching a pen and paper, biting back inevitable tears. You mourned the loss of a man who had been long gone, Remy Lebeau. Your Remy. God he was the brightest star, the sweetest man with a sharp tongue. You loved him. You loved him more than anything. The best part? He loved you. Of all the wonderful people in the world, he wanted you, always you. Only you. So that's why it hurt so much when he met his end. 

That's why it tore a hole in your heart. He was tied to you, so deeply rooted in your soul that nothing could pull him away, no gentle persuasion could remove him. Only brute force, A harsh tug that tore him away and left you burning. Painful rage that was so blinding that people cowered away. So in this moment..you just needed solace.

But the universe didn’t give you that, instead You're hauled over some guy's shoulder who's blabbering about how “relieved” he is to see you.

So..what the fuck?

You later learn that you're stranded in a trio, a pathetic one at most. A merc with a mouth, Anger issues in a little yellow bundle (he comes with claws too.) and of course...you.

To most, you weren’t anything special. A mutant? Yes. Despite that being heavy enough itself, your mutation wasn’t anything flashy, just simple enough to cope with.

So why the hell did this bloodstained bastard take you of all people? 

- - - - - - -

So here you are now, stalking behind the pair you now know as Logan Howlett and..Wade Wilborn?..no, Wilson. That's it. Wade Wilson. He was the reason you were here. The void. That’s what this place was..a void. An endless layout of trash and gunk. The TVA, who you later learned “preserved the Sacred Timeline and prevented the creation of alternate timelines.” 

Turns out Wade’s universe was fucked because it lost its “anchor being.” Which was his universe's version of the grouchy companion he’d brought with him..or well, forced with him. Paradox, the one responsible (sorta) for Wade's wonderful kidnapping plan did not seem too pleased..especially since wade had to be that tiny bit extra and break his nose. So he sent you all here..the void.

Wade seemed to be a bit too friendly in all the wrong aspects..seriously how many sex jokes are too many? He’s sweet, you’ll give him that. You found that out only after he attempted to use you as a human shield against some bald headed bitch that only existed to grind on your nerves..But hey, that Johnny guy definitely got it worse.

- - - - - - -

The two overgrown children further proved their hatred to each other by fighting all their tension out in a shitty honda odyssey..all night. They fought till the sun went down. You just sorta sat there, lazily trying to wipe the nose bleed you had received after Wade shoved you to the ground in order to reach a “precious angel.”

..A dog. She was cute but you didn’t take too kindly to him picking a slobbering dog over your mental stability. Still, now all you really had to do was sit and wait for the two to finish their very loud and sharp disagreements. 

- - - - - - -

So..now you’re all caught up? Good. Then let me jump back to our present time.

He could have been a ghost, hell he might as well have been considering how much he paled when he saw you. The way the cards in his hands fluttered to a gentle stop. Even when wielding his weapons he was a gentleman. His lips parted..He wanted to say something, anything..but words could not find him. He just starred. 

To say you felt sick was an understatement. You felt like your body was about to give up any second. Overcome with the heaviest wave of nausea you’ve ever experienced. Here he was..a dead man. Standing in front of your very eyes..and he was beautiful. A little different..but beautiful. From the hair to the tip of his boots, he was the most gorgeously sculpted man you have ever seen.

“Chère?..”

“Remy?”

  Oh fuck. You’re kidding right? So this..version of him had a version of you too? He knew you? He knew you and without even knowing what had happened to his version of you, just looking at his face you knew that something so unforgettable had happened that he was just as broken as you.

“Ooh shit!! Are you seeing this!? I gotta say..i expected all the flashy entrances but look at these two lost loves? Ugh it's like I'm drowning in their self deprecating..”

Remy gave a half glance at the merc, scowling immediadently. His eyes set on him for just a split second before the glare was gone and he was back to looking at you. A softness creeping into his gaze that you didn’t think you’d see ever again. His brows furrowed as he took a step closer.

He knew it wasn’t his lost love but still. From the tips of your hair to the flush in your cheeks, the tentative grasp of your fingers against the fabric of your suit, the way your eyes brimmed with uncertain tears..it didn’t matter. He could rebuild. As selfish as that sounded he could rebuild it all if you’d let him.

“it..it ain’t you but-”

He tried to speak, he really did but the way you flinched at the sound of his voice made him want to cower like a small child. Your eyes fell onto the set of cards in his hand that he soon tucked away into the pocket of his coat. The gentle rustle of the fabric brought you snapping back to the present, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips as you carefully backed away, allowing Wade to take the lead again.

- - - - - - -

He watched you the whole time. He didn’t pay attention at all to whatever the hell the nuisance in the centre babbled on about. He watched you like a hawk. Eyes tracing over every piece of you. The way you bit down on the plush of your lip or how your lashes seemed to dampen everytime you blinked. He took note of the unsteady rhythm of your chest. He knew all the signs. When his eyes flicked back up to your face, he saw a tiny tear, barely visible but he could see it. It slipped down your cheek, resting on the curve of your jaw before it dropped onto the floor, seeping into the wood.

Remy had known you all his time in the void. He had no grasp on anything other than this wasteland and well..you. For a brief moment, he let himself daydream, just resting in the past, in the familiar sight of the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Yours.

- - - - - - -

“Don’t you think this is an awful idea?”

“Nonsense Chère, you think Remy doesn’t know a fine place when he sees one?”

His lips curled into a smile as he watched you glance at the rundown diner. It wasn’t exactly heaven, he knew that..but that didn’t matter, as cheesy as it sounds everywhere was heaven when he was with you. You laughed at the way he struggled to open a cabinet, the way he tugged at the wooden handle.

“Careful remy..it looks unsteady..maybe you should-”

“No need to worry about me Mon amour, what? You think Remy can’t handle a little push and pull? Dis is nothing, you just sit there and look- merde!!-”

It swung open, nearly taking him out in the process. You burst into fits of laughter, your knees buckling under how hard your laughter had hit you.

- - - - - - -

And that..bittersweet memory was the very thing that kept him pushing. Your laughter was the sweetest thing to him, he adored it more than anything and he’d longed to hear it once more.

He glanced over at you again, seriously he couldn’t stop. How could he? It was like looking into the past, the love of his life was a few steps away from him and he was doing nothing? What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, the tension. He watched as you looked at his hands that were now nervously playing with his card deck. He carefully placed them all in one hand before pointing at you. He saw the way you jumped a little at being addressed. He then pointed to himself before pointing to the exit.

He wanted you alone, He wanted to talk.

Despite the ache in your chest, the tremble in your body, you followed him. You followed him out the arch and into the cool near evening. The sun was beginning to set, it casted the warmest glow over the wasteland. It was the prettiest thing about the whole dump.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit. The only sound filling the air were the gentle crunches of twigs beneath Remy’s shoes. It suddenly hit you. You were here, with an exact copy of your former lover. This was so fucked up.

He led you to a smaller campfire, letting you take a seat on the log before lighting the fire, sitting down with a soft grunt.

“Remy know’s dis is a bit..confusing and he’s damn sorry about it but..I've gotta know, chère..”

His soft honesty brought warm butterflies to your stomach. The words rolled off his tongue, combed by his heavy accent. His knee bounced nervously as he watched your face, biting his lip slightly.

“It's..complicated, it would take a long time to even-”

“Remy’s got all the time in the world Chère, just talk t’me..”

You glanced at him one last time. He looked like a kicked puppy when you denied him. How the hell could you say no to such hopeful eyes?

And so you told him, you told him everything. The love, the loss, the pain. The way his absence had left a gaping wound on your being, leaving the ugliest scar and a hideous rage, a burning hatred. You spilled it all and it felt good. It felt good to finally just talk. You were so into explaining it all that you didn’t even notice the fact you were in floods of tears, droplets streaking down your cheeks. Your breathing shortened as you forced more words out of your throat. You were too engrossed in the pain.

“Chère.”

His firm tone cut you off, he reached up, carefully swiping a tear away with the pad of his finger. It sent a range of sparks up your spine and you quivered under his gaze.

He watched you for just a moment before making up his mind. He knew he was overstepping the imaginary boundaries but he knew his Chère well enough to know what she needed. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other slid up to your shoulder, bringing you into a warm embrace. He was so different yet the exact same. He smelt like whiskey and leather. He smelt like home and it made you feel sick.

“Ma pauvre fille..”

He was so comfortable that he didn’t even realise the words that left his mouth, the soft claim he made..but you did. You heard it and it stung, it healed a tiny part of your wounded soul, to be addressed as his once more. You squeezed his shoulder, letting the last few tears fall. He pulled back, hesitantly cupping your cheek, relaxing a little as you leaned into his touch. This felt right, despite the gnaw of pain it felt right. To be here with him, to feel him.

Remy lifted his hand, capturing your smaller ones with a gentle touch. He pressed his lips to the back of it. A kiss, full of tender love and sweet affection. A rush of blood reached both of your cheeks. The cool air gently brushed against the heated skin. He leaned forward pressing another kiss to your forehead this time, letting his own rest against yours as he brought one of your hand to his chestplate, placing it above his heart.

“It’s yours Chère, mon coeur est à toi.”

You knew what he meant, he had promised you that despite all odds, if ever something went wrong, he would find you. He’d find you in every universe.

And he did.

Remy Lebeau was many things. He’d been branded as a scoundrel all his life..but if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was lie to you. He was an honest man who kept his promises to you.

He fulfilled each one. Including this one.

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[misswynters]

Heart of the Beast

beast!Cregan Stark x beauty! gn!reader

[a/n: abit sloppy with the writing for this one…beauty is subjective so your gender doesn’t matter here, time jumps all around kinda feels messy :/

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

A short story inspired by Beauty and the beast. . .

The North was a place of stark beauty and harsh realities, where winter's grip could be both a blessing and a curse. Deep within the ancient walls of Winterfell, Cregan Stark lived a life shadowed by a curse he could not escape. Rumors whispered of his ferocious demeanor, his unapproachable nature, and his solitary existence. But those who knew him best spoke of the man he once was, before the curse transformed him into a beast of legend.

You arrived at Winterfell on a cold, windswept evening, bundled against the chill. Your father's debt had brought you here, a bargain struck to save your family's honor and future. You had heard the stories of the beastly lord, but standing before the towering gates of Winterfell, you felt a mix of fear and determination. You were a Celtigar, after all, and Celtigars did not shy away from challenges.

The castle's great hall was vast and imposing, lit by flickering torches that cast long shadows across the stone walls. As you were led to the heart of Winterfell, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe mixed with trepidation. The heavy doors creaked open, revealing the figure of Cregan Stark, seated at the head of a long, wooden table.

He rose as you entered, his imposing figure draped in furs. His face was partially obscured by the dim light, but you could see the sharp angles and the intense, brooding eyes that seemed to see straight through you.

"Welcome to Winterfell," he said, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "I trust your journey was not too arduous?"

You inclined your head, meeting his gaze with as much courage as you could muster. "It was long, but I am here now, my lord."

Cregan studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I appreciate your willingness to come. Your father's debt is a heavy burden, and I do not take it lightly."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "I am here to fulfill my family's obligation, my lord. Whatever that may entail."

He nodded slowly, a hint of something softer flickering in his eyes. "You are brave, for a Celtigar. Few would come willingly to face the beast of Winterfell."

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself adjusting to life at Winterfell. The castle's cold, imposing exterior began to feel more like home, and the people within its walls started to warm to your presence. But it was Cregan who remained the most enigmatic, a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He was a man of few words, his actions speaking volumes in their stead. You watched as he cared for his people with a stern but fair hand, his gruff exterior hiding a deep sense of responsibility and honor. He was not the beast of the stories you had heard; he was something much more complex, a man burdened by a curse he could not break.

One evening, as the snow fell softly outside, you found yourself drawn to the godswood. The heart tree stood tall and ancient, its red leaves rustling in the cold wind. You often came here to think, to find solace in the quiet beauty of the sacred place.

Cregan found you there, his presence a comforting shadow amidst the ancient trees. "This place has always brought me peace," he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "It reminds me of the strength of our ancestors, the resilience that runs through our blood."

You looked up at him, seeing the man beneath the beastly exterior. "And you carry that strength within you, Cregan. You are not defined by the curse, but by the choices you make, the honor you uphold."

He met your gaze, his eyes softening. "You see me as I am, not as the beast the world believes me to be. For that, I am grateful."

A silent understanding passed between you, a connection forged through shared trials and mutual respect. As the days grew shorter and the nights colder, your bond with Cregan deepened. You saw the man he could be, the leader Winterfell needed, and you were determined to help him break the curse that held him captive.

One night, as the moon cast a silver glow over Winterfell, you found yourself standing in the great hall with Cregan. The fire crackled in the hearth, the warmth a stark contrast to the chill outside. Cregan's eyes were filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

"I have lived under this curse for so long," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. "But you have shown me that there is more to life than this darkness. You have brought light into my world."

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you took a step closer to him. "And you have shown me the true meaning of strength and honor. We can break this curse, Cregan. I believe in you."

He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "With you by my side, I feel like i can be myself again."

In that moment, the walls of Winterfell seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing together, united by a love that had grown amidst the harshest of conditions. As his lips met yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss, you knew that you had found something rare and precious—a love that could withstand any storm, a bond that could break any curse.

The beast of Winterfell was not the monster of legends, but a man of honor and strength, and with your love, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, you could conquer anything.

The days passed swiftly, and you and Cregan fell into a comfortable rhythm. He showed you the hidden nooks of Winterfell, places he had discovered as a boy. You spent hours in the library, reading together by the light of a crackling fire. Cregan often found himself captivated by the way your eyes lit up when you discovered something new. The moments of quiet companionship, the laughter, the shared stories—all of it knitted your hearts closer together.

One winter morning, as you both walked through the snow-covered courtyard, Cregan stopped suddenly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The sky was a clear, crisp blue, the kind of day that promised a bitter cold but also breathtaking beauty.

"Follow me," he said, a rare smile touching his lips.

Curious, you followed him to the stables. He saddled two horses, and soon you were riding out into the wilderness, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. The landscape was a frozen wonderland, the trees heavy with snow, the ground sparkling like a field of diamonds.

Cregan led you to a secluded glen, a place he said he had discovered long ago. A small, frozen pond lay at the center, surrounded by tall pines. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind.

"This place," Cregan began, dismounting and helping you down from your horse, "is special to me. It's where I come when I need to think, to find peace."

You looked around, feeling the magic of the place. "It's beautiful, Cregan. Thank you for bringing me here."

He took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "I wanted to share it with you. To show you that even in the harshest of places, there can be beauty and peace."

You smiled up at him, your heart full. "You've shown me that, Cregan. You've shown me so much more than I ever expected."

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you. For a moment, you both stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the glen, the world outside fading away. It was a moment of pure, unspoken connection, a bond that needed no words.

As the days grew longer and spring began to whisper its arrival, you and Cregan found yourselves spending more and more time together. The bond between you deepened, a blend of friendship, respect, and something more profound—love.

One evening, as the first hints of spring thawed the snow, you sat together in the godswood, the heart tree's red leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The air was still cold, but there was a promise of warmth, of renewal.

Cregan turned to you, his expression serious. "I've been thinking about the future," he said, his voice steady. "About what it means to lead, and what it means to love."

You felt your heart skip a beat. "And what have you decided, my lord?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with unwavering determination. "I've decided that I don't want to face it alone. I want you by my side, not as a tool for a debt, but as my partner, my love."

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in. "Cregan, I—"

He held up a hand, his expression earnest. "You don't have to answer now. Just know that I love you, more than I ever thought possible. And whatever comes, I want to face it with you."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of joy and overwhelming emotion. "I love you too, Cregan. More than words can express."

He leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours. In that moment, surrounded by the ancient trees and the promise of spring, you felt an unshakable sense of peace. The future was uncertain, filled with challenges and unknowns, but one thing was clear: with Cregan by your side, you could face anything.

As the seasons changed and the days grew warmer, you and Cregan began to make plans for the future. The curse that had once loomed so large now seemed like a distant shadow, its power diminished by the strength of your love. Together, you would build a life, a future filled with hope and promise.

Winterfell, once a place of isolation and sorrow, now thrummed with the warmth of love and the promise of new beginnings. The people of the North, once wary and fearful, now looked to you and Cregan with respect and admiration. Your love story had become a beacon of hope, a testament to the power of love and the strength of the human spirit.

That bright, sunny morning, as you stood together on the battlements of Winterfell, looking out over the vast expanse of the North, Cregan took your hand in his. "This is just the beginning," he said, his voice filled with a quiet, determined joy. "Together, we'll build a future, not just for us, but for all who look to Winterfell for strength and guidance."

You squeezed his hand, your heart full of love and hope. "I wouldn't want it any other way, my love."

As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the ancient walls of Winterfell, you stood together, united by love, ready to face whatever the future held. The curse was broken, the beast was tamed, and in its place stood a man of honor. You had brought to him the courage, and a love that would endure through all seasons.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @travelingmypassion @shoxji @thornsandtulips @spn-obession

[edgeray]

I BESEECH YOU

Goddess! Arlecchino x Reader

You fear that your death draws near. You pray to be spared from suffering when you meet your fate.

Content warnings / info - none

When you're a dying individual, time swims past you, ungraspable and constantly evading you. There is almost too much time and never enough of it, a phenomenon that only comes to those whose mercy is death. While you bide your time, waiting for the inevitable to approach, there are still things that need to be tended to. Your farm and animals reserves no impatience despite your aching body and weakening limbs. Still, you find it hard to gripe when they preoccupy you from your fate.

No physician that has found a cure for your ailment, a medical anomaly for someone whose age was just ripe for marrying a reliable, decent man. Oh, how the villagers pity you, yet have not spared a single moment of their time or peace of mind for you.

Winter draws near. Whispers on the streets tell you that this year's harvest was abysmal. A famed apostle foretells that this winter will be harsher than the last. The nobles have, expectedly, stockpiled much of the village's harvest, and your neighbors were left to barter for remains and leftovers. Mania runs amok in the markets. The village brims with a fraught energy, despair palpable in the sad sight of the commoners.

It's an omen, you think. Just as your condition starts to worsen, every breath grows more labored than the last with each frigid and snow-casted night. Even now, with the fur-lined coat and the wool hat, the chill penetrates into your skin. You clutch onto the loaf of bread and bundles of fruit a little closer to your body as you traverse through the snow. It crunches underneath your feet, each bare step another dose of iciness injected into your veins. You shudder and lift your gaze.

A forgotten, barren shrine greets your view, a crumbling but no less sacred sanctuary. A relieved huff escapes from you.

The villagers have long abandoned this shrine and its goddess a long time ago. When the town began prospering, there sprung up many other trivialities for villagers to fret over–not when death seems so distant. When fields thrive, the weather is fair, the villagers’ pockets are full, and the nobles bless them with protection, death comes for few. Why worship the Goddess of Death when you can earn Lord Pantalone's blessing or be gifted with Lord Dottore's longevity and vitality? No longer is death a contagious disease, more so an afterthought. You used to think this way before you were struck with a curious illness. What use does currency have when you're dying? Why had Lord Dottore cursed you?

You kneel before the house of Lord Arlecchino. The coarse ground bites into your skin. The remains of your past offerings suggest that some critters have gotten to them before your Goddess has. Pesky creatures. You lay down the offerings in the center, before closing your eyes.

“Almighty Lord Arlecchino. I greet you, my Goddess of Death. How do you fare?” There is silence, but you still wait for an answer.

“I apologize this time for my lacking offerings. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be gratified. This year's harvest was not abundant… perhaps my village's luck has been used up. I believe there will be a lot of souls for you to collect. And… I will be among them,” you profess quietly, looking up at the ceiling.

You dip your head back down, inhaling deeply. “I know I have provided only humble gifts to you. But I have been devoted to you for years… I have taken care of this place of worship… may I ask of you for one thing, my Lord?”

The wind whistles through the shrine, and a gust kisses your skin. You take it as a sign to continue. “If you deem me worthy of this grace, then… I would like to die without suffering. If possible… I would like to pass during my slumber. If my request is too impudent… you may strike me down now. Or… I will wait for the time when I meet you. I thank you for your presence. Please indulge yourself in my gifts, Lord Arlecchino.”

You take one final bow, before getting up. You pray that the Goddess will take pity on you. You begin to turn, but then falter. Uncoiling the fabric around your neck, you place down your wool scarf onto the ground.

“I am not certain if you feel the winter chill as I do. Even if you do not, I would like for you to have it. The winter is grueling, as cold and beautiful as you are.”

You finally turn and leave. When you are nothing but a small silhouette in the distance, a pale woman emerges in the shadows of the shrine, observing you.

“Foolish, precious human,” the Goddess sighs as she leans down, grasping onto the scarf. “Do you undermine my omnipotence so much that you do not ask for me to relieve you of your illness? Or perhaps your heart is too large to muse the thought.”

She wraps the soft material around her neck. It is comforting. “It is not time for you to meet me just yet.”

Whipped up something quick cuz I was in a mood. Should I continue, maybe? Lowkey should finish my Halloween Event fic but... too many other ideas.

[xo-codbby]

i loved loved loved lazy sunday dad!price and since requests were open i was wondering if you could continue on with that idea like maybe they take a nice walk through the park and he’s wearing a baby carrier on his chest or something? i feel like dads wearing chest carriers are lowkey sexy looooooool

aw nonnie they are highkey sexy !! and i love seeing them do the work 🤣

the park was calm and quiet as you strolled with your husband, your hand interlaced with his calloused one. his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckle while you both walked, every step of his careful not to jostle the baby too much. he cherished the days when work wasn't calling him up, the moments where he was just simply a man in complete love with his family.

it had been amusing to see him take the role of the doting father so naturally, like he was made for it. usually a hard headed, strong willed soldier on the battlefield but here he was an adoring husband and the most loving father. so completely adoring for the bundle wrapped in her little yellow fleece, embellished with small little purple flowers. he melted into pieces everytime he changed her into her little clothes, so bittersweet that one day she would outgrow these small tiny garments but so excited for the little person she would grow into.

price was a tall man, broad than most and it definitely turned heads when people saw a tiny little baby strapped to his chest with his no nonsense face. but it was the moments he cooed softly to the infant, his lips pulled into the most softest of smiles, gently bouncing her when she got a little fussy. pulling a little face to make her giggle and hear just how precious that sound was reverberating deep in his soul wanting to protect her from any and all harm always. he loved the carrier, he loved holding his baby close to him. and you loved watching him, how tending he was to the both of you. it only strengthened the bond and the love between you both

price's other hand rested gently on the baby's back, stroking every so often giving her a little cuddle whenever she made a soft sound. her eyes were wide with curiosity, looking around at all the different sights and sounds trying to soak it all up. the infant had been tucked securely in the baby carrier and then zipped inside his jacket pressed into his chest for good measure. it made his heart swell how small she was, so utterly delicate and fragile. she was always so calm when he held her this way, the steady sound of his strong heartbeat lulling her into a sleepy daze after a while

"aw look at 'er, can barely keep those little eyes open. should be heading back right about now, love" his arm rests around your shoulders, bringing you in closer to his side while he chuckles down at his infant strapped to his chest falling fast asleep content to be held like this. you could only offer a gentle smile, looking at your little one. you knew exactly how it felt, being held by john always felt like home no matter where you were or what was happening. it felt safe and familiar always.

"then let's head back" you nod softly, head leaning against his body for a moment just taking in the beauty and keeping the moment playing for as long as you could. and john's arms brushed over the both of you pulling you in close, a tenderness in his touch that was reserved only for his family.

his mind had already framed this perfect moment forever, holding you both sacred in his heart for those times he can't hold you in his arms

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of the other priestesses, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

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