#tore down our trees

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

I have rarely felt as much visceral hatred as for the people that bought the house I grew up in

[jayetheartist]

Well, who else is having a shitty night?

[grimmgrinningghouls]

looking at google maps of my childhood home and getting kinda violent ngl

[mallowsweetmiri]

Strawberry Pie 🍓 ~ F.W.

Part 1 • Black Bikini

Summary: You’re staying at the burrow for the summer like you do every year. All is well expect for the fact that you kind of slept with your long time family friend, Fred Weasley.

Warnings: thigh riding, cursing, mentions of sex

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Your POV:

You woke up in Charlie Weasleys old bed to an unusual amount of chaos coming from a few floors below you. You groaned as you rubbed your eyes and stretched. The morning sun bathed your skin in warmth. You let out a content sigh as you closed your eyes once more. You loved being here, especially since you got Charlie’s old room, the best room. The window next to the bed looked out on the sprawling hills towards the east, a big tree sat in the middle of the view. Little birds chirped in the thick cover of leaves. You heard the patter of footsteps rapidly approaching your bedroom.

“Y/N!” The door busted open to reveal a bounding Hermione Granger with Ginny hot in pursuit behind her. Hermione threw open her arms and squealed as she jump onto your bed to tackle you with a hug.

“Granger! I didn’t know you were coming today, I would’ve gotten out of bed earlier,” you frowned as Ginny and her took seats on your bed.

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you yesterday. You know, too much sun at the beach and then I wasn’t allowed to hang out with you last night,” Ginny glared at you but you just laughed. Ginny couldn’t keep a straight face, but you knew that she really did want to hang out with you and twins last night. She was just too young for drinking games with the twins. And… oh Merlin.

Suddenly, you remembered what had happened last night. George had taken Ginny and Ron back to the house, leaving you and Fred alone on the hillside. One thing led to another and… well… you ending up naked with your oldest family friend.

“It’s okay! Now that you’re awake, we can start our day,” Hermiones voice tore you out of your thoughts.

“Okay, okay I’m getting up now,” you sat up straight and yawned, “what are we doing today?”

“Get dressed and meet us downstairs for breakfast,” she grinned, “we’re going strawberry picking.”

After Ginny and Hermione left your room, you quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a white cami. You checked yourself out in the mirror. You had definitely grown this past school year. The biggest difference was your chest which had filled out significantly in a just one school year. In fact, you really needed a new bra. But besides the physical side of things, you also just felt more mature. You swept your hair up into a loose pony tail, leaving your neck bare and exposed. You fell still as you saw a small purple blotch in the crevice of your neck.

“Shit,” you cursed, tying off your hair and reaching for your wand on the bedside table. You applied some glamour to your neck to hide the mark and then pulled out more than a few strands of your bangs to give you more coverage. You had forgotten that Fred was kissing you all over last night. You saw yourself blush at the thought. You continued to get ready like this. You started brushing you teeth and recalled opening your mouth for Fred last night. You applied lip balm and remembered his wet mouth in between your thighs. You walked downstairs and made yourself swear to stop thinking about it, but you wondered if Fred was in the kitchen too.

As you reached the bottom floor, you saw Molly cleaning in the kitchen and 5 seats taken at the dining room table. The Weasley children and Hermione sat around the table feasting on pancakes, sausage, eggs, potatoes, and toast with jam. You graciously thanked Molly before sitting down to get some grub of your own.

“Okay so after breakfast we’ll leave to walk to the fields. Definitely pack a hat or something to cover yourselves so nobody gets sunburnt. Also I was thinking that after we come back we could bake something with the strawberries,” Hermione spoke with incredible speed while simultaneously spreading apricot jam on her toast. Ron huffed out a smile and took a bite of his own breakfast.

“That sounds great ‘Mione. And while you girls cook, I’ll be taking a nap,” Ron said with a full mouth. Hermione turned to smack him on the arm causing the twins to laugh. Of course this made you look up, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Fred was wearing he wore a simple t-shirt, but it seemed like he was starting to grow out of it. You couldn’t fathom that the twins could grow anymore, they were already a full head taller than you. But there was Fred, leaned back nonchalantly in his chair. His hair had grown out slightly from the year away from home and his face seemed to be more dotted from the summer sun. He met you gaze and gave you a soft smile. You could’ve sworn he was blushing a little.

“What do you think Y/N?” Hermione turned to you to hear your opinion. You cleared your throat and ripped your eyes away from Fred’s.

“Erm- what were we talking about?” You asked with a sheepish half-grin. Hermione raised her eyebrow at you.

“What should we bake this afternoon?” She asked, sweeping her eyes to Fred as he sat back with a noticeable grin on his face. Merlin, couldn’t he keep that smile off his face for two seconds? It was hard to think.

“Hmm, strawberry pie,” you grinned as you sat up to bring your plate to the sink.

“Mm, that sounds simply divine,” George said in his best posh voice, standing up to join you by the sink. Fred gathered his plate as well.

“Indeed, George. That sounds delicious,” he crossed the kitchen to put his dish in the sink, “and I do like to have something sweet after dinner.” His arm brushed against yours. Immediately the contact made the hairs on your arm stand up. Since when did that happen? When did Fred start making you feel this type of way?

Maybe since his head was buried between my legs and he used his pretty mouth to give me the best orgasm of my life, you thought to yourself, making yourself blush a crimson shade of red. You cleared your throat and made your way onto the front porch. You sat down on the bench and began putting on your boots, you knew the fields would be muddy. The screen door swung open and Fred turned towards you with a half smile. As soon as you guys looked at each other, both your faces flushed red and you looked away. Fred took no time to recover and made his way over to sit next to you. Suddenly your boot zipper was extremely fascinating.

“I’m glad to see you up in this morning, Y/N. I was afraid the fire whiskey had gotten to you,” he teased, putting on his own boots.

“I don’t think it would’ve been the fire whiskey that took me out,” you mumbled, color running into your face again. At this point, you were sure you looked like a tomato, and you could hardly look up at Fred. You had a small moment of panic, what if last night ruined everything? Fred’s chuckle took you out of your doubts.

“Take a breathe, Y/N. You look like you’re about to faint,” Fred laughed as he took a look at your face. You smacked his arm and let out a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding. Your mouth couldn’t help but curve into a smile. That always seemed to happen around Fred. The two of you fell into a small silence as you both finished tying your boots. The door burst open as the rest of the gang piled out onto the porch to put their shoes on. You gathered some baskets and passed them around before the 6 of you set out towards the fields. They were right next to the burrow, but they spanned for acres. You and Fred naturally hung back from the group and strolled at a leisurely pace.

“Summers here are truly amazing,” you sighed, breathing in the fresh breeze. Fred smiled down at you.

“Truly, and I have a feeling this summer is going to be the best one yet,” Fred hummed as he veered right towards a particularly abundant bush.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Freddie?” You skipped up next to him and began picking berries. You figured you already knew the answer but you wanted to hear him say it. Half of your mind was still convinced that last night hadn’t happened at all.

“Well I told you, Y/N. I’m going to make you mine this summer,” he said this so casually, you almost didn’t hear him. You’d completely lost interest in the berries at this point.

“Fred,” you tested. You almost thought he was joking, but his face was dead serious. His expression was something you rarely saw on the face of a Weasley twin. “Are you serious?”

“Look at my face,” he said, pointing up at himself, “do I look like I’m joking.” He did not, but it only took about one second of his seriousness to cause both of you the keel over laughing. You dropped your basket which Fred promptly picked up for you. As you grabbed the basket from him, your eyes locked. It felt serious again.

“Fred, I don’t want to ruin anything while I’m here this summer. Even if last night was... I don’t want anything to go badly…” you trailed off, feeling vulnerable in front of your best friend. He only stepped closer to you and put his hand on your cheek. Even though he’d been inside you only last night, this felt more intimate than anything you’d done before.

“Just trust me, Y/N. Nothing is going to be ruined,” Fred whispered. His finger ran along your cheek, behind your ear, and down the side of your throat. He chuckled, “except maybe your neck.” You blushed and swatted his hand away.

“Can you see it? I thought I covered it this morning,” you grumbled, rubbing your neck as if to wash off the mark.

“I can only see it because I was looking for it. Don’t worry, you can keep up your little goody two shoes act,” Fred teased, flicking a strawberry your way. You rolled your eyes and smiled at his words. The two of began to walk toward the group once more. Ginny was laughing her ass off.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, strolling up next to Ginny. You soon saw why she was laughing. Ron was frowning, sinking into a mud hole, his boot stuck in the mush and filled with mud.

“He’s such an idiot,” Ginny barked, pointing at her brother. Hermione tried to stifle her laughs.

“Oh, come on now, Ginny. Let’s help Ron out,” George said, stepping up to grab Ron’s arm. Ginny grinned and grabbed his other hand.

“On three,” George said, “one… two… three!” The two of them tugged on Ron before releasing him back into the mud. He fell with an oof as the rest of you broke down in laughter.

“You guys are actually the worst,” Ron grumbled, throwing a handful of mud at Fred.

“Hey! What did I do?” Fred exclaimed, grabbing a handful of mud at slinging it at Ron.

“Oh, fuck,” Ron said as George pelted him with another handful. It took about 3 seconds before everyone was covered in mud, howling with laughter as you continued to pelt each other with mud pies. Your fun lasted all of two minutes before a shrill yell came from the house,

“What in Merlin’s name do you kids think you’re doing!”

Molly Weasley was marching out of the burrow and towards the strawberry fields. You all stopped. You let the mud slip out of your fingers and slop onto the ground.

“Come here right this instant!” She yelled, stomping her foot and pointing towards the ground she stood on. You looked towards Ginny who whispered, “oh shit.” The six of you started to head back towards the house, the twins grumbling to themselves.

“Its like she’s allergic to fun,” you heard George whisper, Fred laughing and elbowing him in the side.

“Seriously don’t make me laugh. We can’t get in trouble this summer,” Fred whispered back, earning an eye roll from George. His eyes looked back to you for a second, and you wondered if he knew about last night. He probably did.

“You kids are trouble! I thought you were going to go pick strawberries, not roll around in the mud!” Mrs. Weasley scolded, making Hermione drop her head in shame. “Go clean up in the pond-”

“But Mum! There are frogs in there!” Ron whined, earning a glare from his mother.

“I don’t care, you lot are a bunch of frogs. You’re not allowed back in the house until all the mud is off of you. You tried not to laugh at her sass as you walked towards the pond. Ron was grumbling to Ginny about this was her fault and Hermione looked like she was going to cry.

“Don’t worry, ‘Mione. She’s not really mad. Once we bake her a delicious pie she’ll forget all about this,” you smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. She swallowed and nodded. That girl was too sweet for this world. The grass grew longer as you entered the shaded brush near the pond. You stripped your shoes off and waded into the water. It really wasn’t too disgusting, it was just warm. The twins followed after you.

“Watch out for the bullfrogs, Ron,” Fred teased.

“Yeah, we caught at least 5 of ‘em yesterday,” George added, stripping off his shirt. Next came Ginny and Hermione, who were mildly grossed out by the slime. Then Ron who looked disgusted. You chuckled to yourself as you sunk into the water, rubbing the mud off of your arms. Fred watched as you rubbed over your chest, his lips twitching at the corner. You sent a splash his way to deter him from looking which didn’t really work. Fred followed George’s suit and stripped his shirt off, the shaded lighting making him look absolutely divine. Fuck. You almost groaned at the sight and had to turn away to prevent yourself from drooling. Gods, you thought he looked good playing quidditch this year but seeing him shirtless and wet everyday this summer made you feel insane. After a few minutes of washing off all the mud, and a few splash fights, you guys headed back towards the burrow. One by one, you all cast drying spells on yourselves, and headed inside.

“Before we start the pie, I’m going to go change,” Hermione said with a face of disgust. While the pond got the mud off your clothes, you definitely reeked of dirt and sludge. You all murmured in agreement and headed upstairs to change. You got off on your floor, heading swiftly to your room.

Fred’s POV

I watched her go towards her room as me and George kept climbing up the stairs. She was going in there to change, to take off that little white tank top that was just soaking wet against her chest. Fuck. I had to keep my train of thought from wandering. I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be to control myself after last night. After I saw her perfect tits bouncing while I fucked her and watched her face as she came and fuck. I didn’t even realize I had turned around and started back down the stairs and towards her room. I knocked on her door swiftly.

“Fred?” She asked when she opened the door.

“Can I, uh, come in?” I asked, smiling sheepishly at her. She nodded and moved to the side to let me in. I shut the door behind me and stood in front of her. She looked nervous, waiting for me to say something.

“Y/N, can I be honest,” I breathed out a chuckle, feeling slightly awkward in front of what used to be only my best friend.

“Of course, Fred,” she replied, holding her hands behind her back as she looked at me.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, uhm, after last night,” I admitted, feeling a relief as the words left my mouth. She let out a breath.

“I know how you feel,” she chuckled, moving towards me.

“I don’t even really know why I’m here,” I chuckled again, breathing in as she stepped closer again.

“Do you want to, I dunno…” she blushed, looking up at me expectantly. I wasted no time in closing the gap between our lips. I let my hands grip around her waist, making her gasp into my mouth. I pressed her against my body, wanting to feel all of her. I couldn’t get enough, I just wanted to take her to bed.

“Com’ere,” I breathed, falling to sit on the bed and pulling her with me. She groaned as she straddled my hips, sinking down and feeling my length through my jeans. I groaned and pressed her down against me. Her legs felt so good under my hands, her hips gently moving on top of me. I swiped my thumbs across the front of her hips, causing her to whine into my lips. Merlin, she sounded so sexy. I moved my leg under her and used my hands to guide her hip back and forth on top of my thigh. She threw her hand back with a moan.

“Shhh,” I shushed her, bouncing my leg up and down as she rode me. I brought my lips up to hers, causing her to fall closer to my chest. She whined into me, giving me the change to slip my tongue into her mouth. I pushed her back and forth on my leg, earning more pretty moans from her mouth. I felt her shudder on me as she pulled back.

“Fred, I’m so close,” she whined, her face falling into my shoulder. I kissed down her neck.

“That’s it, come for me darling,” I murmured, licking over her neck and rubbing her down on my leg in a faster rhythm. Her moans got muffled in my shoulder as she sped up her movements. I wanted to hear her while she came, but shushed her gently as a reminder. She whined quietly as she shuddered on top of me, her hips grinding slowly on my leg. I kissed her tenderly as I helped her ride out her high. “Such a good girl,” I whispered in her neck before kissing up the side of her jaw and towards her lips. We shared on last kiss before she pulled back, her lips curling up into a smile.

“Fuck,” she giggled, panting on my lap. I smirked back at her.

“Did you like that?” I asked cheekily. She blushed and nodded before burying her face in my shoulder. I laughed and picked her up, placing her on her feet. “You should probably get changed. We don’t wanna be late to the pie making party.” She chuckled and playfully shoved my chest.

“Then get out of my room so I can change,” she teased, rolling her eyes. My face fell into a half grin as I threw my hands up and started towards the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I protested, exiting out into the hallway. She smiled as she shut the door behind me. Once again, a permanent grin was plastered on my face as I walked up the stairs. I readjusted my pants before stepping into my room.

“Mate, are you and Y/N fucking?” George asked, fixing his hair and the mirror. I breathed out a laugh and shrugged, moving towards the closet to change.

“Oh, it’s so much more than that, Georgie. I think I’m in love,” I sighed, pulling a band tee off the hanger. George chucked and came over to clap me on the back.

“Good for you, brother. I knew it was going to happen this summer,” George smiled at me and I smiled back. He would always be my number one wing man.

“Thanks, George. You mind helping me out with something? I have a plan,” I grinned. He grinned back at me.

“Count me in.”

[bubbleggum444]

—❝𐌋ITTLE MIƧƧ AC𝚃IVIST!❞

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, new hero!reader au, fluff + angst (n comfort), 3k+ wc. synopsis he knows all too well what it is like to feel like you don't fit it.

This felt so... wrong. Everything and everyone around ___ was just so frustrating, so difficult to deal with.

She had been an activist for as long as she could remember, fighting for what she believed in. But everything changed when she became a hero.

For better or worse? She wasn’t sure. No—oh great, Starfire just burned another tree down. Just perfect. Yeah, definitely worse.

Time and time again, this path hurt. It pulled at her, tore at her, like two different people were fighting for control inside her body.

One part of her—the old her—was someone who spent hours protesting, climbing trees to protect them, boycotting inhumane brands, and helping the vulnerable.

The other—the hero—was someone who saw, day in and day out, just how much destruction heroes left behind in their wake.

She knew her thoughts must have been tiring to others. Maybe even annoying. But she didn’t care. They weren’t her, and she wasn’t them. No one had the right to tell her how to feel about this.

Still, she could only bite her tongue for so long.

During a mission, Beast Boy casually tossed a used water bottle onto the street.

She hesitated, not wanting to sound like a nag. So instead, she simply picked it up, intending to throw it in a trash can.

Then she heard Garfield chuckle.

"Are you our new teammate or the trashman, newbie?"

Ouch.

Even the other Titans fell silent at the remark.

Her fingers clenched around the plastic, her vision burning. She didn’t dare look at any of them. She was too close to breaking.

So she walked away.

She hadn’t planned to. It was an impulsive decision, but that was who she was—rash, reactive. Always ready to act against injustice, even before becoming a hero.

She kept walking until she reached a park bench and collapsed onto it. The moment she was alone, the tears came. She hated this—hated feeling weak, hated that everything was finally catching up to her. The pressure of expectations, the weight of two halves of herself pulling in opposite directions.

It felt suffocating.

Like the disappointment she had seen in her parents’ eyes when she struggled to balance school and activism. The kind of disappointment that didn’t hurt physically but cut so much deeper.

A shiver ran down her spine as something cold wrapped around her from behind.

Whack!

On instinct, she swung back, landing a solid smack on whoever had just grabbed her.

"Damian?!" Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God, I’m so—"

"No, I deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "I came after you... I just didn’t know how to approach you."

Her chest tightened.

She hadn’t expected anyone to follow her. Least of all Damian.

She couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that spilled over, but this time, he was ready. He pulled her into another hug, and she let herself sink into it, gripping onto him like she might fall apart otherwise.

"There’s nothing wrong with being someone who picks up trash," she mumbled, voice still thick with emotion.

"That’s a decent, respectable job."

Damian huffed a small laugh.

"That’s not funny—"

"I know."

He tilted her chin up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. His green eyes searched hers, steady and unreadable.

"I’ve noticed how much you’ve been pushing yourself, ___," he murmured.

"Stepping out of your comfort zone. Going against things you once believed in."

His hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.She held his gaze, her breath catching.

"It’s admirable," he continued, voice softer now. "And... I understand more than you think."

She swallowed hard.

She barely knew Damian. Out of all the Titans, he was the most closed off.

Yet here he was. In a park. In the middle of the night. Holding her. Comforting her.

Was it always this warm at this time of year?

Her voice wavered slightly when she spoke. "Meaning...?"

He exhaled, thumb brushing over her cheek like he was afraid she might break.

"Meaning I’ve been where you are," he admitted. "I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider. To think that no matter what you do, you’ll never truly fit in."

His voice dipped lower, carrying something raw beneath it.

"And it hurt deeply. I rejected those who tried to help me because they were different, yet I embraced the pain from others simply because they were my familiars."

The air between them felt heavy—not with awkwardness, but with something deeper. It was as if their hearts had silently intertwined, speaking in a language beyond words. The weight of unspoken emotions filled the space between them, their rapid beats echoing a conversation only they could understand.

She felt it. The way her heartbeat stumbled, the way something in her chest tightened painfully.

And she could feel his too. Beating, racing—just like hers.

The silence between them was fragile, delicate, like the moment might shatter if either of them spoke.

With one arm dropping to his side, the other wraps itself around her shoulder in a gentle side hug.

"Let’s go get some dumplings," he murmured. "There’s a Chinatown nearby. The vendors stay open late."

Slowly, she let herself relax against him, nodding.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let’s get some pho."

As they walked along the cobblestone streets, ___ let out a quiet giggle.

His cheeks kind of look like dumplings…

She bit her lip to suppress her laughter, but Damian caught it anyway.

His gaze flickered toward her. "What’s so funny?"

She shook her head, smiling to herself.

"Nothing," she said softly. "I’m just really excited for the food."

Damian narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. But he let it go, walking just a little closer to her as they made their way down the dimly lit street.

And for the first time in a long time, ___ felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t so alone after all.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · �� ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

alsooo BB would NEVA be like this. I just needed a "bad guy" for the story :)👌🏻

[mikuluvu]

HER LAST CALL

Summary: You and the team were in a mission, almost a whole swarm of enemies we're chasing you and the team. But when you stepped on pressure-triggered landmine with no way to disarm it, you made a unthinkable choice to be left behind so they can escape.

CW: Character death, Soap ooc??, Themes of grief and loss.

Tf141 x fem!reader

A/n: 3/10 COD fic posted! This one is a angst, i rlly love this fic mwa mwa. It was 4 out 4 pages in my google docs LMAOO. This was kinda a little bit of Soap x reader?

The jungle was filled with chaos, gunfire tore through the trees, and shouts of the enemies closed in. Task Force 141 and you moved through the bushes, their breathing ragged but their focus was steady. The extraction helicopter was only three klicks away, the sound of its blade barely heard over the gunshots.

“Move, move! They’re on our six!” Ghost’s voice barked through the comms.

Soap glanced back, looking the silhouettes running towards them. “Christ, they’re swarmin’ like bloody ants! We need to pick up the pace!”

Price pushed forward at the front, his rifle raised as he led the team. “Eyes up! Stick together, and keep fuckin’ moving!”

You ran in the middle of the team, your lung burning. The mission had gone sideways hous ago, and now it was a race for survival. 

The enemies was close, too close. But then, as you pushed through a particularly thick path of brush, it happened.

Click.

Your boot froze mid-step. For a moment, you didn’t register what it was. But then the cold, horrifying reality hit you like a train. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down. There, placed beneath your foot, was the edge of a land mine.

“Shit,” you whispered. Your body went rigid, “No, no, no…”

Soap, who has been keeping close behind you, halt to a stop as he noticed your sudden halt. “Y/n! Fuckin’ move it! We’re dead if-” His words dies as he saw the look on your face. His eyes followed yours to the ground, and his expression instantly turned grim.

“Fuck,” he muttered, crouching down beside you. “Pressure-triggered?”

You nodded, you voice shaky but calm. “I-if I lift my foot, it’s game over.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Soap hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, don’t panic. We can figure this out. There’s got to be a way-”

“Soap.” you cut him off through his rambling. “You know there’s no way out of this.”

The rest of the team realized both of you were gone, making them double back, forming a tight circle around you. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Ghost said,

“She stepped on a mine,” Soap said quickly, his jaw clenched. “One of those pressure-sensitive one. If she moves, it’ll blow.”

“God damn it,” Price muttered, dropping to one knee to see the situation. Gaz stood nearby, firing gunshots into the jungle to keep the enemies at bay,

“We’ve got to disarm it,” Soap said, his voice growing more frantic. “Or… or swap out somethin’ for the pressure.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Gaz cut in, “They’re right behind us!” he yelled, as he keeps on shooting.

Price’s hand hovered over the mine, but hesitated, “It’s too risky,” he admitted. “Even if we had time, there’s no guarantee we could disarm it without triggering it.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak through the lump in your throat. “Then… you have to leave me.”

Those words hung heavy in the air, like a gunshot. Everyone froze, their eyes snapping to you, because you suggested something unthinkable.

“Not happenin’,” Ghost said instantly.“Listen to me,” you said, your voice trembling. “They’re closing in. If you stay here, we’re all dead. I can buy you time to get to the helicopter.”

“No,” Soap snapped. “We don’t leave anyone behind, and we’re not starting now.”

“Soap…” You reached out, gripping his arm. “You have to, There’s no way to save me without costing everyone else their lives.”

Ghost took a step closer, “We’ve been through worse. We’ll find a way-”

“You fucking can’t!” you shouted, tears stinging your eyes. “There’s no way outt of this, and you know it!”

The team fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Price stood up slowly, “She's right,” he said quietly. “We’re out of time.”

Soap stood up and whipped around, glaring at him. “You’re just gonna leave her? Just like that?” 

“Do you think I want to do this?” Price snapped, his voice cracking. “Do you think any of us do? But if we stay, she dies and we die. We’ve got to make the hard call.”

Soap turned back to you, his eyes pleasing. “There’s gotta be another way,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice, but you steeled yourself. “There isn’t. Soap, you have to go.”

Gaz grabbed Soap’s shoulder, pulling him back. “She’s giving us a chance to get out of here. Don’t waste it.”

Ghost lingered, his dark eyes burning into yours. “You don’t deserve this,” he said quietly.

You smiled weakly, your tears finally spilling over. “Just promise me you’ll make it out,” you said. “All of you.”

“We will, love” Price said, his hand gripping your shoulder and looking at you with his now soft eyes.

Ghost hesitated a moment longer, then turned away, his hands gripping his gun tightly. Soap looked back at you one last time, “I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just go.”

And then they were gone. The sound of gunfire grew louder as they closed in. Your gripped your gun tightly, your heart pounding as you prepare yourself.

“This is where I make it count,” you whispered to yourself. 

The first wave burst through the trees, and you opened fire, cutting them down one by one. You fought with everything you had, holding your ground as long as possible. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors grew faintly louder in the distance, a reminder that they were almost safe.

You closed your eyes, and then the mine detonated, englufing the jungle in a blinding flash of light. 

.

.

.

.

The team was silent, their boots heavy as they walked through the compound. 

Laswell was already waiting for them, she noticed the missing member immediately.

“Where… is she?’ she asked, 

Price stopped in front of her, his hat pulled low over his face. He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, “She didn’t make it.”

Laswell’s breath hitched, “What happened?”

“She stopped on a pressure mine,” Gaz said softly, “There was no time to defuse it. She… she stayed behind so we could make it out.”

Soap, who has been silent until now, suddenly snapped. “It shouldn’t have happened!” he shouted. “She didn’t have to fuckin’ die! We could’ve done something! Anythin’, but we just fucking left her there-”

“Soap,” Price said, his voice low but firm.

“No!” Soap turned to Price, “you were the one who agreed to leave her”

He didn’t react, “She made the call, Johnny. She made it for us.”

“And we listened,” Soup muttered bitterly, sinking onto a nearby chair. “We bloody fuckin’ listened.”

A/n: Wooohooo! sorry for this... (Im rlly not) I hoped you all liked this <3 Feel free to request Tf141 x reader! or any of the characters!

Reblogs w/comments are appreciated! You can support me through buying me a coffee!

[fandomnerd9602]

Little Pack Christmas

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

You and your wolf hybrid mate Natasha Romanoff were adjusting quite well to being parents to young five year old twins Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. The twins loved you both so much. They could barely stand to be apart from you. Even when you got them enrolled in a little school close by, they needed you both there to pick up and drop them off.

With the winter months approaching fast, you and Natasha had to move full time into your apartment. The guest room was already set up for the twins while Natasha moved comfortably into your room.

It was fantastic having everyone under one roof. And with the passage of time, you and Natasha realized that your first Christmas as a family was coming up.

“What are we gonna do?” Natasha found herself pacing the grounds of your apartment, “it’s our first real Christmas with them!”

“Baby they just need to know how much we love them.” You try to ease your mate’s nerves, “all that matters is that we’re all together. We’re a family now. And family is forever”

“Family” Natasha whispers, a little tear making its way down her cheek, “we have a family.” A little giggle escapes your wolf girl’s lips.

“We have a family” you let out a happy little chuckle

Wanda started showing interest in magical creatures and plushies. Pietro was showing all the makings of a young athlete. Honestly you were happy to see them thrive.

As it drew closer to Christmas. You and Natasha began decorating the apartment. The twins were more than eager to help with set up. You and Natasha would put the tree up, the twins worked on the ornaments.

In the evenings, you would watch old Christmas specials together. Pietro would cuddle into Natasha’s side while little Wanda loved staying cuddled between you and Natasha.

Finally Christmas Day had arrived. And with it, the children were the first up. The little deer hybrids ran into your bedroom, their little deer tails wiggling with anticipation.

“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!!!” Little doe Wanda exclaimed as she jumped on you.

Little Pietro took to jumping on Natasha, eager as ever, “wake up! Wake up!!”

Natasha let out a little wolf growl; despite loving the fact that she was a mother now, she still had to get use to how rambunctious kids can be.

“Give Momma and Poppa a couple minutes to wake up, detkas,” you explained before shuttling them out of your room.

Natasha sat up, her reddish hair and wolf tail being an absolute case of bed head. She turned to you with a little hum in her voice.

“Merry Christmas, my hunter” she whispered.

You tenderly took her face in your hands and kissed her, “merry Christmas my honey wolf”

Natasha giggled and took your face in her hands. The two of you sharing little kisses for a minute or so. Even though your eyes were closed, you could hear Natasha’s tail swishing happily against the bedsheets.

The two of you made your way to the living room and put on a Christmas music playlist.

You pulled out two presents for Wanda and Pietro, in truth you weren’t able to buy much due to the sanctuary being a charity that’s still trying to find its footing. But still the children’s eyes gleamed as you presented them with their gifts.

Pietro tore thru his present with glee and found a pair of new track shoes. He had really gotten into running lately.

“Track shoes!!!” The little buck shouted happily, “thank you Momma, Poppa!!”

Wanda tore delicately through her presents to find a little stuffed Niffler from the Fantastic Beasts movies. She had been slowly finding herself a fan of the Wizarding World Series.

“Niffler!!” The little doe exclaimed as she held it to her chest, “I won’t let you out of my sight, mister! Thanks Momma and Poppa”

Natasha smiled, seeing her children so excited for their presents. You slide a small box into your wolf girl’s lap.

“And this is from Poppa to Momma” you said with a little wink.

Natasha opened her gift to find a little pendant necklace with a little see through orb as its centerpiece.

“My hunter,” she whispers, “it’s amazing.”

“Look through the centerpiece,” you instructed her.

Natasha held up the centerpiece to her eye and saw the moon in its particular pathway. “It’s the moon,” she responded.

“Correction. It’s how the moon looked on the day you and I first met all those years ago.” You replied with a smile.

“Oh baby” Natasha teared up before launching herself into your arms, her tail wagging back and forth excitedly.

You kissed her wolf ears while rubbing her lower back. Your children dog piled onto you too. You couldn’t help but chuckle at your predicament. You were being love bombed by your whole family.

Your family. You wouldn’t trade any moment of this for the world.

A merry Christmas indeed.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @ma1egamer @julieromanoff @texaswolf23 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @russianredassassin @revanshand @iiconicsfan25 @idkwhatever580 @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @moonpheus @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[thatfanficstuff]

Color My World - Haldir (LOTR)

Pairing: Haldir x soulmate!reader

warnings: nothing beyond canon

The forest of Lothlorien loomed before a weary band of travelers, known to some as the Fellowship. Their steps were heavy with exhaustion, a mantle of grief weighing them down. Their companion, the wizard Gandalf, had fallen mere hours before. But they didn’t have time to stop, to allow their hearts a moment to heal. The orcs would come and the group needed to be safely within the depths of the forest before they did.

You walked beside Frodo in the middle of the group, your eyes darting between taking in the beauty around you and keeping an eye on your companions. Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy above you, bathing the world in golden rays. Even the bark of the trees glittered faintly with hints of gold. You could only imagine how stunning it would be if you had already met your soulmate. All the muted, faded colors you saw would be bright and vivid. You never wished for it more than at moments like this.

“Can you feel the trees watching us?” Frodo’s voice, barely above a murmur, broke the fragile silence.

You placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “There have been eyes on us since we stepped foot in the forest, little hobbit.”

He looked up in surprise and you squeezed gently as you gave him a soft smile. “No worries. All be fine.”

“Thank you for being here,” he said, his tone hovering between gratitude and fear.

“We all have our purposes in this life, Frodo Baggins. Mine is make sure you complete yours.”

As you continued, you ignored Gimli’s talk of elven sorceresses and enchantments. You were too focused on the force gathering along the edges of your senses. The elves had sent a welcoming party. Of a sort.

Suddenly and almost silently, the Fellowship was surrounded. Elves with arrows drawn in you and your companions faces. With an arched brow you stepped in front of Frodo and pushed the arrow aside that was nearly brushing your nose. Ridiculous. Arrows did much more damage if they had a little room to move.

“The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark,” a rich voice said as the most beautiful man you’d ever seen addressed Aragorn. The elf observed your group, taking each of you in. When his gaze met your own, he lingered ever so slightly before turning back to the king. “Why do you enter the woods of the Lady of Light?”

The quiet words stoked something deep inside you, a yearning that had followed you your whole life. A cascade of vibrant color burst forth with the marchwarden at its center. Greens deepened into a multitude of shades. The golden undertones of the trees shimmered with new life.

As he and Aragorn spoke, every syllable from his lips only brought more beauty to your world. And every word bound your soul more tightly to his. You wove your fingers together, a poor effort at self-restraint as you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze from his profile. You’d heard so many stories of this elf and now, seeing him in person, he was everything you could ever desire in a mate. And he was far too important for someone like you. Finally, you tore your eyes away as he turned to lead the Fellowship deeper into the trees.

You weren’t certain how far you walked or how many stairs you climbed before you were greeted by the ethereal presence of Celeborn and Galadriel. You half listened to the conversation about the fate of your wizard as your attention kept flicking over to Haldir who stood to the side looking straight ahead. It felt odd that you were so connected to him and he didn’t even know you existed. That he knew nothing of your bond. It was for the best, you knew that, but it didn’t make your heart hurt any less.

Feeling eyes on you, you turned your head to find Galadriel looking at you though she spoke to the Fellowship as a whole. You bit back a gasp as you heard her lyrical voice in your head. “Within these woods, bonds deeper than the roots of the mallorn trees are forged. You have felt the stirring of such a bond, child of the outside world. Your connection with Haldir is stronger than you know. An intertwining of souls, a sharing of strengths. Together, you harbor magic that will aid you on your quest.”

“Magic?” you thought back.

Rather than answering, the corner of her lips curled into a knowing smile and she gave you a small nod. “When you need it the most, it will be there,” she said aloud. Your companions frowned in confusion but you ignored their questions as Haldir showed all of you to where you would be spending the evening.  

You managed to leave the elves without Haldir finding out who you were to him. Your friends found it odd that you refused to speak louder than a whisper until you were well on your way down the river but you simply waved off their questions. It was better this way. No matter how utterly alone you suddenly felt.

Days turned into weeks. Frodo and Sam had gone off on their own. Boromir had fallen. Gandalf had returned. And now you stood with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli at Helm’s Deep alongside an army made up mostly of old men and boys. Hope was fleeting that most of you would make it through the night. Gandalf had told you to look for him at the dawn but that was many hours away.

You stood on the wall watching a storm roll in while the others prepared themselves for battle. You’d taken care of that hours ago. A horn blasting drew your attention. Elven archers marched toward the keep. You grinned, feeling hope for the first time in days. The smile fell as you saw who was leading them. Haldir. He wasn’t supposed to be here. It was too dangerous. He was supposed to be safe in Lothlorien.

You watched Aragorn greet him, Legolas by his side. Haldir glanced up when they finished, his gaze finding yours. He studied your face for a moment before nodding a greeting. You nodded in return then slipped away into the crowd, making sure the rabble were as prepared as possible for the coming attack.

While Aragorn moved through the ranks of elves on the wall, you stood with Legolas and Gimli. The hordes of orcs and Uruk-hai approached, banging weapons on the ground as they came. You rested a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder trying to calm him as he bounced around. “Steady on,” you told him as you prepared your bow.

And then they came in a flood of anger and teeth. Chaos reigned around you as you slashed and dodged. Rain fell in heavy drops as lightning flashed in the sky and thunder roared. You focused solely on the opponents around you until King Theoden called for a retreat to the inner walls. Aragorn grabbed your arm and pulled you along as he yelled for the men to fall back. When he turned and yelled Haldir’s name, you turned with him.

Haldir acknowledged the order a breath before he was surrounded by iron and hate. A blade stabbed toward him even as he cut the wielder down.

Heat surged through your veins as fear swamped you. You unleashed your fury with a cry torn from the very depths of your soul. The world seemed to slow as a shimmering shield surrounded your soulmate, deflecting the blade that would have run him through. His eyes found yours, wide with astonishment.

You ignored Aragorn calling your name as newfound strength flowed through you. You weaved through the melee, each step bringing you closer to Haldir’s side. Finally, you reached him and helped dispatch the orcs that swarmed him. When there was an opening for you to move, you grabbed the breastplate of his armor and pulled him toward the stairs. “Move, Marchwarden.”

The battle was over after a last minute save from the Rohirrim and the Ents. As soon as you had a moment to breathe a breath you weren’t convinced would be your last, Haldir grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side where you could have some semblance of privacy.

His hands cradled your face as his thumbs traced your cheeks. He looked you over with wonder.

“Why did you say nothing when first we met?” he asked. “Why keep your connection to me hidden?”

You grasped his wrists in your hands. “If the bond was complete, formed on both sides, what would happen to you if I died on this quest?”

The silence stretched as he studied you. “A partial truth at best, hiril vuin.” (my lady)

You sighed and looked away from him, unable to meet his eye as you confessed. “I did not wish to be a burden upon you. I feared the revelation would be a disappointment.”

He ran his thumbs along your skin again to bring your attention back to him. “You are the furthest cry from a disappointment. Your courage, your strength, your heart…they are gifts more precious than the rarest jewels of my people.”

You searched for any signs of deception from him. Finding none, a smile crossed your face. He mirrored it before leaning forward to press his lips to yours. It took only a moment before you returned the gesture with equal fervor.

For a moment, you could forget about your quest.  Forget about the death that surrounded you. Because here in the midst of so many endings, was your beginning and you intended to hold onto it with all of your heart.

[misseviehyde]

SHADOWS

My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.

His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...

Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.

Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.

My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.

To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.

We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.

Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.

Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.

As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.

We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.

As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.

Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.

The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.

I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.

I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.

Then it was gone.

But the scene was not over.

Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.

Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.

Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.

Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.

***

I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.

James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.

"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."

I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.

I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.

James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.

James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.

Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.

***

I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.

Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!

Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.

But that was soon about to change.

I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.

He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.

"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"

"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."

Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."

I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.

"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."

I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.

The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.

I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.

I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.

I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?

"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."

I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.

It felt so fucking good.

"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"

Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.

"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.

"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."

I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."

"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"

I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.

"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."

My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.

"Yessss I want to be Madison."

I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.

Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.

Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.

Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.

The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.

"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.

"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."

I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.

Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.

"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."

I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.

I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...

***

And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.

Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.

I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.

But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...

And I answered only to the shadows now.

THE END

[avastrasposts]

Plot: Crashing his Razor Crest on a remote planet, Din is seriously injured and unconscious when he's found by a local woman. This story explores a few months of Din's life before he meets Grogu and started on the path we know.

Din Djarin x Female reader

Author Note & Warnings: Explicit - smut, fluff, angst, serious injury, blood, poor Din has an existential crisis...

This is set pre-Grogu and before season 1 of The Mandalorian and explores a few months of Din's life. The first chapters contain blood and descriptions of serious injuries.

The latter chapters will be filled with angst. I don't want to spoil the story by listing too many warnings, but if you don't know me, I write tooth aching fluff and smut and then I throw heart breaking angst into the mix and that's exactly what I've done here.

Don't send me your therapy bills....

Seriously.

Series Master List

You heard it before you saw it, a bang and the screech of metal being ripped apart. The sharp swoosh of sound that a spaceship makes as it tumbles through the atmosphere out of control. As you rounded the corner of your small dwelling, you saw it too. There was smoke and flames coming out from one side of the double engine craft, more smoke billowing out from what looked to be the cockpit. And as it tore through the trees about a mile from your home, you wondered if it would go up in a giant ball of fuel and fire and burn your whole forest down. 

The ship disappeared from view, but you felt the ground shake as it thumped down, the sound reverberating through the still air, all the birds fleeing at the sound of the crashing spaceship. 

Turning away from the forest, you rushed into your small house, grabbing what supplies you had and stuffed them in a bag. 

“Gearz, boot up, I need your help,” you called to your worker droid, “Someone crashed their spaceship in our backyard!” 

Within a minute you were out in the yard again and running towards the crash site, Gearz zooming along behind you. If there was any chance of someone surviving such a crash, you needed to help them. You knew very little of rebels and imperials, but you knew enough to tell that this ship was neither. Or at least it wasn’t marked as belonging to the Alliance or the Empire. And to be frank, most of the time, that didn’t matter this far out towards the edge of the galaxy, and certainly not in this remote corner of your home planet. 

As you neared the crash site, you slowed down, not wishing to run straight into toxic fumes or a fire if the whole thing had in fact gone up in flames. Weaving through the trees, you came upon one of the few open clearings in this part of the forest, just large enough for a smallish spaceship to land. And whoever had piloted this wrecked ship, had managed to set it down, right side up. There was a gash in the trees on one side where the landing gear must’ve clipped the tops of them, and the whole ship tilted to the side. Smoke was still billowing out through the cockpit and the hole in the side, but at least there were no open flames. 

You quickly tied a rag across your nose and mouth, and hurried forward. There was a risk this thing could blow, but there was still a chance someone was alive in there and you were too much your father’s daughter to ignore someone who might need help. 

The entryway was damaged, half hanging off its hinges, with smoke streaming out, and the panel on the side that seemed to control the door was a mess of broken wiring. You quickly stepped onto the landing gear and grabbed the half open door, using your body weight to force it down, swinging from it. It groaned under your weight, and suddenly gave out, sending you crashing to the ground and a cloud of smoke poured from the inside of the ship. Scrambling to your feet, you peered into the darkness for signs or sounds of life. 

“Hello?” you called out, “Anyone alive? Hello?”

Nothing stirred, but the smoke thinned out and streamed upwards, letting you see further into the hull. Tentatively you stepped on the gangway and edged towards the opening, peering through the darkness. The bright sunshine from your planet's twin suns helped light your way. You paused just inside the hull, listening and waiting for your eyes to adjust to the murky interior. 

Suddenly something scraped against metal further inside, and you saw a small movement. You nearly jumped backwards, until you realized you were looking at the underside of a boot lying flat on the floor of the hull. 

“Hello? Do you need help? Are you injured?” you called into the ship again, but the boot didn’t move. Taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, you stepped into the glum interior and walked towards what you could see on the floor. As you got further in, you saw more of the damage of the ship. Something had blasted a hole in the side, wiring was hanging loose everywhere, crates tossed, half broken and dented, the galley ladder up to the flight deck was nearly ripped off the wall next to the figure on the floor. 

You made your way to the still form, quickly taking in what you were looking at. A person, human in form, covered from head to toe in metal armor. But blood was seeping from under the chest plate, and from under the mangled helmet. If they were still alive, you needed to stop the bleeding and get them back to your farm as soon as possible. 

“Gearz, go back to the house and get the small transporter as quickly as you can, we need to help them.” 

Gearz beeped in acknowledgement and zoomed away while you turned back to the still form. Kneeling next to their body, you carefully searched under the edge of the chest plate for a latch or a switch to remove it. Something clicked, it came loose, and you placed it on the floor. It was dented but it didn’t look like it was the cause of the bleeding. The source of that became evident as you moved to allow more light to fall on the person, a jagged piece of metal was buried deep in the side of the flight suit. 

“Dank farrik…” you mumbled, gently probing around the wound. You couldn’t remove that here, and moving them would make it jostle around. Gearz would have to help you lift them onto the transporter while you kept it as still as possible. For now you placed pads around it and stemmed the blood flow as much as you could. 

Next you moved up so that you could crouch next to the head of your patient. The helmet was cracked down through the visor, one the metal panels bent out of shape, and you could only pray it had given enough protection to its owner to keep them safe. Keeping a steady hold on the helmet with one hand, you slowly moved it up over the head while you cradled the wearer’s neck with your other hand. It slipped off fairly easily, and the man, as you realized it was, didn’t move at all as you placed the helmet on the floor and examined him. You pressed your fingers to his neck just below the ear, and felt a weak, but steady pulse. 

“At least you’re still alive,” you mumbled, “But I wonder what shape you’re in, friend.” 

With all the gentleness your father had taught you, you pressed your fingers along his spine, checking each vertebrae. Without a proper scan you couldn’t say for sure there was no damage, but at least there was no apparent break so far. Satisfied that you could move his head at least a little, you examined the source of the blood at the back of his head. There was a gash there, not too deep from what you could see, the piece of metal in his side was a bigger problem. You placed another pad against his head, stemming the blood flow, and straightened up just as Gearz zoomed into view with the transporter. 

“I need you to lift him up and place him on the transporter as gently as possible, I don’t want to move him much. I’ll try to keep the piece of metal from moving. Ok?” 

Gearz beeped the signal that meant ‘yes’, and you got to work. The stranger was soon up on the transporter and being ushered towards the farm. You glanced around the broken ship, there didn’t seem to be anyone else on board, the sleeping bunk and cockpit both empty. If you managed to save the stranger’s life, you’d come back and get whatever gear he needed. Out here, there was no one who would disturb the ship in the meantime. 

Once back in the house, you got Gearz to place the man on your bed after you’d placed a clean blanket on top. Pulling out all the medical supplies you had, you got to work. You lived alone out here during the long warm season of your planet, and although you could always return to the main settlement for supplies, you preferred to have all you needed on hand for all eventualities.

“I never imagined I’d need to save someone who crashed into my backyard though,” you told the unconscious man in your bed as you carefully cut open the flight suit, exposing his upper body before attempting to remove the viscous metal sticking out from his abdomen. The skin underneath was cold and clammy to the touch, the smattering of dark hairs stark against his pale complexion. 

“We’re going to need to get those blood levels up too, seems like you bled out more than I first thought,” you said, feeling the chill in his body, “Gearz, turn up the heat in the room, and bring the spare blankets from the couch. We need to get him warm once we’ve patched him up.” 

The handheld scanner told you the vicious looking piece had managed to avoid all major arteries, but it still sat lodged in deep. While Gearz pulled it out, following your precise instructions, you kept pressure on the wound, quickly stemming the blood and closing the gash after dousing it with a cleaning agent. You could manage most healing without bacta, an expensive and rare medical solution this far out in the outer rim, and not many could afford it here. So you did without, and did well, but right now, you wished you had a bacta spray to douse the man in and help his healing. Sitting back on your heels next to Gearz, you surveyed your handwork on the man’s abdomen, before turning to the gash on the back of his head. After cleaning it out, all you could do was close it with some quick stitches and cover it with a new patch. Then you got to work on the smaller cuts and lacerations he’d sustained in the crash. 

“Seems like you were lucky to be wearing your armor,” you mumbled, cleaning out a cut just above where his shoulder pauldron had sat, “I think it absorbed most of the impact, and that helmet surely saved your life.” 

The man, who had been still and quiet throughout your ministrations, suddenly whimpered and twitched. His eyes moved rapidly under the still closed lids and he seemed to shift, his hand moving as if grabbing something. 

You put your hand on his bare shoulder, the rest of his body covered by blankets. 

“Shh…you're safe, you’re being cared for. Just rest,” you said softly, “You need to rest and heal, friend.” 

The man seemed to be fighting the unconsciousness that was keeping him from awakening, and his eyes suddenly flew open, looking up at you in confusion and panic.

“My…” he croaked, his eyes already slipping closed again as you tried to calm him. 

“You’ve been injured, please stay still. You’re safe, but you need to rest.” 

You gently took his hand in yours, it was anxiously moving, his fingers opening and closing, and wrapped both your hands around it. With soft, slow movements, you stroked the back of his hand, gently urging him to calm down and sleep. You could feel him fight it, his hand twitching as you held it, but it didn’t take long before he went under again. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you felt his pulse, it was stronger and his breathing more regular. He’d moved from unconsciousness to sleeping, and it made you feel less anxious for his life. He had a long road to recovery, but at least the head trauma hadn’t been fatal. As long as your stitching held on his abdomen, and you could handle any infections, he stood a chance. 

You sat next to him for a little while longer, studying the man who had so unexpectedly literally fallen into your life. It was clear that this was not the first time he had sustained a serious injury, multiple scars littered his body, both old and new. And he was built like a soldier, he looked strong and solid, despite the pale complexion the blood loss gave him. His face was pale too, dark rings under his eyes, shaded by black lashes. His unkempt brown hair, covered in grime and blood, fell over his forehead in sweaty curls, and you gently brushed them away from his eyes. He looked calmer now, and you hoped that when he woke up, he’d be less panicky. If the last thing he remembered was falling out of space in his ship, it would be a shock to wake up in the bed of a stranger. 

Once you were sure the man was sleeping soundly and wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, you instructed Gearz to stay with him and alert you if there was any change. It had gone dark while you tended to your patient, so you closed your house for the night and made some dinner. Seeing as your only bed was occupied, you bedded down on the couch, and soon fell asleep. 

You woke early the next morning, to a soft beep from Gearz. 

“Waking up,” came the staccato voice from the droid and you hurried out of your makeshift bed. 

The man was still sleeping when you came into the bedroom, but you could see that he was shifting, his eyes moving under his eyelids again. He looked better this morning, some color had returned to his skin, and he looked a more normal golden tan under the sunlight that filtered in through the shutters. Keeping your distance so as to not startle him, you waited by the foot of the bed. 

He blinked his eyes open, looking up at the ceiling in confusion before his hands flew to his face, grabbing at it. He wrenched himself up in bed, his eyes flying around the room before landing on you. The wound on his abdomen must’ve shot pain through his body, because he groaned and grabbed at it as he fell back towards the bed, but his eyes remained on you as he tried to sit up again. His chest was rapidly rising and falling, his complexion quickly going pale again as he stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. 

Panic

That was the word that hit you as you held out your open hands towards the man, he was panicking. 

“Please, calm down, you’re not in any danger, but you're injured. Don’t move too much, I closed the wound in your side but you’re going to tear the stitches.” 

You kept your voice low, as if you were speaking to a scared animal, because that’s what he reminded you of. 

“My helmet,” he croaked, still trying to sit up. He half rolled onto his side and got his feet on to the floor, and you rushed forward. He tried to bat at your hands, groaning with each movement, putting up a weak struggle against your firm grip. 

“Please, stay in bed!” you urged him, placing your hands on his shoulders and gently pushing him back. He had no strength, and he easily fell back onto the bed. 

His eyes were still wide, staring up at you, glancing over your shoulder, and then back at you. His breathing was violent, his breath coming out in short bursts. He seemed scared, panicking over his surroundings and the situation he was in, but you needed him to calm down, to reassure him that he was in no danger. 

“You’re safe here, please understand that. I just don’t want you to injure yourself more, so I need you to calm down and rest.” 

“H-helmet,” he gasped as you placed your hand on his forehead, he was burning up. He flinched at your touch, a whimper escaping him as his eyes flicked up towards your hand before staring back at yours. Panic was flooding his body and making him hyperventilate as he gasped for air. 

“Your helmet is on your ship, but it was damaged in the crash. I’ll send my droid to get it for you, but I need you to calm down,” you urged him. You kept your voice soft but stern, “Please, stay still and I’ll tell Gearz to get the helmet. But don’t try to get up again.” 

He gave the smallest of nods, his eyes fixed on yours. There was such terror there, this strong man looked terrified and vulnerable, and it made your heart clench. You had no idea why he was so scared, but you wanted to comfort him and make sure he felt safe.

“Please, I assure you, you’re safe here. You’re on a safe planet and there’s no one else around except me and my worker droid.” 

You sank down onto your heels next to the bed as you spoke, putting both hands on the mattress and looking at him, hoping you could convey some sense of calm to him. 

He gave another small nod and you nodded in return, carefully getting back onto your feet to not startle him. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said, “I’ll just instruct Gearz to go to your ship straight away.”

Leaving the room, you pointedly let the door stay wide open. 

Finding Gearz in the kitchen, you sent him to the ship with the transporter with instructions to collect the helmet, the armor and any personal belongings he could find. Before you returned to the room, you poured a glass of water for the man and took a small bowl of broth from the pantry along with some bread. 

You found him flat on his back trying to survey the room, scanning the window as you stepped through the door. His eyes immediately flew to you again, still wide and apprehensive, but the worst of the panic seemed to have subsided, or he was at least keeping it in control. You could see that the stitching had ripped on the side of his body, the bandaged stained red already. 

“You managed to pull out a stitch or two,” you said, pointing to the wound, “I need to close that again before we do anything else, but I thought you might be thirsty.” 

“My helmet, my weapons,” he said, his voice low and unsteady, and although you heard no question mark, you assumed he was asking where it was. 

“Gearz, my droid, is on his way to your ship to collect the helmet along with your armor and anything else he can find. He should be back very soon,” you replied, keeping your voice level, even as your mind processed what he’d said. 

The mention of weapons startled you, there was seldom any need for weapons here, except for hunting animals for food, and you realized that you needed to tell Gearz to hide any weapons he’d found before he brought the armor in the house. You didn’t know why this man would need them, although it made sense that if they were valuable he’d want to make sure they were safe and with him. You just didn’t want to run the risk of suddenly being threatened by this man who very much looked like he’d seen many battles, judging by the scars on his body. He seemed very unstable and scared and you weren’t sure you could trust him to not turn on you once he got just a little of his strength back. Best to not have any weapons nearby to start with. 

You placed the tray on the small table next to the bed, and picked up the glass, “Here, drink some water. You lost a lot of blood and you need liquids. When I’ve done the new stitches you should try to eat some broth too.” 

You held out the glass to him but it took him a few moments to move. He glanced down at the glass in your hand and then up to you again before reaching up. He was clumsy when he took it, and his fingers closed over yours. The contact seemed to startle him so much, the glass shook and water spilled on to the bed. The poor man looked like a nervous wreck, and you gave him a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll dry. Just drink as much as you can.” 

He raised the glass to his mouth and sipped it, carefully at first, but then thirst seemed to overcome him, and he downed the whole thing, gasping for air as you took it from him. 

“Now, lie back again, and I’ll redo your stitches,” you said, placing the glass on the table and picking up your medical supplies. He didn’t do as you said, and you looked at him with raised eyebrows, questioning him. 

“What happened?” he asked, his voice less raspy, but it still held that unsteady tone. 

“To your ship? I don’t know how you got it so banged up,” you replied, “but I heard it falling from the sky and saw it crash into the forest with flames and smoke. I ran out there with Gearz and found you unconscious on the floor of the hull. You had a nasty piece of metal sticking out of your side, and a deep gash in the back of your head. But please, lie down and let me stitch you up again before you bleed through my bed?” 

The man’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline in surprise, and he blinked a couple of times. 

“No, I need to see,” he finally said and now it was your turn to look surprised. 

“You don’t trust my stitching skills? I need you to lie down so that I get the stitches straight.”

You meet his gaze straight on, emotions flashing across his face as he seemed to fight an objection. Finally, he lay back without a word. 

You prepared the small apparatus that did the stitching, and from the corner of your eye, you could see that the man was trying to watch your hands by looking down his chest. 

“This might hurt a little, but it’s only two stitches,” you said, carefully lifting up the bandage and arranging the edges of the wound for the stitches. When you touched his skin, he flinched so hard you lost your gentle grip on it. 

“Are you ticklish?” you smiled at him, “Try to lie still, I’ll be quick.” 

He looked up at you without replying, and didn’t smile back, if anything, he looked embarrassed, a red flush creeping up his chest and neck. 

Looking back down at what you were doing, you prepared the edges of the wound again. This time you took a firmer hold to not tickle him, and he still flinched, but managed to remain still. It was only a couple of seconds' work for the machine to put in the two stitches and the sharp prick of the suture needle didn’t even make the man grunt. 

You cleaned the wound again and placed a clean bandage on top, smoothing down the edges, and he flinched again. 

‘Ok, stitching without anesthesia he doesn’t even react to, but light touches make him almost jump out of his skin…noted,’ you thought to yourself as you cleaned the apparatus and put it away. The man’s behavior was almost that of a wounded animal that needed to tolerate humans in order to receive care. His eyes were on you the whole time you moved around the room, widening with something that almost looked like fear, when you turned and looked at him again. 

“How is your head feeling?” you asked as you stepped closer to the bed again, “Can you maybe eat something if I help you sit up?” 

He reached up and touched the back of his head gingerly, “I need my helmet,” he said. 

“I’ll go see where Gearz is, he should be on his way back,” you replied, taking the opportunity to leave the room and alert Gearz to the need for hiding any weapons first. 

You left the bedroom door open again, but closed the front door to the yard when you left the house. Walking across the small garden, you saw Gearz and the transporter in the distance. As the droid approached, you directed him to the storage building to the side of the garden and led the transporter inside. 

“Thank you, Gearz,” you said, going through the crate that held what looked like a complete set of armor, “Did you find any weapons?”

“Yes, many,” the droid replied, and lifted the lid of the other crate.

Your jaw dropped at what it contained. There were two lethal looking blasters, both still in their holsters that attached to a belt, a long rifle of a type you’d never seen before, a sheathed knife with a well worn handle and an assortment of weapons you didn’t even have names for. 

These were the guns of someone who fought for a living, and not just in self defense. You knew traders that came to your planet's major hub would carry a blaster sometimes as a deterrent or self defense. The hunters in your small community carried simple rifles for prey, and knives for dressing what they took down. But you’d never met anyone, or heard of anyone on this planet who needed this much fire power. 

“Gearz, hide these guns well back on the ship, do not let the man in the house find them before he leaves. I’ll tell him you couldn’t find them.” 

The droid confirmed his instructions with a beep, and took off with the transporter again. 

You took a deep breath before picking up the crate with the armor, now it was your turn to feel nervous and scared. Who exactly was the man in your house? 

You found him fighting against sleep when you came into the room, his body probably craving rest to heal. Quietly you put the crate by the foot of the bed and stepped over to him. 

“Gearz brought back your armor, it’s in the crate there, including your helmet, but it’s been badly damaged. You should sleep though, your body needs to heal.” 

“N-no…” he protested, attempting to sit up again and you sighed. 

“I’ll give you the helmet if you promise to lie down,” you said, your voice sterner this time, you did not have the patience to stitch this man up again. 

“Give me the helmet,” he growled, his voice suddenly low and dangerous sounding, as he grabbed your arm. Despite the weak state he was in, his grip was firm enough to pinch your flesh as you tried to pull away. His eyebrows had furrowed tight over his dark eyes and there was no doubt that he was demanding the helmet from you, the tight grip on your arm a warning. 

With your heart in your mouth, you bent down to retrieve the heavy metal, the man’s grip on your arm still tight. Without a word, you shoved it into his outstretched hand, and pulled out of his grip as soon as he let go. You rubbed the spot where you could still feel the painful grip of fingers as you watched him handle the helmet. He quickly turned it around, seeing the large crack through the visor and the deformed panel rendering the object useless. 

You stepped back from him as he continued to stare at the helmet. His face betrayed the emotions that must be coursing through him, a bout of panic and fear, grief and loss as he gripped the helmet hard in his hands, you could see the knuckles turning white. It was clear to you, even though you didn’t understand why, that the helmet was immensely important to this strange man and its broken state left him bereft. 

“I’ll leave you for now,” you said softly, “Try to eat something, and just call for me if you need anything.” 

The man didn’t respond, so you pulled the door closed, leaving a small gap so that you could hear him if he needed help, and went back to the kitchen. 

You weren’t sure why, but you tried to move quietly around your house for the next few hours, as if not to disturb your patient more than necessary. After breakfast, you went over your medical supplies, and went back to your daily chores. Eventually you peeked through the bedroom door to check on the man, and found him flat on his back with the helmet on his chest. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, but flew to you as he heard you move inside the room. 

“Hi,” you said softly, stopping by the door, “I just wanted to see how you're doing and if you want some more water and food?” You noticed that the bowl of broth you’d left on the table was empty, a good sign. He looked calmer too, still apprehensive as he regarded you with dark eyes, but not in the same panic as earlier. 

“Yes,” he said, and after a pause, “Please.” 

You couldn’t help giving a small smile at what seemed like an afterthought at being polite, and nodded. 

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” 

You prepared a bigger bowl of broth this time, and poured water into a large jug, leaving it on the bedside table. 

“I’ll leave you to it, but let me know if you need anything, ok?” 

He gave a short nod as reply and again you left the room, keeping the door just slightly ajar, going back to your chores around the house.

Chapter 2

Many thanks to @din-cognito for beta reading and Star Wars checking the story!

Tagging some lovely people who listened to me yelling about this for the past month! @djarins-cyare @lady-bess @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @snshineandgnpwdr @angiewatson

@grogusmum @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader 

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.  

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

.

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: Chill/Give In

Double prompt day! A happy whoopsident!

“Just talk to him. Be chill about it.”

“‘Be chill about it?’ Seriously, Robin?” Steve bit at the skin on the side of his thumb but pulled his hand away when all he could taste was kerosene.

He looked out across the field towards Dustin and Eddie, chasing after each other, playing at battle with their shields.

He could feel his heartbeat in his sides through the bites and on his back and arms where he was dragged over the lake bed but that pain didn’t compare to the near constant fucking heartache he felt every time he looked in Eddie’s direction.

“Steve-”

“Didn’t you just give me a whole speech about how our love lives don’t matter right now because the world might be ending?” He cut her off, a little petulant.

“No,” Robin said firmly. “I said my love life. Because there’s nothing there, there’s no hope. But you-”

“You don’t know that, Vickie could-”

“Steve.” Robin said, almost as if she was begging him. “Please. Go talk to him.”

He had to admit defeat at that, nodding to her and trying not to feel too much about her small sigh of relief as he stood and started to make his way across the field.

Eddie and Dustin were posturing to each other, acting out their victorious return, knights coming back from battle successful.

They both had matching smiles on their faces, those dimples cutting into Eddie’s cheeks and his eyes bright and alight with laughter.

When Steve came to a stop in front of them, arms folded over his chest and they both turned to him, Eddie’s bright eyes turned hard and his mouth fell into a frown while Dustin just looked up at Steve expectantly, still smiling.

“Can I talk to you?” Steve asked, sparing a glance at Eddie’s face and nearly withering under the glare he was sent.

“Can’t imagine we’d have anything to talk about, Harrington.” Eddie turned his back and crouched down, picking back up the hammer and starting to whack nails through the shield again, with far too much force.

“Eddie.” Steve tightened his arms around himself. “Please?”

There was silence between the three of them for a breath, Dustin’s eyes darting from one to the other before Eddie slammed his hammer back down and straightened up.

“Have it your way, then. You always do.” Without a backwards glance, he stormed off towards the tree line, leaving Steve behind feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

“What’s going on?” Dustin asked, watching Eddie’s retreating form. “He looks like he might try to kill you.”

“If he does, I’d probably deserve it.” He patted Dustin on the shoulder as he passed, following Eddie into the forest.

Steve found him, still scowling, leaned up against a tree a few feet in, trying to blow up Steve’s head with his mind.

Steve could only stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out how to start, not daring to close the distance in between them.

“Talk.” Eddie snapped.

He opened and closed his mouth, eventually figuring it was best to start with his apology.

“I’m sorry.”

He was met with an eye roll and a scoff.

“Oh, now you’re sorry?”

“Yes.” He answered back, firm and resolute. “I’m sorry. I’ve always been sorry.”

“Right.” Eddie nodded, condescending. “And what part are you sorry for, exactly? Or are you just sorry it even happened in the first place?”

Steve huffed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying his best to keep his emotions from cresting. He’d been so raw for weeks and it was so much worse now, having to face it head on.

“I never wanted to hurt you-”

“Hurt me? Hurt me?” Eddie exploded, out of nowhere. “You didn’t fucking hurt me, Harrington. You eviscerated me. You tore my fucking heart out, and what’s worse, is that you knew you were doing it. I could see it on your face! I can see it right now!” He took a few steps forward, jabbing Steve hard in the chest. “You didn’t even give me a god damned reason and now, because the world is about to fucking end you decide you need to get me off your conscience?”

“No! That’s not what this is-”

“Then what is it!”

“It’s this whole fucking situation!” Steve threw his hands out to the side. “It’s this fucking apocalypse and people fucking dying and getting hurt and I couldn’t have it be you! Not you. Never you.”

“Never me, never me. Story of my fucking life. What could never be me, huh?” He snapped. “Could never be permanent? Could never be what you need? Can’t be your fucking breeder for your all American dream, is that it? No? Then make some fucking sense, would you?”

“It’s not that, jesus, did you listen to anything I said the whole fucking time we were- It wasn’t about my white picket fence fucking dream that I would still be happy to have with you-!” He shook his head, he was getting off track. “I always knew this supernatural shit wasn’t over, Eddie. They said it was done. Hopper died, the Byers moved themselves and El away, they said it was done. But never fucking is. And I couldn’t stand the idea of you being hurt by it.”

Eddie paused, his big brown eyes darting between Steve’s own, searching, gears in his head clicking, until Steve could see the moment the puzzle pieces slotted into place.

“This is why you went missing for a couple of days? This is why you turned up at the trailer looking like you’d been fucking tortured after the mall burned down?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, the fight leaving him. “And I knew it was going to happen again. I’d already gotten Robin and Erica mixed up in the shit, I couldn’t have it happen to you too.”

Eddie was no longer glaring at him but he didn’t look happy either. 

He looked disappointed. 

Disappointed and hurt.

“So, what?” He asked, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “Instead of talking to me about it, you just decided to break up with me?”

“Eddie,” He reached out to him but Eddie took a step back. Steve felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart all over again. “I didn’t ‘just decide’ anything-”

“But you did! You did! You decided for me. You made the decision for me. You didn’t even give me the option- You didn’t tell me what was going on-”

“I couldn’t! There were NDA’s and government agents-”

“Oh fuck off, Steve.” Eddie snapped. “Like you ever gave a shit about what some suits said to you.”

“This is different, this is getting black bagged and never seen again type of shit-”

“Look me in the eye. You look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never broken one of those NDA’s or told one of those agents to shove it up their ass. Go on.” Eddie stepped closer again but it definitely wasn’t an invitation to reach out, it was a challenge. 

Steve looked Eddie in the eye. 

He could lie. 

He could say he always followed those NDA’s to the letter. 

He could say he had never bitched out those agents along with Joyce to declare Hopper a hero and not brush him under the rug like they tried to do with Barb, making him some crooked, power hungry, drugged up cop who ‘went missing’ after he was last seen standing at the quarry’s edge. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t lie to Eddie, not anymore.

Eddie wilted. His eyes went from hard and defiant down to soft, sad and resigned.

“I thought so.” He said, quiet and vindicated, though he sounded the opposite of happy to be so. “You made decisions for me Steve. You took my agency away. No one gets to do that. Not my father, not Wayne and not you.”

“Eddie.” He said, his voice cracking. “I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Well look around you, sweetheart.” He replied, opening his arms and gesturing around. “What a great job you did.”

Eddie shoulder-checked Steve hard as he passed, making his way out of the forest without looking back.

When Steve finally reappeared at Robin’s side, his eyes red and puffy and his throat raw, she silently took his hand and tugged him in close.

“Nancy.” Steve snapped, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and wrenching him away. “Get him out of here.”

He threw Dustin into her arms, not letting himself care about the pain he’d probably just caused, he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose focus, there was too much blood and he had to do something. 

“Robin, with me.” But he needn’t have even said it. Robin was already kneeling down by Eddie’s side, checking his breathing, looking for a pulse while Steve started to rifle through the pockets and pouches on his War Zone vest, pulling out bandages and gauze.

They wouldn’t do much, but hopefully it would be enough until they could get him somewhere safer. 

Safer and cleaner.

It had to be enough for that.

It had to be.

Steve couldn’t lose him. 

He handed some of the bandages off to Robin who had moved down to work on his stomach while Steve wrapped up his neck.

“Baby?” Steve couldn’t help but put a hand on Eddie’s cheek. 

His uninjured cheek, because jesus christ the bats practically bit the whole way through on the other side.

“Eddie, can you hear me? Please, baby?” He begged. “Come back to me.”

His heart was in his throat and he was in the middle of trying to shove it the fuck back down because he needed to concentrate when Eddie’s eyes fluttered.

“S’vie?”

“Yeah.” Steve exhaled in relief. “Yeah, it’s me baby. I’m here, you’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie didn’t say anything else, just groaned in pain when Robin cruelly tightened the bandages, but it had to be done.

His eyes fluttered closed again and he didn’t move, save for the small rise and fall of his chest that Steve watched like a fucking hawk.

When he positioned himself in between Eddie’s legs with his back to him, gesturing for Robin to lift Eddie up so he could drag his arms over his shoulders, she paused for a second, giving him a look.

“Your injuries-”

“Birdie, please.”

“Okay, okay. Shit.”

She grabbed Eddie tight under the arms and though she struggled with his dead weight, eventually the two of them were able to manoeuvre him in such a way so he was draped over Steve’s back.

He would have expected a whimper of pain or a shout or something but Eddie was deathly silent, his breaths coming in short sharp rattles.

“Go ahead,” He said to Robin, starting the long and painful trek back to the trailer. “Get the portal ready for me.”

She didn’t hesitate, just nodded and ran.

Steve tightened his arms and grit his teeth.

One foot in front of the other.

“Don't do this to me, baby.” He panted. “Don't go.”

Each step was like a fresh knife through his sides, the raw wounds on his back screamed at him and his vision was starting to swim but he refused, he refused to give in.

There was a small moan in his ear and he could feel Eddie’s eyelashes brushing against his neck as he blinked his eyes open.

“What day s'it?” He slurred, breath hot against Steve’s skin.

“It's-” Steve inhaled, feeling like he couldn’t get a proper lungful, “Thursday.”

“T'm'rrow's date night.” His voice was so quiet, so thin that Steve could barely hear it. He wanted to tell him to stop talking, to conserve his energy but at the same time, talking meant alive.

“Yeah.” Steve huffed. “Yeah, it is, so just-” He stumbled, nearly falling to his knees but managing to catch himself, “Just hang on a little-”

“Dn't know if… if 'm gonna make it.”

“Don't-” he breathed, each pass of air through his lungs getting more and more painful. He was just at the trailer steps now and he could see a figure coming back through the portal from behind the door.

“M'sorry.”

“Eds, don't apologise.” He tried to soothe, everything within him screaming as he lifted a leg to go up the steps. He’d never make it. He’d never be able to carry him up, but he had to try. “Just stay awake, please baby. Please.”

Eddie didn’t respond, but there were still those small puffs of air against Steve’s neck.

The trailer door burst open, Robin and Nancy rushing down the steps to take Eddie’s weight. 

For one delirious moment he held on tighter, he didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want him out of his sight, but he came to his senses quickly, letting the girls drag him up the stairs.

Robin looked back at him torn but Steve waved her off.

“Get him through, Birdie!” He said from his position, holding himself up on the bannister.

Robin glared at him. “God fucking damn it, Steve!” 

But she turned and started to drag Eddie inside because she was his fucking soulmate, god damn it and best fucking friend.

The ascent up and into the trailer was slow. 

By the time he made it to the makeshift stairs they had created up to the portal, the girls and Eddie were already through and Robin was on her way back to him. 

“Evie, come on!” Robin begged, tears in her eyes, reaching a hand out to him.

His vision was starting to darken around the edges, but he was able to grasp at her fingers.

With one last push, he felt gravity shift around him and then everything went black.

“-ere are you going?! We need… hospital!”

“My mom… nurse training until-”

“-some fucking suburban housewife-”

“-don’t know shit-!”

“-innocent-”

“Don’t let your father-”

When Steve blinked his eyes open, he was in the last place he expected to be, back in the Wheelers basement, lying on a bundle of blankets on the ground, Robin curled up next to him asleep and Karen Wheeler’s pink pumps disappearing up the stairs.

He was right next to the couch and looking up, he saw an arm hanging over the side, a familiar spattering of bats inked down his forearm and a messy shock of brown curls just barely visible.

He could already feel consciousness leaving him again, but with the last of his strength he lifted his own arm up, grasping Eddie’s hand in his and squeezing.

All of the tension, apprehension, fear, heartbreak and grief left his body when he felt Eddie squeeze back.

So this fic (because it turned into a fucking oneshot) is actually a bit of background I had imagined for an upcoming future fic that I had never planned to write, but was in my head for later context for the story. Eventually, once that fic has been uploaded (it will be, it's one of my 1st Year Anniversary Event fics), I will upload this lil oneshot to AO3 seperately.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM POPULAR CHRISTMAS SONGS *  assorted dialogue from christmas songs, some lines adjusted to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

i don't want a lot for christmas.

i don't care about the presents underneath the christmas tree.

make my wish come true.

i just want you for my own.

what more can i do?

i gave you my heart.

i keep my distance, but you still catch my eye.

do you recognize me?

it's been a year.

i love you, i meant it.

i'll give it to someone special.

i'm hiding from you and your soul of ice.

i thought you were someone to rely on.

me? i guess i was a shoulder to cry on.

you tore me apart.

you'll never fool me again.

later we'll have some pumpkin pie.

have a happy holiday.

tell me if you're really there.

don't make me fall in love again.

it's hard to focus when i see him walking across the room.

it's hard to tell if this is just a fling.

it's the right time to rock the night away.

it just wasn't the same.

doesn't mean a thing if you're not holding me tight.

i'm gonna hold you close.

i was lost before you.

christmas was cold anad gray.

one day, everything changed.

you're all i need.

it's the best time of the year.

i don't know if there'll be snow.

the mistletoe is hung where you can see.

somebody waits for you.

are you listening?

we're happy tonight.

are you married?

you can do the job when you're in town.

later on, we'll conspire.

merry christmas to you.

it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.

let's take the road before us.

it's the most wonderful time of the year.

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas.

there's a tree in the grand hotel.

soon the bells will start.

the snow's coming down.

baby, please come home.

i remember when you were here.

the weather outside is frightful.

the fire is so delightful.

it doesn't show signs of stopping.

the lights are turned way down low.

i'll hate going out in the storm.

the fire is slowly dying.

my baby's gone.

i have no friends.

please come home for christmas.

from now on, our troubles will be out of sight.

through the years, we all will be together.

the mood is right.

we're simply having a wonderful christmas time.

i wanna thank you, baby.

you make it feel like christmas.

my heart skilled, and i reacted.

can't believe that this is happening.

i swear you saved my life.

there's no need to be afraid.

we can spread a smile of joy.

there's a world outside your window.

i close my eyes, and i'm somewhere else.

i just wanna be t here tonight.

just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm.

may your days be merry and bright.

you guys know what time of year it is?

what have you done?

i hope you had fun.

i'll have a blue christmas without you.

i know exactly what i want this year.

i want my baby.

i have been so good this year.

tell me my true love is here.

[the-midnight-blooms]

VISIONS OF YOU | cs

pairing: king!choi san x general!reader AU: historical au, royalty au word count: 8.5k ATEEZ as angst tropes series: Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

masterlist

Trope: Forbidden Love

Choi San.

Borne from the roots of a pious tree, sprung from the ashes of his father's shadow was the Kingdom of Qiān's esteemed Crown Prince, scholar, charming bachelor and skilled swordsman. His name roamed in the villages of foreign nations, where the people believed his rubric was the elixir of eternal strength and beauty. For his mere presence intoxicated weakened souls, harbouring an essence of rebirth within the individuals that sook a replenished health. Though it was merely an old wives tale, Choi San was indeed a potent, renown individual who rose to power after the death of his predecessor: King Choi.

King Choi, on to contrary to his beloved son, was by no means the greatest King to ever rule over the ambitious lands neither was he the poorest. Though, he was the reaction intermediate, used to form something much more powerful. A much more historical ruler ascended to the throne in his wake.

The once coddled prince, who spent his carefree childhood sauntering the seven seas, reading books until the stars blurred into the dawn, playing chess with the strategists, could no longer escape from responsibility. His father's weakened hold on his hand had almost drained the life out of him. Momentarily, he had felt soul meander towards his ancestors; though they had rejected him.

Show them how powerful a King can be.

Hunched over a small desk, in a large tent, sat Lieutenant Seok- Qiān's first female high-ranking officer. With a quill fixed between her nimble fingers and a sore back, she scribbled away at her commanding officers report transcribing his poorly written work for the King. The dim light from the candle swayed in the desolate tent, bending to the will of small wisps of wind that flooded in through the slits between canvas fabric. With a tired sigh, she settled down her pen at last exercising the tense fibres in her muscles. A patter of loud footsteps ascended from outside the tent, her head piqued up as the fabric tore revealing Major Seong, his eyebrows creased in irritation as he stalked towards her.

"Hand me that." Snatching the sheet in front of her, her hands remained hovered in the air repressing the urge to roll her eyes at his short-tempered antics. His stern, hazel eyes peered over the sheet down at her as she stretched out her arms to correct the complacent stiffness. "King San requests your attendance his office. Major Baek will be there too." Momentarily, the Lieutenant felt a pulse of shock run through. The King requests my presence? She wasn’t aware that the esteemed King knew who she was. After all, her superiors had made many attempts to dissolve the rumours of there being a female military official. It didn't occur to her why, surely that was something to be proud of, yes- it defied convention but this could potentially further Qiān's image internationally catalysing the need for society to become modernised. Besides the Royal Army had, historically, suffered from a shortage of its members-if women had to fill the shoes of men then so be it. Unfortunately, her commanding officers did not share her contemporary mindset so she left the advocation for her less passive successor.

"Hurry up or it'll be off with our heads." Major Seong deadpanned, apologising profusely she shot out of her seat grabbing her jacket off the back off the chair before disappearing out of the tent.

Lieutenant Seok dashed through the ostentatious palace walls, her boots smacking against the marble floor heart pounding against her chest. Fixing the lapel of her jacket, she snatched a quick glance at her appearance through the blade of the guard's spear.

Chin up, chest out, shoulders back, stomach in.

A slight nod, and the heavy doors to the King's office were heaved open, the crystal white paint of the room blaring in her eyes. At the top, first and foremost sat the King's ebony chair and desk, along the expanse of the wall behind him was a bookcase full of books, the vestigial walls plastered with portraits of the preceding Kings. Large royal blue velvet curtains hung over baroque windows, reminiscent of the crests symbolic metallic silver and deep blue colours. Her own uniform was a navy blue jacket, shoulders padded with an expensive silver beadwork, and a long pleated skirt. Along her breast jacket sat her ribbon rack, adorned with all of the honorary medals she obtained during her service. Elegantly, she strode down the aisle; the King's careful eyes following her as she fell into a deep bow.

"Your Highness." She rose with grace too, hands firmly fixed at her sides, lowering her gaze before the King. "I am Lieutenant Seok." San cocked his head to the side, raising from his seat. Major Baek, the mentor to Seok stood adjacent to the King's desk sending a small sheepish smile, an odd emotion lingering behind it that she could not quite put her finger on. He was an old man, of about late sixties with thinning grey hair and a crinkled smile that stuck on his face throughout his life. He was renown for being the more compassionate of military officials she had ever come across, immediately taking the younger girl under his wing as soon as she stepped foot into the camps.

Being the only female lieutenant was more threatening to the cause than inspiring. Typically, women were not allowed to serve, in the military, unless they were Nurses or Administrators. Despite this, Lieutenant Seok's quick wits and admirable strength had her soaring through the rankings though she hated to admit that her father's occupation as Military Strategist may have been what allowed her to even step foot on the soil, or even what got Major Baek to show her some kindness. They loved to remind her of that. Though he was not the one to get her that far. Hell he had even died before the thought of joining the military had even crossed her mind.

The King rose from his chair, moving to stand in front of his desk waving a stack of papers in hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, she shifted her gaze to Major Baek who only avoided eye contact.

"Here, I have all of Major Seong's reports. Very meticulous, very well-written. Such is what I expect of my men." The pulse of her heart rose, blood rushed through her veins at a palpable speed, clenching her pleated skirts within the tight fist of her sweaty palms. Had he realised that she was the one writing all of his reports? "Except there's a slight problem and I need you to fix it for me." San provoked, she shifted uncomfortably under his hard stare.

"Look at me whilst I speak to you." Her eyes widened, was this King deranged? Who dared to even look into the King's eyes? Tentatively, lifting her chin, she bored into his crescent eyes. His high cheekbones and defined jawline created an intimidating impression, a current of virtue circulated around him as he spoke. His robes accentuated his broad shoulders and cinched waist. "In the Battle of Myeongnyang, by how many men was Admiral Yi Sun-Shin outnumbered?"

"333 to 13." Lieutenant Seok answered before San could blink, he fought back the smirk dancing on his lips.

"In which battle did he die?"

"Battle of Noryang on December 16, 1598."

"Exactly as its written here." San held up the report again, sharing a look with Major Baek that she failed to read. "So when I asked Major Seong, why did he say Pyeongyang?" Oh God. She thought as quickly as she could, reeling her mind through ways to answer the King.

"Everybody makes mistakes, Your Highness." she answered, settling upon the weakest argument one could make.

"He said December 14, 1598. I don't think this is a mistake Lieutenant. Now, I'm not concerned that our military officials don't know our countries history. I should be, but I'm not. This here." He shook the paper as furiously as he could. "Means nothing. But I asked him to recite basic facts from this report and he stuttered like a man with a lisp." Flinching at the King's harsh insult, she fixed her gaze to the ground again realising that the King knew that all along she was writing Major Seong's reports for him, which was one of the biggest crimes one could commit as a member of the Royal Army.

"I could ask you, on the other hand, and you would read this off like it's the back of your hand. Do not lie to me, Lieutenant, have you or have you not been writing Major Seong's reports and carrying out his duties which are significantly above your pay grade?" The King's voice seethed with anger, a large gust of wind emptied into the tense atmosphere as if the wind itself was mirroring his vexation. Once again, she fleeted her gaze back to her mentor who was painfully silent during this assembly. "I asked you, not him."

"Yes." She responded, weakly. "I did, Your Highness." San sighed, dropping the reports on the table with a loud thud. He didn't need to question why, he already knew that despite the fact that she was a particularly hard-working individual committed to carrying out her duties diligently, she was also just a woman- being punished for her sex.

"As you know, every King gets to choose his General. I have to be able to trust that my General can lead me into war and win." He paused, a breath hitched in the night's air. "How does General Seok sound?" Her eyes lit up at the sound of ‘General’ in front of her name, the urge to gasp out and cry was hanging heavy on her tongue. Looking into Major Baek’s eyes, they were full of joy and admiration for his mentee. Prior to this meeting, he had spoken with the King, believing it was time Qiān had elevated their distinguished reputation further through their first ever female General.

"With all due respect, Your Royal Highness, there are many Majors and Lieutenant Colonels who have much more leadership experience and the desired skill set to fill this role. I am not sure if I possess the qualities that you are seeking." Besides, why had he even called her into his office? To humiliate her before giving her the title of General, to prove that even though she would have the power of the military in the palm of her hands-above all King San held a more divine power that only she could dream of?

San saw in both her eyes and her slight discomfort of her face, that it pained her to say such words. Then why did she say them? Was it the fear of being rejected by those who looked down on her? The fear that accepting this esteemed position would exacerbate the conditions she was living in. Men hated powerful women, history made that story known. Though, there was something about the woman before him being by his side, ruling his Royal Army that magnetised him.

“I disagree. You are General Officer Seok’s daughter, who helped us win a number of battles. Before he died, he told me you would win a thousand wars for Qiān.” Major Baek inputted. She always thought that her father had a hyperactive imagination; simply put he said the things he said to motivate his daughter. But her father was never wrong.

Is this not what she always wanted? Was King San not giving it to her on a hot silver platter dish? Yet, did this not mean her hands would be drenched in blood even more than it already was?

“Sacrifices have to be made, pet. In war, you sacrifice your sanity.”

"I accept this position." Falling into another deep bow, she rose as a wilted plant once did when it was blessed with water from the skies after a deserted period. "Thank you, my King. I promise I won't let you down."

General Seok strode down to her office situated in the East Wing of the castle, yet a distance from the King’s quarters. It was usually derelict at this time yet as she walked down she felt the burning stare of a hundred military officials, all jealous of her rank. She recounted the wave of discontentment that spun over the room like a wild fire, all questioning their noble King’s decision. Her mind fixated over the way her name reverberated through the room, a wave of gasps infiltrating the tense air. The officials heads snapping towards her, their mouths gaped.

"Men will never take you seriously if you are too afraid to look them in the eye." Staring at her father from across the chessboard, she bit her lower lip. "Are you afraid of me, my child?" Shaking her head no, she captured his bishop with her rook. With a contented humph, her father got up.

"Then look at me next time, when you have won. Show me that you are more powerful than Generals, wits great enough to be our Queen."

Pushing past the door to The General’s office, the large room was wavering with a warmth, the shut of the door silencing the bustle of movement outside the wall. Bookcases were plastered across the walls of the room, the palace brimmed with profound knowledge each published piece of literature could be found in Qiān's halls. A large mahogany table with a soft leather chair resided by the glass pane windows overlooking the garden. On a much smaller table, in the far corner, sat a chessboard- two chairs on opposite ends. A bundle of ink quilled pens rested above the table, a stack of plain books on the right hand corner. Sighing, she dropped the pile of books in her hand onto the table.

“War is looming over us. Freyr will not rest until they have seized our lands and we will not rest until we have secured ours." Over several generations, from the beginning of time when Kingdoms were forged from molten rock, a foreign tension bloomed between two of the most powerful nations of Earth. For the longest time, Qiān had always been imperilled with the possibility of war; they had just been harmless threats from a King that was too dim to strike against an equally powerful nation that would cause mutually assured destruction. Until now, King Jeong proved one of the more impulsive of Kings from his ancestors. Her kingdom's safety was now at stake and she needed to protect it with her life. "Over the next few weeks we need to prepare for a potential war-” She was cut off by the grumblings of the militia.

"I will not have a woman lead me into a war."

"How pitiful, death awaits for you from the male Generals that have this country running in blood."

"You sound incredibly confident, General, that you'll lose the least number of men." One mocked, the crowd of men let out a taunting laughter only be silenced as San rose from his chair.

"Had I believed we'd conquer this war by a man, would I have not chose him to stand by my side? Do you think me unintelligible of making a wise decision?" A deafening silence punctured her ears, her head dipped under his omnipresence. Did they go reticent out of sheer embarrassment or because they thought that King San would be one to disperse their Kingdom into ashes? Granted, her first assembly as General was a disaster, the uproar from her comrades induced a thumping headache; her forehead hit against her table a long groan escaping from her lips out of sheer exhaustion.

"My, my General-you're going mad already." Hastily, she jerked up her head straightening her posture as the King slumped into the chair opposite her desk. When did he enter?

"Your Highness, should I call for some tea?" San snickered, dimples adorning his cheeks. His heart fluttered slightly at her disorientation he could not put his finger why. Perhaps it was that for the first time, the organised, composed General had been caught off guard by his surprise visit. There was something so domestic about the fact that she was summoning tea for him; he didn’t even get to say ‘No thank you, I’ve had three cups already and it’s one in the evening.’

Certainly, the woman before him was beautiful- he noted that on first sight. He did not know how to feel now that he assigned her the role as his General. The whole world could see her sacred beauty, she was not something for him to lock up in a treasure chest and keep her all to himself. How dare she sway his heart into unchartered seas that San had spent the duration of his life running away from.

“Your Highness, the maids have told me that you haven’t had lunch yet. Perhaps we can have tea another time.” She stood by the doorway, arms folded as if she was his wife scolding him on his lack of appetite.

“First of all, I didn’t come for tea.” Her face heated up in embarrassment; pressed in her palms in realisation that she had jumped to a sudden conclusion. “Secondly, I’m not hungry. I’ll drink your tea anyway.” Huffing, she grabbed the tea tray from the maid thanking her before shutting the door with her foot. She picked up the porcelain teapot, the air fulfilled with the aroma of Jasmine tea; tranquillity succeeded the exhaustion felt by both King and his General.

“Jasmine tea?” San questioned, he preferred green tea with its grassy undertone. Jasmine tea was too floral for him.

“Yes, it’s good for calmness and mental clarity.”

“So that’s your secret, lots of Jasmine tea.” She nodded, placing the teacup in front of him. He sucked in a breath before raising the cup to his lips. Oh, it’s sweet. A lot sweeter than the cups he had been forced to drink as a child.

“I added honey.” The General added, on cue as if she had read his thoughts. “With respect Your Highness, if it wasn’t tea you came for: how can I help you?” He settled down the cup, clearing his throat.

“I excused Major Seong. As of tomorrow morning, he will be a normal civilian working in his father’s farm. He’s best off serving the country in another way.” Her chest heaved in shock, she leaned back in her chair chewing on her lip as she could not help but feel that she was to blame.

“He was still the best of us.” She retorted, after a long, painful silence.

“Not good enough. Otherwise I wouldn’t have dismissed him. Also, I don’t know if Major Baek has told you but he is retiring.” With her elbows perched on the desk, her face rested within her palms.

“Don’t you have anything good to tell me, Your Majesty.” He laughed, shaking his head at her forlorn attitude.

“Call me San.” He retorted, the beauty of his name flew her heart into oblivion. “Tell me something, that reads like poetry.” He blurted, though his claim was abrupt a part of her understood where he came from. Tell me what’s on your mind, he wanted to say.

Tell me what your deepest wish is so that I can fulfil it.

“I believe, in a hundred years time, my successor will be the vessel that tells the people of Qiān that a woman’s rule can be as bold and as true as a man’s.” His eyes narrowed, infatuation settling into his heart, bewitched by his General's moving words. “I will be the woman to win the wars against our enemies. She will be the one to win against society.” A comfortable quietude penetrated the tense atmosphere, San sat still in his chair, afraid to make a sound as he swallowed her words with a heavy heart. For the first time since his father's death, he felt weak. As if he wanted to fight the war, that she was fighting, with her. Her wish was one those that even as omnipotent as he was, he could not fulfil.

"I shall take your leave. Enjoy the office." Smiling, San strode out of the room, his powerful aura remained suspended in the air in his absence.

Within the subsequent weeks General Seok was burdened with bourgeoning responsibility, abetting a series of migraines that not even Jasmine tea could fix. They ranged from completing reports, training soldiers, attending her own training-during the day that was. Then at night, she read books on the Freyr-learning about their language, culture, and then reading upon all of their wars. She managed to find books on previous Generals that served the Freyr Kingdom, noting their battle strategies. She became reserved to her study, papers scrawled across the floor, hooking up drawing pins as she noticed trending schemes. There were multiple different outcomes, like a game of chess. One move by the opponent unravelled up to ten to the power of a hundred and twenty-three potential outcomes, much like war and its soldiers.

"You just started your job and it's already exhausting you." Her mother claimed, as she placed her book on her nightstand. Sat at the foot of her bed, the elderly woman looked at her daughter's tired eyes-witnessing the same determined gaze; once held by her husband.

"I know, a big position only means more responsibility. Besides, I think I've got most things worked out. I have a meeting with the King, tomorrow and then the whole day to myself." Letting out a stifled yawn, she sunk into her cotton sheets hair sprawled across the pillow.

"You've been busy, General." With a single nod, she watched as San drew his eyes down her veraciously detailed report. A pair of round glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, she could not help but notice how they heightened the sharp features of his face. "Your work ethic is incredible, even I don't think I could have done this in the time span you did. You can rest now."

It did not occur to her that she had fallen asleep in the King's office, right in front of His Majesty's eyes. The sight of her tenacity lead his heart to swoon a little. General Seok was a sight to behold, especially with the way the soft afternoon light streamed in through the window, beaming across her face forging a halo. Her hair which was usually straightened and fastened tightly behind her shoulders had become loose from its knot. She breathed gingerly; the strands of hair that fell structurally over her face drifting as the air spun around it. He wanted to outstretch his hand and brush the hair from her face.

"I need tighter security, here." she ordered, pointing to the farming village, the kingdom's most vulnerable district. "If I were the Freyr, I would attack here. It's unscrutinised and connects to the Valley-perfect for pushing equipment and aid through. We need to block any shipment through these borders." The valley connected to the farming village became one of the fundamental ways that the Freyr and Qian people traded over centuries.

Gathered in the War Room, the military officials were all stood around large chestnut table, a map of the world and it's seven seas. Adjacent was a black box, which she recognised as holding pawns, figurines, as well as odd bits of trinkets. The dark walls were plastered with weapons of all sorts, a preview of all the artillery they held in the War Inventory. Despite the spectrality in the thin air, there was an odd sense of comfort to be found here. Something like she could spend the rest of her days trapped within these four walls and she'd be surprisingly at comfort with it.

"If we close the bridge, how will we trade?" Major Baek questioned.

"We can trade at the Centre." Her finger fell over the busiest and the most surveyed port in Qiān. "Let's just tell them it's closed for repair." An influx of complacency infiltrated the room. Her eyes glanced towards San, who was staring intently at the map over her shoulders, with a calculating look.

“We’ll have to have a talk with the foreign diplomats, otherwise good job General.” With a single nod, he left from the room signalling the end of the meeting. All left except Major Baek, sat in front of her, sipping on the Jasmine tea she had called for.

“You’re doing incredibly well, dear. If it’s any reassurance.” A genuine smiled plastered on her, soothing the agitation in her muscles.

“It is. I can’t believe you’re retiring. What was a few more years? I can’t do this without you.”

“You can, you already are. Besides it’s not like I was ever going to become General.” He joked, they shared a small laugh that echoed in the dim light of the War Room, where for the last time: the man who had treated her as if she was his own daughter was soon to be a name written in a history book, his memory lost to the wind.

General Seok found that the women of the palace grew indifferent towards her success for they taunted her with dirty looks as she surpassed them. Their snake like tongues spat venomous rumours, claiming that whenever she entered the King's chambers she was carried with a promiscuous sense of duty. To which this enraged her but there was simply nothing she could do, because they were just rumours; there was no substantial proof that they were rallying against her.

"Here comes the whore." They sang in an undignified manner as she strode down the hallways, a book pressed against her chest. Biting down on her lip so she did not release a snarky remark, she merely ignored them as their giggles venerated through the hallways. Pushing through the doors to his chambers, Seok entered his bedroom finding him sat by the balcony reading a book. Her anger had diminished at the sight of him, following the pout of his pink lips, the crease between his eyes as he revelled the words; the breeze tousled his hair. Within this moment he was no longer the King that ruled over his kingdom with a tight fist and sharp mind but rather an amiable man with a thirst for knowledge. Clearing her throat, his head craned to find her standing by his desk. A strand of hair fell over his dark eyes, he rose from his seat; gaze travelling up and down her body.

“You’re dressed like a bride.” He blurted. My bride. Clearing his throat as his cheeks blushed pink, he stuttered over his words, "Eastern brides traditionally wear red on their weddings days." Handing over the book, she sat herself down on the chair, dazing out of the window. To think of it, why did she always dress so ostentatiously around San? Was it his nobility that intimidated her? Or the need to live up to the King's standards as his General?

"What's wrong?" San chimed. She shook her head, as if there was nothing wrong with herself. Maybe the women were right, she was gnawing at his attention trying to keep him to herself. There was no denying Choi San was beautiful with his sleek dark chair, cut-throat jawline, his angelic eyes, his benefaction. His concern whenever she tired herself, slaving herself over her work. Then came his desire to stand next to her in every meeting, his body pressed close to hers fighting of all of the griping stares as she fought gruellingly to protect their kingdom.

"Nothing, nothing." With a wave of her hand, she brushed him off. He slumped down onto the chair opposite her, chin resting with the palm of his hands cupping the sides of his cheeks.

"Oh its something, something." His crescent eyes peered into hers, she wanted nothing more than to delicately kiss them. Then to drag her lips over the bridge of his nose and then his plump lips. "Is it not your duty to share the people's concerns?"

"No because I am not a member of parliament." She quipped, with a smirk that made him scoff. "My duty is to protect you."

"But you did not protect me from you." He got up from his seat, walking around the table to face her. His hands outstretched towards her face, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear, with his lips dangerously close to her own, she basked in the sight of her King as a hungry soul reaching for the fruits of love to which only she could hand down to him.

“San, what am I to you, if not your general?”

"You are my heart and my soul. You are what keeps me beating, and what brings me back to life every morning. You are everything I want and even more. It is painful to be so in love with you, so tell me you don't love me and free me from this anguish." As if he had knocked the life out of her, her body glissaded under his devotion. How cruel of him to beg her to purge herself of the profound emotions she held for him. Did she not want him too, in all ways whether it may be forbidden?

"We shouldn't do this." Her mutter reached to him through a series of rough, passionate kisses-a fire burning wherever his touch lingered upon her skin.

"Then tell me to stop" But she could not as her hands ran into his hair. Her every scent pulled the strings of his heart, every pulse was hers as their arms circulated around each other in the darkness of his chambers. Every touch felt as if they would never feel again, every sight relished as if they would never see again. Their clandestine marriage of hearts was so potent, it was enough to send them into a drunken haze for eternity.

The Royal Palace was struck with chaos- servants bustling around in desperate attempts to create an illustrious image of decadence, in honour of Qiān's annual banquet held in order to improve international relations. This year it was to celebrate the strong tradesmanship formed between the Qiān and the East. That also included inviting their enemy, Freyr, to maintain an image of agreement to their people. Of course, this enraged her as the Freyr became more hostile, finding multiple ways to pose threats on their country. For all she knew, they could see this as a perfect opportunity to strike as the Qiān would not want to damage foreign relations by keeping a tight security. Having raised this with the other military commanders, they all mocked her by deeming her paranoid.

“I agree.” San’s cold voice bellowed over the War Room. “Our allies may perceive our tightened security as a threat. The Freyr were already adamant to not attend the ball, convincing them was hard enough.”

“Your Highness, this is exactly what they want. We should at least have tighter security at the border and ports.” He shook his head in disagreement, a pang of annoyance jutting through her.

“Stand down, General. You are not a member of parliament.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she sunk her head in humiliation. He had never disagreed so bluntly before, if he had ever disagreed: he would raise the point so gently or provide another solution, not outright dissipate her suggestions. Later that day she was huddled up in a chair in her office; finishing up the finality of her report. She was so wrought with exhaustion she wished for some comfort. A pair of arms would soothe the headache from the burden of stress that persisted on her shoulders. As soon as she walked in through the doors to his chambers, he invited her with a look of irritation.

“What do you want?” He snapped, flinching at the harshness of his tone- she rushed forward to hand the report to him. Next time she’d hand it to the Royal Secretariat if he was going to act this way. Turning on her heel, she hurried out of his chambers biting down her quivering lip. Wrapping her arms around herself, as if it would reprimand the damages he inflicted upon her.

Hidden behind a pillar, her head was thrown back-hands pressed over her abdomen in order to soothe the persisting ache residing. San's voice carried out of the room, to which she listened to his manufactured speech which rendered their hearts into submission. General Seok, herself, was clad in an embellished silver dress her ears and neck were bejewelled in a matching set of silver with the infamous General’s sword to her hip. Her eyes peered through the open doors to the ballroom-a sea of fabrics enveloping the white marble ceilings as a cacophony of sounds emptied into the room. Despite its elegance, an ominous feeling was pensile within the humidity, a dark cavern with a haunting soul ready to be unleashed onto the crowd. It was too liable, susceptible to attack.

Something felt off.

At the top through the window, she noticed a glint penetrate through the glass. The silhouette of a sharp blade pointing down in San’s direction as he spread his arms wide summoning the attention of the nobles. Her hand reached for the hilt of the sword, but the figure retreated. Instead, she sought a shadow move closer across the skylines, as soon as he placed one foot on the chandelier, his arrow pointed straight at the King of Qiān. Swiftly, she stole a knife from the nearest guard. His bowstring pulled back. Dashing towards San, she drove his body into the floor as the arrow penetrated through the air, landing less than a foot away from his feet. Chucking the blade into the air, the dagger pierced through the rope holding up the chandelier- the glass sinking in the ground releasing a camaraderie of panicked screams.

Unsheathing her sword, she struck down at him only to strike again, the rim slicing through the surface of his skin. This time, he pounded a harsh blow against her to which the colliding of his weapon against hers created a screech loud enough to bleed ears; the sword in her steadfast grip was growing heavy and acuminating at her tiredness. The attacker stumbled backwards, falling to his knees under her powerful blow. The full length of her blade impaled through his heart, ripping the seams that held his soul together- blood bursting from its banks. A breath hitched in his throat, a loud thud gratified the throne room. Her hands shook as the adversaries screams mimicked the cries emptying into her detached soul; thick scarlet blood painting her fingers as her body roamed through the folds of his dead body. Bingo. Ripping the crest from his body, she threw it at San's feet.

“I want this castle searched for any more intruders.” When the Royal Guards did not move, rage flooded through her. “Now!” She roared, parading out of the room.

Her back slid slowly down the wall of the War Room, tears sliding down her cheeks. Tucking up her knees to her chest- her body wracked as an excruciating wail echoed into the room. General Seok felt the derisive stare of the chess pieces, the maps, the strategy books. What kind of General was she? One who could barely protect her king. They were right. All of them: the nobles, the ministers, officials, the noblewomen and even the servants. A woman was in no position to protect the country, she had spent hours, days and weeks cooped up drawing out plans, playing out schemes in her head, sketching them out like role play over the board. All of that work seemed futile now that the enemy was daring enough to unleash an attack against the King. The painful creak of the door snapped at her attention, she roughly wiped away her tears with her sleeve a harsh stare befalling on her face.

“I thought I told-Your Majesty.” Her rough tone transgressed into a soft voice as she bowed deeply, San rushing into the room.

“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you?” She shook her head no, avoiding his gaze. “My love, look at me.” Hesitantly, her red eyes bored into his own. Cupping her cheeks, he pressed his lips to her forehead. That was enough to break her walls again. Digging her face into his neck, she erupted into a fit of sobs, her weary body slumping against his robes. His slender fingers pulled out the clip to ease the strident tug of her hair gnawing at her scalp; his hold around her waist tightening.

“I should have listened to you. The faults mine.” Lifting her head she looked at him, mouth parted as if to reason. Placing a finger on her lips, he silenced her. “No- none of this was your fault. You couldn’t have possibly known any of this was going to happen. In fact, you told me this was a possibility and I didn’t listen. It was an uncharacteristic and a foolish attack. General Seok, we have the upper hand now.”

"That's what they want us to think. God, San, my head hurts. I'm struggling. I can't come to terms with what they want."

"For now, you need to rest. You must be exhausted."

"I can't rest. Tomorrow the officials will be at my necks. 'General Seok you never saw this coming, did you?', 'This is why you should leave it to the men.' They won't see how I almost sacrificed my life to save yours, they'll only see the fact that you were endangered in the first place."

"I've warranted a search for the rest of the attackers around our villages too. More royal guards have been posted, security is much tighter. King Jeong seemed unsurprised, but not his son. This was an attack by Freyr. I saw the crest" He ambled towards her, sinking to his knees in front of her. Her breath hitched in her throat, a king kneeling to his servant? Had this man gone mad? His hand drifted towards her cheek, “You need sleep. You’re unwell, my General.”

"Get up, if anyone sees you kneeling before me, it will look nasty for the pair of us." He shook his head.

"I don't think I care." Encasing an arm around her neck and under her knees, he effortlessly lifted her up from the chair. "Don't say anything." he warned, walking to the other end of the room towards the large banner pinned to the wall. Moving the fabric with a few fingers, he grunted twisting the door handle. Leaning against him, her eyes fluttered to a close as he surpassed into the hidden passageway. The next morning, she was prescribed with escorting the Crown Prince of Freyr, Yunho to his carriage. They strode down to the horses in silence, wind brushed against them, left with tired sighs and quiet hums to serenade the airs.

"You are ok, aren't you General?" Nodding gratefully at his compassion, they stood outside his carriage, ready to exchange their final goodbyes. Yunho, himself, despite his incredibly tall stature, and depictable strength, held more altruism in the tip of his finger than his father held in his whole body. In comparison to King Jeong, whose violent tendencies and insatiable appetite for destruction was now the impending cause of his deteriorating health, he was renown for his charity work and advocating for peace instead of war. However, at times she could not help but think he was executing a carefully constructed façade to move the hearts of the Qiān officials. Primarily, herself. For she sought the way that he looked at with the same level of infatuation that San had. "I'd love to get to know you General and I feel as if soon we will be obliged to work more closely together. I know you understand that our countries enmity is a product of egotism, which I hope we can soon come to a conclusion on." Her head nodded slowly, as Yunho have her one last final smile before entering his carriage.

The officials were bashful in the following meeting. A few spoke of an outbreak of a plague, San walking into the meeting late addressing the militia's concern.

"The village is under lockdown?" she questioned.

"Yes, and some villagers were on their way to Freyr too." A thought processed through her mind, vaguely. They needed something against Freyr. Something to make them pay for attacking her Kingdom.

"Nothing is immoral in war, pet." her father beamed at her as she sat in his bedroom reading through his journal. "Don't let emotions cloud your judgement, the second it does? You're as good as dead."

"That's it, Mr Seok! Stop trying to turn our daughter into a tyrant!" Her mother’s cry clamoured into her bedroom. Sharing a smile with her father she turned back to her book.

"What if we sent some of them to Freyr?"

"We can't do that, there'd be an ou-." Her cunning grin censored his reasoning.

"Can we not?" she challenged, the officials all shared a look. "Meeting adjourned." Is this what you meant Father, when you said nothing, in war, was immoral?

Nestling her head in the crook her neck, she sat on his laps staring out into the dusk. Pressing his lips to her cheeks, he breathed her in as if she was oxygen.

“The council is talking about your marriage now, aren’t they?” He hummed in agreement, sadness provoking through her. Was it possible for them to be together for eternity? Could she be both General and Queen? Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, what if his intentions weren’t marriage? What if he wanted a little bit of fun? As if he read her thoughts, he rested a hand upon her cheek to console her.

"I’ll find my way to you, if not I’ll make my way.” But just how would he make his way to her, when he could not even do as much as hold her hand for longer than a minute under the table? How would he do so, when he had to drag her into the nearest empty room to stoop her into a dulcet kiss for a mere second before they played their respective roles again? The sweetest things are forbidden. The things you desired the most are the ones you cannot have. Therefore, did she desire him more than she desired to be great and true? Was it love that she was seeking rather than power and intellect?

It was one or the other. It was San or General. How could the universe make her choose? It was like when she was asked if she preferred her mother or her father. When she was younger she always chose whoever had bowed to her wishes and pleased her the most. Her father-tending to her every need whereas her mother taught her that patience would give you more than what you desired. What was she to do now? She waited, and she became Qiān's acclaimed military official standing next to their eminent King. What would the people think? What would the naval think? They already hated the fact that she ruled over them, but as their Queen no witty remark would slip past her.

“I can make you my wife, right here and right now.” I love you, but I can't have you. "Marry me and let me make you Qiān's most powerful queen."

"San, do you think they like the fact that a woman has to tell them how to win a war? Do you think they'll like me even more when I become their queen? Your duty to this kingdom is to be its face, to unite, create stability between yourself and the people. Mine is to protect."

"You also have a duty to your heart. What does it want?” The booming of their incessant souls prevailed, the strings attached to them, curtailing. His tantalising aura pulled her in, yet the fact that she could not have him drew her away. It hurt that he did not belong to her, having spent the remainder of her life ruled by rationality than emotion, she knew it was better to let go of what she desired.

"It wants you. But we can't always have what we want. We have to live with that San."

"Then I won't marry. This kingdom can die with me, for all I care. After my death they can tear this palace apart. When my ancestors ask me why I broke their legacy, I'll say I fell in love."

"Don't be ridiculo-."

"I am irrevocably in love with you. My heart beats to your name, I'd abdicate-" Her hands pressed up against his lips. Tears rushing to front of her eyes.

I want you, I want you so badly.

"San, you fool.” she sobbed, her hands sliding down his face before settling on his chest.

"Can't you see? I'm a fool for you." He kissed away her tears, slowly inching towards her lips. The taste of it so sweet, so divine, something to get drunk on every night until her soul was too intoxicated to stay alive. “I’d let kingdoms fall for you.”

“We can build this kingdom together, just not as King and Queen. Just as King and General. As it should be.”

“Please. Think, we can make our way to each other, we can make it work. I beg.” Her hold around his neck tightened, he gripped her so tightly as if he would lose her and it seemed that any second now: he would.

“The Freyr have surrendered their threats? They wish to organise a peace treaty?” Her voice rose by an octave with every word as the Major revealed to her the latest political news. “Why wasn’t I informed of this? This is great.”

“Mainly so, King Yunho has requested to meet with you rather than His Majesty.” Once the migrants had reached the Freyr border, unbeknownst of the news of a disease- a sudden epidemic occurred across the nation, the death count inclining exponentially. Freyr’s army depleted significantly with the plague, Qiān locking its borders- keeping the spread of infection on a tight leash. Finally, when the disease had reached the palace- King Jeong became a victim; with his prolonging amenability, his life was taken from him a new ruler acceding to the throne. “I hear he may be visiting soon, after a period of isolation- of course.”

As claimed, Yunho made his way to their kingdom with a restricted access to the palace grounds and movement to prevent the spread of disease. She caught him traipsing across the guest's quarters with white gloved hands and a face mask- to meet with San who wore the same protective dress. Entering the room, the King of Freyr was sealed behind a transparent white fabric. Joining San on the opposite side, she greeted him with a deep bow.

“Your Highness. To what do we owe the pleasure?” The treaty was signed now, the threat of war had been consumed. Was he after something more malicious?

“I was thinking what would be better way for us to create an efficacious partnership than to bind our kingdoms together in matrimony.” She shared a look with San.

“Are you talking about the Freyr Princess, Yeji?" He nodded, dubiously.

"We'll have to think about this prospect, Yunho. Our people will not take lightly to a Freyr Queen." San spoke, his careful words penetrating through Yunho's heart. His way of speaking was hypnotic enough to make his counterpart submit under his command. Through the sheer fabric, a long arm outstretched before hers dragging her body violently towards his.

“I know this was all your doing General Seok. You are a very clever woman and I respect that you will do whatever it takes to defend your country. Do not mistake my lack of maleficence for weakness.” He whispered, before releasing his rough grip on her. Pounding out of the room with his officials on his tail, her ears rung, the sonority of voices calling her name fell deaf to her ears. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, blundering out of the room her palpitating heart pushed into the furnished hallway knocking over porcelain vases.

“General? General Seok!” Her head snapped up from the picturesque map pinned to wood. The naval all scrutinised her from the top of the table where she sat nursing a headache. She couldn’t care how weak they thought of her now. Yunho knew. How did he know? Was there a spy within her troops she did not know? Or was he sharper than she had forseen? The latter brimmed her heart with solicitude.

“Go on, Major Kang. Tell me, I didn’t see that coming. Tell me that I have driven this country into the ground with my wit.” Her noxious tone reached out to them through gritted teeth. For the first time in her life, there was an odd sense of sympathy in the room that wasn’t foreseen before.

“General Geon cried in this very room when he lost his precious battalion to the Freyr in the Valley. In front of us all. We do not care if you ripped your hair out in front of us, we care that you move us forward.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, battling the tears that threatened to leach out of her eyes, her head oscillated. “It’s ok to not know what to do, General.”

“I can’t have the Freyr Princess in this kingdom."

“Then Qiān will be sunken under the sea.” San spoke, a mutter of agreement fulfilled the War Room.

“If we have to shed blood, let’s do it now. Their troops have minimised, we’ve blocked all ways in, they’re still suffering from a chronic disease. If they declare a war, they won’t win.”

“He doesn’t have to declare war now. He can declare war in ten, fifteen, twenty years time. Will we win then?” San argued. Under their heated gaze, the officials left the room leaving their General alone to rally with the King.

"I can't and won't stand here and watch another woman take my place in your heart." Tears pooled at the bay of her eyes. He drew closer to her, pulling her into his chest.

"I'm afraid you have to."

"Sannie, my love. Please." she begged, weakly. He turned his head away. "You can't do this to me." A painful sob escaped from her lips as she sunk to the floor, dragging San down with her. Her cry weakened him, breaking down the exterior of a powerful King that had been fabricated from his coronation.

"If I were to hold you in my arms, in front of them all, that would be all the more reason to let you go. You are my heart and my soul. You are everything that keeps my body moving. But to love you is a sin that would condemn me to eternal damnation."

“I would lose a thousand wars, willingly, if it meant I could have you." she choked out. His lips fell into a pout, as his own tears forged from the ardent fires of his love.

“Anything to win a war, right?” Their heads pressed together, pearly tears staining her supple flesh. “You will always be my queen.” With a final kiss pressed to her forehead, he got up escaping through the door. Her heart entwined between his fingers, blood dripping down the palace walls as they were mercilessly parted by fate.

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

‘seok’ meaning stone

A/N: I decided to remaster the whole thing because I was a bit iffy about the first version, since the first half is different I just didn’t want to edit the older version. lmk if you find this edition better!!!

tagging some folks who read the old version, hope you don’t mind!

tags: @potatos-on-clouds @n0v4t33z @jean-swolo @wooyoungjung99 @yeontaegu @butterflydemons @ajuniceagain @chocosuh

[nouvxllev]

a snowy night

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which you had a fun idea for you and taras first anniversary (and christmas)

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: none

a/n: merry late christmas everyone!!!

masterlist.

Pulling your very sleepy girlfriend out of her bedrest wasn't ideal for a first anniversary, nor the first very early morning of Christmas.

"Y/n," Tara groaned, her body and pajamas getting dragged across the ground like she was a sack of vegetables, "Y/n, it's literally the middle of the night, what are you doing?"

Ignoring Tara's protests, you persisted in dragging her like a lifeless corpse you found on the snowy street of New York. "I know, I know, but trust me, you wanna see this!"

With some reluctance and a little bit of motivation from you, Tara mustered the energy to get up and finally walk with your hand guiding her.

"Okay, what's so important you had to drag me across our bedroom so early?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep as she yawned. You could feel her eyes observing you as best as she could, eyeing the duffel bag you carried, "And why do you have a duffel bag on you like you're gonna flee the country?"

"And why would I ruin the surprise by telling you?" You grinned, pulling her by the sleeve, "Okay, before I let you in on this, close your eyes." You both stood by the doorway of the bedroom, Tara looking slightly unimpressed.

"Tara, can't you trust your girlfriend for like one second?" You asked, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows.

"No?" She chuckled, crossing your arms alongside you, "not after you pulled that prank on me last Christmas."

"Okay, but you've gotta admit, trapping you in a life-sized gingerbread house was pretty funny and, a stroke of genius by yours truly."

Tara rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "How'd you even do that anyway?"

"You know I always love the flair for the dramatic." You looked up at her, nothing but smile and love from your eyes.

"Which is why I love you." Tara whispered, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulls you in closer.

You chuckled, she leaning into Taras hug. "And which is why you're going to love this! Come on, close your eyes," you let go of Tara's grip on you, taking her hands into yours and watching as she closed her eyes with her palm.

"I'm so breaking up with you if this is another prank," she remarked, playfully, of course, but who knows how likely that might become true?

"Oh don't say that, I won't be able to continue those anymore."

With Tara's eyes closed, you guided her into the living room, or maybe just a room with how you renovated it.

When you knew Tara was fast asleep, you had dashed over to the living room after taking your sweet time removing yourself from Taras koala-like cuddle from you and tore it down bit by bit.

Not really, but every piece of furniture scattered on the floor you relocated to the garage. The soft carpet that covered the tiles, was carefully stored in someplace else, revealing the smooth hardwood tiles underneath people could easily slide on.

You led Tara to the living room, her free hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of her palm this season never felt so comforting on yours.

"I knew you always wanted our anniversary to be unforgettable, ever since the day you told me on a warm winter night on top of the apartment building I used to live in, and I thought," you continued, pulling Taras hands down with your own, "what's more unforgettable than spontaneously pulling my girlfriend out of bed to go indoor skating with me in our home?"

Tara opened her eyes, only to see an impromptu ice rink in the middle of their living room. Fairy lights were adorning the corners, little Christmas trees scattered along the way, the floor was powdered to give it a little more boost to the slipperiness, and makeshift cardboard walls surrounded the area. It wasn't the biggest, considering it was only a living room, but it had everything that made Tara Carpenter happy. And that thought was enough for you when you designed this.

Her jaw dropped, and she looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and delight. "You did all this for our anniversary?" She questioned, excitement palpable in her voice.

You nodded, a proud grin on your face. "I wanted to make it special, something we'd remember." You giggled

Tara couldn't help but laugh, the joy bubbling up inside her. "You're fucking insane, you know that?" She pulled you in for a kiss, "but there's no denying that I love it."

You smiled, a lovesick one at that, before taking her hands again and leading her to the powdered floor. "Well, I figured if I couldn't take you to the ice rink in Central Park in the middle of the night, I'd bring the ice rink to us."

You put down the large duffle bag you had been carrying and opened it, pulling out two matching socks that kind of resembled the both of you, "And, as per ice rink tradition, we have skates! Or, socks, in this situation."

Tara chuckled at the sight of the matching socks, each knitted with a design you specifically asked for.

"A duffle bag for a pair of socks?" She laughed before taking the socks from you and slipping them on, "Only you would turn our living room into an ice rink and substitute skates with these."

"Well, I try my best," you replied with a playful wink, already putting on your own pair of socks. "Also, I still have many in store with this duffle bag."

You both stepped onto the powdered floor, the smoothness beneath made it super easy to glide and a comfortable feeling set between the two of you. Tara was wobbly at first when she first tried to slide across, but when your hand was with hers, she quickly found her balance.

"Tara, did you know your talented, smart, beautiful, girlfriend can do a triple axel?" you teased, letting go of Taras hold as you give yourself space from her.

She rolled her eyes playfully, "Oh please, as if you can even do a single one."

You smirked, feigning an offended look. "You deeply underestimate me, my love."

You took a few steps back until your body hit the cardboard walls. With little to no skating experience and the fact you've never trusted yourself once with your balance, you launched yourself. A bit too fast for your liking to the point you ended up doing not even a full rotation and crashed into Tara, "Fuck, oh shit Tara—!"

It was a decent attempt, you'd say so yourself since you didn't completely eat shit, but it gained a laugh from Tara who had been laughing her ass off ever since you landed on top of her.

"Okay, I'd give you points for your ambition and spirit." She chuckled one last time before pulling you and herself up.

"Thank you. Someone finally recognizes talent here."

"Is the talent the 'talent of crashing into your girlfriend?'" Tara teased, brushing off some of the imaginary dust from her clothes, but also the white powder that clung to her shirt.

You grabbed her hand and continued to skate, ignoring the heavy pain you had in your chest, "It's a skill only a select few possess, you know."

Tara rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile. "Then looks like I've got the most skilled girlfriend in the world."

The two of you continued to slide and glide all over the living room, talking about whatever and whenever. The both of you lost your balance here and there, and the both of you may or might not laughed before pulling the other one out of their misery on the cold powdered floor, but it was the most memorable moment of your life; you'd say.

Minutes turned into hours, and you and Tara continued until every single cardboard wall was down due to your attempts at doing probably one of the most difficult tricks in ice skating.

Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Tara found yourselves lying off the ice rink, taking off some steam and deep breaths.

You stood up, quite abruptly, and lent Tara a hand. "Mind coming with me?" You asked, eliciting a confused smile from Tara, but she took your hand anyway.

You helped Tara to her feet and led her outside the door, the cold breeze hitting the both of you like a truck. "Where are we going exactly?" She asked as you led her around the corner to where a ladder lies that goes up to the rooftop.

You quickly climbed up the ladder and turned back to Tara. "Come on, there's something else I want to show you," you say, as you reach for Tara's hand to pull her up.

To her surprise, there was a blanket laid on the rooftop, fairy lights being hung on poles you had taped to the ground, yet again, and cups of eggnog and hot chocolate waiting for you both. The city lights glittered in the distance, and the stars above shined brightly.

Honestly, Tara didn't know how she managed to have someone like you in her life.

"Y/n.. y/n, this is so— It's beautiful." She said, breathless, as she approached the picnic blanket with you in hand.

You smiled at Tara's genuine appreciation, happy that your surprise made her happy. "I'm glad you like it," you replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Shall we sit, my love?"

Tara chuckled and sat down with you, never letting your hand go one bit. "The moon looks beautiful, even at this time."

You could've been looking at the moon, adoring its enchanting glow that reached the world, and the beauty of it all. But no, you were allured by another celestial being, something far more greater than anything that would exist in the cosmic universe, it was Tara.

"Yeah, it's quite beautiful."

The two of you sat in silence, gazing at the stars that slowly started to disappear as sunrise started to take over as you held hands together.

"I'm sorry." Tara broke the silence, her voice soft, "I should've planned something like this too for you, and for our anniversary. It's amazing, y/n."

You turned to Tara, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Tara, you being here with me is more than enough. I didn't plan this to receive anything in return; I just wanted to create a special moment for us and for you to have the best anniversary you can get from someone. And many more, of course." You reassured her, gently squeezing her hand, "Besides, being here with you is all I could ever ask for."

Tara leaned in and pressed a tender kiss against your cheek. "You're incredible, really. You know that?" she whispered, "you didn't have to do this."

"I had to, and I wanted to. You gave me so many happy moments in the short time we've been together, it's just a little something to pay you back."

Tara smiled as she wrapped your arms around yours, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "Thank you, y/n. I love you. Like, so much."

"Well, it's not over yet. There's one more thing," you said before unzipping the duffel bag you had brought and pulling out a box.

Tara raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

You turned to her, facing Tara with nothing but love.

"I want to make everything special and feel special for you, Tara. You're someone I couldn't bear to lose, and someone I didn't think I deserved, up until now. I want to tell you that I promise to do everything for you so that I'll deserve every piece of you in my heart." You vowed, opening up the box to reveal a promise ring. And, as if by cue, snowflakes were falling to the ground, and ones that ended up in Tara's hair. You never knew there was the absolute perfect time to gift the love of your life something special.

"Y/n—Y/n, this is too much, seriously." Taras heart swelled with love, her eyes widening and her smile reaching up to her ears, revealing the dimples you always loved.

"Never is it too much when I want to show my love to you, Tara. You only deserve the best, and only the best. So," you held your sentence as you lifted up Tara's hand and slid the promise ring onto her finger, "I bought this to tell you that I'm fully committed to you, body and soul, and promise I'll always cherish you no matter what. It's a reminder that you are deserving of all the happiness in the world."

Tara stared at the ring, content in her eyes as she looks up towards you. "Y/n, I don't know what to say. This is... it's perfect. Thank you."

You grinned, feeling a sense of contentment in making Tara feel special. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you mean everything to me, and I'm grateful for every moment we share."

Tara chuckled, "For a moment, it felt like you were exchanging vows over there."

"Oh, my vows will be much more longer." You responded, a chuckle you gained from Tara.

"Well, speaking of vows," Tara began, her tone becoming more serious, "I want you to know that you have a special place in my heart since the day I met you. You've made every moment memorable that I didn't even know it was possible. Every mundane chore could never be the same now that I have you, y/n. God—I just, love you. Like so, so, so, much."

And with that, you leaned in for another kiss, embracing Tara and laying down with her as you both kissed. "I love you too, Tara."

The night, or maybe early morning, continued as you both laid down, seeing the sun take over the night sky as the moon was still visible.

You turned to Tara, "Do you think we could still sleep in?"

"I don't think people crossing the street on Christmas would like to see two people sleeping ontop of their rooftop."

"Baby, it's New York, people probably stumble into waaay worse things in their mornings."

Pulling your sleepy girlfriend out of her bedrest wasn't ideal for a first anniversary, nor the first very early morning of Christmas. But was it the best decision you've made? Definitely.

[adventuresofalgy]

It was Christmas Eve at last, and Algy was safe at home again!

He couldn't have been more happy, or more excited, for his assistants had given him a fluffy stocking to hang up, in the hope that Father Christmas might visit while he slept, and his magic pumpkin, which was beginning to look quite shrivelled, had turned into a beautiful pumpkin candle once more.

Algy settled down on the soft needles of a Christmas tree with his stocking hanging by his side, and did his best to go to sleep, but he found it awfully difficult… He was just too excited! So he tried reciting that most famous of all Christmas poems, written 200 years ago. He hoped that if he recited it very carefully and very slowly it might help to make him drowsy, for he knew that Santa Claus never visited folk who were wide awake:

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse: The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

[Algy is of course reciting the opening verses of the early 19th century poem A Visit from St. Nicholas, which is more often called The Night Before Christmas. The poem was first published anonymously in 1823 and its author is uncertain.]