#starlight-iridescence

[morgenlich]

very funny thing about making painting my nails A Hobby is that no matter how bad everything else is, at least my nails are pretty. which is silly sfsd but it turns out i look at my hands a lot (on my phone? hands. on my switch? hands. cooking? hands. etc) so there’s always at least that

[thejollyeclectic]

Hey there enjoy this drawing of a fallen star✨

[aiylabaysal]

[gloomwitchwrites]

Gentle Dark

Haldir x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: romantic tension, yearning, passionate kissing, fade to black, admission of feelings, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 1.3k

On a patrol together, Haldir confronts you about your feelings for him even though you’re promised to another.

A/N: For @childofyuggoth

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

The stars twinkle through the gnarled canopy. White. Bright. Bathing the forest floor with iridescent light. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, savoring the scents of the forest around you. Caras Galadhon dwells behind you, sleeping and silent in the peaceful dark.

You are attuned to every sound in the deep wood, and as you filter through it all, you find nothing out of place or suspicious. But the disturbance of the wood is not of your immediate concern. There are greater trials and closer bodies that seek your attention other than the animals that softly move through the underbrush.

Haldir of Lórien is a beacon in the dark. You sense him before you see him, standing just shy of your right shoulder.

“The night is quiet,” he whispers.

You open your eyes, turn to face him. “It is indeed.”

Haldir’s gaze casually drops to your lips and then back to your eyes. A gentle heat radiates up your body to encompass you in its embrace. You have little control over your body’s reaction to him.

The answering of your flesh when he is in your presence is unfair. It is a cruel joke. You are promised to another, but not one of your choosing. If you had a choice, you would pick Haldir.

Always.

But that is not to be. That is not the path set out before you.

Him standing here next to you, alone in the gentle dark, is agony. The heat of him is so near, so alive that it sends your senses tingling with anticipation. The clashing beat within you is a deafening drum.

Can Haldir hear the racing of your heart? Can he sense your need and your aching tremble?

You hope he can’t, but you also silently hope that he does. What would he do then?

Haldir’s gaze finally leaves you to glance out into the wood. “We should begin the patrol.”

“Of course,” you murmur, inclining your head, allowing Haldir to take the lead.

He returns his gaze to you briefly before taking a step forward to walk between two trees. You follow him at a short distance, watching the distance, keeping a constant pivot. The two of you walk in relative silence, moving like phantoms amongst the towering trees.

At a small clearing, Haldir pauses. You cozy up beside him, a question starting to form on your lips.

“Do you remember this place?” he asks softly, gaze fixated at the center of the clearing. A sharp beam of moonlight illuminates the ground. The flowers glow under its lunar light.

You do know this place. On one of your many patrols with Haldir, he confessed his love in this very clearing. He held your hands in his, kissed your knuckles and each of your fingers. He whispered in a longing of gentle song that soothed your nerves and calmed your soul. In that moment, you didn’t want anyone else, you only wished for him.

But how things change.

“It is etched upon my heart,” you answer truthfully.

Haldir’s silver hair shines like starlight. “I’d like to stay here. My memories of this place are happy ones.”

The two of you have come to this clearing on multiple occasions. It is no coincidence that Haldir’s patrol includes you. He selects you on purpose, and you go with him willingly because you desire the closeness. It will not last forever, not when you’re promised to another.

“We can only linger here for so long,” you remind him.

Haldir sighs heavily, and turns to face you. He has always been stoic. Calm. Even in your presence, even when he whispered gentle words of love to you, Haldir never appeared…desperate.

The look on his face now is anything but calm. It is intense—a billowing storm tightly contained.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, startled by the sudden change.

Haldir’s gaze goes to your lips, lingers, and then flicks up to your eyes. “Why do you deny yourself what you want?” he asks.

You swallow and tuck your clenched fist behind your back. Haldir’s directness is too much. He knows that this is not of your own choosing.

“You cannot ask this of me,” you answer, hating yourself for sounding so weak.

Haldir entirely shifts his body in your direction. Taking a step forward, he moves into your space. Your back bumps up against the tree next to you. Haldir places his hand against the trunk next to your head.

You are trapped, but by all the stars in the night sky, you do not care.

His scent is woodsy and clean. You lean in a bit, inhaling, attempting to remember his smell since this might be your last opportunity to do so.

“You stay loyal to him.” Haldir bends at the elbow, pressing in. “And yet you know that he lusts after another.” The center of his brow furrows slightly. “Why not be with someone who will always worship you?”

Him. Him, meaning, your betrothed. The one you’re supposed to be with in the end. The selection made for you. This is an expectation placed upon you.

And Haldir is right. He does not love you. While you intend to be loyal in your upcoming marriage, you also know his heart will yearn for another. But you also yearn for someone else, and Haldir is standing right here, questioning all of this, wanting to know why you won’t pick him.

“Sometimes duty comes before happiness,” you reply softly, gaze cast downward.

“Does it?” he counters quickly.

You keep your face turned toward the ground. Stare at your feet.

The two of you have lain in this clearing, limbs draped over and around each other. There has always been closeness between the two of you. There has always been touching, skin pressed to skin, lips brushing but never fully meeting. Yet, the two of you have never completed the act itself.

That is binding. That is forever.

But you see it in Haldir’s eyes now as you sneak a peek of him. That desperate hunger. The desire to be with one person for the end of your days. It is an arrow through the heart, piercing and sharp and stinging.

You wish to satiated it, to admit to what you want most in this world. Because it is him. It is Haldir that you crave more than anyone else.

“I would be breaking my oath,” you reply softly, finally having the courage to look at him directly.

“Would you?” he asks. “You have made no vow. You have created no bond. The choice is yours. Utterly.” He gestures at himself with his free hand. “And I am right here.”

With a shaking hand, you reach up to cradle his cheek. Haldir turns into your touch, sighing gently, and that snaps your resolve, dissolves it like the winter snows melting in the sun. Haldir must sense the change, because the two of you meet, lips finally joining in what they’ve been longing for.

He tastes perfect. Wonderful. A match made for the ages.

Haldir’s hand upon the tree departs, leaving the bark to encircle your waist, to draw your body against his. You do not resist. You surrender to him, opening like a flower, wanting nothing more than to forget all your fears and sorrows in this little clearing.

The night is long, but it is not forever. For now, the two of you can have this.

Haldir drags you even closer, pressing you firmly against him as he learns the contours of your lips. His hands discover the planes of your body, and yet it’s not enough for him. Haldir is charged like lightening across the sky.

The two of you have been denying these mutual feelings for far too long.

This is a tremor. Earth-shaking. A star bursting into dust.

Haldir guides you to the center of the clearing, easily removing his cloak with one hand. He breaks away a moment to lay it down on the dewy grass, reaching for you the moment it fans out to hold the two of you.

You sink down with him, buckles and straps, and armor disappearing as you go.

It is everything.

It is nothing.

It is all you need in the gentle dark.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[hecallsmegirlieee]

i prefer it by moonlight ༊*·˚

m.list ◦ askbox

synopsis: an evening at the beach with timothée but it’s just the two of you

*18+, minors DNI, sexual themes & references, romantic dynamic, established relationship, consent

Somewhere in the hills behind you, the sun was melting in the west. It was late in the evening and everything was slowly turning soft, blue and melancholic.

Waves came. Waves left.

They faded in the shore; every breath from the sea so full of life that it seemed whoever respired it, though dying, might revive. You watched them cover colourful pebbles, glimmering under the mute presence of the moon, leaving trails of sea foam behind to dissolve into the air.

The voice of the sea was seductive, never ceasing, whispering. 

A smile stretched on your lips. There was something so magical about that hour. A crescent moon was rising between sweet clouds, its light becoming more and more luminous as the atmosphere darkened, obeying a victorious night.

Your chin fell to the side and you stared at Timothée. He was laying on his towel, your towel, stomach touching the ground and back open to the sky. His cheek hid behind his shoulder, eyes fixed on grains of sand that slipped between his fingers, and each with unique silverness sank into the golden surface. A seashell sat on his arm, one of those that used to have a match, now alone in the comfort of his skin. 

Without a word, you captured it between your fingers and then fell on your back. The corners of his mouth curved up as he turned his gaze to you, covering a sweet smile behind his arm. 

Iridescent colours danced inside the shell, while bizarre combinations of whites, browns and oranges hugged the outside skin. It was a strange one. 

Tim observed you leaving the seashell back on your towel and then leaning your head to meet him. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you extended your hand and touched his hair, brushing through damp curls soaked in salt.

« I’m going in, » you said, trying to catch his eyes behind a dark pair of sunglasses.

Timothée tilted his head on his shoulder, watching your figure shrink as you stood up and walked to the water. Reflexively, he tossed his glasses on the towel and followed your footprints, feet stepping on the mould you created before him. Glistering pebbles pierced his skin and sea foam washed him. 

« Do you think the sun set ? », you turned back orphically. Your hands stayed on your hips at the feeling of the cool water climbing up your skin.

« I don’t know… », he murmured, walking carefully, trying to neutralise with rocks and water until he found sand.

« What do you think ? »

His hand stretched in your direction and you caught it, fingers wanting nothing more than to hold him close.

« Yes… »

« Yes ? »

« No ? » A smile played on your mouth and Timothée chuckled at the feeling of cold chills, spreading throughout his body. « Why ? » You shrugged.

Waves crashed your legs. The flesh of the sea was holding a mirror and you watched your knees dissolving into the sky. Sand and salt stirred in the air. The soppy waft was splashing kisses on you as the breeze with the distant smell of rosemary ran its fingers through your hair, luring it along.

Without warning, Timothée pulled you by the hand close to him and kissed you on the lips. You smiled and wrapped one arm around his neck, bringing him into a hug. Your eyes peered at the beach as you balanced your chin on top of his shoulder.

« Everyone’s gone, » you murmured with a frown, lips softly caressing his neck, and Tim turned around. 

Everyone had left. It was just you, him and the tender twilight. You always imagined that everyone shared your love for dreamlike hues and the promise of starlight. It came to you as a surprise to watch the beach empty.

« It’s just us then. » You smiled, glancing back at him. Your fingers lingered on the back of his hair before bodies disconnected.

A rose glow faded on the horizon and melodious laughter echoed at sunset’s dying glory, slowly vanishing into the air as you let the water hug you.

Under the surface, everything looked blurry. Specs danced in the water and hair floated everywhere. The sky’s reflection sank in with you while the sea consumed the both of you.

Timothée’s hand wrapped around your ankle, trying to hold you back so he could keep up with your pace. A grin curled up on your face and bubbles floated on the surface while you traveled further and further into the sea.

Gasping for air you emerged. You pulled your hair behind as eyes scanned the blue for Tim. Aimlessly you swam deeper to the white buoys, waiting. But as the seconds passed, you became more aware of the vastness that opened around you, and the idea of how easily it was to be swallowed in it made panic creep into your heart.

As if reading your mind, Tim appeared at once a few meters away.

« Asshole, » you muttered paddling deeper to where he was.

« Look what I found, » he said breathlessly, a huge smile plastered on his lips. With a shake of his head, he unglued the hair off his face and then caught your hand. « Open your hand. »

« You almost drowned, » you mumbled, looking at the shell he placed on your palm. It was one of the thin curly ones but it was much bigger than what you’d usually find.

« For you. » You grinned, stretching your neck to place a sweet kiss on the side of his mouth.

« Thank you. »

He kissed you back with more force, causing the both of you to dive underwater. Timothée helplessly cupped your face, eyes unable to focus and lips brushing vague shapes against any skin they could catch, slipping from mouth to nose, cheek, neck, anywhere.

Amid the sea, you dived through moonlit passages and secret sea tunnels. You swam, neptunian children under the faint moon, your laughter flowing between tamarisks and sea daffodils until the night shadows stretched impossibly long and the sky took in the colour of a ripe bruise.

« What are we going to do when we get back home ? », you asked. Your feet touched the soft sand as the waves pushed you closer to the shallows. Timothée bit his lips, his hands sheepishly entangling with yours.

« What are we going to do when we get back home ? », he repeated your question a bit distracted by your arms that slithered around his neck.

« What do you want ? »

« Anything you want. »

« What do I want ? », you pressed your mouth into a smile. « I have some things in mind... » A boyish grin grew on his face.

« Tell me. » You stared at him and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him as droplets streamed from his hair down to his lips, staining them maroon and swollen.

One hand stopped toying with his hair and slowly trailed to his chest, down his stomach. A sharp inhale left his lips, followed by a small laugh, when you moved dangerously low and rested your hand on his crotch. He blissfully dropped his head to your face, mouth agape against the skin of your cheek. You pulled back and he tried to catch your arm but you let it fall on his hip.

« What do you want ? To tease me to death ? », he breathed out a smile and held your legs. Your arms slithered around him tightly as he drifted you to the shore.

You laid on the sand, hair spread around and hands resting above your head. Splashes of moonlight danced on everything it touched giving a subtle reflection on your glistering body. One foot was bent toying like a pendulum left to right, while the other feet dissolved into the sea.

You tilted your head to the side mischievously, eyes shining in grotesque triumph. Timothée looked down at you, a lurking glint in his gaze. He kneeled.

You touched him, first with only the fingertips, but then, more daring, with the whole palm. Your hand slowly stayed on his nape, supporting his forehead against yours.

« Kiss me, » you said, nose playfully brushing his, making his mouth curl up. You licked away his grin as lips soft soaked to yours.

Tim hovered on top of you, his body leaving wet stains on yours.

He kissed your neck, hand eager, trailing down to your chest. Your breath turned unstable, a strike of pleasure warming you up from the inside out, as his mouth tried to push your top aside and his teeth appeared, grazing over your skin. You pushed the hair from his eyes and gasped at the sensation.

Timothée glanced at you and let out a hushed moan to sink into your skin. His fingers pressed against your stomach, slowly tilting to the side on your hip to untangle the stubborn knot of your swimsuit. The strings fell to the sand and his hand followed the curve of your thigh, gripping tightly the flesh. He rubbed your apex, making your leg slither around him and stitch him on you.

Bated breaths warmed your face, lips desperately trying to touch skin. Without saying anything, your hand swam between your bodies. Tim groaned in your mouth when your fingers laced around his crotch, the kisses becoming lingering and longer.

You brought him close to you and bodies sank deep into each other. Blissed out, he lunged forward. You melted, stirring two parts of a whole finally into one.

Soft summer night danced in the air mixing memory with desire. The wind’s roar and its chills aligned to bring your bodies impossibly close. The moon was fully out, sky darkening, sea swelling.

You breathed each other in, letting the other inhale the air, the strained sounds the one was eliciting from the other. You moaned, his name and nothing else on your lips, as you reached for his shoulder, squeezing his skin hard.

Clasped into one, you writhed together, gripping and tugging and scratching. A thrust and then another. Until a wave of shuddering moved over his skin and you erratic, moved by a brutish need, engulfed by the flames of passion, you twisted your body and pushed at his shoulders and in one swift second your bodies switched places.

Your head fell back and chest expanded, the sweet feeling of suffocation taking over your body. A spasm of pleasure shook Timothée and he groaned.

A hush fell over the world.

Panting heavily you glanced around you. The night rolled itself away into great, soft horizon; the sky gleamed blue and silvery. Then your gaze fell on him and you smiled.

He lifted his head to catch your mouth but you tipped his neck back and leaned close to him, lips swollen and salty brushed against each other as cold waves drifted up your legs.

[thatacotargirl]

The Daughter of Day (1)

My third and final active fanfiction is here! This is The Daughter of Day, a series exploring a new Court and a triad, because why not!

I hope you enjoy this introductory chapter - and keep your eyes peeled for the next instalment 🌟

This story is set after A Court of Silver Flames.

My inbox remains open for oneshot/imagine requests.

A Reader x Feysand Fanfiction

🎶 "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine - you make me happy, when skies are grey - you'll never know, dear, how much I love you - please don't take, my sunshine, away" 🎶

Helion held his newborn daughter, bundled in his arms in a yellow blanket, as he swayed gently around the nursery. He had had no intentions of becoming a father anytime soon, but when the baby's mother arrived at his doorsteps, he had fallen in love on the spot - those chubby cheeks and shining round eyes that peered out at him had captured his heart and soul.

Now, he couldn't imagine life without her.

Placing his daughter into her bassinet, watching her sweet eyes grow heavy and blinking, he set her floating celestial mobile to turn and tucked her in. Stroking her cheek as he watched her slowly fall asleep, he vowed to love and protect her for always. She would want for nothing in this life, he would make sure of that.

25 years later - Reader POV

"Y/n, are you ready?"

You can hear your father calling out to you, interrupting your reading. Grumbling, you grab your bookmark and note the page, before setting it down on the coffee table. The middle of a chapter. The worst place to stop reading.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming".

As you exit the sitting room and join your father's side, you see the look he gives you in response to your attitude. His eyebrow still raised, he stays silent as he opens the front door and gestures for you to leave the palace. You walk ahead of him and towards Xalan, your pegasus. Your father had gifted you Xalan on your 10th birthday and the pair of you were thick as thieves; much to his horror. You had Xalan wrapped around your little finger and often got yourselves into all sorts of trouble that Helion would have to rescue you both from. One time, you'd ended up in Thesan's bedroom in the middle of the night - and nearly gave the High Lord a heart attack before Helion was able to arrive and scoop you away, profusely apologising. He still apologises every time he sees Thesan for the embarrassment.

You mount Xalan and wait for your father to join with Meallan. Once you are both comfortable, he gestures for you both to take flight.

"This is a diplomatic meeting, y/n, so you have to be on your best behaviour. You are the heir to the Day Court, which means you represent the Court and me".

You don't reply. There's no need to, really. You will sit demurely and smile, speak when spoken to, and daydream otherwise of what life could offer you if you could just break free.

You had everything you could possibly want at the Day Court, your father made sure of that. But it didn't quench the desire in you to explore and see new horizons. 25 years in the confines of Day, only being able to satisfy your curiosity of Prythian by reading historical literature, was really taking its toll. You didn't mean to start acting out, but the boredom was driving you insane.

As you begin your descent into Velaris, the Night Court's City of Starlight, you can't help but notice the colours. The Sidra, the river running through the city, looked like it contained iridescent starlight. Flowers bloomed in deep blues and purples in people's front gardens. The mountain ranges in the distance seem to sparkle even in the daytime. You can hear people bustling about the streets, happy chatting and laughter fill the air.

Landing with a gentle thud before a riverfront house, you carefully guide Xalan to a stop and follow your father to a grassy sideline where the pair can graze happily. Once both pegasus' are settled, you watch your father round to the door and knock heavily.

"Helion, welcome!" comes a booming voice as the door swings wide open.

"A pleasure as always, Rhysand".

You see your father embrace the High Lord of Night as you stand behind, awkwardly. As Rhysand pulls away, he looks behind Helion to see you standing there. Helion notices Rhysand's wide eyes and turns to introduce you.

"Rhysand, this is my daughter, y/n. I thought it was time she learn the ways of the business, since she will one day take over from me after all", he laughs, guiding me to stand in front of him. Rhysand kindly takes my hand in his, shaking it gently.

"Welcome to Velaris, y/n". He smiles at you with kind eyes, which you return, before shyly pulling your hand away and tucking it behind your back.

"Helion, I had no idea you had a daughter?"

"Yes, well, I tried to keep her out of the spotlight to let her have a normal childhood; but she was getting restless in Day".

So he had noticed.

"Do come in, both of you".

Rhysand opened the door wider and moved, allowing you both passage into his home. You noticed the paintings that adorned the hallway, stopping at one in particular. It was one of your father, in the midst of the war 45 years ago, wielding his Spell-Cleaving powers with Hybern's army visibly falling in the distance. You had read about your father's role in the war, but only through reading the history books in his library. He never spoke of it, no matter how often you asked.

"Remarkable, isn't it? Feyre, my mate, painted this from a memory of your father during the war. He was a force to be reckoned with, took down nearly half the army on his own".

You turned to Rhysand with a gasp.

"Really?"

He looked at you, his face shrouded with confusion.

"He was formidable, y/n. Really, Prythian wouldn't be standing if it wasn't for him".

You turn back to gaze at the portrait, lost in thought. If your father had powers strong enough to single-handedly take down half an army, what could yours do with the right training? Helion was reluctant to let you do more than basic healing spells, worried that you would accidentally hurt yourself with your powers if left to your own devices. You could feel the power in you, strumming through your fingertips, begging to be wielded.

"Y/n?".

You turn and see your father standing in the doorway, silently beckoning for you to join him in the office. You sigh, thoughts of powers ebbing away, as you join him to discuss peace-making treaties with the mortal lands.

After you had been introduced to the rest of the Night Court, and they had gotten over the shock of Helion's 25-year-old daughter making a sudden appearance, the meeting carried on as normal. You mind wandered often, to the streets outside of the house, to the painting of your father and the power you could feel exuding from it, and you could feel yourself getting restless.

When the meeting was finally finished and you and your father had began the flight home, you couldn't help but wonder what your life would be like if you left the nest of the Day Court. And, as you watched Xalan in flight, his wings outspread through the sky - you realised it was time to spread your own.

"Father".

"Yes, sunshine?"

"I'd like to take a trip".

"Where would you like to go, my love? We could visit the continent, if you'd like?".

"A trip on my own, dad".

You can feel your father's gaze piercing you, but you refused to look up and meet his eyes.

"On your own?"

"I'm suffocating, dad. I need to live a little. Please. Just for a few weeks, just some distance from Day, so I can learn and explore and have fun like any other 25-year-old".

"But you're not any other 25-year-old, you're heir to the Day Court. You are a target".

"Then let me go somewhere where I'm not a target, where I can be protected. Please, dad".

You can feel your eyes pricking with tears, and not from the blowing wind. Your head is still bowed, but you know your father can sense them, can sense your heartache. He remains silent for a few minutes.

"I can, perhaps, ask Rhysand if he would grant you permission to stay in Velaris for a short while".

"Please, dad. Anything".

You meet his gaze and can see the pain in his face. His heart torn between keep you safe, but keeping his promise to you to want for nothing. And, it was becoming more obvious to him now, that what you wanted was to leave.

"Ok. I hear you. I will send a request to Rhysand when we are home".

[pursuitseternal]

“Welcome Me:”Ascended Astarion x F!Reader, a fic to sate your desires, darling in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x Reader | E | 5.3K Vampire smut

Summary: After the ending of the storyline… After weeks apart, the blink of an eye for you immortals, Astarion returns from consolidating his rule, expecting a “warm welcome.” But you miss your charming, tortured rogue… and you will play whatever games he wants to get him to remember. To make him remember the rogue he was.

Cw: dom/sub dynamics, choking, breath play, spanking, “don’t move unless I tell you😈,” power play, biting (obviously), blood kink and drinking (vampires, duh), NSFW on so many levels.

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It is late, the candles have all gutted out, the lingering scent of smoke wafting to your nose as you wind your way through hall after hall of the Crimson Palace. Your head would be swimming, should be swimming, with the amount of potent High Fae wine you have consumed.

But you are turned, your body pulses with ascendant blood in your veins. His blood.

Even as your irritation at him burns hot, you cannot deny how your body trembles to think of your master. And even as you leave the long vacant ballroom, you sigh his name to no one but the air… Astarion. He has been so distant of late, pulled from your side all day and night, meeting with important and powerful beings. Consolidating his… your… power as you take what is yours from Baldur’s Gate. No one cuts a deal, turns a profit, threatens your security without the effects lining your pockets or without enemies ending up dead. Drained. Signs to those who oppose Astarion the Ascended. Your mind fills with that shining smirk, those glowing crimson eyes framed in lustrous pale skin.

Your heart skips a beat. For the first time in weeks you saw him tonight, mingling at the ball, turning heads all around him, persuading with words, with promises of power and gold, if not with promises of his body. No. Never that again. That body is yours as you are his. He will never whore himself out anymore. Those days are so far behind him, you must always take caution never to mention what it was for him before his ascension. That vampire rogue that trapped you between his hard, cold thighs to hold a dagger to your throat.

Love at first sight.

You shake your head. No, not love. Obsession. Fascination. His thrall long before he gave you his blood.

You pass open windows, billowing curtains of finest gauze catching in the nighttime breezes. Starlight cuts the darkness in iridescent beams, patches of brilliance flooding the shadows that cling to every corner. You lose yourself, smelling the wine on your own breath as you sigh, looking into the sky at the multitudes of stars above.

Lost and alone. Until you hear that silken voice caress your ear. “There you are…” You whip your head around, catching two glowing red eyes and shining fangs grinning at you from the closest bank of shadows. Astarion turns his head to face you fully, reclining against the wall even as you tremble visibly at the sight of him. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he purrs. That line, the one that first sank his claws deep into your heart even as he sank his cock hard between your folds for the first time— that line still makes your breath snag in your own throat.

And you love it.

Noiselessly, he crosses to you, standing in the window, bathed in the light of the stars. “What, my treasure? Not happy to see me?” His full lips turn in a saccharine pout, all a show, bait to lure you in. “I really expected a warmer welcome home than this.” His fangs glint as he draws to a stop, so close to you, the gems and beads of his velvet tunic brush against you. “Or have you grown so cold blooded since I made you mine… my consort?”

He growls his possession of you, and the blood in your veins does run cold. Chilled. Frozen even as you feel his breath whistle in the stray locks of your hair as he lowers his mouth to your neck. You turn your head on instinct, baring your neck and trembling even as his mouth descends towards your skin. Lips press, soft and attentive, trailing caresses up to the tender spot beneath your pointed ear.

“May I bite you?” He breathes the question down your neck. A lingering vestige of the sad, unsure rogue you met on the road, asking for your yes even though he thrums with power, the power to coerce your every word to assent.

That memory of his tragic eyes and wandering soul, the male that first crossed your path, it haunts you. The moment you feel his lips sneering, raising to bare his fangs ready to bite, you turn sharply. “Who said you could bite yet, my love?” you smirk in return. “Gone for weeks, and you expect such a willing, warm welcome.” You shake your head, the links and gems of your heavy, encrusted earrings jangling with the motion. “No, you tell me first I am more to you than the power you horde now that you are free, and then maybe, just maybe, you may have your fill.”

His crimson eyes narrow, displeasure darkening his expression and tinging his pale skin with ashen pools as he stares in return. “Well now, seems you have forgotten your place. Forgotten that all I do is for us, and our rule of Baldur’s Gate.” His voice is cold and exacting, his arms folding over his chest to square his chiseled shoulders.

It is the same, the same posture he once stood in so often before you. After battles, blood spattered and charming. A mirage. It is a memory, nothing more, as you see only the dark, hungry ascended being he has become.

“Our rule?” You spit, squaring your shoulders, wishing you had some weapon more than the fangs between your own lips. “Doing this… for us?” You place your hands on his chest, pressing into the decadent stitching and beading of his tunic. Hard muscles push and flex beneath your touch. “I know there is an us, you and me, bound together for all time. But, do not deceive yourself, Astarion, you crave the power for you. Not as gift for me…”

“Mmm, my pet, sharpened your claws in my absence, readying your own fangs for my neck now,” he gives a low, rapid laugh. “Simply riveting.” His head cocks back, moonlight spilling into those silver curls that fall with reckless abandon. Haphazard. Sexy. And he knows it, the way you can’t keep your eyes off of him. “Now, be a good girl,” he growls, “and welcome me home.”

You eye him for a moment, but that is all he allows for you. Resisting is futile against your maker. Even without the magic of your blood bond, he knows your heart is and always has been his. That is enough to compel you, knowing how you will cave at the first tangle of his tongue in your mouth, the first slip of his fingers into your wetness.

Faster than the lightning, he sweeps you into his arms and bolts down hall after hall, swifter than wind with his preternatural speed. His laugh tickles your ear as you cling to his shoulders, arms wrapped firmly around his neck, until he bursts through your bed chamber door.

You catch your breath with a gasp, a muffled cry ripping from your throat as he tosses you into the middle of those blood red sheets. Like you weigh nothing to him. His precious toy, his play thing. And by the gleam in his crimson eyes and the run of his tongue over his fang points, he is about to have his fill of playing with you.

Slowly, he creeps on to the bed, the mattress buckling under his hands, his knees, as he slinks closer to cover you with his body. Master of all your desires, he makes certain you feel his arousal pressing on your mound through the layers of your dress and his trousers. So hard for you, you wonder briefly why you pretend to resist. The thrill of the hunt, you suppose, letting him grind into you slowly. His knee catches under yours, insistent, pushing, spreading your legs wider as your skirt naturally rucks itself higher. A slight breeze makes you catch your breath, the chill swirling over your skin, passing the throbbing heat of your mound. And he thrusts that massive and contained cock harder, more demandingly, against you. The friction makes your mouth water, but it is nothing compared to what it is to have him inside.

“Now,” he closes in to cover you, arms bracing firmly to cage you at your shoulders. One hand lifts, fingers closing in around your throat. Not too hard, but enough to make you shiver and open your mouth for air. “I think there is something you wish to say, an invitation, an acceptance that dances on the tip of your tongue. Will you share it….” His eyes flicker to your opened mouth, slack as his fingers press just a bit harder on your windpipe, “… or will you have me pull it from your mouth with mine, my love?”

You struggle for words, your agreement and your dissent fight in equal measure. No words will suffice, and with a press of your own elbow into the bed beneath you, you force your head to lift. Your mouth claims his conceited smirking lips, even as his hold on your throat grows painful with your movement. Stars fill your eyes as you gasp into his mouth. That controlling hand instantly lifts its clutch from your windpipe, sweeping to the back of your head. Fingers tangling into the unraveled strands of your braid. His taste is more intoxicating than the wine tonight. You missed him, his taste, the way his tongue sweeps and explores your mouth. The way it dances over the points of your fangs. The commanding manner he teases your tongue between his lips to do the same. Weeks of deprivation from his passion, and you fall right back into it, letting his lust for you thrum in your veins and race like fire through your nerves. You gasp as he consumes your lips, the slightest thrust of his arousal against your body enough to nearly make you come already.

So attentive, his hands begin to loosen the laces on your bodice, deliberate but gentle as he exposes you inch by inch. What fabric does not fall away, he grabs between his two hands, tearing without even breaking from your kiss. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do that all night. To get you completely bared… naked and mine. My little… treat.”

…with your cheeks all flushed…

That is him, that… was him. Your rogue. Despite the power that now consumes him, the darkness that whispers around him, that creeps into his complexion, your tortured rogue is still within him. No matter how much he tries to deny it, to bury it beneath power and wealth and sex with you.

You want to, need to, coax him out from there.

“Perhaps,” you breathe, “perhaps you need to show me you have missed me before I welcome you in, welcome you home… warmly?”

He breaks from your lips, that arrogant brow raising as his lips twist in that smirk that makes your core even more molten. “I have missed you, every moment we were apart, my love. Your blood inside me would never be enough to satisfy, not until I am inside you, and only then once we have totally…” he places a kiss on the crest of your shoulder, “…completely…” another kiss in the crook of your neck, “… spent ourselves… will we even be close to… “satisfaction.”

You shiver, your whole body shaking as he doesn’t bite, but runs those pointed fangs across your skin. You tap into your own reserves of immortal strength, threading your fingers into those unruly silver curls to pry his mouth from your flesh. “Your words are sweet, my love, but I prefer action.” Your hand pulls his pale neck within your own reach, your tongue running along the edge of his pointed ear, licking and sucking loudly, ignoring the cold metal loops and piercings as you pleasure him. He sighs, his body losing some of that rigid edge, softening under your attentions. “Let me bite you first, my love. Gain my strength as your spawn, so long deprived of her master’s power. Show me that you will put your love for me first, above your… ambitions… and just maybe I’ll let you slip inside without begging.”

“If that is what it will take,” he replies in that deep, honeyed voice of his, “then by all means, bite away, pet.”

That softness in his voice, that supple way his frame clings to yours, you know that the rogue he once was still creeps behind his ambition, his love for you still surfacing through his lust for power. You swirl your tongue over the span of his neck, the taste of his skin is a familiar blend of sweat and spice, cold to the touch as he ever has been.

Your undead lover.

Your own fangs prick his skin, gently, enough to fill your mouth with his blood. Sweet and heady, more intoxicating than wine. A bouquet that satisfies and overwhelms you in one swallow. Instantly, you feel the swirl of his power coursing through you, your limbs cramping as ascendant magic takes over. One more swallow, and you release your mouth, careful not to take too much from Astarion, let you spark his ire. His brows cant as he looks at you again, and you must look… different. More powerful? More lustful? But you can see as he gazes down at you, the trickle of his own blood running down his pale neck, that he is… impressed. Desire ignites somehow more brightly behind those crimson eyes.

You drink in his easy smirk, the soft caress of his fingers over your cheek, his thumb softly wiping away his blood from the corner of your mouth. Then he raises that thumb, his pink tongue licking his own blood from its stained pad. You feel his arousal beat as it throbs between your legs still. So pleased... but pleased with himself. His body instantly shifting to pin you back under him, bending you to his will again.

“Tch,” you make the sound that he so often makes at you, that condescending suck of your teeth. “So close my love, but I’m not through with testing your love.”

“Careful,” he hisses as his eyes narrow with danger and warning, “I bite… too.” He flashes those perfect teeth down at you. “Do not try me too hard, love,” his voice that silken growl.

“But I will try you just enough,” you dare to reply, your words earning that intrigued and sultry smirk from him. Closing your eyes, you picture the doors just beside you, garden doors that lead into the dirt and the trees of your private courtyard. His power courses in you, filling your belly and flooding your frame with your own heightened abilities. You push him off you, making him stagger to his feet on the floor. Your hands find his chest, racing with your own vampiric speed until you force him through those garden doors and into the moonlight. Your feet slip on the dirt, your dress falling off your body in the tatters he made. You stand naked, your strength making him buckle before you, making him lower his body to lie beneath you as you straddle your legs around his waist in the dust and grass and dirt.

He releases a low, feral growl, but he does not resist, letting you now press your body, bared completely to his eyes, to cover his. “Now,” his voice barely audible through the salivating hunger in his throat, “have I earned your assent at last, my pet?”

“Not until you fuck me in the dirt like the rogue you were,” you pant, fighting the urge to bring his long and cold fingers to pierce the molten slick between your thighs. You raise yourself from his chest, gripping your thighs around his waist and letting your slick soak his elegant and refined clothes. You feel him squirm beneath you, bucking his hips ever so slightly, dragging the sensation of his wet velvet breeches through your folds.

He sneers slightly, anger fluttering in that deep crimson gaze, as if you can see the memories of what he was clawing to the surface. His voice is like ice, slippery and cold. “The rogue I was is gone, my pet, but, if you wish me to be roguish, then roguish I shall be…” He barely gives you a warning, a flash of brightness in his eyes before he flips you on your back, your body slamming loudly against the dirt, knocking the wind from your lungs. His long, elegant fingers make quick work of the buttons down his chest. The bright fabric of his tunic flutters as he tosses it, not giving a shit where it lands as long as his skin finally brushes against your round, full, and swaying breasts.

He pauses a moment, kneeling over you, caging you between his cold and hard thighs. He licks his lips at you, the offering for his consumption, splayed in the dirt. Memories flicker over his eyes, a soft smile of recognition, of being here before, with you. Naked in the dirt. Your luxurious clothing crumpled, your sumptuous bed too far. If you close your eyes, you and he are as you first met, lust and love pulsing in the air, your backs covered in the grime of dust and sweat. Your hands press against those thighs that pin you, the black velvet crushed and soft as you run them higher. He smirks, approving your every little inching progress towards that straining erection. The leather ties of his band snap as you tear at them, the more they loosen, the more you can see the pale and glistening head of his cock.

He grinds his hips under your touch, the black cloth, sticky with your slick peeling away to reveal the thing you have craved for these weeks. Long and pale, engorged with his need for you, so hard every vein down its shaft is visible, his cock twitches every time you brush it as you free it.

“Mmm,” he groans to finally bare himself to you. “Just say the word, darling, and you’ll see more stars than are in the sky.” He croons, he preens, running a hand through his own hair as you take his cock in your hand. You stroke his immense length, the rises of each vein along it as familiar to you as if it were your own body.

Darling, he calls you. You run your thumb over his weeping head, spreading the pearl of cum along the ridge of his cock. Your first pet name. Not treasure, not consort, not treat…

“Call me darling again, and I’ll let you slip inside, my love,” you purr, bracing your other hand into the opening of his breeches to softly cup his balls as well.

His brow raises as he shifts himself, his hands lifting your legs one at a time until he crouches between your thighs. “Well then, I best make certain you are ready to welcome me inside…” he breaths, aiming his haughty mouth for your quaking belly before he places a kiss just above your navel, “…darling.”

His lips trail kisses lower, covering your hips, your belly, as if, for all the ascendant power flowing in veins, he can’t help but to adore your body. You moan your approval, slipping your fingers into those tantalizing silver curls, savoring every sway and lift of his head as he nestles himself lower over your mound. His breath is hot, chilling you more than the cold press of his hands as he spreads your folds open. Then, Astarion lifts his head one last time, flashing a taunting pout from between your thighs. “Please, darling,” he raises a brow, expectantly. “Just a little bite…” his fingers trace your innermost thigh, his head turning to lick you, his tongue lapping you in a single broad stroke. “You know how sweet you taste,” he purrs as he presses his nose, nuzzling that supple flesh of your inner thigh.

“Be my rogue, not my master,” you grip his hair tighter, staying him from lowering to feast on you. “Call me your darling, not your consort…” you pant, watching him lick his fang slowly, “and I’ll welcome you home to feed on me wherever you desire.”

“Darling,” he croons, slipping his long, dexterous fingers deep in your walls. “I’ll be your everything, since you are… mine.” Fingers crook inside you as he speaks, his voice low and wicked and dripping with sex, his touch catching your inner spot that makes you moan. The perfect sound of submission to his claim. To his possession of you. And you of him. “Are we… agreed?” His voice rasps against your thigh once more, mouth drooling as it hovers at the ready.

“Yes,” you breathe, you moan at last. The next instant you feel his bite, slicing into your thigh, your body trembling too much from his hooking fingers that thrust in and out of you to even notice the pain.

You feel the tug of his lips, the strong suck of his mouth around his bite marks as he drinks you. His tongue laps at your leg, his fingers ever attentive inside you as he drives you mad, salivating with every stroke and tug and thrust of his touch, every catch of your clit with his thumb.

You buck your hips, trying to catch even more friction as he pleasures you, but instantly he pulls away, taking that soaked hand from inside you to press your belly back down hard. The emptiness makes you cry his name, the strength of his hand on your hips adding a moan to it.

“Don’t move, pet,” he rasps, licking his lips to clean them of your blood. “Don’t be a bad girl, not now…”

You tremble, as he lowers his mouth again, careful to freeze, holding your breath until those mesmerizing fingers return to the demanding rhythm inside you again. You hold still, controlling even your breathing, even your eyes fluttering as you feel sucking once more. Filled with your blood for now, he runs his tongue from your thigh, tracing the distance down your leg until it slips between your folds as well.

Masterful, no tongue can sweep with more precision, more force, than his as he laps your clit. It takes but another swirl over your seam, his fangs catching slightly on your folds, to send you into the oblivion of orgasm.

Your fingers clutch at his hair wildly, clawing so hard you could draw blood if he let you. You pant, unable to say anything other than the muffled syllables of his name. And he just laughs, low and throaty as he watches you writhe in the dirt. You finally open your eyes, meeting his approving smirk, that cocky eyebrow raised in pure dark delight. “I told you not to move,” his grin widens wickedly, “so disappointing, darling.”

“But,” you grimace, groaning, but he just places a single finger over your lips, ordering your silence.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth, teeth that still drip with your blood, “you will move when I say you can.”

“Is this how you wish to be welcomed home? You have always been fond of such games.” You smirk, watching him slip his breeches completely free from his long, pale legs.

“Mmm,” he assents, “but it will be my turn first, my pet, until you’ve earned yours.”

“Astarion,” you reply, but his finger only returns to press harder against your mouth.

“Shhh, you can speak, too, when I tell you to, darling,” that finger pushes into your mouth, wiggling over your tongue. “Now, suck, my love.”

Suck you do, cleaning his fingers of your tangy slick. He groans as you lick him clean, every swirl of your tongue driving him wild, his other hand flying to his cock as he grips that twitching, engorged length. Rubbing himself, he thrusts his hips in time with your tongue. As his breathing grows sharper, heavier, you know he’s not going to last much longer. And you bite one fang into the thick pad of his finger.

His blood caresses your tongue again, the power within him stronger, headier, as you can almost taste his arousal. He rips his finger from your mouth with a snarl. “I said suck, not bite or bleed me dry, my love.” His hands are at your knees, raising them until your ass lifts from the ground, his hand slapping firmly on your cheek. You cry aloud at the resounding spank. But he only laughs again. “Bad girl, crying when I did not say…” His hand slaps again, just the same as before, deliberate but not painful. A pleasurable punishment. And you swallow your cry this time, careful not to so much as grunt. He smiles his approval back down at you. His eyes whisper, good girl, as he sets your legs back down, positioning them just so.

Your lips purse, fluttering as you bite them to hold back your words, treading along the rules of this game as best you can. For now.

“I can see you wish to speak,” he arches one brow, “you may, until I finally sneak my little way in to start fucking you…”

He moves quickly, crawling over your body, and all you can do is pant his name, pleading with him in incoherent syllables. “A-astar-ion, p-please…”

Too late. He sheathes himself to the root in one thrust. “Ah ah,” he chides to cover you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. “Now, busy your pretty, little mouth by kissing mine, and just let me fuck you, understood?”

You tremble under those eyes, your walls stretching as he already presses against the end of your channel.

“You may… nod, my love,” he taunts, a wicked tone of delight in that honeyed throat of his. You obey. “You may also touch me, your hands on my back, but nothing too rough, darling. This is about us, and our pleasure. Now… play nice, dear.” His words rush on his breath between your lips, and then he consumes you, tastes you, the mix of his blood and your slick still both on your tongue. You feel him licking it from you, making him thrust that cool, long cock all the deeper. A growl of satisfaction vibrates from his throat as he savors your mix of flavors. All his favorite things. Achingly slowly, he moves inside, dragging his length so you feel the ridge of his head, the threads of its veins, tug against your walls. Working in and out, you feel his hands behind your neck and shoulders, angling your mouth to just the perfect place for him to plunder it.

Then, his knees do the same, first one urges your left knee, taking you apart even as he keeps his slow and languorous thrusts. The other moves into place to do the same. His long legs press yours, opening you, spreading you, until he can go no deeper. His laugh, low and rumbling, tickles inside your mouth. Then, he fucks. Hard and demanding, swivels of his hips make certain he grazes his cock over that sweet, secret spot inside you. You lose yourself, the rhythm of his thrusts filling you with instant, incessant waves of pleasure.

You missed this. The games, the power plays, the wit and banter, biting with words and fangs. Now, he delves into you with abandon, no more games, no more dominance. In this moment, as he steals your breath and fucks you into the dirt, he is your rogue.

Your hands press into his ass, feeling the ripples of his muscles as he moves within you. The intoxicating beat of clench after clench, his voice growling his pleasure at your attentions. “That’s it, darling, feel how badly I’ve wanted this, wanted you… my darling… my consort…” Your hands run over the scars of his back, tracing over the shadows of his past. “That’s it,” he breathes, “I’ll allow you to…”

You smile, cutting off his words, claiming your chance to take the upper hand in the game. Knees raise to press into the hard surface of his stomach, rolling him quickly over on his back at last. “My turn,” you give a laugh, low and throaty like his. “You’ve allowed it, my love.”

“I wasn’t finished,” he snarls quietly, but you wriggle your hips, his cock still firmly sunk inside you, as you press a finger against his lips.

“Shh…” you cajole him, running your finger to trace those fleshy, arrogant, smirking lips. “You’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn, and I will not be called consort…”

“You prefer spawn…?” He taunts his hands running up your thighs, clawing into your hips. Still so reverent in his touch, even as his words throw barbs to get a rise from you.

You take the bait, splaying a hand on his chest, so hard, so pale, pushing him down as your cant your hips over his length. “Not merely consort… queen.”

“Hmmmm yes,” he purrs, flashing a smirk so twisted the starlight shines on his teeth brilliantly. “Oh… I do like the sound of that.”

Slowly you ride him, back and forth, bucking to keep his cock rolling inside you, his hands gripping at your hips. He steadies you, pushes you, thrusts up into you as your hips sink back to almost slap against his thighs. “Say it,” you pant.

“My darling…” he rasps, his breath grating in his throat as he groans with each slam of your cunt over his length.

“Not just that,” you crash back against him with a punishing force. “Not only that anymore…”

“My darling… queen,” he moans, gravel darkening his words, even as his eyes glow up at you, crimson and wonderous.

He is both things all at once, your rogue and your master, your lover in the dirt and on his throne. And as you begin to feel the final throes of your climax, hearing him grunting with each thrust, you lean down, baring your neck for his fangs one more time. He needs no further invitation or consent, the slice of his teeth into your skin pushes you over that final edge. You spasm, trembling, locked onto his lap as he thrusts up into you, mouth at your neck, cock buried deep. He hitches beneath you, face pressing against your neck as he grins in pleasure so intense, it hurts. You feel him pulsing inside you, seed spewing deep inside you adding to the slick between your thighs. You struggle to breathe, collapsed on his chest as you are now. His mouth still takes lazy sucks of your blood, even between his own gasps to catch his breath.

“That’s what I love about you,” he speaks softly, lips brushing your pointed ear. “My good girl, so eager to take the future by the balls, without losing what was the best of me before…”

“Mmm,” you breathe as you turn your head, nestling your forehead against the sharp edge of his jaw. “You can claim the world, but from time to time, you will need to fuck me in the dirt. Keep yourself… grounded.”

“Ha!” he giggles, bursting in hilarious ripples from his mouth as his arms wrap to cradle you tightly. “You sweet thing,” he purrs in silken tones again, “puns are still not beneath you, even as my... conso— as my queen. “Now ready yourself and brush off the dirt, round two in the lap of luxury I think.”

He lifts you effortlessly, pulling you by your hands back towards the palace doors, but now there is a lightness to his step, the grit of dust clinging to both your backs. You follow him in, even as he laughs and tugs you after him. Your rogue, your lord, your lover.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

End Chapter 1 of many… see my Masterlist for more

[fckmini]

Hii, im new to your blog and I love your work!! I was wondering if you could do a thranduil x fem elf reader who is the princess of nature so she can control nature etc and they could of met when they were younger and they were arranged to marry and fluffy ending please and thank you :))

I hope you like this @chocotacobread ! thank you SO much for requesting and feel free to send in any more that you have! :) im sorry it took so long!

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Spring - Thranduil x fem elf! Reader romantic fluff

I’m sorry if its too waffly but i wanted to write something pretty! 

Thranduil x reader relationship - fluff and romance :)

my masterlist is here - please check out some of my other work if you can!

As always please give me some feedback and please send requests <3

this is written as a part 2 to this request!!

mutuals and ppl I think might be interested: @in-darker-dreams @tolkien-fantasy @the-messy-nessie @blairsanne @aceofatook @lilunoakes @shrimpsthings @the-nerd-procrastinator @khazdith @glorfindelridesagain @therealsomajesticdonki @catnip-and-caprice @blairsanne @leafycasper @ur-gucchi-im-crocs @thelifelemonsgaveyou @emptyspace008 @iactuallyshipeveryone @zemosboy @theelfmaiden @i-did-not-mean-to @gossip-guy-of-middle-earth @catnip-and-caprice

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It was finally spring. Its arrival had always been a cherished event in the Woodland Realm, and this year was no different. A homely warmth seeped into Thranduil's skin, embracing him tenderly. The royal garden, awash with the tender hues of spring, was alive with the soft whisper of cherry blossoms. The sun’s tender touch enlivened soft petals that danced in the wind. They swirled, fluttering gently to the ground like the delicate brush of eyelashes in the morning. The King stood, a spectator to the seasons, his thoughts drifting back in time. 

Many springs ago, this very garden witnessed the first meeting of Thanduil and his beloved wife. It had been an arranged marriage, as is custom for elven royalty. The sun had been gleaming with the same fond brightness as it was now. It cast a golden hue that glittered in the iridescent dew that adorned the grass: nature's pearls. He was waiting with bated breath to meet his betrothed when she floated in. A breath of life. A sigh of sunshine. Ripples of grass blossomed beneath each step she took, leaving a constellation of wildflowers and daisies behind her.  The air was thick with pollen, heavy with the promise of new life. Otherworldly, even amongst elves. Her very essence seemed intertwined with the earth, and the elven king had been entranced from that first moment. 

“Thranduil,” her voice had been soft, melodic, “it is an honour to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” he had replied, bowing with a grace befitting a king, though his heart had skittered like that of a newborn deer. His eyes of starlight met hers, the deep hue of the sun at dawn. Sunshine incarnate, flowers bloomed before her, but none more so than the elven king. Her smile made the world itself seem dim, her laugh was purer than the tinkling of a rushing stream. He had worn his finest robes, plaited his silver, moonlight, hair in traditional braids. Yet, hers was ornate beyond compare, decorated with a rainbow of blooms, as opalescent as an aurora. 

In that moment, two souls had entwined, as is common in elven life-bonds. Once a sapling, their marriage blossomed into a bond that neither could have anticipated. The famously icy temperament of the king thawed beneath her touch and gaze. He melted before her. Their hands, desperate for the nourishing affection of the other, would reach out, hopeful, longing like ancient roots seeking water. The time in his life before her was but a shadow of a memory, too distant and too dark to recall. 

"My King," a loving voice broke his reverie. She approached, eternally radiant, still leaving a trail of blossoming flowers behind her.

"My queen," he replied, his voice thick with warmth and reverence.

She joined him. "It is a beautiful day, is it not?" she asked, her hand slipping into his, fitting perfectly as it always had.

"It is." He replied, their eyes met, twinkling with the same light that had captivated the other all those years ago.

Together, they stood in silence, watching the cherry blossoms continue to dance in the breeze. The soft murmur of spring stirred around them. The garden, once a witness to the beginning of their love, now stands testament to its enduring strength. Its growth, how they had flourished, was much like the nature that his queen so cherished.

As they stood there, enveloped in the beauty of spring, they both knew that their love would continue to bloom, season after season, for all eternity. 

[iceunhie]

love’s a whole new meaning with you.

summary: valentine’s day has got them thinking that maybe love has different forms; but it always leads them back to falling deeper and deeper for you.

featuring. zhongli, dan heng, albedo.

notes: danheng favoritism rlly showing here 😭, this is for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss (don't tell) ! event; to @thexianzhoujade. happy hearts day !!

zhongli is a man who values tradition and the simplest actions—but he values you above all. when you tell him about the holiday called ‘valentine’s day,’ a day that's meant to inform the solidarity of of one's romantic relationship, he treats you akin to a treasure, as iridescent as fragile glass. you'd want for nothing with this man, seriously.

like the gentleman he is, zhongli can and will take you out on a classic yet wonderful dinner date catered entirely to your tastes (nevermind his penchant for forgetting price tags), the security of your relationship a stark imprint upon your mind forevermore. there is no greater desire he harbors than to be yours, always. he leaves you ever lovesick as before with his consideration, the way he's already gifting you bouquets of silkflowers, complete with a glaze lily to symbolize the lasting unity of your bond.

his valentine's gift is that of matching jade pendants symbolizing yin and yang. a liyue tradition deems that a gift of this design recognizes that the individual you've gifted it is the other half of your soul, your equal. and that is because you are. to zhongli, loving you is as natural as the earth beneath his feet, and with the passing of time, he silently makes a vow; a vow to be yours and you his till the end.

albedo grasps the concept of gifting one’s significant other to be both an arduous and thoughtful affair—when he hears talk of valentine’s day atop the lofty snow-studded peaks of dragonspine, his first instinct is to question himself. it's a bit of an oh moment, considering his personal belief that relationships, be it platonic or romantic, were rather taxing. is it elation, he wonders, at the fact that you and him have fostered such a fragile and precious bond to this extent that it is deemed celebratory? maybe it is. no, instead, you were the one that taught him otherwise.

he is not inherently romantic, even if you say he is. but he leads you with him to a vantage point during nightfall, when the city of freedom below rejoices in hearts day. there, watching the mesmerizing hue of the aurora borealis above you, he gifts you a portrait of, well, you.

it's rather simple, he thinks, but this was the most appropriate gift he deemed fit to give—even if he thinks that nothing could ever capture your entirety fully—because he simply wishes to convey the aspects of you he loves for you to see. to albedo, the strokes of his brush upon this canvas can only capture but a fragment of your splendor, your warmth that's like a fire on a cold winter day.

when you smile up at him with the reflection of starlight in your eyes, words of gratitude spilling from your lips, he thinks it's undoubtedly worth it.

to dan heng, valentine’s day reminds him of his past, as unrelated as these two concepts may seem. he's made his choice; to blaze a path of his own, with you by his side supporting him unabashedly. but for all his security in his relationship with you, does he really deserve this? when sins he once harbored lingers upon his life like a haunting shadow?

(“don't be silly, heng���er.” you'd chided him when he expressed his concerns about this once before, holding him as though you were everlasting—like you would never let go of him, no matter what. eyes tender, meeting his. “of course you deserve it. because it's you.”)

in any case, dan heng spares no time to waste, asking permission from himeko and welt for a stop-over in the luofu; he'd been quite flustered when she'd given him an encouraging pep talk, and welt musing about ‘young love’ and all… (the embarrassment of being outed as whipped for you was quite severe) but he takes you to the places you've always wanted to visit, and there's a sense of fulfillment in his heart whenever he trails after you hand-in-hand as you two spend the day together on a leisure date for valentine's day, eating dragon’s beard candy all the while.

young love, welt said. love that was fleeting, sweet. dan heng believes otherwise. this affection is all-consuming, and he thinks that him loving you will persist till even the last bit of stardust in the universe is no more. when he feels your lips brush across his cheek, that thought is solidified, a forever in the making.

[९] 2024 © iceunhie :: do not copy or use my works.

[flightrising]

Autumn, our heart says autumn. We're ready for autumn.

Audio: Autumn Chill Mood LoFi HipHop by ComatSounds

DRAGON INFORMATION

Pumpkin Dragon: A Fathom in Golden Harvest set, Chrysocolla/Malachite/Scales

Apple Dragon: An Imperial in Rose Harvest set with a Scarlet Unicorn Mane, Iridescent/Shimmer/Stained

Cinnamon Dragon: A Wildclaw in Sangria Harvest set with a Sunrise Unicorn Mane, Cinder/Blaze/Filigree

Blackberry Dragon: A Snapper in Viridescent Harvest set with Starlight Unicorn Mane, Boulder/Myrid/Flecks

Berry Dragon: A Skydancer in Dark Harvest set with Flaxen Unicorn Mane, Fern/Paisley/Underbelly

Ginger Dragon: A Ridgeback in Viridescent Harvest set, Fade/Blend/Wish

Caramel Dragon: A Guardian in Autumn Harvest set, Flaunt/Flair/Glimmer

Latte Dragon: A Fathom in Copper Harvest set, Fern/Myrid/Points

[Video Description] A vertical video that opens with a black screen. As the autumn themed lofi hiphop music fades in, a gentle string with an organ playing under it, gold text begins appearing via a retro typing effect and the text reads The Calendar says August but our heart says and holds for a moment. Then the beat drops, giving the string and organ melodies an uptempo vibe and the video transitions to a triple pumpkin Fathom dragon, followed by the following in a reasonably rapid succession: a triple red Imperial representing apples, a triple Cinnamon Wildclaw, a triple Blackberry Snapper, a triple Berry Skydancer, a triple Ginger Ridgeback, a triple Caramel Guardian, and finally a triple Latte Fathom dragon. All of the dragons are wearing different colors of the Harvest set apparel, which includes a robe, filigree metal jewelry that appears as grapevines, and hanging grapes and leaves on the headpieces and wingpieces. Apple, Cinnamon, Berry, and Blackberry also have long color coordinated braided manes. For each dragon, the following words appear in the same retro type effect, but with the matching Flight Rising color wheel color of the autumn spice or scent the dragon is representing: Pumpkin, Apple, Cinnamon, Blackberry, Berry, Ginger, Caramel, and Latte. The video then fades to the Flight Rising logo and remains there as the music fades out.

[marvelshifter111]

Star child abilities

Star children are celestial beings with a deep connection to the cosmos. They have shimmering eyes like starlight, glowing skin, and hair that glimmers like moonlight. Marked by constellation-like patterns on their skin, they radiate a calm and mysterious energy. Wise and gentle, they inspire hope and protect others, drawing strength from the stars. Just as moon and sun children they have another form and can shift to it during night.

Abilities:

Starlight manipulation - The power to summon and control starlight, creating beams of light for illumination, healing, or as a weapon.

Celestial navigation - An innate ability to sense direction and location by connecting with the stars, even in complete darkness.

Dreamwalking - Entering the dreams of others to deliver messages, guidance, or comfort.

Cosmic energy projection - Harnessing and releasing bursts of cosmic energy as powerful attacks or shields.

Starfire creation - Summoning small, glowing orbs of starfire that can float, guide, or be used for defense.

Cosmic awareness - A heightened sense of understanding about the universe, including the flow of time, fate, and distant events.

Time glimpsing - Briefly peering into the past or future through a connection to cosmic timelines.

Shape-shifting - Transforming into a glowing, ethereal version of themselves, their bodies shimmering like the night sky, unlike moon and sun children they can shift to this form at any time

Cosmic shielding - Creating barriers of light and energy to defend against physical or magical attacks.

Healing - The users can heal and restore biotic organisms to their optimal health, curing damaged or withered organisms, wounds, broken bones, low vitality, and diseases/poisoning.

Gravity manipulation - Altering gravitational forces to float, levitate objects, or anchor themselves against strong winds or impacts.

Night sky connection - Drawing power from the stars, especially during clear nights, for greater strength or clarity.

Characteristics:

Starlit eyes - they resemble the night sky filled with constellations.

Ethereal glow

Starry markings - constellation-like patterns or shimmering freckles, glowing subtly in the dark.

Silvery or iridescent hair

Stardust trail - when they move, they leave behind a faint trail of sparkling particles or glowing dust.

Translucent features - In moments of heightened emotion or power, parts of their body may become slightly translucent, revealing swirling starlight within.

Cosmic aura - a soothing, magnetic energy surrounds them, making others feel calm and safe in their presence.

Soft, melodic voice

Nocturnal energy -They are most vibrant and energized at night, as if drawing power directly from the stars.

Star form:

Edit: i just realised i wrote "star abilities" instead of "star child abilities"

[starburst2000]

Holo Pearl!!! Looove her!!!

[novaursa]

To Win a Princess (to refuse a dragon)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Events and timeline of the story differ from the canon events.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: coming to light

- Next part: her choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The early morning light casts a warm light over the Dragonpit, illuminating the towering form of Belerix, your magnificent dragon, as he stands awaiting you. His scales shimmer with shades of deep sapphire and midnight black, streaked with hints of silver that catch the sun as if each scale were etched in starlight. His eyes, fierce and intelligent, are pools of molten amber, watching your every movement with a loyalty and bond that transcends language. Belerix’s long, serpentine neck rises high above, his massive wings folded against his sides, the membranes a dark, iridescent blue that hints at the power held within. His claws are sharp and glinting, his powerful limbs carrying the strength of ages, a creature built for the skies, yet grounded only for you.

You stand beside him, readying to mount the saddle strapped securely to his back. Your mind drifts to the memory of your last clandestine encounter with Tyland, the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his touch, and the whispered promises exchanged in the dim glow of candlelight. You feel the weight of the small gift he gave you in your hands—a delicate, finely crafted pendant bearing a golden lion, its eyes set with tiny sapphires that gleam as brilliantly as your dragon’s scales. The pendant hangs from a fine chain, its design understated yet unmistakably Lannister in its symbolism. A promise, he had said, of all he wished to give you openly one day.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re about to slip the pendant safely into your cloak when a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Y/N.”

You freeze, fingers clenching around the pendant as you turn to see Daemon approaching, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp and discerning. You quickly attempt to hide the pendant, tucking it within your palm, but Daemon’s keen eyes have already caught the glint of gold. In one swift movement, he reaches out, his hand closing over yours, trapping it gently but firmly.

“What have we here?” His tone is light, yet there’s a hint of scorn as he pries open your fingers, revealing the lion pendant. A dry scoff escapes his lips, and he shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. “A Lannister, of all things. I knew it. You’re wasted on that lion.”

You snatch your hand back, narrowing your eyes at him as you close your fingers protectively around the pendant. “I am wasted on no one, Daemon. And Tyland is… more than you care to understand.”

He arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he studies you with that infuriating smirk, the one that’s always a touch too knowing. “Is that so? And what does he give you, this Lannister lord? Gold and promises of wealth? Words whispered in the dark with no courage to stand beside you in the light?” He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You could have anyone in the realm, yet you settle for the emblem of a gilded lion.”

You lift your chin, meeting his gaze with steady defiance. “Tyland gives me loyalty, Daemon. He respects my choices, my freedom. He does not seek to control or claim me.”

Daemon’s gaze darkens, the smirk slipping into something colder. “Freedom?” he echoes, scoffing. “Is that what you call hiding in shadows, sneaking through hidden passageways like some… common tryst?” He steps closer, his tone laced with both mockery and something sharper. “You think Tyland will be able to protect you? Or that his golden lion will stand against the wolves and dragons that surround you? You deserve more, Y/N.”

You feel a surge of anger rise within you, and you hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “And you think you’re the one to give me that ‘more’? I know well enough that my value is not measured by the strength of another’s claim, Daemon. Tyland sees me as his equal.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, a flash of irritation breaking through his calculated calm. “An equal? You’re deluded, Y/N. He is a Lannister—loyal only to his coin, his house. They care nothing for you, not truly. He could never offer you the strength that comes from a true bond… nor the loyalty that I would give you.” His gaze flickers with something intense, something almost possessive, as he adds, “You could do far better than a lion.”

Your lips curve into a faint, bitter smile as you regard him, weighing your next words carefully. “Let me guess. You think that ‘better’ would be you?”

He steps even closer, his expression shifting to something almost serious, as though he’s prepared to make his case. “You could do far worse, that’s certain. I am not like these weak-willed lords and simpering knights. I am a dragon. I could be the only match worthy of a Targaryen princess.”

You laugh softly, the sound carrying a touch of derision as you meet his gaze head-on. “You, Daemon? You think I should accept you as some… consolation prize, simply because you couldn’t have Rhaenyra?”

A flash of anger crosses his face, his jaw tightening as he glares at you. “Consolation prize?” he echoes, his voice low, edged with offense. “I offer you the chance to stand beside someone with power, with fire. I am no one’s consolation, least of all yours.”

You hold his gaze, unflinching. “And I am not a fool, Daemon. I will choose my own path, my own love, whether it meets with your approval or not.”

He scoffs, taking a step back, his expression twisting into something bitter. “Fine. Run to your golden lion, then. But don’t come looking for protection when his courage fails him. You’ll find little security in Lannister promises.”

You lift your chin, refusing to be swayed by his words. “I would rather have Tyland’s loyalty in the shadows than empty promises in the light.”

Daemon stares at you for a long moment, his gaze a mixture of frustration and something almost like disappointment. With a sharp turn, he steps back, casting one last, scornful glance at the pendant in your hand before he walks away, his footsteps echoing through the Dragonpit.

Left alone, you turn back to Belerix, your fingers brushing over the pendant as you feel the strength of your resolve harden. Mounting your dragon’s saddle, you take a deep breath, the familiar weight of the pendant grounding you as Belerix shifts beneath you, his powerful form rising to life as you prepare to take to the skies. The wind begins to stir, lifting your hair as your dragon’s wings unfurl, and with a single command, Belerix launches into the sky, carrying you far from the whispers and judgments below.

The world grows smaller as you soar above it, and with the wind rushing past, you feel the quiet certainty of your choices, undeterred by Daemon’s doubts or the court’s expectations. You clutch the pendant in your hand, a reminder of all that you’ve chosen and all that awaits, knowing that wherever this path leads, you are the one who has forged it.

Daemon swings himself off his horse in the courtyard of the Red Keep, his face still etched with the simmering anger from his recent encounter with you. His hands tighten into fists as he hands the reins to a stable boy, muttering under his breath as he strides across the courtyard with purpose, his expression dark. The conversation with you had struck a nerve, and the sting of your words—your dismissal, your insistence on Tyland over him—echoed in his mind like a taunt he couldn’t shake.

As he approaches the entrance to the Great Hall, the murmurs of gathered courtiers fill the air, along with the faint, incessant clinking of goblets and quiet laughter. Daemon’s gaze sweeps across the hall, catching the familiar figure of Tyland Lannister standing among a small group of nobles, his typical calm composure present even as he engages in polite conversation. The sight of him, the man who had somehow claimed your affections, only deepens Daemon’s irritation.

Without hesitation, Daemon strides forward, his steps swift and direct. As he nears, he allows his shoulder to knock heavily into Tyland’s, a forceful impact that jolts Tyland, causing him to stumble slightly, his goblet tilting and splashing wine across his attire in an unexpected splash of deep crimson.

Daemon continues forward without so much as a glance back, his expression set, his gaze fixed ahead as if Tyland were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

Tyland catches himself, setting his jaw as he looks down at the spilled wine, the dark stain spreading across his carefully chosen clothes. He straightens, recovering his composure, though there’s a glint of irritation in his eyes as he watches Daemon’s back disappear into the crowd. At his side, Jasper Wylde—who had witnessed the entire exchange—arches an eyebrow, a look of bemusement crossing his face as he turns to Tyland.

“Well,” Jasper murmurs, his tone dripping with curiosity, “what was that about, I wonder? Daemon Targaryen isn’t usually one to bump into people by accident.”

Tyland takes a measured breath, suppressing the anger that threatens to flare. “Indeed,” he replies, his tone calm but with an edge of controlled frustration. “I would hardly call it an accident.”

Jasper lets out a low chuckle, watching Daemon’s retreating figure with a wry smile. “It seems our Rogue Prince is in quite the mood today. He looked ready to set the whole hall aflame. Any idea why he’d be… targeting you, of all people?”

Tyland meets Jasper’s curious gaze, carefully choosing his words. “I wouldn’t presume to know what goes on in Prince Daemon’s mind,” he says coolly, brushing at the wine-stained fabric of his attire with a faint frown. “Though, one might assume he simply found himself… displeased with certain matters of late.”

Jasper smirks, his eyes narrowing with a knowing look. “Displeased, is he? Seems more personal than that.” He glances at Tyland’s stained attire, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s not the first time he’s felt displaced, hmm?”

Tyland holds Jasper’s gaze, his expression composed but with a flicker of restrained irritation. “It would seem Prince Daemon has his own… grievances. I, however, am not inclined to play into his theatrics.”

Jasper chuckles, clapping Tyland on the shoulder with a conspiratorial smile. “Wise choice. Daemon is a man who’ll fight a losing battle for pride’s sake alone. Let him sulk—it’s clear enough he’s not getting what he wants.” He pauses, watching Tyland with a glint of curiosity. “Though it does make one wonder… what—or who—he might be after.”

Tyland’s gaze sharpens subtly, though he keeps his tone level. “Curiosity can be dangerous, Lord Jasper,” he replies, a faint smile touching his lips. “Daemon Targaryen is hardly the sort to be understood by idle speculation.”

Jasper raises his hands in a mock surrender, grinning. “A fair point, Lord Tyland. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of… whatever this is.” He casts another glance at Daemon, who is now at the far end of the hall, his dark expression still set in brooding anger as he engages with another noble. “But it’s rare to see Daemon so ruffled. Something—or someone—has certainly put him off-balance.”

Tyland allows himself a subtle smirk, glancing down at the wine stain as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “As long as his frustrations remain… inconsequential, I see no reason to concern myself.”

Jasper nods, though a glint of amusement remains in his eyes as he watches Tyland. “Very diplomatic of you. But a word of advice: watch your back. Men like Daemon don’t take well to being denied. He may pretend otherwise, but I’d wager he won’t let this go so easily.”

Tyland inclines his head, his tone quiet yet firm. “I assure you, I am well aware of Prince Daemon’s… tenacity.”

With that, Tyland straightens, casting one last, composed glance in Daemon’s direction before resuming his place among the gathered nobles. Jasper remains beside him, though he continues to eye Tyland with an intrigued smile, clearly enjoying the spectacle of animosity unfolding between Daemon and the man who, by all appearances, seems to have won a place that Daemon might have coveted.

The Great Hall is alive with the hum of conversation, nobles mingling in clusters, laughter and polite chatter filling the space. Queen Alicent stands among a small group of courtiers, her posture poised and graceful, her every movement a study in restrained elegance. At her side, Ser Criston Cole watches over her with the quiet vigilance expected of the Queen’s sworn protector, his gaze scanning the room for any hint of trouble.

As the doors to the hall open with a soft thud, the energy shifts. Daemon strides in, his expression set, his eyes sharp as he surveys the room, and within moments, his presence demands the attention of nearly everyone. Alicent’s gaze narrows slightly as she observes his path through the hall, noting the faint tension that radiates from him. She watches as he approaches Tyland Lannister, their brief encounter marked by the distinct jolt of Daemon’s shoulder against Tyland’s, causing Tyland to stumble and spill his wine.

Alicent’s brow furrows, her lips pressed into a thin line as Daemon continues forward without so much as a glance back, his expression unreadable as he slips into the crowd. She leans slightly toward Criston, lowering her voice so only he can hear.

“Ser Criston,” she murmurs, her tone carrying an edge of curiosity laced with caution, “what do you make of that?”

Criston shifts his gaze from Daemon to Tyland, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he watches Tyland recover from the deliberate bump, Jasper Wylde at his side. After a pause, he leans toward her, speaking in a low, steady tone.

“It seems Prince Daemon has taken some… issue with Lord Tyland,” Criston observes carefully. “A rare display, considering Daemon’s usual disregard for the nobility.”

Alicent glances back at Daemon, her gaze calculating as she takes in the prince’s tense posture, the dark edge to his expression. “It’s unlike him, even so,” she remarks softly. “Daemon has never paid Tyland much mind before. Why now, I wonder?”

Criston’s expression darkens slightly, his jaw setting as he considers her words. “Perhaps Lord Tyland has found himself in the path of Daemon’s ambitions—or in possession of something Daemon wishes for himself.”

Alicent raises an eyebrow, glancing at Criston with a spark of interest in her gaze. “Possession, you say?” She tilts her head, studying Tyland’s composed expression, the stain of wine on his clothes still fresh. “He seems… unaffected. But then, Lord Tyland is not one to betray his emotions easily.”

Criston nods, his voice quiet but thoughtful. “Aye, my queen. Tyland Lannister is clever, careful. He keeps his cards close. But if there is animosity between him and Daemon, it may not remain hidden for long.”

Alicent’s gaze lingers on Tyland, the faintest trace of intrigue in her expression. “It would seem Daemon believes he has reason to make his displeasure known. But what could it be?” She glances back at Criston, her eyes narrowing with consideration. “You’ve watched him closely, Ser Criston. What do you think drives him?”

Criston’s eyes harden, a flicker of disdain for Daemon visible in his gaze. “Daemon is driven by a need for power, for control. And when he finds an obstacle in his path, he… removes it. I would not be surprised if he sees Lord Tyland as a threat or, perhaps, as a rival.”

Alicent’s lips curl in a faint, thoughtful smile, her gaze drifting back to where Tyland now stands with Jasper, a composed, unflinching figure despite the lingering evidence of Daemon’s aggression. “A rival… how curious.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as though piecing together a delicate puzzle. “And yet, Tyland has not risen above his station. His position is a modest one, politically speaking. Unless…” She trails off, her gaze sharpening with a glint of realization.

“Unless Daemon believes there’s something more personal at play,” Criston supplies, his tone carrying a note of caution. “It could be a matter of… affections. A lady’s favor, perhaps?”

Alicent’s eyes flash with interest, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, that could explain it.” She glances over her shoulder, ensuring their conversation remains private, before returning her attention to Criston. “And Daemon has never taken well to being denied something he desires.”

Criston’s expression remains stoic, though there’s a shadow of suspicion in his gaze. “If that is the case, then this… conflict may only escalate, Your Grace.”

Alicent sighs, her gaze thoughtful as she watches Tyland for a moment longer. “Indeed. It would do us well to observe. There are few things Daemon covets that he does not find a way to claim.” She pauses, her voice softening, an edge of something almost pitying in her tone. “And yet, he may have found a prize that cannot be won by force.”

She turns her gaze back to Criston, her expression hardening with determination. “Keep an eye on them both, Ser Criston. And if you see anything… noteworthy, I would have you tell me.”

Criston bows his head, a look of quiet loyalty in his eyes. “As you wish, my queen. I shall watch closely.”

Alicent nods, her gaze returning to the mingling crowd, her expression serene, yet her mind is clearly at work, already piecing together the dynamics at play between Daemon and Tyland. In the delicate game of power and influence, every player has their role—and she intends to ensure that, whatever happens, the interests of House Hightower remain firmly protected.

Rhaenyra steps into the Great Hall, her cheeks still slightly flushed from her own secret rendezvous with Harwin, the faintest hint of satisfaction lingering in her gaze as she surveys the room. The murmur of courtiers and the bright flicker of torches greet her, the familiar buzz of courtly life buzzing around her as she moves with practiced grace. Her eyes scan the crowd, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot Daemon, standing near the edge of the hall with a dark expression etched into his face, his posture stiff and brooding.

As soon as he catches sight of her, he strides forward, his steps swift and direct. Without preamble, he grabs her by the arm, his grip firm but not rough, guiding her toward a quiet alcove just out of sight of the prying eyes of court.

“Daemon,” she says sharply, though her voice is low, matching his urgency as she pulls her arm from his grasp. “What is this about?”

Daemon’s gaze burns with anger, his jaw clenched as he looks at her, his tone barely more than a growl. “Did you know?” he demands, his voice laced with accusation.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest as she meets his gaze with a steady, unimpressed look. “Did I know what?”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, the anger in them dark and intense. “Did you know that it’s Tyland Lannister who holds your sister’s favor?” he hisses, his voice dripping with disdain. “A Lannister, Rhaenyra. She’s wasted on him.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flash with surprise, though she quickly composes herself, giving Daemon a warning look. “Daemon, keep your voice down,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one is within earshot. “And yes, I knew. But that is no one’s business but hers.”

Daemon lets out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking his head as though he can hardly believe it. “No one’s business?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “Your sister sneaks around the Red Keep with that lion, disgracing her Targaryen blood, and you think it’s no one’s business?”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardens, her voice firm as she speaks. “Daemon, she is free to make her own choices. Tyland may be a Lannister, but he has treated her with nothing but respect. And if she has chosen him, then we have no right to interfere.”

Daemon’s mouth twists into a sneer, his eyes flashing with contempt. “Respect? Lannisters know nothing of respect. They are schemers—liers wrapped in gold.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I could end this now. One dead Lannister wouldn’t be missed, and Y/N would be free of his influence.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen in alarm, and she steps forward, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Daemon, listen to yourself! You can’t simply… kill him. Do you understand what that would do? It would create a scandal the likes of which we might never recover from. Viserys would see it as nothing short of treason.”

Daemon scoffs, brushing off her warning with a dismissive wave. “Viserys is blind to what’s happening under his own roof. He wouldn’t even notice if Tyland were gone.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardens, her voice low but filled with authority. “You cannot let your jealousy guide you, Daemon. Tyland has done nothing to warrant your anger—other than winning her heart.”

He meets her gaze, his eyes simmering with frustration. “And that should be mine to win,” he mutters darkly, his voice barely audible. “You know I could protect her, Rhaenyra. I could give her something real, something worthy of a Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens, though she remains firm, her voice steady. “Daemon… she’s chosen. And it is not you.”

His face tightens, his jaw clenched as he looks away, his pride clearly wounded. “It should have been me.”

Rhaenyra sighs, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you care for her, Daemon, then let her be happy. Killing Tyland will not change her feelings—it will only make her hate you.”

He looks at her, his gaze conflicted, the fury in his eyes tempered by a flicker of doubt. “You’re asking me to do nothing, then? To stand by and watch her throw herself away on a lion?”

“I’m asking you to let her make her own choices,” Rhaenyra replies, her tone firm but compassionate. “And to respect those choices, even if they aren’t what you wanted.���

Daemon exhales, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggles with the warring emotions within him. After a long, strained silence, he finally nods, though his expression remains dark, brooding.

“Fine,” he mutters, though the resentment in his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Rhaenyra watches him carefully, relieved but cautious. “I wouldn’t expect you to be. But I do expect you to honor your family.”

Daemon casts her a final, frustrated glance before turning on his heel and striding away, leaving her in the shadowed alcove, the weight of his anger lingering in the air. Rhaenyra lets out a quiet sigh, her gaze thoughtful as she watches him go, hoping that, for once, her words will be enough to temper the storm brewing within him.

The moonlight streams through the narrow window of Tyland’s chambers, as you rest together in the quiet aftermath of your reunion. The warmth of his body is a comforting anchor against the cool evening air, and his arm is draped protectively around you, fingers tracing gentle circles on your bare shoulder as you lie entwined in the intimacy of each other’s embrace.

After the long hours of your flight on Belerix, the return to Tyland’s arms feels like coming home. His presence, steady and reassuring, wraps around you, grounding you in the quiet sanctuary of his room, away from the world’s prying eyes. The warmth of your shared moments lingers, your breaths soft and synchronized, an unspoken understanding settling between you.

Tyland shifts slightly, resting his chin atop your head as he speaks, his voice soft but tinged with a faint edge of frustration. “You missed quite the… spectacle in court today,” he murmurs, his fingers continuing their gentle pattern on your skin.

You glance up at him, your eyes searching his face. “Oh? What happened?”

He lets out a small sigh, his lips curving into a wry smile as he recounts the day’s events. “Our dear Prince Daemon made his entrance in a manner only he could manage. It seems his temper was… particularly sharp today.” Tyland pauses, his tone turning more serious as he looks down at you. “He took it upon himself to remind me of his displeasure—rather forcefully, I might add.”

You frown, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face as your fingers linger on his cheek. “What do you mean? Did he say something?”

Tyland gives a small shake of his head, though his eyes darken slightly as he recalls the encounter. “Not with words. Daemon has a… unique way of making his point without needing to say anything.” He gives a soft, humorless chuckle. “He decided to shoulder me in passing. I’d nearly forgotten how aggressive he can be when he feels slighted.”

Your hand tightens gently on his, a flicker of anger stirring within you at the thought of Daemon’s actions. “I’m so sorry, Tyland. Daemon can be… relentless when he thinks he’s been wronged.” You shake your head, exhaling softly. “I didn’t think he would confront you like that.”

Tyland’s lips curve into a small, reassuring smile as he strokes your hair. “I knew the risks, my love. And I would endure far more than a bump in passing for you.” His gaze softens as he continues, “But I don’t think he’s content to leave it at that. I saw the look in his eyes… it was as if he’s made it his mission to drive a wedge between us.”

You sigh, nestling closer to him, the familiar scent of his skin grounding you as you process his words. “Daemon doesn’t take kindly to being denied something he believes he deserves,” you murmur, frustration evident in your voice. “But he has no right to interfere with my choices. Or with you.”

Tyland’s fingers brush over your shoulder, his touch warm and soothing as he pulls you closer. “It’s you I worry for, more than myself. Daemon’s anger is… dangerous. If he can’t reach me directly, he might try to turn his schemes against you.” He pauses, a shadow crossing his face as he looks at you with quiet determination. “I would sooner face his ire than see you put in any kind of danger.”

Your heart aches at his words, a mixture of gratitude and frustration rising within you. “I hate that it’s come to this. That we have to hide, that you have to bear the brunt of his anger because of me.” You reach up, your fingers tracing the lines of his face with a tenderness that conveys all the words you can’t quite find. “But I won’t let him dictate my life, Tyland. No matter what he believes, my heart is my own, and it belongs to you.”

He gazes down at you, a warmth flickering in his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I would have it no other way, even if it means facing Daemon’s wrath. You are worth every risk, every moment of uncertainty.”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—a comforting sound that fills the quiet of the room, each beat grounding you in this rare, precious moment. For a time, neither of you speaks, content to let the peace of the night wrap around you like a protective shroud. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, you sense the weight of Tyland’s thoughts, the subtle tension lingering in his body, the unspoken fears woven into the silence.

Finally, he breaks the quiet, his voice a soft murmur. “I only wish we could live without these shadows hanging over us… without the need to look over our shoulders.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze, your fingers tracing small, soothing circles on his chest. “Tomorrow,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell my father. The petitions for my hand have gone on long enough—enough to satisfy any House that was rejected.” You offer a faint, reassuring smile. “And I believe he will understand. He’s always encouraged me to follow my heart, even when the path is difficult.”

Tyland’s expression softens, relief and hope flickering in his eyes as he holds your gaze. A small, tender smile curves his lips. “Then I’ll be here, however long it takes. And if it must be in the shadows for a little longer, so be it. I’ll stand by you.”

You reach up, drawing him down to you, and your lips meet in a kiss filled with quiet promises, shared dreams, and a bond that feels as unbreakable as it is forbidden. The world outside may be filled with judgments and rivalries, but here, in the warmth of Tyland’s arms, you find a love untouched by Daemon’s anger or the court’s scrutiny.

As the night deepens, you lie together in silence, your shared resolve as strong as the connection between you. And with tomorrow’s promise hanging gently between you, you feel a glimmer of peace, knowing that, soon, the truth will no longer be hidden in the shadows.

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Azriel sat at his desk, reports and sightings of a hooded being trespassing multiple courts, leaving behind scorched farm lands and destroyed buildings scattered across the table. “Any luck?” Elain questioned, running her gentle hands over Azriel's shoulders, loosening his tense muscles. “I’ve been searching for over 500 years, but I think I'm getting close. Most recent sightings have been by women and children. Day or night it does not matter, they've seen IT and their bodies remain still, unable to move or scream until their work is done.” Azriel stared at the map of Prythian. “I think it’s finally here,” he met Elains worried eyes, “in the Night Court.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel 8 yrs old

Azriel stopped sobbing once he knew no one would come for him. The foul smell of char and burnt flesh still lingered in his cell. His small hands trembled and shook from the intense pain, bubbles full of fluid and blackened skin covered both hands. Fingers locked and unable to move, not even to wipe at his heavy tears. The four walls to his cell provided nothing but cold nights and loneliness. With nothing to soothe the heat from his hands Azriel pressed his blistered palms flat to the cold floors. Hissing through clenched teeth as the coldness relieved some of the ache and heat within. Azriel hummed to a song inside his head, anything to pull his tired mind away from the pain and hopelessness he felt. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to will the tears away, humming louder and louder to drown out his thoughts. His mind circled to a happier time. 

Small feet padding through fields of tall grass as he raced to his favorite spot; under a weeping willow. Perched against the tall tree the scent of fresh apples and citrus filled his nose as the wind carried the delicious scent towards him. His ears caught the melodious song of birds high above him. His gaze tracked up the tree to spot the feathered songbird but as soon as he craned his neck towards the sky time froze. A beautiful luna moth with large iridescent wings took flight, landing on the soft skin of Azriel’s cheek, tickling the small boy awake.

Azriel quickly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the darkness. The scent of citrus still lingered and time was eerily still. His pupils widened, adjusting to focus on what he was seeing. In the corner of his cell a shadowed figure stood still. Scrambling to his feet Azriel backed himself into the wall behind him. The dark figure inched closer, slowly, step by step. The hooded figure reached for Azriel's small hand. He told his mind to pull away, and to resist. But he was frozen against the cold wall, unable to move or cry out for help; not that anyone would help him. He tried to scream but the air left his lungs. Peeking beneath a hood Azriel saw the most stunning and captivating eyes he’d ever seen. Neither of the same color, yet bright and brilliant. One holds the color of the night sky, dark with swirls of violet and starlight. The other is pale and cloudy like the surface of the moon from Prythian. Your long shiny hair framed your youthful face and pouty lips perfectly. You don’t look much older than him yet you have this ancient presence he can't put his finger on.  

You're cool fingertips brush his knuckles, testing for his reaction. A small smile graces your lips as you remember that he’s unable to move. At least unable to move his outer extremities and vocal chords. Yet the windows to his soul tell you he's frightened. His wide hazel eyes are glassy, tears slowly filling his waterline. The rapid rise and fall in his chest is another clue to his distress. You let out a soft sigh as a single tear runs down his dirty cheek. Taking a step back you lay your palm flat against your chest, hoping he’ll understand what you intend to convey. Again, you pat your chest and azriel blinks in response. Bringing your hands in front of you, you tuck your fingers in creating a fist and curl both your forefingers and hook them together, with one wrist facing down and the other up you sign the word ‘Friend.’  

You wait for his breaths to slow before you gather his burned hand within yours. His knuckles are angry and reddened from the lack of healthy skin. Moderate pieces are blackened and multiple blisters are threatening to burst.  Carefully, you examine the extensive damage that was done, and begin to call upon your magic. Azriel's eyes widen to the size of saucers when your fingertips spark with what looks like stardust and your hand turns completely black from your fingertips down to your wrist. You gently run your star glittered forefinger down his. Starting at the base of his knuckle to the tip of his finger, healing all the delicate tissue and epidermis just like it was before. You release the magic holding him still, allowing him to relax his shoulders and curl the finger you healed. “How did-” the words die in his mouth as you continue to work on the next finger. Tracing once again from the base of his knuckle, down his slender finger to his nail. Revealing smooth and supple skin, no longer burned and charred.

The loud sound of a door opening startled both of you apart. Stopping your healing magic at only two fingers, Azriels paniced eyes met yours. You knew what he was asking. But you couldn't grant him more time, at least not yet. Quickly, you pulled your hood up over your head. Closing your hand in a fist you brought it to your chest, moving it in a circular motion; signing the word ‘sorry.’ 

“Wait!” Azriel’s arms dart out grasping onto the sleeve of your cloak only for the garment to fall at a pile to his feet. “Mother!” he gasped, shocked at your sudden disappearance, leaving behind your cloak that still had warmth and your scent. 

He’d kept your cloak all these years, the only cloth in his cell that kept him warm on those freezing nights. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Az, something is breaching the wards, get down here. 

Rhys panicked words pierced through Azriel's mind as he abruptly sat up from the bed, the bed he shared with Elain. He quickly pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt and protective leathers. Placing a kiss to Elain's forehead, he winnowed to the location Rhys mentioned. 

An invisible force separated the three males from the dark figure that threatened Velaris. 

“Is It alone?” Cassian questioned, glancing behind and around the figure, assessing the intruder. His fingers itched at his sides, waiting for the slightest movement to unleash his blade. 

“She’s alone.” Rhys confirmed, gaze narrowed and unwavering at the dark figure. 

“She?” Both Cassian and Azriel said in unison, a look of shock on both their faces. It wasn’t that they doubted a female's ability. They knew the power that simmered beneath the skin. The unending strength, if provoked enough. The females in the inner circle, if combined, could take on males twice their size and fight wars alongside the bravest of warriors, but not alone. You’d have to be extremely powerful or extremely stupid to dare face the night court’s high lord alone.

Her gaze lifted above to the bright blue sky as if the power holding Velaris safe was visible to the eye. Her head swiveled left, noting how large the protection ran. Then to her right, gauging the amount of magic needed to breach the wards. At the moment, no army trailed behind her. No warrior or protector was by her side. She was simply there to send a message. 

“She’s unarmed.” Azriel's shadows slithered back to him, informing him of the lack of weapons and armor. She was defenseless and although a powerful barrier kept her out of Velaris, the two most violent and skilled warriors along with the most powerful highlord stood before her; she remained fearless. Her strong legs planted firm in the soil. It was difficult to determine what was under her dark cloak. His shadows stilled as her gaze met those of the shadowsinger. He knew those eyes. Azriel had searched for those beautiful eyes in every court, in every crowd, in every female. He’d dreamed of the day he’d see them again. His attention was directed to Rhys as he spoke in a firm demanding tone. 

“I will say this once, and only once-” 

Rhys' voice caught in his throat as the female's palms met the protective barrier. Electric current coursed through her veins, the power of lightning flickered from her fingers creating an orb of pure energy. Her foot dug into the soil behind her as she braced herself pushing through the wards, creating a space for her body to pass. All three males rushed towards her, charging at the enemy with bared teeth and blades ready to attack. Their large bulking frames and violence in their eyes was enough to bring grown men to their feet. 

Cassian sent a blast of red power straight towards her, expecting it to hit its target. Although stronger than most fae, his blast passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Whipping her head to its side, causing her long hair to flow out from under her hood. Her feet stayed planted, unwavering.

“Mother above.” Cassian breathed before he held his sword up high, slicing through the air as he brought it down over her head. Rhys' eyes widened for a fraction as Azriel’s truth teller clashed with Cassian, blocking his effort to harm her. Azriel’s shoulder roughly dug into Cassian's chest as he shoved his brother back with force. Betrayal laced in Cassian's eyes as he gaped at his brother. Out of all their arguments and bickering not once has Azriel disagreed with a common enemy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian sneered, meeting Azriels force with his own. Never one to back down at defending his court or his high lord. 

“You foolish boy!” Amren called from a distance, closing the space between them, “you cannot kill a God.” 

“Took you long enough,” Rhys tisked, plucking an invisible lint from his dark shirt. 

The hooded figure narrowed her eyes at the approaching Amren and scowled at the title that she clearly did not like. Azriel and Cassian ceased their bickering as Rhys' power shook the very ground they stood on, a wave of darkness ready to protect his city.

 “No one has breached these wards in 5,000 years.” Rhys declared with all the confidence of a high lord. Stepping forward, commanding the eyes of the hooded figure in a challenge, “what business does a God have in Velaris, surely you have better things to do.”

“Do not mock her, she can kill you where you stand.” Amren whispered. “As can I.” Rhys challenged. 

Her face remained unseen under the protection of her hood. Slowly her fingers came up beside her face, grasping the edges of the hood, she pushed the dark fabric over her head, revealing herself.

Amrens words ring true when the goddess reveals herself. Her beauty is unique and divine, flawless in the way that makes males fall to their knees. 

All the air from Azriels lungs vanished as he stared into those eyes. Years he’d been searching every court, reading countless books on healers and where they originated. Shamelessly making eye contact with each female he met hoping to one day find the mute girl who gave him purpose.  To hope one day he could thank her for her kindness to a boy who had nothing. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel exhaled, holding a palm out to Rhys and his brother letting them know ‘he’s got this.’ 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes trailed down Azriels body. Trying your hardest to put a face or name to the male in front of you. After years of imagining how seeing you again would be, he didn't put into account the possibility of you not recognizing him. While Azriel admired how much you've grown since he first saw you. Your gaze seemed to pass right through him. And his worst fears were confirmed with a tilt of your head. 

You didn’t remember him. 

You couldn't recall any detail or encounter that would cause you to remember the male. Instead you focused your gaze on the High Lord. you were here to deliver a message after all. 

“High Lord of Night, ready your soldiers, a war is among you.” 

Surprise passed through Azriels eyes as he heard you speak. The day he met you your only form of communication was through hand signs. And now your voice is laced with threat, nothing like the gentle girl he met hundreds of years ago. He wonders what had changed.  

“And what do you bring to this war?” Rhys expression hardened. He tried to enter your mind to see for himself the truth of your words. Surprised to see your mind vulnerable for all, yet within the space were no visions or memories of your past, but  rings of blazing fire encircled a black hole with unknown knowledge within. Rhys had read about minds with black holes. It was a mystery as to what one would find within the hole. Some say time freezes for the observer, how long till it resumes has never been answered. Others say that if you fall into the black hole your mind fails the body and a blazing fire consumes you from the inside out, leaving behind ashes to be carried by the wind. 

“I bring Chaos and unrest, Lord of Night it be wise of you to heed my warning because your life will be in my hands.” 

Within seconds the afternoon sky turned dark and gray, the loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance and before either of them could reach you, you summoned a strike of lightning; hitting the ground like a whip. The flash was bright as it hit  and Rhys witnessed the wards he placed on Velaris crumble. A loud roar was heard throughout Velaris, a deadly creature answering your call.  It was then he realized, struggling to push through a small door to get within the protection wards was just for show. And whatever message you needed to deliver, something frightening answered. 

 Between the flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder, just beyond the way they saw hundreds and hundreds of waiting soldiers. Looking at your retreating form, Azriel, Cassian and Amren rubbed at their eyes.

Once you reached the front line of fighters you looked over your shoulder, meeting Rhys powerful gaze and with a slight smirk you replaced his wards and removed the illusioned warriors. Leaving Velaris protected as it once was but now the threat of death and destruction looms near, not only to Rhys but everything and everyone he holds dear in Velaris. 

Part 2

~ thank you for reading

[justbelievinginmagic]

ariadne's thread ⎯ pt. 11: as the world falls down.

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader series summary: when tempted by an intoxicating offer by hyunjin the goblin king of the underground, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in his labyrinth. glimpse: with the sweetness of the fae-fruit on your lips, you blinked your eyes open to a magical celebration. an opulent ballroom spun before you with intrigue and wonder, drawing you into a fantasia and further and further away from the labyrinth and your worries. warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with lore divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, mature, suggestive adult content, faerie lore, world-building, explicit language, implied drugging, a lot of overwhelmed YN, toxic relationship, idolization, manipulation, unequal power dynamics, implied background alcohol consumption, tons of flower symbolism, magic, vomit mention, other than thatttttt lemme know if i need to tag anything else :) this is my favorite chapter fyi ive had it written for literally years. like, all of this was leading up to this chapter in my head lol word count: 7.1 k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

Around her was magic. Not the twisted upside-down magic of the Underground but pure beautiful shimmering magic she had once dreamt about as a young girl.

Y/N was in a ballroom – a grand ballroom with marbled floors veined in sparkling gold. Polished and shiny enough to see herself in, but that didn’t matter now as she heard the music swell and whirl in the air wondrously. Her gaze rose higher and higher, following the tall-mirrored walls to the mirrored ceilings above. With how the room curved into a circle and all the looking glass surrounding her, it made the entrance hall to the grand ball room seem to go on and on for forever. Sparkling with star dust and silver and gold. Long ivory silken curtains that held a soft glow in them towered above her, draping this way and that, hiding what she assumed to be windows of starlight and moonshine in this strange space she found herself in.

Looking ahead, opulent drapery of ancient lace and silken organza linked between marbled cornices, shimmering and glittering in between the dozens of low-hanging chandeliers that glowed with honeyed flames. Milky-beeswax dripped down the chandeliers – leaving long trails of wax in the sky. It looked as if these candles had burned for many, many hundred years; each chandelier had formed wax stalactites of different sizes and colors. Pale pinks, oranges, and blues. Strange and yet beautiful. It didn’t seem out of place and somehow only elevated the wonder of the room.  

Bubbles of varying sizes drifted into the room, sparkling unnaturally around her. They almost danced around her in a waltz, urging her to move along. Some pressed soapy kisses to her skin, her cheeks. Popping as soon as they pressed against her. It reminded her of the scene from Cinderella – the bubbles gleaming in different technicolor hues, impossible yet somehow happening before her eyes.

As she blinked about, the large room’s mirrored walls gleamed and shimmered. Winking at her. There was that magic-remnant, sparkling in the glass as if they were made of magic and not simply just a looking glass. The light and magic seemed to bounce off one another, sending a kaleidoscope of sparkles glittering into the candlelight. Y/N was reminded of soapsuds – as if the very ballroom she was standing in was an iridescent bubble.

It was holographic and lacey and wonderful. But the siren calls of the ballroom ahead intrigued her, the giggling and loud conversation clashed with the orchestral music. Taking a few tentative steps forward, she entered the verandah of the grand ballroom.

Every corner was beautiful and intriguing here, too. Opulent but not busy. Ancient but not aged. Flowers beyond anything earthly bloomed around the room. They clung to pillars, to cornices, to statues, to the floor, even to the tall mirrored ceilings. Ivy the color of rich olive and unnatural silver curled around the aging gold-gilded mirrors on the circumference of the ballroom. Blossoms of snapdragons, lyre flowers, camellias, and columbines shadowed the ceiling. Delphinium, jasmine, roses, and peach blossoms climbed down the waxy stalactites like fungus.

Gold and silver intertwined throughout the grand ballroom as she walked down the marble stairway steps to the atrium of dancers. Past a marble sculpture of some woman with twisted horns coming from her forehead, chiseled away in a scandalous attire.

It was odd, because at one glance, it was posing with her arms pressed to her chest, but if you glanced away and back, suddenly the sculpture looked different – with its hands above its head in joy. It had moved. Not in a dangerous way, but as if she itself was dancing. A statue dancing… impossible.

Y/N’s lips parted in confusion before a couple bumped into her as they hurried into the ballroom, giggling as they held their masks up to their faces before she could spot what they looked like. It was too late – they were swallowed up by the crowd, the dancing whirling bodies of opulence and extravagance distracting her.

Women were dripping in pearls and diamonds and flowers as they twirled in the large ballgowns with their breasts nearly tumbling out of their corsets. Their ballgowns consumed the ballroom’s floor in a layered mess, yet somehow none of them stumbled over the fabric in the ocean of people.

Men wore opened silken shirts and tight velvet pants that held little to the imagination as they entranced their partners. Some wore no tunic at all, simply vests of dark luxurious fabric. Sweat slick bared chests, shimmering with the magic dust she saw everywhere. Lip-sticked red mouths cackled and kissed at throats. Some men wore gowns; some women wore trousers and bore extravagant hats.

Hats and horns and wigs and façades of debauchery curled around the mass of attendees. Masks of grotesque creatures . . . of monstrous goblin faces she realized. . . were pressed to their faces as they danced about. Wrinkled greying skin, orange leathered scales, occasionally strange-looking feathers made up the masks. Hiding their youth with monstrosities. Or their monstrosity with their beauty, Y/N didn’t know.

The world was a whirling, swirling, laughing technicolor blur. The air was heady with the scent of sweat, the expensive perfumes and cologne of nobility, and the heavy aroma of the blooming flowers that hung everywhere. It felt primal in a way like a jungle.

Those who were not in the brilliant waltz were strown about the circular ballroom. Reclined in chairs or pressed against columns with tiny goblin servants stacked upon one another to reach their mouths, feeding them odd-looking fruits or pouring wine from elaborately-carved wooden goblets and shining hand-blown glass chalices. Spilt honeyed wine trailed down skin that nearby partners would lick up lasciviously with hot tongues and darkened eyes.

Y/N glanced aside, spotting multiple dips in the marble floor – pillow pits with only the finest of silks, velvets, and lace cushioning the pit into a soft escape for men and women to lethargically lean into one another’s embrace. Lovers were kissing, groping, pouring the honeyed liquid into one’s mouths. She spotted a breast freed and a lovers’ lips lock over a goblet of golden honeyed-wine before there was a whirl of a dancer in front of her gaze, blocking out things she didn’t need to see.

Her gaze left those corners of the party quickly. There was a burning on her skin. Flushing red as she felt the eyes of others sting against her skin. Fanged smiles and cruel chortles behind ornate masks and elaborately painted hand-fans. She hated the burn of the laughter; humiliation and loneliness stung.

Where was her mask? She wondered, looking down at her emptied hands.

Was that why they were laughing at her?

Another group of women rush past, giggling and chortling as they push past her. Spinning in a whirl, alone, finally, Y/N caught a look of herself for the first time since entering the ballroom. And with it, it felt like the weight of the fabric on her skin materialized. Heavy against her bones, real and heavy. Elegant and expensive.

Her gown was a mother-of-pearl color, a shimmering silver thing with a million different layers and large off-the shoulder puffed sleeves. Long sleeves covered her arms, but the fabric was not thick nor lacy but a strange shimmering skin-tight fabric. It made her arms glisten with rainbow constellations as she turned them this way or that in the ivory candle-light.

Her bodice had an intricate brocade fabric of fruit, embroidered in a silver thread that gleamed like spun starlight. Peaches, pomegranates, other organic shapes of fruits she couldn’t describe, and curling leaves made up the design with jeweled beads of sunrise pinks, yellows, oranges and sunset gold and purples embellishing her pearlescent corset. It was laborious work to make this she realized once she brushed her hands over them. They had to have been hand-sewn with how delicate they were. At the top of her sweetheart neckline, there was a constellation of sea-glass pearls, lining and guiding the eye down her corseted bodice to the gathered pooling fabric on her hips. The layers of shimmery organza and silk poured over the crinoline-lining she must’ve been wearing to achieve such a big dress.

Stepping closer to the nearby mirror, she looked closer at herself, awe in her eyes. Her face looked pretty in this light. Blurred and perfect as if there was a filter over her features. Perfect. Large curls made up her hair with portions of her locks gathered in intricate holographic silk ribbons and twisting silver metalwork, tugging it from her face. And around her neck, a necklace held those odd sea-glass pearls, transparent yet cloudy with colors of the rainbow, matching the chromatics of her dress as she twirled tentatively. The fabric swished in a pleasant way, swooshing with a watery iridescence that seemed impossible. 

She. . . was beautiful if not a bit youthfully innocent. It wasn’t a dress with slits and curve hugging fabric. Instead, she felt like a princess. Like a magical illustration of a princess from the fairytales she loved.

Approaching one of the nearby mirrored walls, her hand reached out to touch her reflection. Reverently. Disbelieving. In the reflection, she spotted eyes on her again. Too many eyes in fact. Many of the dancers were watching her from behind their mask. Even while they twirled about, they seemed to turn their necks at unnatural angles just to keep their shadowed eyes on her, at all times. Darkened eyes that seemed to watch her every movement. It was a bit eerie. She felt like prey.

She didn’t like that.

Turning, she caught a glance of blonde hair and winter eyes. She gasped at the glimpse of him in between the throngs of dancers. Just barely. He quickly disappeared into the crowds. Vanished. She stood there trying to find him again – like spotting a pearlescent fish in a net of writhing carp.

“You’re her?” a voice murmured.

It was a man – young and handsome enough despite the mask – yet as he brazenly stared at her, up and down her shoulders, breasts, hips, and finally her face, she felt a mixture of disgust and . . . pleasure. His foxy-goblin mask hugged his face tightly, only making his eyes visible. His leering eyes. She couldn’t see if his eyes were curled into a smirk or a frown or a grin.

“A pretty thing.”

She could recall being called pretty by few (recently, it was from the Direwoods), but she disliked how he crowed it out in a laugh as if it was game. A joke. A polite smile of nervousness consumed her beautiful face before she crept back and away. Into the throngs of people, Y/N got swept into the whirlwind of twirling bodies.

Jostled this way and that by the dancers, she entered a new world of mingling and warmth (despite the cold, clammy skin she touched as she tried to pass by the party-goers.) What was this party even for?

As she passed by a horde of closely entwined dancers, she spotted a group huddled around a masked magician who was tugging out oddities from a floppy hat. Puppets of frightening figures and monster-like creatures bellowed in the uproarious music as the viewers laughed.

It was then she could hear the music for what felt like the first time. Truly heard it. What once was something pleasant began to grow into a loud cacophony. Harpsichordal piano, overly powerful, and discordant. A concertina aerophone harmoniced out in a bumbling sound. There was a violin stringing higher and higher. It felt like the song was spinning out of control. Y/N was shoved forward from the arms of a passing dancing couple as they tossed and turned violently in a tango.

She was jostled toward the masked magician whose deep eyes caught her attention as he tugged out what looked like a princess doll, dressed in the same iridescent mother of pearl cloth her dress was cut from. A chill shot through her heart as the man’s shadowed gaze rose to her and gave her a plump lipped smile.

His mouth moved up and down, but she couldn’t hear his words among the chortles and cackles of the others around her. She was shoved this way and that in the ocean of people. Her eyes darted this way and that away as she tried to maintain her balance only to see him again.

He wasn’t passing by or among the dancers or entertainers. No, he was on the outskirts of the masses. Far from her. Back to a twisting pillar, Hyunjin’s eyes were on her even as multiple scantily-clad women draped themselves over him. Bare-chested against him and whispering something in his ear. Lips sticking to his skin as they did so. He never looked at them. He smiled, eyes hooded as he tilted his head at her, acknowledging her as his mouth quipped a reply to the masked woman on one of his arms. In his hand was a lyre flower – the petal forming an almost organic shape, like it was a reddened heart clasped in between his metal-tipped fingers. He fondled it, tilting his head as her.

A wave of heat filled her cheeks – watching the encounter felt strange. His focus was solely on her, and it felt simmering and ever-present even as he ignored the near-nude women about him. There was a poof of magic beside her. The smell of fire-smoke filled her face. She coughed, waving the smoke aside to. Glancing back at the magician in front of her, she saw that now he held a goblin doll rather than the princess doll. The smoke lingered in the air, musky against the opulent sweet aroma of the ballroom.

The party-goers hooted and crowed out excitements. It grated against her ears. Flinching, she glanced back towards Hyunjin, only to find him gone, and the women busied by whirling about with one another now.

Despair. Devastating and consuming despair. Like someone had taken her favorite stuffed animal as a child away. Unreasonably strong. It overwhelmed her. Widened eyes, her head swiveled this way and that to find him. Just once more. Surely… He had to be… he was just there. He had to be nearby. Maybe he was coming her way and she didn’t see him. He was just there.

It made her skin crawl like maggots were creeping up and down her back. She didn’t know why she needed to find him in this ballroom. She didn’t know why she needed to see him, or what she would say or do. She just felt it in the pit of her stomach that it was important to find him. That she should find him. She had to. She had to.

So, Y/N began to wander once more, dodging dancers and minding her step over flowing, long dresses. Tiny goblins seemed to race around the dancers; sometimes they dove beneath dresses to appear on the other side. One even tugged at her gown, scrambling up the fabric with clawed hands. Chittering in a language she could understand as it stared with large yellowed eyes. She jolted backwards. Back hitting a column painfully, flower petals rained down over her in a floral shower.

The goblin startled at that and jumped away onto the marble floor, chattering with sharp teeth at her before scurrying away. A man beside her, lounging in a nearby chair, smirked at her with fanged teeth before offering a glass of something honeyed and alcoholic smelling. The goblet sloshed this way and that, leaving iridescent puddles on the ground. She ignored him and pushed herself up to continue her search for him.

And there was plenty of encouragement. She. Kept. Seeing. Him. If only for a moment, from the corner of her eye. Like a phantom he’d escape her sight, only to appear at the other side of the room. Smirking, smiling, glancing her way before disappearing again.

He was dressed in a deep-cobalt, crushed-velvet long coat with beadwork that matched hers. Sea-glass pearls that seemed to sparkle like caught stars in the candlelight made up the constellations over his shoulders. The inner fabric of his coat gleamed a mother-of-pearl lining, matching hers. His blonde hair was styled in wind-swept waves as if a lover had run their hands through it in an embrace. His pout of a mouth that smirked sharp as always was visible, but his eyes were shadowed by a masquerade mask now. He held the mask to his face, the grotesque thing held up on a clawed hand-like stick. At some point, the mask was stuck to his face instead as he promenaded in between her sight. And then it was on a stick once more.

She was going in circles around the room, chasing after the disappearing King. Head in circles, she felt woozied for a moment. Delirious and blurred. The music triumphed into a loud crescendo. There was a static hum, a taste of ozone on her tongue. She was pushed and pulled by the ocean of people, wrapped up in a dance alone amongst the throng.

It was beyond frustrating. She wanted to talk to him… dance with him. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt a pang in her chest. A prick of a headache behind her eyes. An uproar in laughter, a screech of the almost-violin-like instrument playing in the large room, and she was approaching what felt like an emotional cliff. Stuffy faced and irritable and insecure and alone – her dress was heavied and her arms itched and her face was hot and the room reeked of rotting magnolias.

“Dearest one,” a voice murmured deeply, finally swooping her up into his arms after the long foreplay of their chase.

Arms that were cool to the touch, velvet soft under her overheated fingers as she sagged faintly into his arms.

In that moment, it felt like someone had dimmed the lights. Like they had quieted the world. Dampened her uneasy emotions. Everything zeroed in on him. His mask was on the tip of his nose still, a goblin grotesque facade. But, she could see his shimmering dark blue eyes and his berry-bitten full lips.

“Hyunjin,” she let out a sigh.

Her hands rose to his cheeks naturally so, almost as if she wasn’t in control of her own body. His eyes fluttered shut, pleasantly smiling as she removed his mask. Its waxy texture felt sticky like clay under her fingertips as she pried it from his skin with a suction-esque sound. Like, it was one with his skin until she pried it away. It fell away from her fingertips easily, shattering to the floor. Her hands returned to his smooth tawny skin. His face was perfect, like a sculpture carved meticulously. His face had a youthful flush at her gentleness, a honeyed-blush bloomed over his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose.

A reverent sigh escaped her as Y/N stroked over his cheek carefully. Her thumb grazed over a mole beneath his eye; she had never seen it before. He was cool to the touch, but it felt less like a corpse’s skin and more as if he had been out in the evening rain. A fantasy of him waiting for her with an umbrella came to mind. Romantic.

He breathed out slow, and smiled fondly. One of his own hands rose to caress her cheek. His metal-clawed fingers would never harm her; she knew that. They simply tickled over her blushed skin. His stroke of her cheek was slow as dripping nectar from a flower’s petal, as if he was savoring her skin against his.

“Y/N,” he said sweetly, dipping his head to press his forehead against hers.

His curled bangs pressed against her skin; his horned crown just grazed the top of her head. He pulled her closer, shifting his arms to cradle her securely. Yes, his arms felt right. This felt oh so right. Like a wonderfully soft dream. Her dizzied head eased in his grasp.

“Shall we dance?” he murmured with his mouth close to her ear.

His breath wasn’t warm; no, it was cool and damp as a cave’s interior. The question felt less like a question as he began to sway them. She nodded just a bit, oblivious to the world around her.

The other fae brushing around her didn’t bother her as they continued their wild waltz. The Goblin King did not join the frenzied dance with her, but instead kept their dance to a gentle swaying. Intimate and slow and just what she had needed.

Her hands grasped his arms, nervously. Fingers pressed against his velveteen coat. Almost as if he’d be lost again. But with a curve of his lip and a flash of his intimate eyes, he pulled her ever-closer.

“I’m here,” he whispered, reassuringly gently. “I’ve got you.”

And it did ease her in to a sense of calm, like the sky full of rolling clouds on a sunny day.

There was just a strange melodic tune between them; the grand hapriscordal cacophony traded for a sort of bass-like sound, strumming out chords in a soothing repeating tempo. A piano-esque metallic instrument chimed out in the gentle lullaby.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” he admitted, swirling them in a circle to the rhythm.

His shadowed eyes did not wander down her chest, her bare arms, or her neck. They locked onto her eyes. All of his attention was on her.

“So beautiful,” he sighed, neck bending as he leaned close as if he’d kiss her. His breath was cold as it fanned against her face.

“So strong.” His eyes were reverent.

(His Labyrinth-Runner, his body hummed as he smiled with such wicked loveliness.)

Compliments made the back of her neck tingle and burn pleasantly. Far better than the man who had leered at her earlier in the night. When was that? Oh yes, it felt like she had been wandering and tossed about for hours. Her feet ached, snug in tight, sharp shoes. If she had tugged aside her many layers of organza and lace, she’d see them to be the princess-perfect glass slippers. Ones she had dreamed about growing up.

How unrealistic.

As if reading her mind, Hyunjin’s hands shifted to grasp her waist, firmly lifting her into a promenade of an elevated spin. Her arms draped over his broad shoulders to support herself as she left her shoes behind on the polished floor. A mimicry of a Cinderella caught.

She gasped, hugging close to him. Hyunjin buried himself into the softness of her waist as she clung to him. Slowly, he lowered her, sliding he down until her feet touched the tops of his shoes. He kept her in his clutch, holding her close and off the ground. Bosum pressed into his chest intimately.

“My Princess,” he cooed, swaying this way and that. “Swept of her feet, all mine, hm?”

He grazed his nose over her cheek fondly. 

She felt his chuckle, like a low tumbling rumble of the Earth. There was an echo of laughter from his subjects around them. Like they were in on a joke she wasn’t privy to. She glanced over at the dancers among them; they were watching them intently. It made that eerie feeling bubble up, breaking the ocean of calm that had once washed over her.

His nose nudged hers, gently redirecting her gaze from the carousel of masked figures about them to him once more.

He smiled, fanged teeth sparkling in the light as he rose her up again by her waist and spun her about. Flower petals tumbled around them in a magic whirl, catching on her hair, her sweatied skin, his jacket.

As he continued their waltz, her bare toes rested on his, depending on him to move her this way and that. A spare hand rose to pluck a petal from her hair, presenting it to her; the petal transforming into a blossoming ivory foxglove before her eyes. He indulged in her wonder; in the innocent way, her shiny eyes flickered from the flower to him in surprise.

He tucked the flower behind her ear, delicately.

“How do you feel?” he asked her lowly, swaying soothingly like the way the waves of the sea magnetically roll with the moon.

“I feel –“ she murmured, tilting her head to look around at the world spinning about.

They’d been dancing for how long? Shimmering magic and sweat stuck to her skin. His breath like cool peach and hot honey-mead, engulfed her senses. Eyes flickering shut, overwhelmed by the scent, his touch, the humid heat of the ballroom.

“Wonderful?” he filled in, lips brushing tantalizingly against her blushed cheek.

He could almost taste the scattered remnant of magic across her skin. Nearly taste her iron-blood just at the surface from how ruby red her cheeks had become.

Salt sweat and sweet magic made a delicious potion.

Hyunjin sighed deeply, his sharp tongue dodging out as he pressed a tender deep kiss to the side of her jaw, too low to be considered simply a kiss upon her cheek. He would’ve moaned if it was his dreams.

“Is this not what you dreamt of, dearest?” he cooed in her ear, spinning her about once more. “I can do far more than these balls. I can do anything you want - you just need ask, properly.”

Flashes of burning desires and demanding needs crossed her mind like wildfire. Things she couldn’t explain or begin to put words to. It was feelings as deep as the darkest of oceans and as difficult to place as a tide underneath the waves. It was golden-spun day-dreams and valentine evenings with phantom kisses to her skin haunted her and an irresistible satiation in her bones heavied her as if she were lost in the galaxy, cool and yet burning. Warmed skin pressed against cool, fingers intertwined. Moans into red mouths, fangs clashing against one another. Flickers of feather-soft embraces amongst flowers, amongst sand, amongst the dirt. Painted pastel mornings, a golden sun outside a balcony looking out over the Labyrinth as she laid in the softest of beds. Warm and comfortable and at peace and not-alone.

Never alone, for he was there. Always.

Hyunjin. No…the Goblin King. Her King. Her ruler. Her Everything.

Every molecule of her was for him. Everything for his eyes only… Even now, as they twirled amongst nobility, she knew he allowed it. She was his after all.

His eyes. Gone were the frozen deep blue eyes that struck an odd sense of defiance in her – and instead – his eyes were glimmering like a pale jewel in a wedding band, like the summer ocean at mid-day. As if she was staring at the bluest sky from the field of flowers. Warm. They were a warm azure. No longer cold and cruel. Why would he ever look at her with cruelty?

His cupid-bowed lips did not smirk and sneer and mock but tempted as they spread into a heart-stopping wide smile as he laughed lowly in her fantasy. Gone were the oil-slick metallic velvets and opened shirts and tight leathered pants. Replaced with soft linens of pearlescent fabric that only highlighted his tawny-tan skin which sparkled with the magic coursing in his veins, making him faintly glisten and glow as if he were an angel.

He was. He was her Everything. Angel, savior, king, lover.

It was like seeing a different man. A man that was only for her. A side of him only for her.

Only when she was his would she see this. Behind closed doors he could be this.

Not a King of the Underground, not the Goblin King. Simply the ruler of her heart. King of her. And if he controlled her, didn’t she control him? What a sweet fooled heart she had.

Flickers of a daydream continued. The sky would be lit up by stars, countless glowing star that held their love. Each twinkling as he pointed them to her, whispered words of how they were strung in the sky for her. This one was devotion, that one her love, that one was his desire. The way he’d consume her bite by bite, kiss by kiss, in the darken rich soil they laid in. Fingers interlaced as her eyes rolled back. The way her skin would cool to a cavern temperature for eternity just to remain in his arms. Here, there was no pain. No injured body. Her fangs didn’t hurt any longer. Her eyes would blink up at a cavern sky. And her memory was a faded hazy thing that was full of him, him, him.

Her king, her king, her king.

That’s all she could think as she blink, blink, blinked at him as they swirled into another twirl on the dance floor. Hyunjin smiled soft as he saw her eyes soften into such a cotton candy gentleness.

She’d want for nothing. Laying amongst silks and satins. Feeding upon fae fruit, the nectar dripping down the column of her throat only for him to lick up greedily. No, no, he wasn’t greedy. She was his after all. Anything he wanted he received.

“Dearest one,” he hummed.

His voice pulled her up from the sea of daydreams she was drowning in. He looked different again. His eyes still that soft blue like the moon on a cool night. His clothes were the white linens she had dreamt of him in before in a blink he was back in the blue-velvet suit. A hand raised to tuck large curls behind her ear only to rest on the column of her neck afterwards. “Is this not what you’ve dreamt of?”

Balls of wonder, pretty dresses, nights of ecstasy, happily ever after with a King. Princess sweet and soft. Sheltered and doted upon. Protected in a high tower above a difficult Challenge. A proper fairytale.

Her eyes blurred as she was spun once more, whirled out of her daydreams as her mind tried to catch up to what was around her. Had his clothes just changed? What? How did that happen?

“I – don’t know what to think,” she admitted as she was whirled around again.

A loud cackle by her ear echoed out. . . almost as loud as the toll of a grandfather clock. A clock?

Her head turned as they twirled again. The people around them felt suffocatingly close and the music that had been soothing, once again battered up into a harpsichordical tune, unnerving and discordant. Clashing of melodies soft and loud, bad.

Bad, bad, bad - why did she feel so bad? So unlike herself?

Her arms and legs tingled like television static and she tried to steady herself while she grasped his hand in hers as she returned from the spin outwards.

Her eyes met his again, and he smiled so kindly and calmly like the images that flashed before her eyes. Yet she saw a flash of something knowing in the gleam of his eyes, a laughing cruelty in his eyes from the dungeons. Dungeons, she pondered? What dungeons? There were no dungeons in his arms.

She felt trapped suddenly. Itchy and buzzing. Aching and sweaty. Real. She felt real for a brief moment before she felt his hand smooth over her bodice until it eased up and down her back, soothingly.

But, it didn’t ease her stomach as she was thrown into a dizzy whirl again. They were dancing in a circle, a whirl of a waltz, less calm like before. Her neck gave out, her head lulling back and her eyes flashing to the chandeliers above. The candles were flickering rapid and erratic; there was a breeze kicked up from the ball room’s dancing. The room smelled of peach flowers. Bubbles floated about like perfect baubles of glimmering light.

A hand went to cup the back of her neck, supporting her as Hyunjin pulled her upright. Her bare feet lifted once more. He held her entire weight then and there as he kept her close. Her arms were lose around him.

There was a purse in between his brows, but he still smiled at her. Patient blue eyes. His blonde hair looked darker in this light she wondered. The shadows of his crown making it look almost as if the blonde grew darker at his roots. His horned crown sat upon his perfect head. Not a tiara, a crown. He was a King, not a Prince. He was so handsome she noted. How could a man with such wicked cruelty be so lovely? It was magical. He was magical. Fae magic. . . dreamy fae magic. Her thoughts were scrambled about like a poorly mixed potion.

“You’ve found a way to your dreams, Y/N,” he confided, his voice somehow perfectly clear in her ear despite the brash music.

“Stay in your dream. . . where you are truly free and wholly yourself. The truest form of yourself. You want that, dear one?”

His lips were hypnotizing. Her stomach bubbled like champagne in a flute. Butterflies aching to be released from the cage of her ribs as she saw him lick over the plushness of his mouth.

And she nodded. Like a marionette.

“Don’t abandon it,” he shifted his hold on her. “Don’t leave it behind – if you leave behind your dreams, your wish, you’ll be at the mercy of other people again and again. Forget them. Trust to your dream.” He lamented, divulged, and pled.

Spellbound, the smell of honey-suckle on a hot day burned her nose as she leaned in closer. Hyunjin grinned, none of it warm nor soft suddenly.  

“Trust to me,” he commanded sharply, moving in closer and closer. “Give in to me.”

His breath was akin to a corpse’s chill, and he now reeked of rotted peach blossoms. Of magic and dreams and lies. He did not kiss her yet his lips pressed to her cheek. Only a breath away from her parted lips. They were clammy against her overheated skin.

Her stomach turned as the people around her laughed and chortled. She felt too close to Hyunjin. His skin felt deathly cold and clammy and she was too hot and her dress was too tight and heavy and they were spinning oh too fast. How could they be spinning this much? She shut her eyes tight.

“Believe in me only me,” he whispered, lips trailing over flushed cheeks before stealing a kiss on her lips, startling her eyes open wide. A clock chimed distantly, and she felt her skin burn with his affections. His lips tasted of pomegranates, the dust of a crypt, fizzing candies, and fire-smoke. It muddled her senses as he kept her close, breathing her in. His kiss was insistent as he indulged in her.

“Only I can be your dream-maker.” He pulled away just enough for the words to be shared between their lips. “You need me.”

Her eyes fluttered, and he hummed lowly in his chest, a melody that was distant and familiar. Only I can be your dream-maker whirled in her head like the dancers’ promenade.

That wasn’t true.

A clock tolled again. A clock. . . her eyes fluttered open – when had they shut again? - as she felt hands that were scaly and furry and goblinesque trail over her arms and her bared back. She glanced aside when she felt claws, and saw a goblin mask so large and leathery leering into her gaze. Women chortled and men guffawed at her. She felt small, as small as those goblins she had seen running about.

Hyunjin tugged her close, cheek pressed against crushed blue velvet. The smell of rotten flowers on a hot day overwhelmed her, sickening her. The curve of a smile, triumphant pressed into her hair. She could see a clock distantly – golden and grand with its curling numbers - as another toll cracked in her head.

The burn of laughter around her, only Hyunjin could protect her from here. Why were they laughing? What was the clock for? Why did Hyunjin’s grasp hurt? He needed to protect her; she couldn’t do anything. Helpless. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

You say that so often.

Where had she heard that before?

The dungeon. The dungeons… Wait, wasn’t she doing something? Why was she here? Why. . . ?

“Stop,” she whispered out; the words feeling like peanut butter was stuck in her throat.

The Goblin King’s eyes widened as she writhed in his grasped. Her hands pushed him away and, with weakened arms, he let her. Her feet tumbled to the floor, sliding against polished tile; her skirt pouring out across the floor as she fell. A startle in the crowd. Her breath gasped; the corset was so tight - how had she not noticed? Glancing up, the attendees were staring down at her with matching blue eyes. Mockery, laughter, anger. Copies of the eyes she knew so well. She heaved herself up at once. She had to get out of here. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her large dress rammed into the other dancers as she pushed at the crowd. There were shrieks and wails as the clock tolled out another hour. Then another.

A huff left her as she looked around the ballroom. She hadn’t been here before. No - how’d she get here? She can’t even remember getting here in the first place. How did she end up here?

Her eyes met Hyunjin’s with a heat. Cruelty in her eyes, a betrayal of sorts. He simply looked on at her, tall and still among the jostling, jeering crowds. Furred and clawed hands reached out to tug and pull at her, masked faces with no consequences to their actions. She pushed away a woman who draped herself against her back, making her sag against their weight.

“Please, my Lady,” she had pleaded as she shoved with her might.

My Lady. . . as if she belonged here. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

She would be a spellbound pet to the King. A fae’s human plaything. That wasn’t reality. It wasn’t a reality that would be good. Despite all its wonderousness, all she could remember was the burning emptiness. The shell of herself was all that woman was.

She had something to finish… she didn’t know what. But she couldn’t be here. It wasn’t here. C’mon, Y/N, remember. Grasping the heavy dress-skirts (heavier now, as if they were soaked in rain-water, she noted), she turned and ran.

Where was the stairwell? Where was the exit? Where even was the ballroom? Was she in the Castle? Stolen away to the prize without knowing. No. . . no. . . Hyunjin wouldn’t do that. That’s too close. Too close to her winning that he wouldn’t risk it. He was clever. He was goddamn clever. A burning feeling in her chest was difficult to decipher – was it hatred or admiration? Y/N was confused. She pushed past party-goers with little grace, huffing out in pain as they collided with her.

She couldn’t find any way out. She was met with endless mirrored walls, the shimmering reflection of a debauched dream staring back at her. Like the bubbles around her. A bubble. This place felt like a bubble that could pop.

With a grit of her teeth, she let go of her dress’ skirts in a shimmering flutter of fabric and grabbed a resting chair from nearby. Slamming it into the mirror, there was a tremble beneath her icy bared feet. Frightened and uneasy, she shut her eyes as she slammed the chair into the membrane of the pearlescent mirrored bubble again. And again. And again. Until the world shook and shattered in a whirlwind of screams and yells.

And she was falling - down, down with the world.

-

The Labyrinth-Runner’s eyes flashed open. She was no longer in the forest-flowers nor in a ballroom of debauchery, but lying still in an unknown darkened space. A starry sort of light gleamed high above her. Haloed in the light, she looked down to see she was in her own battered clothes again. In her hand was the fae fruit she had bitten into. The flesh was rotten-brown, the juices sticky in between her fingers, and the smell akin to rotten fruit in the humid sun. A maggot crawled from the decaying pit towards her palm. With a yell, she threw it to the side. A wave of nausea hit her.

Vomiting to the side, she huffed and panted before fainting backwards into a familiar bed.

-

Hyunjin’s own eyes flashed open as the fae fruit’s dream was shattered. He could still taste the magic on his tongue mingling with the iron-salt of her lips. He licked his plump rose-petaled lips with his tongue, savoring the taste.

She was so sweet.

She was strong.

She was a good challenge.

Breaking free from a spell was difficult and yet she had. She had manipulated the world around to remind her of her challenge and, with that, Hyunjin admired her. Yes, a part of him even preened that he would have such a clever human soon. A Changeling of his own with devotion only for him.

Her eyes, her eyes, oh, her eyes. He had seen paradise, a promise of her love and her dreams that he could fulfill. Her eyes had shined so sweetly. Her lips were petal roses, curling so gentle into a smile that he wanted all to himself. She was a wonder. How could a human be so intoxicating? He’d make her his. A puppet princess who only cared for him. No betrayals. No others to keep her attention. She’d be all for him. She was different than the others. His Runner was tempting and clever and all the things fae loved.

She had made it far, so much further than any Runner he had seen, but he’ll up the ante. She’ll see his strength. Marvel at his powers! She’d willingly give in once she sees!

He stood from his throne with his trembling hands pushing back raven hair. His breathing was heavied.

He can’t lose.

He walked out the door of the mystical throne room, locking it behind iron-lock and key. He needed his Grimorie. Where had he put it? Magic danced over his fingertips, anxious hands tip-tapping against his palms. His eyes looked wild as he searched among drunk goblins and rambunctious subjects.

He can’t lose.

He would not lose to her. He wouldn’t fall to his Runner. He must win this game.  

He wanted her to be his forever.

For Hyunjin had hopelessly fallen under her spell.

[ukagakadreamteam]

Ghost Jam 2024 results

The results of Ghost Jam 2024 are here!

This year we had a total of 24 ghosts submitted, by 36 participants! The number of overall ghosts continues to hold steady, while the number of people joining the event has increased!

Of the submitted ghosts, 5 completed the 72 Hour challenge (with multiple ghosts being submitted a day or more before the 72 hour deadline!), 10 completed the Add an Extra challenge, and 12 completed the New Assets Only challenge. We saw many wonderful interpretations of the optional celestial theme, as well!

Once again, we've seen a huge variety in the styles of ghosts released, and many new and interesting angles explored! Please give every single one of them a try if you can, I promise it will be worth your time.

The full list of ghosts will be under the cut, or available on the event's website. Please check them out and show the devs some appreciation!

押し売りとババア

Authors: netai98 Challenges completed: - 72 Hour challenge - New Assets Only challenge Download

Under the Stars

Authors: Galla, YudiDoodles, Zichqec, おもちよいち (OmochiYoichi) Challenges completed: - 72 Hour challenge - New Assets Only challenge - Add an Extra challenge Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Reflections of Starlight"

Duck Overload

Authors: Ecclysium, Blue Challenges completed: - 72 Hour challenge - New Assets Only challenge - Add an Extra challenge Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Carnival on Quack"

Block Builder 2000

Authors: SmokyCinnamonRoll Challenges completed: - 72 Hour challenge - New Assets Only challenge - Add an Extra challenge Download Downloadable extra: Shell "Pixelated Simpleated"

Long Leg Bird (with top hat)

Authors: Vita/yuyudev Challenges completed: - 72 Hour challenge - New Assets Only challenge Download

Celeste

Authors: WhatAPhantasia Challenges completed: - Add an Extra challenge Content warnings: Verbal abuse, fictional political conflict, more in readme Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Closed Solar Captions"

VKLE

Authors: Rosenheim, idk, Blue Download

Stumbling talk

Authors: Salt Challenges completed: - New Assets Only challenge Download

Artoria Caster

Authors: Verse, KFC Content warnings: more details on the download page Download

Star Reader

Authors: Kipali Challenges completed: - New Assets Only challenge Server exclusive - this ghost is currently only available in our Discord server!

LOBO

Authors: Okuajub, oldmanhorseface Content warnings: Religion, Surrealism Download

Lost in the sea of stars

Authors: Zdzisiu Challenges completed: - Add an Extra challenge Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Scriblloon"

Lunar Leporidae

Authors: Vita/yuyudev, Decomakke Challenges completed: - New Assets Only challenge Download

HSR Trash Can - YAYA

Authors: Jerry Download

Lux

Authors: dransnake Challenges completed: - Add an Extra challenge Content warnings: Murder, Death, and Nightmares Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Stardust"

Credit where Credit is Due

Authors: KFC Content warnings: Strong Language / Swearing Download

The Hunter

Authors: Softie, Digi Download

Stray Dogs Bar

Authors: Venelona Challenges completed: - New Assets Only challenge Content warnings: Suicide, Drugs/Alcohol, Mentions of violence Download

hazy days

Authors: idk, SmokyCinnamonRoll Challenges completed: - New Assets Only Content warnings: Insects, insect bite mentions Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Ice Cream Cone"

Error

Authors: Heartstitched, Robanilla, Haze, Onlyplatonicirl, Vicen_non Challenges completed: - Add an Extra challenge Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "ERRORTEXT"

Zana's Laws

Authors: Galla, Zichqec, 月波 清火 (Tsukinami Seika) Challenges completed: - New Assets Only challenge - Add an Extra challenge Content warnings: Eyes, mentions of death Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Effortless Iridescence"

Nova

Authors: Amanda Challenges completed: - New Assets Only challenge Content warnings: Mentions of medical malpractice, mentions of death Download

Starwarden

Authors: WhatAPhantasia, Ecclysium, TechNekoKit, Autumnwrenvale, BlindedbyCreativity Challenges completed: - Add an Extra challenge Download Downloadable extra: Balloon "Connected Stars"

Galaxy Butterfly

Authors: Odie Download

Thank you so much to everyone who joined us! This event couldn't happen without so many people joining, inviting their friends along, supporting each other, and encouraging others along the way.

If you would like to help us continue to improve the event, we have a feedback form again this year! If you can spare a few minutes to fill it in, that information helps us greatly as we adjust things for next year's event.

Congratulations, everyone!