#our loyalty is not to any power of this world!

[many-sparrows]

O Christ, what can it mean for us To claim you as our king? What royal face have you revealed Whose praise the church would sing? Aspiring not to glory's height To power, wealth, and fame You walked a different, lowly way Another's will your aim You came, the image of our God To heal and to forgive To shed your blood for sinners' sake That we might rise and live To break the law of death you came The law of love to bring A diff'rent rule of righteousness A diff'rent kind of king

[rxmxa]

💕☁️𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝☁️💕

I recently got a dream journal (its giving sharkboy and lava girl). and by dream journal I mean I just type them into a journal app on my phone lol.

i have uranus in the 12th house and i really do get flashes of insight (uranus) in my dreams or just as im about to fall asleep (12h). but i decided to keep track of them bc like WEEKS ago i told my coworker about a dream and then she brought it up how it reminds her of a current situation at work. and i was like you know what! you’re right girl. and im constantly having dreams and ik with that placement i have sudden and vivid dreams that give me insights or solutions to problems i might have! if u have 12h placements u should keep track of your dreams! type, write or record!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ We know that the 12th house is linked to mental health, imprisonment, retreats, reality constructs, secrets, fears, hidden enemies, need for privacy. its the house of “self undoing” and the house of “the unseen.” so without a doubt, it can represent your dream life and whats lurking through your subconscious when you’re asleep or when your mind is an altered state of consciousness(like how your 12h sign can show how you act when you’re high or drunk 😗).

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Planets in the 12th house can show you more about your dream life. For example, with Sun in the 12th house, your dreams may reveal truths about your purpose (Sun). If you have Moon in the 12th house, your emotional world is deeply connected to your dreams, often reflecting hidden feelings. People with Neptune in the 12th house might have dreams that seem prophetic, offering spiritual or mystical insights. With Venus in the 12th house, your hidden desires related to love and beauty surface in your dream world. If you have Mercury in the 12th house, dreams may be filled with symbols, conversations, or mental puzzles, reflecting subconscious thoughts or messages. Mars in the 12th house may bring dreams filled with repressed anger, hidden drives, or unexpressed desires for action. Those with Jupiter in the 12th house might experience expansive, visionary dreams that offer wisdom or insights into their spiritual growth. Saturn in the 12th house could lead to dreams about fears, limitations, or responsibilities, helping you confront hidden anxieties. Like I had said, Uranus in the 12th house can result in sudden, unexpected dreams that feel revolutionary or bring flashes of insight about change, while Pluto in the 12th house often manifests deep, transformative dreams tied to power, control, or subconscious fears.

✧₊⁺ if you don't have any planets in the 12h you can still find out more about your dream world by looking at the 12th house from your 12th house (aka the 11th house). This is like putting a microscope to your 12th house using derivative astro!

✧₊⁺ this also tells us that the subconscious mind is deeply influenced by our community, social networks, and dreams of the collective. ✧₊⁺

✧₊⁺ Aries 11th House: You may dream about leading or standing out in social groups, reflecting your hidden desire for independence and leadership.

✧₊Taurus 11th House: Dreams about long-term relationships and loyalty in friendships may show your deep need for stability and security in social circles.

✧₊Gemini 11th House: You might dream about conversations and sharing ideas, revealing your subconscious wish for connection through communication.

✧₊Cancer 11th House: Dreams about nurturing or feeling close to friends can reflect your desire for deep emotional bonds within groups.

✧₊Leo 11th House: You may dream about being in the spotlight or receiving attention from friends, which shows a desire for recognition and admiration in groups.

✧₊Virgo 11th House: Organizing and improving things in dreams could reveal a hidden wish to be helpful and bring order to your social interactions.

✧₊Libra 11th House: Dreams about fairness and balancing relationships can show your subconscious need for harmony and peace in social settings.

✧₊Scorpio 11th House: You may have intense dreams involving power or hidden emotions in friendships, reflecting deeper feelings of trust or betrayal in social dynamics.

✧₊Sagittarius 11th House: Dreams about adventure or exploring with groups could reflect a desire for freedom and meaningful connections through shared experiences.

✧₊Capricorn 11th House: Dreams of achieving success in a group or earning respect may reflect your hidden need for structure and accomplishment in your social life.

✧₊Aquarius 11th House: You may dream of unique or futuristic social settings, reflecting a subconscious desire for individuality and innovation in your interactions.

✧₊Pisces 11th House: Dreams about unity or blending into a larger cause may show a subconscious desire for compassion and spiritual connection with your social circle.

⋆°•☁︎⋆you can also look at your 12h ruler to tell you important things about your inner world, dreams, and hidden feelings. Where this planet is placed in your chart (by house and sign) shows how your subconscious mind affects different parts of your life. 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ☁️་༘ for example: my 12h ruler is in the 4h and i have dreams about family members that have passed away.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 1h: Your hidden thoughts and dreams have a strong effect on your personality and how you present yourself to others.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 2h: Your hidden emotions influence your values, money, and self-worth. Dreams might reveal fears or desires about money or security.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 3h: Your inner thoughts affect how you communicate and learn. Dreams may involve siblings or daily conversations.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 4h: Your subconscious mind is linked to your home and family life. Dreams could bring up past memories or emotions connected to family.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 5h: Your hidden desires are connected to creativity, love, and fun. Dreams may reveal hidden passions or romantic feelings.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 6h: Your subconscious mind affects your daily routines, health, and work. Dreams might highlight worries about your health or work habits.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 7h: Your relationships are connected to your inner world. You may dream about your partners or have hidden fears about relationships.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 8h: Your subconscious mind is tied to deep issues like power, intimacy, and transformation. Dreams might bring up fears or feelings about change or control.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 9h: Your dreams and inner thoughts are connected to your beliefs, travel, or learning. You might dream about faraway places or spiritual journeys.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 10h: Your hidden thoughts influence your career and public image. Dreams might reveal what you really want from your job or how you want to be seen by others.

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 11h: Your subconscious mind affects your friendships and future goals. Dreams could involve friends or hidden hopes for the future

⋆°•☁︎⋆12h ruler in the 12h: Your subconscious is very strong, and you may have powerful dreams, strong intuition, and a deep connection to spirituality.

[idkyetxoxo]

Davos Blackwood- Sworn To Her

Summary - Set out to command loyalty. She captures the attention of Davos Blackwood, whose admiration turns into a desperate yearning for her command. He is left begging her to dictate their fate, blurring the lines between duty and passion in a world on the brink of chaos.

Pairing - Davos Blackwood x Velaryon reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2671

Masterlist for Davos • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

As I descended from Silverwing's saddle, her silvered wings casting long shadows over the gathered men, I wasted no time. 

Steeling my shoulders and crossing my arms, I surveyed the assembly with a steady, unyielding gaze. 

"What would you do for your queen?" I asked, each word deliberate, carrying the weight of command. My voice was as resolute as the steel at my hip, and the men before me, some of the Riverlands' most notable lords, could only stare back, captivated and uncertain.

I had not anticipated taking on the task of rallying allies myself. 

This was not my mother's plan, nor mine. But circumstances had grown desperate, and when the tides of war demand action, sometimes it is best to seize the reins oneself. 

With Jace far off in the Vale, seeking support from its reluctant lords, I had been left to stand here alone, face to face with the lords of the Riverlands. 

We had both become sick of the sluggish, uncertain steps our allies were taking in this conflict. 

If loyalty to our mother had to be secured with words of fire and a glimpse of dragon wings, then so be it.

Despite Baela's cautions about appearing before these men alone, here I stood. I let my gaze fall slowly across each face, daring them to look away, to doubt the resolve that burned in my eyes.

The scent of wet earth and moss filled the air, the Riverlands heavy with the coolness of dusk. 

I felt the prickling bite of evening mist, seeping through my clothes and clinging to my skin, as though the land itself resisted my presence.

"I expect an answer," I said, my voice sharpened with an edge of impatience. 

Behind me, Silverwing shifted, her massive frame rippling, the low rumble from her throat a reminder of her presence and the deadly promise she held. Her groan cut through the silence like a blade, the sound echoing over the valley and making several men visibly shiver.

I wondered if my mother would approve of what I'd done here, of this choice to face these men alone. 

She'd taught me to lead with strength, but she'd also warned me that loyalty was not always won through power. 

Yet here I was, wielding Silverwing's shadow and my own authority like a blade, desperate to secure the allies we needed.

After a tense pause, a young man with curly brown hair stepped forward, his shoulders squared in reluctant acceptance. 

He was near my own age, yet I could see the weight of his house's loyalty bearing down on him. Oscar Tully, son of House Tully, the Rivermen's pride, looked up at me with a solemn expression.

"We swear fealty to the true queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen," he proclaimed, his voice clear and unwavering as he knelt, head bowed in respect. 

A ripple of movement followed his action as, one by one, each man lowered himself in allegiance, their fealty pledged not to mere words but to the queen herself.

My gaze swept over them, searching for any hint of insincerity, any flicker of hesitation. 

My eyes settled on a knight of House Blackwood, his lips curling into a smirk even as he knelt, meeting my gaze with a glint of something—admiration or challenge, perhaps—that caught me off guard.

The men here had sworn themselves to the queen—and they knew, as I did, that the true cost of their oaths would soon be paid in fire and blood.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the Riverlands and cast a warm amber glow across the hall, a feast was prepared in my honour. 

It was modest by the standards of a royal banquet, but the lords of the Riverlands had done their best, arranging tables heaped with venison, fresh-baked bread, and flagons of wine. 

Musicians played soft, lilting tunes, and candles flickered warmly in the sconces along the stone walls. 

I accepted each polite nod, each murmured "Princess," but my mind was elsewhere, fixed on the allies we would need and the battles to come.

Yet, amidst the formalities, a pair of dark eyes followed my every movement. Davos Blackwood. 

I'd noticed his gaze in the crowd before, but here in the soft candlelight, his attention was both bold and unapologetic. 

He was older than me by a few years, yet young enough to wear his loyalty openly. 

I caught him watching me as I moved between tables, his look tinged with something both admiring and dangerous—a lingering intensity that quickened my pulse.

As the feast wore on, the hall grew rowdy and loud, the laughter of men drunk on wine and the thrill of new alliance filling the air. 

I slipped quietly away, leaving the raucous sounds behind, and wandered through the corridors, searching for a moment of solitude. 

But I soon found I was not alone.

Davos stepped out of the shadows as if he had been waiting, his expression holding that same dark smirk I had noticed earlier. 

He met my gaze, his face half-illuminated by the light of a single torch flickering nearby. 

We stood in a small, dim room, the air thick with the tension that had simmered between us since that moment in the hall. 

He was quiet, his eyes fixed on mine, a slight tilt to his head that spoke of restrained intensity.

"You commanded them well, Princess," he said, his tone both respectful and tinged with that same smouldering intensity I'd felt earlier. "I don't believe I've ever seen men twice your age look so humbled—captivated, even." 

His eyes held mine, his admiration palpable. "It's no small feat to command a room of lords as you did."

I arched a brow, letting a slight smile play on my lips. "The men of the Riverlands needed a reminder of who they serve."

"They did," he agreed, his voice just above a whisper. "And it's clear to me now that you are every bit your mother's daughter."

A quiet heat simmered between us as his words sank in, and something unspoken passed in the space between us, making my heart quicken. 

"And will you serve as loyally as the others, Ser Davos?" I asked, testing the boundaries of this strange new familiarity.

He took a step closer, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his face. 

"I cannot speak for the others, Princess," he began, his voice low and steady, "but know that I would gladly lay down my life for the queen." His eyes searched my face, lingering with a heat that made my breath catch. 

"And for her daughter."

My heart quickened at his words, but I kept my composure, arching an eyebrow. "Oh?" I replied, my tone light, even teasing. "And what, Ser Davos, would you do for the princess?"

The corner of his mouth lifted as he stepped closer, his gaze never wavering from mine. 

"Absolutely anything she desires," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the words filled with an intensity that left no room for misunderstanding.

The space between us was small, the warmth of his presence close enough to feel, and yet I held my ground, unwilling to break the tension. The air felt electric, charged with an unspoken promise. 

I leaned in, my voice a soft murmur. "Anything, you say?"

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something sharper, fiercer. 

"Anything," he confirmed, his gaze holding mine as if daring me to command him.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the crackling torch on the wall, and the distance between us felt like a thread, thin and taut. 

Here, in this quiet room away from the feasting and noise, with Davos looking at me as though he would march into fire if I asked it, I felt the heady power of my position, and something more—a stirring that felt as dangerous as it did exhilarating.

"I am pleased to hear that," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath, but he caught every word. 

Davos inclined his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine, a mark of respect mingled with an undeniable longing that set a spark between us.

"For there is much I would like," I continued, letting the words linger, each one wrapped in the promise of something unspoken. 

The insinuation was clear, and I watched a small grin lift the corners of his mouth, as though my words had unlocked a wish he dared not voice. He looked at me like he could scarcely believe his fortune, his gaze dark with wonder and disbelief. 

A princess, standing close enough for him to touch, and more than willing.

His eyes dropped for a brief moment, almost as if he needed to remind himself to breathe, and then his voice, roughened and warm, found its way back. 

"With a dragon as mighty as yours, I'm certain there is little you would be denied," he murmured, his hand lifting as though moved by some magnetic force. 

His fingers brushed against my cheek, a soft, tentative touch, almost as if he expected me to draw back, to laugh at his audacity, to reassert my place above him. But I didn't. 

I leaned into his touch, allowing his hand to linger, my skin tingling beneath his fingertips.

The briefest flash of surprise flared in his eyes, tempered quickly by something darker, something more consuming. 

My pulse quickened, the heat between us simmering into something almost unbearable. 

I was a princess—he knew that. And yet here we were, standing inches apart, the gap between duty and desire swiftly fading into nothing. 

For the first time, his loyalty was not to some distant queen or some abstract ideal; his loyalty, his yearning, was here, directed entirely at me.

Slowly, I leaned in, letting my words drift just past his ear, so close that I felt his breath catch. 

"I do not wish to take my pleasures by force," I murmured, my voice a soft invitation, a promise that was as powerful as any order. 

A shiver ran through him, and his fingers tightened just slightly against my cheek as if anchoring himself in this impossible moment.

The air was thick with the unspoken, and I felt him hesitate, battling the disbelief that a princess would want someone like him, a knight whose station fell far below hers. 

Yet his longing was palpable, a heady tension that electrified the space between us. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reverent. "What would you have me do, Princess?" he asked, his tone weighted with more than just desire. 

It was devotion, his words woven with a quiet, reckless yearning as if he would tear the stars from the sky if I asked it.

I looked into his eyes, letting the silence stretch, each heartbeat a steady thrum that only deepened the pull between us. 

"Anything," I replied, a whisper that held within it the hint of a command and a promise all at once.

His gaze fell to my lips, and his breath shuddered like he was grounding himself in the impossible reality that he was here, with me, alone and permitted to wish for more. 

He let his hand trail down, tracing the line of my jaw with a featherlight touch, his fingers lingering near my neck where he could feel my pulse racing under his fingertips. 

His eyes were dark, wide, caught in some quiet awe, his body tense with restraint.

"Say it," he whispered, his voice rough. "Say what you would want of me, and I am yours."

"Command me," he begged, his voice softened by that same restrained yearning that had chased me all night.

For a moment, the gravity of our situation fell away, leaving only two people drawn together by a desire as dangerous as it was irresistible. I leaned in, my mouth a breath away from his. 

"For now," I whispered, letting the moment dangle like a thread between us, "I only want this."

His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first as if he could scarcely believe that I'd allowed him this close. 

But then, the restraint fell away, the delicate thread snapping, and we were pressed together in a kiss that held every bit of tension, every unspoken promise.

My hands slid to his clothes, and his eyes flashed with surprise before yielding, allowing me to undress him piece by piece. His gaze clung to me, astonished, as though he still couldn't believe I was here with him. 

I stripped off my riding leathers as fast as my hands could manage, hungry to feel the pleasure I'd been craving for far too long.

The war had stolen much from me, stripping me down to my bones, and tonight, I wanted only one thing: to lose myself, to drown in a rapture that would make me forget it all, even if just for a night.

"Bed me," I whispered when we were bare before each other, skin flushed, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

He froze, his gaze tracing my form as if I were a vision, something ethereal, almost too good to be true. His lips parted in silent awe, eyes raking over every line and curve as though I were an angel who had slipped into his grasp.

"Your wish," he breathed, finally snapping back to himself, "is my command." 

He guided me down to the stone floor, its chill biting into my skin, a startling contrast that only heightened my senses.

His lips found my neck, pressing fevered, insistent kisses that sent shivers racing across my skin. A contented sigh slipped from me as I surrendered to the sensation.

He gently parted my legs, settling between them, and I welcomed the feel of him, my thighs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. 

He moved with urgency, as though he sought release from something unspoken, a fever only I could soothe. 

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, the feeling consuming, erasing all else.

"Oh gods," he murmured, his voice reverent, as he looked down at me, his face filled with wonder. "You...you are a vision." His words, filled with awe, only stoked the flames in me. 

I met his gaze, my body pliant beneath his, feeling like I could stay lost in this moment forever, his desire feeding mine, each of us chasing the other's heat, until the rest of the world faded away.

My heart thudded in time with his, our bodies aligned and perfectly matched, an effortless rhythm that made me feel whole as if this one night could wash away a thousand memories of darkness and despair.

I held his gaze, feeling myself surrender completely, caught in his spell, in the heat and warmth of his presence as he chased pleasure from me with a patience that made my body tremble. 

I was unravelling, each touch, each movement, pulling me apart in the most exquisite way, and I realized I wanted to let him, to let this moment consume every hidden part of me.

His breaths quickened, and he pressed his forehead against mine, grounding us both in that intimate space, and I could feel his heart pounding, as though echoing my own. 

I held him there, one hand tangling in his hair, the other tracing the contours of his back, feeling the strength of him as we both surrendered.

Finally, in a crescendo of pleasure that took my breath away, I felt myself shatter beneath him, lost in the haze of pure, undiluted bliss. 

He followed close behind, his body tense before he released in a shudder that shook us both, his face a picture of utter, unguarded ecstasy.

Slowly, he leaned back, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place here on the cold stone floor, surrounded by shadows and memories. 

He traced his fingers along my jaw, as though I were something precious, rare, his eyes softened by the afterglow.

And there, entangled together in the flickering dark, we let the silence embrace us, lost in the warmth and comfort of knowing, for this moment, we were exactly where we both wanted to be.

A/n - This was fun to write, teeny tiny bit inspired by Jude and Cardan from 'The Folk of the Air' series (if you squint basc)

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Stralight - Part 2

here is the link for part 1 or part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

Word Count; 4k

notes; Hey everyone! This chapter is more centered around the IC. New clues and questions will arise while following Y/N from a different perspective. Also I already wrote a good part of the story, I will try to publish a new chapter every day/two day. I hope that you will like the part 2. Do not hesitate to comment. Bisous <3

---

Two weeks had flown by, and the long-awaited night of the Winter Solstice had enveloped Velaris in a festive blanket of snow and twinkling stars. Inside the stately townhouse of the High Lord, the inner circle—Mor, Armen, Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys—gathered around a roaring fire, the room aglow with the warmth of friendship and laughter.

Mor, ever the heart of any gathering, clapped her hands with a bright, infectious enthusiasm. "Alright, everyone, it's the moment we've all been waiting for—gifts time!" she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Laughter and cheerful banter filled the room as small, beautifully wrapped packages began to change hands. Azriel joked about how he hoped his gift was better than last year's infamous "invisible cloak"—which turned out to be just an empty box. Cassian roared with laughter, slapping him on the back, while Rhys watched on, a sly grin playing on his lips.

As the gifts made their rounds, the moment came for Cassian and Azriel to receive their gifts from Rhys. With a dramatic flourish that matched the occasion, Rhys presented them each with an elegantly wrapped, long, slender box. "For my brothers, who deserve nothing but the best," he said with a warm tone of brotherly affection.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a look of curiosity and anticipation before tearing into the wrapping. As they lifted the lids, the room fell into an appreciative silence. Inside each box lay a masterfully crafted sword and dagger set, the metal gleaming even in the soft light of the fire.

Azriel’s set was sleek and shadowy, with subtle, intricate engravings along the blade that seemed to shift and move in the light. The hilt was expertly crafted to fit perfectly in his hand, and the syphon stone nestled at the base pulsed with a faint, mysterious glow.

Cassian's sword and dagger were robust and commanding, with bold designs etched along the blades and a heavier, more aggressive build. The handles were wrapped in dark leather that contrasted starkly with the bright gleam of the steel, and his syphon stone throbbed with a powerful, steady light.

"Rhys, these are... incredible," Cassian finally broke the silence, his voice thick with emotion. "Seriously, brother, they're more than I could have hoped for."

Azriel, ever the more reserved of the two, was quietly inspecting his blade, but his impressed expression spoke volumes. He looked up at Rhys, a question in his eyes. "Was this why you sent me to the new blacksmith’s shop? To deliver our old syphons?"

Rhys nodded, a satisfied smile lighting up his face. "Yes, I wanted Y/N to incorporate them into your new weapons. I knew she could breathe new life into those old stones."

Mor leaned forward, her interest piqued. "That was a brilliant touch, Rhys. Y/N’s craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Did you see how Az’s blade almost seems alive with shadows?"

"And Cass’s looks like it could lead an army on its own," Armen added, smirking as she felt back in her comfy sofa.

The conversation spiraled into a lively discussion about the craftsmanship, the battle stories that the old syphons had seen, and how these new weapons would soon make their own marks in history. Laughter and heartfelt thanks filled the room, creating memories that would warm their hearts for many solstices to come.

As the night wore on, filled with more stories and laughter, Cassian and Azriel handled their new gifts with something akin to reverence. It was clear these were more than just weapons; they were symbols of their brotherhood, their strength, and the silent, unbreakable bonds that held them all together.

As the Winter Solstice celebration unfolded in the warm glow of the townhouse, Rhysand and Azriel found a brief moment of quiet near the crackling fire. The High Lord, nursing a glass of wine, caught the spymaster's thoughtful gaze and smiled knowingly.

"Y/N, hmm?" Rhysand began, his tone light with a hint of intrigue. "I heard about her long before she set up shop in Velaris. It was during a meeting with Helion at his court. He couldn't stop boasting about the spear she crafted for him—it was truly magnificent."

Azriel, leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Helion? That's high praise coming from the Day Court. She must be something special."

Rhysand nodded, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "Indeed she is. From what I gather, she keeps to herself, lets her work speak for her. Mysterious, but fiercely talented."

Azriel’s interest was clearly piqued. "She seems to have a knack for keeping a low profile. What do you know about her background?"

Rhysand’s gaze shifted to the fire, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "She’s originally from the Night Court, Velaris to be exact. But beyond that, she’s a bit of an enigma. Not one to share her story readily."

Azriel nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Her work speaks volumes, though. Each piece feels imbued with a story, a history."

Rhysand chuckled softly. "Sounds like someone else I know," he teased, nudging Azriel playfully. "But she’s different. There’s a depth to her craftsmanship that’s rare."

Meanwhile, across the room, Mor and Cassian were engrossed in their own revelry, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the solstice festivities with abandon, seemingly oblivious to the more serious conversation unfolding between Rhysand and Azriel.

Azriel’s gaze lingered thoughtfully on the flickering flames before returning to Rhysand. "Do you think she’d be willing to collaborate with us more closely? Her talent could be a valuable asset to our efforts."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. Let’s give her time to settle in, though. If she’s as exceptional as we believe, she’ll find her place in our plans soon enough."

Their conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on, but Azriel couldn't shake the intrigue Y/N had stirred in him. Her presence in Velaris promised more than just exceptional craftsmanship—it hinted at alliances, mysteries, and a potential for change that resonated deeply within the heart of the Night Court.

----

A few days after the festive celebrations of the Winter Solstice, Rhysand was deep in discussion with Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court. They were seated in a quiet, sunlit room in the House of Wind, poring over scrolls and plans aimed at enhancing the health infrastructure of their court. They debated new strategies and shared insights on how best to equip their healers with advanced resources.

As their meeting drew to a close, Madja, ever observant, shifted the topic with a hint of intrigue in her tone. "Rhysand, have you heard of the blacksmith Y/N?" she asked, her eyes sharp and probing.

Rhysand nodded, a hint of pride in his response. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with her work. She crafted the weapons I gifted to Cassian and Azriel for the solstice. They were exceptional."

Madja leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a confidential whisper. "Keep her close, Rhysand. She bears a power that could save many lives, far beyond what her craftsmanship alone might suggest."

Rhysand's interest was immediately piqued, his strategic mind already turning over the implications. "What do you mean, Madja? What kind of power are we talking about?"

Madja sighed, and her gaze became distant as she recalled the day she visited Y/N's smithy, prompting a flashback:

The day had been unusually brisk for Velaris, the winter chill seeping through even the warmest of cloaks. Madja pushed open the door to Y/N's smithy, greeted by the familiar clang of metal on metal and the comforting heat that rolled out from the forge. The shop was lively, with customers admiring the array of weapons and tools displayed with meticulous care. The air smelled of iron and burning coals, a scent that Madja had always associated with strength and resilience.

Y/N emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a leather apron, her sharp eyes taking in the scene before settling on Madja. "Healer Madja," Y/N greeted with a nod, a small smile on her lips. "What can I do for you today?"

Madja reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out an old, well-worn sickle. The blade, while still sharp, had seen many years of use. "I need a new sickle," she explained, holding the tool out for Y/N to examine. "Something similar to this, but I’d like it embedded with healing gems—something that can amplify my abilities when I work."

Y/N took the sickle, turning it over in her hands, studying the craftsmanship with a discerning eye. "I can do that," she said after a moment. "I’ll need a few days to gather the right materials, but I’ll make sure it’s exactly what you need."

As they spoke, the shop was bustling around them. Alexander, ever energetic and eager to help, was darting about, juggling several tasks at once. At one point, he was carrying an armful of swords, trying to show a client the finer details of a blade while managing the chaos around him. Madja watched with a smile, amused by the boy’s enthusiasm.

But then, in his haste, Alex’s foot caught on the edge of a carpet that had bunched up beneath the weight of all the activity. He stumbled forward, the swords in his arms clattering to the ground with a sharp, metallic crash. His wide eyes filled with panic as he lost his balance, teetering dangerously.

Y/N reacted instantly, her hand shooting out to catch Alex before he could fall, her grip steady and sure. But in the chaos, Madja’s old sickle, which had been resting precariously on the edge of the counter, was knocked off, plummeting toward the floor—and directly toward Alex.

Madja’s heart leaped into her throat, but before she could move, Y/N’s other hand lashed out, snatching the sickle by the blade just inches from Alex’s head. The sharp edge sliced through Y/N’s palm, blood welling up immediately. But the sickle never reached the boy. Instead, Y/N held it firmly, her expression more concerned with Alex than her own injury.

"Alex, are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice calm despite the cut on her hand.

Alex, wide-eyed and shaken, nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Nana, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s alright," Y/N assured him, her voice gentle. She set the sickle down carefully, then knelt to help Alex gather the fallen swords. "Just be more careful next time, okay?"

Madja stepped forward, her healer’s instincts kicking in as she moved to examine Y/N’s hand. "Let me see that," she insisted, reaching out.

But Y/N pulled her hand back slightly, shaking her head. "It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine."

Madja was about to protest when something caught her eye—small, flickering blue flames that danced across Y/N’s wound, sealing it shut with a soft, almost musical hum. The flames vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind smooth, unbroken skin where the cut had been just moments before.

Madja stared, her mind racing. "What... was that?" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Y/N seemed unfazed, her focus still on Alex, making sure he was steady on his feet. "Nothing to worry about," she said, her tone casual. But there was a tension in her voice that didn’t escape Madja’s notice.

The healer hesitated, unsure of what she had just witnessed, but knowing better than to press the issue in front of others. "If you’re sure," she finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

Y/N nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "I am. Thank you, Madja."

Madja left the shop soon after, but the image of those blue flames stayed with her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that what she had seen was more than just a simple healing ability—there was something deeper, something powerful about Y/N that she couldn’t yet understand.

Back in the present, Rhysand’s expression was contemplative, his mind turning over the possibilities. "Blue flames that heal… That’s not something you see every day. You’re sure it was real, Madja?"

Madja nodded, her expression serious. "I’ve never seen anything like it before, Rhysand. There’s a power in her that could be incredibly valuable. Her abilities could redefine healing, or perhaps... something more."

Rhysand leaned back, his thoughts racing. "This is something I need to look into further. If Y/N possesses such power, she could play a crucial role in the future of the Night Court."

"Be careful, Rhysand," Madja warned gently. "Power like that isn’t always easy to control. But if anyone can guide her, it’s you."

Rhysand nodded, the weight of this new revelation settling on his shoulders. He knew he needed to approach this carefully, to understand the full extent of Y/N’s abilities—and to ensure that whatever power she held, it would be used to protect and strengthen the Night Court.

----

The day had been kind to you, the steady hum of work filling your hours, and now, as night fell over Velaris, you decided to treat Alex to a well-deserved meal. The two of you strolled along the Sidra, the river reflecting the twinkling lights of the city, casting everything in a magical glow. The restaurant you chose was a cozy, yet elegant establishment with an outdoor terrace that overlooked the water. The warm, inviting lights and the soft murmur of other diners created a serene atmosphere that was perfect for unwinding after a long day.

You had dressed nicely for the occasion, opting for well-fitted pants and a tailored shirt that allowed you to feel both comfortable and presentable. Alex, too, had cleaned up well, his usual enthusiasm shining brightly in his eyes as you both took your seats at a small table by the river.

"This place is amazing, Nana," Alex said, his voice filled with excitement as he scanned the menu. "We should come here more often!"

You smiled, taking in the joy on his face. "We’ve had a good run lately, haven’t we? I figured we deserved a little treat."

The waiter arrived, and you both placed your orders— your young apprentice going for sugary drink and you for a glass of white wine. As you sipped your drink, Alex leaned in with a mischievous grin.

"You remember that client who came in last week?" Alex began, his tone full of amusement. "The one who insisted he needed a sword for 'taming wild beasts'? Turns out he thought the sword would actually talk to the animals and convince them to behave."

You nearly choked on your wine, giggling at the absurdity of it. "No! Did he really? I thought he just wanted a strong blade for hunting or something."

Alex nodded, laughing. "Yeah! I had to explain to him that swords don’t exactly come with instructions for bear negotiations."

Your laughter was soft and genuine, the joy of the moment spreading warmth through your chest. It was in that moment of shared humor that the door to the restaurant opened, and you caught sight of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian entering. They were dressed as impeccably as ever, their presence immediately commanding attention in the room. 

The three of them were clearly expected, as a table near the river, a bit more private, was promptly made available for them. However, before they were seated, Rhysand’s gaze fell upon you and Alex. His eyes lit up with recognition, and a charming smile spread across his face as he made his way over to your table, the others following behind.

"Y/N," Rhysand greeted warmly, his voice smooth as ever. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here." He turned to Alex with a grin. "And this must be the famous Alexander I’ve heard so much about."

Alex, never one to shy away from attention, beamed up at the High Lord. "That’s me! Nice to see you again, my lord!"

Rhysand chuckled, then glanced back at his brothers. "Y/N, allow me to introduce Cassian, our esteemed General of the Illyrian legions. I believe you’ve already met Azriel, our spymaster."

Cassian extended a hand with a friendly grin. "I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the master behind the blade."

You shook his hand, feeling a bit shy under the attention but managing a smile. "The pleasure’s mine. I’ve heard a lot about you as well."

Azriel, standing slightly behind Rhysand, gave you a nod of acknowledgment. "Good to see you again, Y/N."

Rhysand then motioned toward their table, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Why don’t you both join us for dinner? We’d love the company."

Caught off guard, you hesitated, glancing at Alex before responding. "Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your night out, after all."

Cassian waved away your concern with a laugh. "Nonsense! The more, the merrier."

You were still about to politely decline when Alex piped up, his eyes wide with excitement. "Please, Nana! I’ve always wanted to have dinner with them. Plus, I think they’ve got some cool stories to tell!"

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile. Alex’s enthusiasm was hard to resist, and the idea of joining them, despite your initial reluctance, was becoming more appealing. Finally, you sighed playfully and nodded. "Alright, alright. You win, Alex."

Rhysand’s smile broadened as he gestured toward their table. "Perfect. Let’s make this an evening to remember."

The evening by the Sidra continued to unfold beautifully as you and Alex joined Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel at their table. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the city lights reflecting off the river, casting a soft glow over the terrace. The five of you settled in comfortably, and soon, food and drinks were ordered—a mix of hearty dishes and lighter fare, with wine flowing freely.

As the meal progressed, the conversation naturally turned to more personal topics. Rhysand, ever the curious and perceptive High Lord, leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest. "Y/N, you’re a bit of a mystery. I’d love to know more about your story—where you’re from, your family, how you came to be the talented blacksmith you are today."

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass as you considered where to begin. The table fell into a quiet, expectant silence, all eyes on you.

"Well," you started, "I’m originally from Velaris. My father was a guard here, dedicated to protecting the city, and my mother came from a family of old politicians who eventually left Hewn City to make a life here."

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, sipping his drink. "Sounds like they were strong people. What happened to them?"

You sighed softly, the memories bittersweet. "My mother died giving birth to me. It was... hard on my father. They were mates, and the pain of losing her was too much for him. He passed away a few hours after she did."

Cassian’s brow furrowed, his voice laced with concern and curiosity. "He just... passed away? How?"

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze steadily. "He killed himself. The bond they shared was so strong that living without her wasn’t an option for him."

The table grew solemn, the weight of your words settling over everyone. Rhysand reached out, "I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s a lot for anyone to bear."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture. “I never actually knew them so I’m fine with it I guess. After they died, I was raised by my father’s best friend—my master. He taught me everything I know about blacksmithing. We traveled to most of the courts and across the continent, honing my skills. Alex," you added with a fond glance at the boy beside you, "is my master’s son. After my master passed away, I took Alex under my wing."

Alex, who had been quietly listening, smiled up at you, his admiration evident. “Y/N's the best teacher. She’s taught me everything."

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "You’ve had quite the journey, Y/N. It takes strength to turn pain into something as beautiful and powerful as your work."

You smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "It wasn’t easy, but it’s the only way I know how to honor them."

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed freely, accompanied by the delicious food and the soothing ambiance of the Sidra beside you. After sharing your story, a question that had been lingering at the back of your mind finally surfaced.

“You three,” you began, glancing between Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, “are you truly brothers? I’ve heard stories, but I’ve always wondered how much truth there is to them.”

Cassian chuckled, exchanging a glance with Rhysand and Azriel. “Well, not by blood,” he admitted, “but in every way that matters, we’re brothers.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression softening as he looked at his two closest friends. “We grew up together in the Illyrian war camps. It wasn’t an easy upbringing, but we forged bonds that can’t be broken. Cassian and Azriel have been at my side through everything—through battles, victories, losses… they’re my family.”

Azriel, who was usually reserved, added quietly, “We’ve faced more together than most blood-related brothers ever would. That kind of connection goes beyond anything as simple as blood.”

Cassian leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. “And if you need proof, just look at how often we bicker like brothers.”

You laughed softly, understanding now the depth of their bond. “It’s clear there’s a lot of history between you. It’s… comforting to see that even in a place as powerful as the Night Court, family—however it’s made—still matters most.”

Rhysand smiled at you, his eyes reflecting the sentiment. “Family is everything to us, Y/N. And it’s something that grows—not just with blood, but with loyalty and trust.”

At this, Cassian turned his attention to Alex, who was listening intently. “Speaking of family, Alex, how about joining ours in a different way? Ever thought about training to be a warrior? You’ve got the makings of a good one.”

Alex looked up at Cassian, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What time would the training start?”

Cassian grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Around dawn. What do you think?”

Alex wrinkled his nose playfully, causing everyone to chuckle. “Dawn? That’s way too late! By then, Nana and I have already finished our training.”

The table fell into a momentary silence, the surprise evident on the faces of the Night Court’s inner circle. Azriel raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You train before dawn?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their reactions. “What did you expect? We don’t just create weapons; we know how to wield them, too. Alex is becoming quite skilled, actually.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, visibly impressed. “Well, consider me impressed. Maybe I’ll join you two sometime—if you’ll have me.”

Alex beamed with pride. “You’re welcome anytime, but don’t expect to keep up!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the earlier heaviness of your shared stories giving way to a light-hearted camaraderie that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The night continued with more stories, jokes, and the easy flow of conversation that only comes when people truly connect.

As the evening drew to a close, and the stars twinkled brightly above Velaris, you felt a deep sense of belonging. This dinner by the Sidra had revealed not just the pasts of the people around you, but had begun weaving your own story into the fabric of their lives. It was the start of something new, something meaningful—both for you and for Alex—and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

tag list: @annamariereads16 @hanatsuki-hime @elsie-bells

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

[vandal-flower]

Great Power Comes with No Responsibilities

Ror men with a powerful but lazy s/o.

Requested by 🦅 anon.

Characters: Qin Shi Huang, Jack the Ripper, Buddha and Loki.

Warnings: A bit of angst in Jack's part. 😶

Notes: Do you think I wrote too much this time?

Scenario:

"Female god reader who is extremely powerful but lazy , lazy in the means she liked to lie down and sleep a lot , if she wants to she could kill zeus and she can be really intimidating but shes soft around them."

Qin Shi Huang

He didn't even notice you were a god.

You looked too exhausted to function, and yet you were ready to fight whomever tried to harm him.

He would take care of any obstacles that would dare present itself to him, but he loves how you sort the situation than he does.

There were times where you offered to lift his curse, but he declined.

According to him, if he as an emperor could not endure this curse, how could he rule a nation.

You haven't heard such wise words from anyone else before. You smile at him, and gently give him a kiss on his head.

No one dares to challenge either of you as they fear the both individually.

In private, he declares his love and loyalty for you, as the two of you embrace each other.

"Even if the Heavens dare to object our love, we'll remain ontop."

Jack the Ripper

He's honestly surprised how someone like you could love a man like him.

He has faced many hardships, threats and much more from people who knew him and those who don't.

However, when it comes to you, he can't help but cry a little at the smallest hint of love and kindness someone has ever given him.

Someone who is even more powerful than Zeus himself. Despite your intimidating nature, he finds it soothing.

Especially when you are so soft around him. He often wonders what he did to be loved and cherished by someone like you.

Many wanted to end his life even before he fought Hercules. He is very thankful that you continue to defend him even with your reputation at stake.

You often don't mind defending him against the other gods, after all he is your lover.

It's unknown how you two got together, but it does not matter as the two of you are head over heels for each other. (Good for you.)

"I don't know what I did to have to have you in my life, but I promise to cherish our time forever my dear."

Buddha

My guy here is taking advantage of the whole situation.

You can't blame him though, he is literally in a relationship with someone who is as strong, if not stronger than a primordial god!

Many wonder how in the world did you end up with someone like him, but seeing how lazy you are, it makes sense.

Often times, when Zeus threatens to punish him, you put Zeus in his place, promising an eternity of pain should he ever hurt your lover.

The smirk on his face says it all. (Me too.)

He is happy at the fact that even though you are powerful enough to defeat Zeus, or any chief god, you don't get arrogant.

Despite how powerful you are, he treats you the same way he treats everyone, just with more affection.

You bet he's telling Jataka about you, and how much he loves you!

"Thanks for taking care of the other gods for me. I'll cuddle you later if you want honeybun."

Loki

Another one on the list of taking advantage of this, however to an even greater degree. (What did you expect?)

Whenever he pranks Thor or Odin, he immediately runs to you. The two can't do anything but give him a death glare.

He's busy giggling his bum off behind your back, as you wake up from your nap and question who woke you up.

He often questions you if Zeus truly is the Grandfather of the Cosmos. To which you reply an exhausted, "No, it's only because he is powerful and looks older than he is."

At first he thought you were a demigod due to how sluggish you were acting. But quickly straightened up after seeing Zeus treat you with more respect than anyone.

He tried pranking you, but you were too tired to notice anything. And when you did notice, it backfired on him, resulting to him being confined in the emergency room.

He definitely thinks you're weird and has voiced this, but knows you won't care either way. He also tries to get a reaction from you.

He likes telling you the latest stories (or gossip) from the Heavens. You sometimes stay awake just to hear them.

"Apparently there was a rumors spreading around about Aphrodite's beauty salon."

I probably wrote too much didn't I.

My inbox is open. Check out my Rules.

[delicatebarness]

but daddy i love him | prologue

Summary: As the daughter of a notorious mob boss, you must balance loyalty, love, and the ever-present danger of concealing a forbidden romance with Bucky Barnes, your oldest brother's closest friend.

Warnings: This story contains themes of secrecy, forbidden romance, and familiar conflict. High School/Mob AU. - Also, a lot of what happens in this series will be done while the characters are underage, for example, alcohol and drug consumption.

Word Count: 1110

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Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: Hello again. So, this is the start of the rewrite of ITHK and Safe & Sound, I have tried to blend the stories together to create a new one. I have added the tag lists from the series below, but please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from this series. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

I Think He Knows: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89 | @itvy5601 | @spider-mans-hoe | @buckys0whore

Safe & Sound: @wintrsoldrluvr | @mostlymarvelgirl | @abaker74 | @scott-loki-barnes | @buckys0whore | @all-will-be-well-love | @cjand10

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

In the heart of New York City. beneath the towering skyscrapers and blinding lights, lay a world where shadows concealed secrets and power whispered through the alleys. As the youngest and only daughter of a city's most notorious mob boss, you’ve learned to live with the constant hum of dangers that surrounded your family’s empire.

Attending Brooklyn Prep, a private high school, you maintain the facade of the diligent student, blending in with the privileged children of New York’s elite. And, beneath your polished exterior lay a hidden truth– your forbidden relationship with Bucky Barnes, your older brother Steve’s best friend. 

The epitome of loyalty and righteousness, Steve saw Bucky as another brother figure in your life. Dismissing any inkling of suspicion, he firmly believed that Bucky saw you as nothing more than a sister. “Bucky’s just looking out for her,” Stever would often reassure your twin brother, Peter, whenever his suspicions surfaced. Yet, you knew the truth. There was a passion that simmered beneath Bucky’s protective facade, your stolen glances and hidden smiles told a different story. 

One afternoon, as the school bell rang, you made your way toward an empty classroom at the end of the hall. The door opened with a creak, and before you could say a word, Bucky pulled you inside. His hand gripped your waist as his lips crashed onto yours. Your knees felt weak as the intensity of his kiss made you melt into his embrace, forgetting for a moment the world outside.

“I’ve missed you, Sunshine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with longing. His hands roamed up your back, pulling you closer. 

“I missed you too,” you whispered back between kisses, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

His kisses became more urgent, his breath hot against your skin. “We need to be more careful,” he muttered, breaking away for a moment, resting his forehead against yours. “Peter’s been watching us again. He almost caught me slipping a note into your locker yesterday.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “I know. He’s suspicious, but Steve… Steve keeps dismissing him.” 

Bucky sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We can’t let our guard down. If Peter finds out… if your father finds out…” 

Placing a finger on his lips, you silenced him. “We’ll be careful, we have to be.” 

Just as your lips met again, the sound of footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Pulling away reluctantly, you straightened your clothing and tried to calm your racing heart. “I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of longing and resolve. 

~

You found solace in the garden of your family’s estate that afternoon. The vibrant blooms and gentle rustle of leaves provide a calm sanctuary for your mind. Sat on a stone bench, under an old oak tree, you lost yourself in a book. The pages offered a temporary escape from the tension of your double life. 

However, the tranquility was short-lived as the sound of abrupt footsteps approached. Glancing up, you see Peter emerging from the shadows– a chill cast over the serene garden. 

“What are you doing out here?”  he asked, his voice dripping with contempt as he approached. His gaze was cold and calculating. 

“Reading,” you replied, keeping your voice steady as you gestured to the book in your hands.

Peter scoffed. “Of course,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the garden. “I wonder if Bucky would be interested in your taste for quiet corners. Or, maybe… he’s already familiar with them.” 

Your grip on your book tightens, your knuckles turning white as his words cut deep. “Leave me alone, Pete.” 

A cruel smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Make me, Princess,” he taunts, seizing the book out of your hands. Frustration coursed through your veins as his actions were fueled by his desire to provoke and intimidate. 

“Give it back,” you demanded, rising to your feet.

Peter laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the garden. “What’s the matter, little sister?” his taunts continued, flipping through the pages. “Can’t handle a little fun?” 

The urge to lash out nearly overwhelmed you as your fists clenched. Thankfully, the years of conditioning yourself to keep your emotions in check and not steep to his level held you back. “Just give it back,” you repeated with a sigh.

His grin widened, thriving on your discomfort. “Or what?” he challenges. “What are you going to do about it?” 

Before you could respond, a voice cuts through the tension, sending both you and Peter snapping your heads around in surprise.

“What’s going on here?” Steve stood at the edge of the garden. An expression mixed with concern and disapproval as his gaze flickered between you and Peter. “Pete, Dad wants a word.” 

Peter hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing in defiance. But, he ultimately tossed the book aside with a dismissive flick of the wrist, indifference spreading across his features. You let out a shaky breath as Peter disappeared back toward the house. The tension drained from your shoulders as you knelt, reaching for your book.

Waiting for Peter to be out of earshot, you turned to Steve with a furrowed brow. “Did Dad really want to talk to him?” 

Solemnly, Steve shook his head. “No, he didn’t. But, if there’s anyone Peter’s scared of, it’s Dad.” 

You nodded. Despite being your twin brother, Peter’s demeanor and motivations often baffled you both. “Thank you, Stevie,” you said softly, your eyes filled with gratitude as you met his gaze. 

~

Later that evening, as dusk settled over the estate, you stole away to a secluded spot in the garden. The spot you had discovered years ago was a blind spot in your father’s security system, a place where the cameras couldn’t reach. It had become your sanctuary, a hidden nook where you and Bucky often met secretly.

The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to the clandestine meeting. Bucky took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “I wish we didn’t have to hide like this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. 

“Me neither,” you whispered back, your heart aching with the weight of secrecy. “But, he’d kill you if he knew.” 

Bucky nodded, his jaw tightening. “I’ll find us a way,” he vowed, his voice unwavering. “I won’t let anyone come between us.” 

You leaned into him and in the quiet sanctuary of the garden, you and Bucky found a brief respite from the tumultuous currents of your lives.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, mentions of shootings

Chris’s POV

It was early Saturday morning when Nate showed up at my place in Somerville, looking like he hadn’t slept a minute. He’d just been let go from the police station after being kept overnight. I could tell from the way his eyes darted around that he was still a little on edge. It wasn’t the first time Nate had found himself in trouble, but this was different. Getting arrested for carrying too much weed while being tied up with our crew was a whole new level of risky.

Nate and I were both part of the Crimson Cartel, a gang deeply embedded in Boston’s streets. His family had been involved for as long as I could remember, and his cousin Danny was one of the big players. I got pulled into it all because of Nate - our friendship was solid, and when he joined, it wasn’t long before I did too. 

“Got a joint, bro?”  Nate asked, his eyes already scanning the kitchen for one.

I laughed. “Seriously? You just got back from being arrested for possession, and you want to smoke up?”

“Hell yeah. What else am I gonna do?” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

I liked the occasional joint. It helped take the edge off, helped me relax when things got too hectic. But that was it - just weed, nothing harder. I knew where to draw the line. Sure, I sold drugs, but I didn’t get involved with any of the other shit. That was strictly for the older guys in the Crimson Cartel. Those were the ones who handled the hits, the intimidation, the gruesome work. They had been in the game for years, hardened by it. Nate and I, we were different.

We were the youngest in the gang - Me being 21, and Nate just 20, everyone else was 30+. We’d been involved since we were 16 & 17. Our job was simple: handle the drug runs, get the product from one place to another. No blood on our hands, no breaking bones or taking lives. It was a clean line, or at least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t in this for the violence. Hell, I wasn’t even in this by choice, one bad decision snowballed, and now this was my life. My family freaked the fuck out when they found out. Kicked me out, didn’t want anything to do with me. That’s how I ended up living with my uncle Jerry, just trying to get by. I guess it helped having an uncle who liked to smoke too.

Just sell it – that’s what I kept reminding myself. I was good at it. I didn’t have to hurt anyone. I didn’t have to be like the older guys who let the gang swallow them whole. I wasn’t a thug, and I wasn’t going to become one. That’s how I stayed sane in all this.

The older guys in the cartel, though – they didn’t think like that. For them, it wasn’t just about the money. It was about power, about making a name for themselves on the streets of Boston. Nate and I didn’t fit into that. We were runners, sure, but we kept ourselves out of the violent shit. Nate had a reckless streak growing up, especially when he was with his cousin Danny, but even he didn’t want to cross that line.

Still, the older we got, the harder it became to stay in our lane. The more we were around, the more they expected from us. Every time I handed off a package, there was always this nagging feeling that eventually, they’d want more. Nate and I had managed to avoid that side of the cartel for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. There’s only so long you can run drugs before they start pulling you deeper in.

The truth was, this life had a way of blurring those lines. Sure, I wasn’t involved in any hits, but I was part of the same machine that funded them. Every deal I made, every bag I handed off, it all contributed to something bigger, something more dangerous. As much as I tried to keep myself at arm’s length from the bloodshed, I was still part of the problem. And deep down, I knew it. But I had to keep telling myself that it was different. That I was different. As long as I stayed on the edges of it, as long as I kept my head down and just did the runs, I wouldn’t have to cross that line. I wouldn’t have to become like Vince or Danny or any of the others who’d let the cartel define them.

We headed out the side gate of my bungalow and settled into the backyard. It was chilly, but the kind of brisk Boston morning you get used to. I pulled out a joint, lit it up, and handed it over as Nate slouched back into one of the old chairs. As he took a deep drag, I asked, “So, what the hell happened?”

He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up into the air. “Man, it was a mess. I was out helping Danny and Sully with a run. You know, just moving some weight, nothing crazy. But then Danny got a call, said one of the big guys from H Block was back in town, and he couldn’t let that slide.”

I nodded, knowing all too well how territorial things had gotten lately between us and H Block.

“So, next thing I know, we’re driving down Charles Street, street was silent as fuck not a sinner on the place. I’d just smoked a joint and was high as hell when Danny starts shooting. I panicked when the shots went off and I hopped out the car. The car took off, and I was stuck there like a damn fool.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “You didn’t try to get back in?”

“Nah, man. They were gone, and I freaked out. I didn’t want to stick around a crime scene, so I ran. Ended up at the Public Garden trying to blend in, but it’s October so I’m sat there freezing my ass off. Eventually, I had to leave, but cops were swarming everywhere and I’m still high as fuck so of course, I run into them.”

I laughed a little at the irony, but it quickly faded when he said, “They nailed me for carrying more than the legal amount of weed and suspicion of selling. And there’s already whispers about me being involved in the shooting. If that gets out, I’m screwed.”

“Jesus, Nate. So, what happens now?” I asked, taking the joint back from him.

“I’ve got until Monday to figure things out. That’s when my court appearance is.” Nate said, leaning back in his chair as though he wasn’t too worried.

I took a deep breath. “So, less than 48 hours?”

He nodded, eyes half lidded as the weed hit him. “Yeah, but my record’s clean. It’s the first time I’ve ever been caught with anything, so I should get off light. Worst case? A fine and some community service. I doubt they’ll throw me in jail.”

I passed the joint back to him. “And they don’t have anything solid linking you to the hit?”

“Not yet, I mean from what I remember no one else was around.” he said, exhaling smoke. “But you know how it is. If they start digging, anything could come up.”

I sat there, processing everything. Nate was right, he might be fine, but there was always the chance the cops would sniff out something worse. “You want me to do anything?”

“Yeah, actually” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m supposed to do a run in Roxbury tomorrow, but with the heat on me, I need to lay low. Can you cover it?”

I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Nate nodded, looking relieved. He gave me the address, and I pulled out my phone to type it into my notes app. As I did, I noticed a drop down notification that made me freeze.

“@y/ny/l/n2 liked your photo.”

I blinked, staring at the screen. Y/n Y/l/n? It had been years since I’d heard that name. Curious, I clicked the notification, but by the time the app loaded, it was gone. There was no mention of her like, no new activity on the post. Weird.

Nate noticed I was distracted. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just.. an old name popped up,” I said, pocketing my phone.

“Old girl?” he teased, a grin forming on his face.

“Something like that” I muttered, still thinking about Y/n. I hadn’t seen or talked to her in years, but I couldn’t deny that her name stirred something in me. We had a brief thing back in 2018, nothing too serious, but I always had a soft spot for her.

Nate eventually decided to head home, needing some rest after his long night in the station. I waved him off, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Y/n. What was she up to these days? Was she still in Boston? Why did she like my post after all this time? What made her look at my Instagram?

That night, I went over everything for the run tomorrow, making sure I had everything in place. But no matter how much I tried to focus, I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n.

She was one of those girls who left a mark on you, no matter how brief things had been. And even though it had been years, I couldn’t help but wonder what seeing her again might be like.

Monday came faster than I expected, and I found myself standing outside the Boston Municipal Court with Nate. He looked calm, or at least as calm as he could be given the situation. But I knew better. Nate always tried to play it cool, even when he was freaking out on the inside.

We hadn’t talked much since Saturday, and I could tell the nerves were starting to hit him now. His foot tapped restlessly on the courthouse steps as we waited for his case to be called. The morning air was crisp, the fall chill creeping in, and it wasn’t helping either of us settle.

“You’ll be fine” I muttered, trying to reassure him.

He gave me a tight smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so. Just gotta get through this.”

When they finally called Nate’s name, we both stood, making our way inside. The courtroom was filled with the usual mix of people – lawyers, family members, defendants. Everyone there for one reason or another, all waiting for their fate to be decided. As much as Nate tried to shrug it off, this was serious. The rumors about the hit on Charles Street were swirling, and we both knew if they got any real evidence, he was screwed.

Nate’s lawyer made a decent argument – first-time offense, clean record, no solid evidence tying him to anything worse than possession. They dragged it out longer than I thought they would, but in the end, the judge gave his ruling.

“A charitable donation of $2,000 and 50 hours of community service” the judge announced, his voice echoing through the courtroom. “Additionally, Mr. Doe, you are expected to refrain from any drug-related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

The words were like a weight being lifted off Nate’s shoulders. He was let off easy. I knew he’d be able to pay the fine without blinking, and the community service? It was nothing. But the whole “refrain from drug-related activities” part? That was funny. We both knew that wasn’t happening. Nate just had to make sure he didn’t get caught.

As soon as the court was adjourned, I felt the tension drain out of me. Nate’s future was safe, for now. I clapped him on the back as we left the courtroom. “See? Not so bad.”

Nate grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, man, I guess I got lucky.”

But even though things had turned out okay, I needed to get out of there. The courtroom felt too small, too confined. I needed air, space to think, and to breathe. I left as fast as I could, practically jogging out of the courthouse doors and into the cool October breeze. It hit me like a wave, and I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head.

That’s when I saw her.

The most strikingly beautiful girl I’d seen in years. A face that was hard to forget. Something in my chest tightened as I watched her walk across the courtyard, almost in slow motion. She was looking down at her phone, completely unaware of my presence.

And then it hit me. I knew that girl.

Wait–Y/n?

The same Y/n I hadn’t seen since 2018. The same Y/n who had been on my mind all weekend after that weird Instagram notification.

My feet were frozen in place, and for a second, I felt like time had stopped. There she was, standing just a few feet away, as if fate had decided to throw us back together after all these years.

Y/n.

What the hell were the odds?

I didn’t know if I should walk up to her or just keep my distance, but before I could make a decision, she looked up from her phone and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat.

There was no avoiding it now.

Y/n’s Pov

"Y/n?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, smooth yet surprised.

I blinked, still in awe of how good looking he still was. He had that same disheveled charm, the messy brown hair, sharp jawline, and those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through me. Only now, he was taller, broader. He had grown into himself, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Chris" I breathed, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "Wow, it’s been a while."

"It really has" he said with that signature smirk of his. "It’s nice to see you. You look great."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Thanks. You too."

We stood there for a moment, just taking each other in. It was surreal, seeing him after all these years. I didn’t even know what to say or where to start.

"So.. what are you doing here?" I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nate got into a bit of trouble, as you probably saw in there. I’m just here to support him."

"Right" I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around everything. Chris and Nate, in court. A few years ago, I never would’ve pictured it, well maybe Nate but not so much Chris.

"How’s life treating you?" he said, eyes scanning me in that way that made my heart flutter. 

"It’s good, actually. Just finishing up a big project for college. Still getting used to all the work, but I like it."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "I’m glad to hear it. You always had your head on straight."

Before I could respond, Nate appeared, walking up to us with his usual nonchalance. He looked at Chris first, then at me, a flicker of recognition passing across his face.

"I’ll wait for you in the car, man" Nate said, slapping Chris on the back before giving me a nod. "Nice seeing you."

I returned the gesture, watching as Nate sauntered off. It was so strange, seeing both of them like this. Nate barely glanced back, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot. My eyes flicked back to Chris, who was still watching me with that familiar intensity.

"We should hang out sometime" he said, almost casually, but there was something more to it.

My stomach did a flip. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Chris smiled, a genuine one that sent my pulse racing again. "You’re still living in Beacon Hill, right?"

I shook my head. "No, we moved once I started college. My parents wanted a bigger house in a quieter area, so we’re out in Brookline now."

He nodded, while giving me a soft smirk. "That’s cool. I’ve still got you on Instagram. I’ll shoot you a message, and we can figure something out."

The casual mention of Instagram made my face burn. He definitely saw the notification. I could feel the heat rising up my neck. But if he knew, he didn’t say anything. He just gave me that same charming smile, one that felt all too familiar.

"Yeah, sounds good" I mumbled, trying to keep my cool.

With one last glance, he gave me a quick nod before turning to leave. I watched as he walked away, feeling the blood rush to my face. The way he moved, the effortless confidence — it all hit me at once.

Chris was back in my life, just like that. And somehow, it felt like things were about to get a lot more complicated.

a/n: first chris povvvv

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69

[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

rules — list the names/titles of docs in your WIP folder + open your inbox to have people ask about them!

@storiesoflilies thank you for the tag lily 🥺 this was so much fun to put together !!! i have way too many wips to put them all here, but i tried to narrow it down to the ones i’ve at least started working on … also didn’t include any drabbles, just fics !!

please feel free to ask about any of them, it’d make my day <333 most of these have been haunting me for…. a while lmao

true love is possible only in the next world

sorcerer!satoru x new hire!reader ; canon au, slowburn, satoru gojo is bad at feelings.

our need grows teeth

bunny!gojo x wolf!reader ; hybrid au, predator/prey dynamics, academic rivals.

i would have told you i was lonely too.

teacher!suguru x curse user!reader ; role reversal au, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers

come, come over here to me, to the place where the fox sleeps

kitsune!geto x reader ; (mild) dark content, imbalanced power dynamic, intense devotion.

the day before yesterday, i saw a rabbit

suguru x reader ; timeloop au, angst, obsession.

i’ll make a house inside of you, i’ll go in through the mouth

wolf/hunter!suguru x little red riding hood!reader ; fairy tale au, (mild) dark content, horror elements, forced captivity (yan!sugu).

be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me)

childhood friend!suguru x reader ; university au, jealousy & pining, fluff.

give a heart to me and flowers for you

cult leader!geto x preschool teacher!reader ; sickening amounts of fluff.

first, consider the hairpin turn

best friend’s brother!kenjaku x reader ; teasing, tension, fractured narrative.

i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door

tactician!kenjaku x monarch!reader ; historical royalty au, secret relationship, blind loyalty

i couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but i wore his jacket for the longest time

naoya x male!reader ; childhood friends, angst, violently homoerotic tension

no pressure tags; @mieiri @satoruxx @stellamancer @nappingmoon @kissxcore @kisstoru 🌷🌷🌷

[thedreadvampy]

I mean fundamentally the thing about Israel/Palestine that makes people uncomfortable is not that "it's complicated" it's that it's extremely fundamentally morally simple, it's just difficult

there is not a morally acceptable solution that will be accepted by the expansionist Israeli government or its allies in Europe and America

the balance of power has remained basically the same since Balfour handed the country over. Israel has the power to displace and kill Palestinians without accountability because it's backed by the majority of major world powers. there's fundamentally no back and forth of power. Palestine and its people were sold from the control of the British to the control of Israel for the political convenience of a bunch of people on different continents. there's no retribution or wrestle for power. Israel has had power over Palestine for decades and Palestine, despite Palestinians occupying the land for millennia, has never had power over Israel.

the fundamentals of the situation are discomforting because Israel is in many ways the last surviving bastion of the type of turn-of-the-century colonialism which the contemporary economy of Britain, America and much of the West is rooted in.

that's why the media and political classes are so invested in the Israeli party line - not because Israel ~controls the media~ or whatever but because the fundamental existence of Israel is the interests of the British ruling class, for example. It is in the interests of the British ruling class that we accept as a basic precept that there are Civilised and Uncivilised nations, and that it is right and good and natural that the Civilised nations should be able to decide the fates of the Uncivilised nations, for their own profit, without brooking any complaint from the Uncivilised Peoples. The structure of Western capitalism requires, as well, that we accept that any number of deaths and any amount of suffering among the Uncivilised Peoples is an acceptable price to pay for the comfort of Civilised Peoples. That's why the media classes are more interested in pearl clutching that somebody slashed up a hack painting of a famously antisemitic and genocidal British lord than in the loss of swathes of priceless and irreplaceable artworks, historical relics and Human Fucking Lives in Gaza.

it isn't complicated. it's just uncomfortable because fundamentally it lays bare the basic reality of colonial capitalism, and generally we in the UK are sort of trying to pretend we're over that whole thing even though we're obviously not, politicians just try to be a bit less obvious about it. so it's discomforting to people to be faced with the rawness of Israel's open colonialism, and so those who can't or don't want to divest from Britain's own ongoing colonial endeavours end up tying themselves in knots trying to justify why it's Fine Actually.

while obviously Israel is a Zionist project so it can no more be decoupled from Judaism than the British empire is decoupled from Christianity, the conflation of Jewishness and Israel is a mostly irrelevant (and harmful) distraction from the underlying Problem With Israel, which is that it's an incredibly 19th century European style of colony in 21st century Asia, and the nature, consistency and ferocity of its colonial project has been pretty unchanged for like 3-4 generations.

but it's a very successful distraction because

a) a lot of people do actually hate Jews a whole bunch so yeah antisemitism is a genuine and legitimate fear, but it doesn't connect to the core issues of genocide, oppression and colonialism (and conflating Israel with Jewishness does play into existing antisemitic ideas of the Jewish perpetual foreigner and perpetual dual loyalty)

b) people want it to be complicated. They don't want it to be simple in a way that would create discomfort for them. We don't want to acknowledge that to free Palestine we'd have to take a hit to our own economies by not selling arms to Israel. We don't want to acknowledge that what's practiced openly in Israel is the same structure of systemic injustice underpinning almost all British and American foreign affairs, but with more of a veil over it. We don't want to challenge the underlying assumption that there are those who should rule and those who should be ruled over. But with the assertion that Israel=Jewishness, and the rewriting of history to say there's an Endless Cycle of Violence on Both Sides, Who Can Say Where It Started Really, you're off the hook! It's Complicated! Who Can Really Say?

(this Who Can Really Say thing is fascinating in itself. It's not like it's ancient history! it's been slightly over a century since the birth of the Israeli project! you can look it up! we have the news articles! we have the correspondence! this is my grandparents' generation not the distant mists of time!)

but yeah like fuck 'Israel controls the media' bullshit. It does not require a Shadowy Jewish Cabal of Puppetmasters to create mass appeasement from the media and ruling class, and if you think that's the best explanation you're fucking gross. The media and political establishment of Europe and the US are not being Controlled By The Wicked Jews. They are colonial projects. Israel is a colonial project. Their interests are aligned. It's not complicated it's So Fucking Simple. Our ruling classes, whether in Tel Aviv, Washington, Westminster or Berlin, are enthusiastically invested in the project of global apartheid. It makes them money. It maintained them power. It is in their interests to preserve the impunity of the occupying state where it shores up the civilised West vs barbarian East paradigm. It is not "too complicated" it's just huge, implacable and miserable to recognise.

[iceandpeaches]

Heyy I was wondering if you could do a Luke castellan x Child of Apollo Reader, where She’s loves her dad so much but gets disappointed by him and joins Luke into joining Kronos and they’re like the evil power couple?

sorry it took so long! also.. sorry for how short it is i’m in a bit of writing block..

you loved your father. you were awfully loyal toward him, defending him at any opportunity that others tried to dull him down. you looked up to him greatly, praying to him everyday and thanking him for everything. some could say you were apollo’s favourite child. there were times that your father disappointed you though.

he had sent you on a quest to retrieve a sacred lyre to restore the balance in the mortal world having to confront rogue demigods who were disrupting this balance. you had picked out luke and another friend of yours to go on this quest with you.

the quest didn’t succeed. you and luke barely made it out alive, but your friend died.

you came home to camp with scarring on your face, which destroyed the sweet apollo child look you always had. your blonde hair was dirty and bloody, dulling your appearance. your brows were furrowed, permanently creased into an angry frown. you were angry, furious even. you hated your father. you wanted nothing to do with apollo. you had lost respect for your father, ranting your distaste to luke.

luke empathised with the dislike, which made you bond with him closer than you had before. so it was no surprise when luke decided to recruit you. destroy the gods, he said. take back our glory, he said. your loyalty towards your father was lost and your loyalty towards luke had grown. of course you joined him. you wanted your revenge.

when luke had revealed himself to be the lighting thief, you were ready to depart from camp to go on the run. you had met up with luke in the woods, escaping with him. for months, you both spent your days recruiting other demigods while having a spy at camp, eventually finding the princess andromeda as residence and base of operation.

years go by and you’re basically luke’s right hand woman. every moment you by luke side, leading the army along side him. there was no turning back for you anymore, you were no longer the sweet and kind apollo girl you once were at camp.

[thewickedjazzy]

⌞𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰⌝

Part I : 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙨

Pairings: Chuuya x mafia boss fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of death, mention of other dimensions (could trigger derealization), please let me know if I forgot any Xx.

Author's note: Hey fellas!! Hope you enjoy my story ahead. Note: It consists of 3 parts. I've been toying with the idea of this story for a while now and honestly I am very satisfied with how it turned out!!

P.s: it's written in a 3rd person perspective.

Word count: 5.7k

In the deepest recesses of the human heart, there exists a haunting paradox: the insatiable thirst for power clashes with the equally profound yearning for connection. These two opposing forces, entwined yet in constant conflict, shaped the existence of a mafia boss who ruled Yokohama's shadowed underworld. Her life was a testament to this struggle—a legacy of power forged in the crucible of blood and betrayal, passed down as both a gift and a curse. Power was her birthright, a mantle she wore with unyielding resolve, yet its weight was a burden she bore in solitude, isolated by the very force that defined her.

At her side, Chuuya Nakahara stood as her most loyal confidant, a kindred spirit shaped by his own battles and scars. In the murky depths of their world, where loyalty was a currency as rare as it was valuable, their bond was forged in the fires of mutual understanding. Yet even with Chuuya's unwavering support, she knew that true power came at a steep price—a cost paid in loneliness and the silent suffering that accompanied her every decision. The shadow of her legacy loomed large, casting its darkness over every connection she sought to make until all that remained was the cold, unyielding pursuit of control.

Chuuya understood this truth with a clarity that bordered on despair. His unwavering loyalty was not merely a matter of duty; it was rooted in a deep, unspoken love that lay buried within the shadows of his heart. This love, a secret he guarded fiercely, was both his greatest strength and his inevitable downfall—a double-edged sword that he could never wield openly.

She, the one who controlled the very fabric of the underworld with her formidable ability, the "Malevolent Marionette," held the power to command not just armies, but the delicate balance between life and death itself. With a mere thought, she could pull the strings of fate, bending the wills of others to her own, yet this power, so absolute in its reach, left her isolated in a world where love was both a weakness and a danger. Chuuya, in his silence, bore witness to her lonely reign, knowing that his love for her could never be spoken, for to do so would unravel the delicate threads that bound their lives together.

In the dimly lit office of the mafia headquarters, the mafia boss was going through some paperwork as usual, on the top floor of the headquarters, her gaze fixed on the writings and patterns of the file she was holding, broke the silence first.

"Chuuya..." she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of unvoiced thoughts, "Do you ever wonder if the price we pay for control is worth it?"

Chuuya, leaning against the edge of the desk, met her eyes with a mixture of solemnity and affection. "Every day," he replied, his voice low but steady.

"But even in this world of shadows, it's your strength that keeps us going. Without it, we'd all be lost."

A fleeting smile touched her lips, but it was a rare moment of vulnerability.

"And yet, even with all the power we wield, it feels as though we’re trapped in a cage of our own making," she murmured.

Their conversation, delicate and laden with the gravity of their shared existence, was abruptly interrupted by a piercing alarm that sliced through the air like a knife. The blaring sound was a sharp reminder of the perpetual danger they faced.

“Alert: Intruder detected,” the automated voice declared with relentless efficiency.

"Ugh, give me a break," the mafia boss muttered, rolling her eyes as the alarm blared incessantly through the headquarters.

The shrill sound grated on her nerves, but it was more of an annoyance than a cause for concern.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as she considered the situation.

Chuuya, already halfway to the door, paused and glanced back at her.

"You really think they’ll get anywhere near us?"

She gave a small, dismissive shake of her head. "They won’t make it past the third floor, let alone reach us up here. But it’s still a nuisance."

Chuuya smirked, his confidence in her words evident.

"I'll handle it quickly, then."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room, the door closing softly behind him. Left alone, the boss exhaled, her eyes drifting to the window where the city sprawled beneath her like a living, breathing entity.

The layers of protection she had built around herself—both physical and emotional—were nearly impenetrable. No one had ever made it to the top floor, where she and Chuuya resided. And no one ever would.

She pushed herself up from the chair, moving to a hidden compartment in the wall.

She pressed a button, and the hidden compartment slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek monitor embedded within.

As she activated the screen, a grid of camera feeds flickered to life, offering her a bird’s-eye view of the entire headquarters. She wasn’t one to micromanage her subordinates—she trusted them, especially Chuuya—but the instinct to keep an eye on things, especially when it involved him, was something she couldn’t quite shake.

Her eyes scanned the feeds, taking in the chaotic scenes unfolding below. The intruders, a small but highly trained group, had made it farther than most. The lower floors were a warzone, with her men locked in fierce combat, but it was clear that they were holding their ground. For now.

She switched to the third-floor feed, her gaze sharpening as she saw Chuuya enter the fray. He moved with lethal precision, a blur of motion as he tore through the intruders with the ease of someone born to fight not using his gravity manipulation ability just yet.

Despite her earlier confidence, a sliver of unease crept into her mind as she watched him. These intruders were no amateurs; they were too coordinated, too familiar with the layout of the headquarters. Her finger hovered over the intercom button, but she hesitated. Chuuya didn’t need her guidance—he was more than capable of handling the situation. Yet, the feeling persisted, gnawing at her as she watched him confront a particularly skilled opponent, their clash sending shockwaves through the walls.

Suddenly, something on one of the other camera feeds caught her attention. A figure, moving with uncanny stealth, had bypassed the bulk of the defenses and was making their way up the emergency stairwell—a route rarely used and known only to a select few. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the intruder was heading straight for the top floor.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, quickly switching the camera view to track the figure’s progress. Whoever this was, they were dangerous—calculated, and possibly someone with inside knowledge.

Without wasting another second, she hit the intercom button, her voice steady but urgent.

"Chuuya, we’ve got a problem. There’s someone headed for the top floor, and they’re taking the emergency stairs."

Chuuya’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with irritation.

"You sure it’s not just another grunt?"

"No," she replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

"This one’s different. They know exactly where they’re going."

There was a brief pause on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath.

"I’m on my way. Don’t do anything reckless."

She smirked at his concern but didn’t argue. "Hurry," was all she said before ending the call.

Her smirk faded as she watched the intruder move with calculated precision through the stairwell, each step deliberate and unhurried. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary assassin. They were heading straight for her, bypassing the usual layers of defense as if they knew exactly where to find her.

Her fingers itched to grab her weapon, but something told her this encounter would require more than brute force.

She had an ability—one she rarely used, because it was as dangerous as it was powerful. But this was different. This intruder was different.

She closed the compartment and stepped away from the monitor, moving to sit on a nearby desk near the door, her senses on high alert.

Every second stretched into an eternity as she waited, listening for the faintest sound of approaching footsteps. Then, just as she had predicted, they stopped right outside her door.

The handle turned slowly, and she felt her heartbeat quicken, her muscles tensing in anticipation. The door opened with an almost deliberate slowness, and the intruder stepped inside—a tall figure cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a dark hood. They paused, surveying the room as if searching for something, before their gaze finally settled on her and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. But instead of striking, the figure remained still, as if weighing their options.

She didn’t wait for them to speak. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I kill you,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding, yet calm, with an underlying edge that promised she would follow through.

The intruder lifted their hands slightly, a gesture of surrender, though there was a calculated caution in the movement. “I’m not here to fight,” they said, their voice muffled by the hood. “I’m here to deliver a message.”

She narrowed her eyes, distrust gnawing at her. “A message?” she echoed. “From who?”

The intruder took a cautious step forward, reaching into their coat. She tensed, ready to strike, but they slowly pulled out a small, sealed envelope instead of a weapon. They held it out to her, and she got up from the desk as she eyed it warily before snatching it from their hand, tearing it open with a swift, practised motion.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, the handwriting elegant but unfamiliar. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, her breath catching as she read the message. It was simple, yet devastating:

" 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦—𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. "

At the bottom of the note was a name—one that sent a cold chill down her spine. Her stepfather. The man who had been a shadowy figure in her life, part of a past she had tried to bury. But he wasn’t buried—he was back, and he had her sister.

The intruder watched her carefully, reading the shift in her expression. “He told me to give you that,” they said, their voice low. “And to tell you that this is just the beginning. If you don’t do as he says… your sister will suffer.”

Her hands tightened around the paper, crumpling it slightly as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t let the intruder see how deeply this cut, couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

“Why should I believe you?” she asked, her tone cold. “How do I know this isn’t some trick?”

“You don’t,” the intruder replied, their voice devoid of emotion. “But you know who he is. You know what he’s capable of. And you know he’s not bluffing.”

She hated how true those words were. She looked at the intruder, her eyes narrowing in calculation. “What’s your role in this?” she demanded. “Why are you helping him?”

The intruder hesitated, then finally pulled back the hood, revealing a face lined with weariness and resolve. “I’m just a messenger. But I know what he wants. He’s not just after you—he’s after Chuuya.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Chuuya? What does he want with him?”

The intruder shook their head. “That’s all I know. My job was to deliver the message and make sure you understood the stakes. What you do next is up to you.”

She stared at the intruder for a long moment, her mind racing. This was no ordinary threat. It was personal, and it was a game she would have to play carefully. Her sister’s life was on the line, and now, Chuuya’s safety was in jeopardy as well.

Finally, she stepped back, allowing the intruder to leave. “Get out before Chuuya gets here” she ordered, her voice icy. “And tell your boss that if he harms her, I’ll burn his entire world to the ground.”

The intruder hesitated, their eyes flicking towards the door as if they were weighing their options. But the cold determination in her voice left no room for argument. With a slight nod, they pulled the hood back over their head, turning to leave the room as quietly as they had entered. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving her alone once more.

As the silence settled back into the room, she let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her sister—her only remaining family—was in the hands of a man she had long thought buried in her past. A man whose very existence she had tried to forget, yet he had resurfaced like a ghost from a nightmare, bringing with him a threat that was as personal as it was terrifying.

After a few seconds the door opened once again as Chuuya stepped into the room, his presence like a force of nature that filled the space. His eyes immediately went to her, scanning her for any sign of hurt.

“What the hell just happened?” Chuuya’s tone was sharp, cutting through the tension that still hung in the air.

She turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, though the turmoil inside her was anything but. “It’s handled,” she replied, her voice calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her. “The intruder was just a messenger.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. He knew her too well to be fooled by her calm exterior. “And what was the message?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for the truth she was trying to hide.

For a moment, she hesitated. The urge to tell him everything—to let him in on the danger that now threatened them both—was strong. But she couldn’t. Chuuya was too important, too precious to her, to risk him being dragged into this mess. Her stepfather was a dangerous man, someone who thrived on manipulation and deceit. If Chuuya knew he was a target, he would rush headlong into the fray, putting himself at risk for her sake. She couldn’t allow that.

She forced a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Just someone trying to stir up trouble. But I’ll take care of it.”

Chuuya’s frown deepened. “Don’t give me that crap,” he snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

She exhaled slowly, knowing she had to give him something to keep him from pressing further. “It’s about my sister,” she admitted, her voice softening. “She’s been taken, and they want me to come for her. Alone.”

The truth in her words wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole story either. Chuuya’s expression shifted from suspicion to anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “Taken? By who?” His voice was low, dangerous, the fury in his eyes barely contained.

“A man from my past,” she said vaguely, refusing to give him the details that would send him charging into danger. “Someone I thought I’d left behind. But he’s come back, and he’s using her to get to me.”

Chuuya’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with determination. “Then we’ll find him,” he growled. “We’ll get her back, and we’ll make him pay for this."

She shook her head, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “No, Chuuya. This is something I have to handle alone. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t let you get involved.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Like hell I’m staying out of this. You’re not facing this bastard by yourself.”

Her grip on his arm tightened, her voice firm. “You have to trust me, Chuuya. I need you to stay close, but out of sight. Let me deal with him. I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

He stared at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He wanted to argue, to demand that she let him fight by her side, but something in her eyes—something resolute and unyielding—stopped him. With a frustrated sigh, he finally nodded, though his reluctance was clear.

“Fine,” he agreed, his voice begrudging. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight. The moment I think you’re in danger, I’m coming in, whether you like it or not.”

She allowed herself a small, genuine smile this time, grateful for his stubborn loyalty. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she replied, her voice softening.

Chuuya’s anger seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced by a deep, unspoken concern. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “I can’t lose you.”

Her heart tightened at his words, and she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between them. She wanted to reach out, to tell him how much his presence meant to her, how much she relied on him, how much she cared about him not because of his ability but rather because of who he is. But there were too many walls between them, too much left unsaid. So instead, she simply held his gaze, letting the silence speak for them both.

The distance between them felt palpable, an invisible barrier made up of all the things they hadn’t yet confessed, of all the emotions they kept locked away for the sake of their precarious world.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before finally placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, almost tentative, as if he was afraid to overstep the boundaries they’d both carefully constructed. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here, not just as your right hand, but… for whatever you need.”

His words hung in the air between them, laced with meaning that went beyond the professional bond they shared. She looked up at him, her breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his eyes. It would be so easy to lean into that touch, to allow herself the comfort of his presence, but the walls she had built around her heart held firm. She had spent so long keeping everyone at a distance, even him, that it felt impossible to let go now.

“Chuuya…” she started, her voice wavering, “you don’t understand how much this means to me. But it’s precisely because I care about you that I can’t afford to let you in too close. The world we inhabit is fraught with dangers—dangers that neither of us can escape unscathed.”

His hand moved from her shoulder to take hers gently, the gesture tender yet firm, as though he was determined to bridge the distance between them, however insurmountable it seemed. “Do you think I’m blind to that?” he replied, a trace of frustration colouring his words, though it was softened by a plea—one that echoed the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “We’ve faced every challenge together until now. I’m not asking you to tear down all your defenses—just to let me in, if only a little. We are stronger when we stand together, aren’t we?”

She turned away slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window where the city sprawled beneath them, a living testament to the power and control she wielded. But even as she looked out over the empire she had built, there was an emptiness, a hollow ache that power could not fill. She had sacrificed so much to be where she was—her freedom, her innocence, her very humanity. And yet, here was Chuuya, offering her something she had long forgotten how to grasp: connection.

"Chuuya," she said, her voice barely audible, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. "In our world, everything is a transaction. Loyalty, trust, and even love—they all come at a price. I’ve always believed that the cost was too high. That to let anyone in was to invite ruin."

He didn’t respond immediately, allowing the silence to stretch between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "Maybe that’s true," he admitted, "but maybe the price of keeping everyone out is even higher. We think we’re protecting ourselves by building these walls by staying distant, but all we’re doing is trapping ourselves in a cage of our own making as you always refer to it."

She smiles and nods. He was right... of course, he was right, yet she couldn't help but stay in that cage.

The night draped over Yokohama like a shroud, its darkness suffused with the ominous weight of impending tragedy. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the distant echo of sirens—harbingers of chaos that had become all too familiar. In the heart of this city, where shadows wove their own intricate dance, a final confrontation was brewing.

She had indeed managed to save her sister, wresting her from the clutches of the man who had once been a silent specter in her past. Her stepfather—whose dark presence had loomed over her life like a persistent nightmare—stood before her now, his power radiating like a malignant force that threatened to engulf everything she held dear. His ability to subsume other powers was a fearsome weapon, a black hole of dominion that threatened to consume all in its path.

The battle that ensued was a tempest of ferocity and desperation. She fought with the strength of a woman who had everything to lose, her every move fueled by a fierce, protective love for her sister. But as the confrontation dragged on, it became clear that her stepfather's power was overwhelming—an abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.

In a final, desperate bid to secure her sister’s safety, she made the agonizing decision to invoke the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability. The room was filled with a sombre silence as she whispered the usual incantation, her voice trembling with the weight of her resolve.

The master puppet, an intricate symbol of her ability, materialized in the center of the room—a dark, foreboding figure that seemed to pulse with an ancient, dangerous energy.

Her connection to the puppet was immediate and intense. The energy surging through her was both exhilarating and terrifying. The puppet’s power was immense, a dark purple tide that surged through her veins, promising the ability to reshape the world itself if she so wished. But the cost was steep—five minutes of devastation, followed by her own inevitable demise if the puppet was not destroyed.

The minutes ticked by like a slow, relentless drumbeat, each second a harbinger of doom. She fought valiantly, her power a raging inferno that lashed out at her stepfather, but he remained an insurmountable force, his power too great to be overcome. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each exhalation a reminder of the ticking clock that governed her fate.

Chuuya stood at the edge of the shadows, his heart pounding with a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaotic storm raging within him. He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, his every muscle tense with a blend of fear and frustration. The stakes had been too high, and he knew that his absence, though well-intentioned, was a gamble with dire consequences. The reality of their world was unforgiving, and he could sense the weight of his decisions settling heavily upon him.

As he watched the building, a sudden flicker of purple neon light cut through the darkness, casting an eerie glow over the structure. The light pulsed rhythmically, a harbinger of something both powerful and dangerous. His blood ran cold as he realized the significance of the display. It was a sign—a signal that she had invoked the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability —the very ability they had always relied on him to control, to destroy.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and his heart raced with a desperate urgency.

The purple lights, casting long, twisted shadows, illuminated the building’s facade like a harbinger of doom. Chuuya could see from afar her silhouette, framed against the intense glow. Her movements were determined, each gesture a testament to the raw, untamed power she wielded.

Without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted toward the building, his every step fueled by a mixture of fear and determination. The forest trees blurred past him as he raced towards the source of the light, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Each heartbeat seemed to echo with the dread of what he might find.

The building loomed ahead, its once-sturdy facade now a chaotic wreckage. Debris littered the ground, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and destruction. Chuuya burst through the entrance, his senses assaulted by the aftermath of the battle. The interior was a scene of devastation, the walls scorched and twisted from the unleashed power.He pushed forward, navigating through the wreckage with a sense of grim determination. His eyes scanned the ruinous landscape, searching for any sign of her. The purple neon light was now fading, its power waning as the last vestiges of the ritual played out. His heart sank as he approached the center of the chaos, where the battle had reached its climax.

There, amidst the debris and ruin, he found her. She stood amidst the wreckage, her form silhouetted against the dying glow of the purple light. Her stepfather lay defeated at her feet, the battle won but at an unimaginable cost. Her eyes, once filled with the fierce resolve of a warrior, now bore the hollow emptiness of someone who had sacrificed everything.

Chuuya's breath caught in his throat as he approached her, his mind struggling to process the sight before him. She had succeeded in her mission, but the power of the "Malevolent Marionette" had taken its toll. The puppet, a manifestation of her ability, had exacted a price that was painfully clear. She had unleashed a force of destruction that could only be contained by her own life force, and now, as the ritual’s effects began to consume her, it was clear that the cost was far greater than he had ever imagined.

Her gaze met his, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. "Chuuya..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of the power that had once surged through the building. There was a finality to her tone, an acceptance of the fate that had been sealed by her own choices.

His heart ached as he moved to her side, reaching out in a futile attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between them. He had wanted to protect her, to shield her from the worst of their world, but in doing so, he had failed her in the most crucial moment. The realization hit him with a crushing weight—his absence had led to a loss he could never fully comprehend.

As she fell to the ground, her strength waning, he held her in his arms, the enormity of the situation crashing down around him. The world they had fought to protect was now a stark reminder of the cost of their choices, the price of power and love interwoven in a tapestry of tragedy. The light of the neon glow faded, leaving only the echoes of their struggle and the heavy silence of a world forever changed.

In that moment, Chuuya held her close, his tears mingling with the dust and debris that surrounded them.

“Y/N, hold on… You can do this. You’ve got to hang on... I will destroy the puppet. Where is it?” His voice was ragged, strained by the relentless tide of his grief, an anguished plea that seemed to reach out into the void.

She looked at him with eyes growing dim, her strength ebbing away like a fading tide. She reaches out, placing her hand softly on his right cheek. "It’s too late now, Chuuya," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "Please, take care of my sister and the mafia... I leave everything to you." Her words, though soft, carried the finality of a conclusion drawn long before, as the life drained from her. Her hand hit the ground lifelessly.

" I didn't even have the chance to kiss you. To tell you how much I loved you. Don't leave me alone in this cruel world! " He buries his face into the crook of her lifeless neck sobbing and holding her close.

Chuuya's heart shattered as he clung to her, his voice breaking with anguished regret. "I didn’t even get the chance to hold you in my arms, to wake up to you by my side, to tell you how deeply I loved you. Don’t leave me... please..." His sobs wracking his body, a poignant lament for a love left unspoken and a future now lost.

"You lied to me... you promised me that you'd take care of yourself... please...Y/N..." His plea hung in the air, a raw cry against the encroaching silence of her fading life.

The love they had fought to maintain, the connection they had both yearned for—it had all came to an end. As the life drained from her, he could only hold onto the bittersweet memory of what they had shared, knowing that their story had ended in a way he could never have anticipated.

Days passed, each one marked by the hollow ache of Chuuya’s grief. The world continued its indifferent march, but for him, time seemed to stand still in the wake of her loss. He took on the mantle of the mafia boss, a role he had never imagined he would assume, and every decision he made was imbued with the weight of her absence. Her sister was safe, and the organization continued to function, but the emptiness within him remained a chasm that no amount of power or responsibility could fill.

Each night, the office became a sanctuary of despair. Subordinates whispered among themselves, noting the sound of Chuuya’s sobs echoing through the walls. The man who had once been a pillar of strength and resolve was now a figure haunted by his own sorrow, his once-unshakable confidence replaced by a profound and unrelenting grief. The weight of leadership was no solace, only a reminder of the price he had paid.

Every evening, after the office was empty and the city below was cloaked in darkness, Chuuya would make his way to her grave. It was a ritual born of both reverence and desperation—a desperate need to keep her memory alive, to bridge the gap between the living and the dead. There, in the quiet of the cemetery, he would sit beside her grave, speaking to her as if she could hear him.

He would recount the events of his day, the decisions he had made, the struggles he faced as the new head of the mafia. His words were a mixture of mundane details and heartfelt confessions, a dialogue with the shadows of the past.

"Today, we had another power struggle," he would say softly, his voice trembling as he knelt by her grave. "I managed to keep things under control, but it’s never the same without you. I find myself longing for your guidance, for your presence... I’m lost without you."

With each visit, his words became a testament to the depth of his love and the void she had left. The cemetery, once a place of finality, became a space where he could grapple with his grief, where the echoes of their shared past offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his pain.

And so, Chuuya continued his vigil, bound by the promise he had made and the love that remained unspoken but ever-present. His heart, though heavy and broken, remained steadfast in its devotion to the woman who had been his greatest challenge and his deepest love.

Then came a day like no other. The world trembled as a force beyond comprehension began to assert its presence. A powerful opponent, whose ability was as arcane as it was formidable, had managed to tear through the fabric of reality itself. This adversary wielded a piece of the reality book, a relic of unimaginable power capable of opening gateways between dimensions. As the fabric of their universe rippled and shifted, a rift emerged, a slit in the world that shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly light.

Chuuya stood on the precipice of disbelief in a scattered forest, his heart pounding as the dimensions collided. The air crackled with energy, and he could feel the weight of something monumental happening. His gaze was drawn to the rift, which grew wider, revealing glimpses of another universe beyond—a place of stark contrasts and unfamiliar landscapes.

And then, through the growing breach, he saw her.

There she was, a vision that defied all logic and reason. She stood amidst the chaotic light, her form illuminated by the strange, shimmering energy of the other universe. She looked different, her appearance altered by the peculiarities of the alternate realm, yet it was unmistakably her. Her presence was a beacon in the tumultuous void, a sight that sent a shudder through Chuuya’s very soul.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to cease its relentless march. Time itself appeared to hold its breath as he gazed at her, his emotions a tempest of disbelief, hope, and an unspoken yearning. He reached out, his fingers trembling as if he could touch the fabric of reality and pull her through.

Her eyes met his, and in that fleeting, impossible moment, there was recognition—a silent communication that transcended the barriers of space and dimension. Her expression was one of both sorrow and solace, a reflection of the love and loss that had bound them together in life and now, impossibly, in death.

The sudden, disorienting realization that had hit them both was almost too much to comprehend. Standing at the edge of the rift, they locked eyes, their shared astonishment mirroring each other’s disbelief.

"Boss...?" they both said in unison, their voices echoing in the charged air of the fractured reality. The word was spoken with a mixture of reverence and confusion, as if the title held a gravity that transcended their own worlds.

A/N : Hope you enjoyed it, fellas! Let me know if I shall continue? I'm very excited to finish writing part 2!!!

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara ?

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑬𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑲𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  so, i sort of started a civil war ...  ❜ ❛  i am so sorry for turning my back on you as my mentor.  ❜ ❛  i needed to understand what real suffering was, so i could become more compassionate to others.  ❜ ❛  what's the big idea with making me train this early in the morning? the morning is evil.  ❜ ❛  oh, i'm sorry. did i put you in a difficult position by fighting the giant force of pure evil that was going to destroy the whole world? maybe your administration could have handled that.  ❜ ❛  fighting is something the old me would do. that always made things worse.  ❜ ❛  let's go on a vacation, just the two of us. anywhere you want.  ❜ ❛  it's all right. people usually assume that i'm daddy's helpless little girl, but i can handle myself.  ❜ ❛  the world is in trouble ... i have to go help.  ❜ ❛  i'm impressed. no one has ever gotten the better of me like that.  ❜ ❛  i assure you, i have a plan. and i'm saving you for last; then you'll get your duel, and i will destroy you.  ❜ ❛  when we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change.  ❜ ❛  i did what i had to do to survive and protect my little brother.  ❜ ❛  and ... what am i going to find if ... i get through this?  ❜ ❛  we should always learn from those who came before us, but we must also forge our own path.  ❜ ❛  why don't you come and find out?  ❜ ❛  if you look for the light, you can often find it. but if you look for the dark, that is all you will ever see.  ❜ ❛  you need to make decisions based on what you want. don't make the same mistakes i did.  ❜ ❛  i don't know what i'm supposed to be doing half the time.  ❜ ❛  right, friends. no, no, i didn't mean to imply.  ❜ ❛  i do like the idea of putting you on a train and sending you far, far away.  ❜ ❛  you need me, but i don't need you.  ❜ ❛  you swore your loyalty to me and i gave you a chance at greatness. this is how you repay me?  ❜ ❛  i told you dating a teammate would be a bad idea.  ❜ ❛  stick around five minutes and you'll find out who's bluffing.  ❜ ❛  wait! we can't fight them all. we need to be smart about this.  ❜ ❛  you know, it's okay to be scared. the important thing is to talk about our fears, because if we don't, they throw us out of balance. i'm always here for you, if you want to talk.  ❜ ❛  what i'm trying to say is, as much as you drive me crazy ... i also think you're pretty amazing.  ❜ ❛  see, that's what i admire about you, [ name ]: your willingness to go to extremes in order to get what you want. it is a quality we both share.  ❜ ❛  ending a relationship is kind of like pulling off a bloodsucking leech. you just gotta rip it off and get it over with. you'll feel a lot better afterwards. trust me.  ❜ ❛  don't tell me you are still mad about everything that happened?! i did some good things, too!  ❜ ❛  all right, hold on. will you quit ignoring me and tell me what's going on?  ❜ ❛  how about, for now, i just promise not to show up at your house and attack you again?  ❜ ❛  what would you do, if you were in charge? help me be more like you.  ❜ ❛  i wish you were putting up more of a fight, but it was still fun.  ❜ ❛  please, just let me say one thing, then i'll never contact you again.  ❜ ❛  i'm not sure i'll ever be able to forgive you. but that doesn't mean i shouldn't try.  ❜ ❛  i came here to look you in the eye and tell you that you have no power over me. i will no longer be scared of you.  ❜ ❛  but if you had any other options, you wouldn't be here now, would you? we may have been enemies once, but for now, our interests align.  ❜ ❛  you don't have to apologize for anything. i'm just so happy you're here now.  ❜

[wandasreallover]

Threads of Resilience

Wandanat x reader

Warnings: i dont believe there is any?

The world was a tempest of chaos and uncertainty, a battlefield that stretched far beyond the physical realm. For many, every day was a struggle against the shadows of the unknown. But for you, there was a flicker of warmth amidst the coldness—the two women who had fought alongside you through countless trials: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff.

You didn’t know when you had fallen for them, or even how it had happened. Perhaps it was the way Wanda shifted the winds with her mind, weaving reality into existence with a mere thought. Or maybe it was Natasha’s fierce loyalty, her unwavering resolve that drew you in, like a moth to the flame. Whatever the reason, love had nestled itself in your heart, its roots digging deep, intertwined with comfort and solace.

Yet, today felt different. The weight of the world pressed down upon you like an unrelenting force as you sat on the edge of the couch in your shared living quarters at the Avengers compound. You could hear the faint hum of power sources and the flurry of activity beyond the walls. Outside, the world was still trying to recover from the battle that had left scars on both earth and soul, but within you, a deeper battle raged.

"Hey, you okay?" Natasha's voice broke through the fog of your thoughts, her eyes searching yours with a fierce concern that made your heart skip. Dressed in her usual black attire, with her hair cascading in soft waves, she looked every bit the formidable warrior, yet here she was, softening into a supportive presence.

You forced a smile but the weight behind it faltered. "Just tired," you murmured, hoping it would end there.

Natasha’s hand reached out, gently squeezing yours. “Tired of fighting. Tired of all of it,” she said, her voice a soothing balm that soothed the cracks in your heart. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know? We’re all fighting our battles.”

Before you could respond, a burst of energy flared up, and Wanda appeared, her crimson attire blending seamlessly with the energy around her, wild strands of magic weaving through the air. “I could feel you, my love.” She approached with a mixture of concern and determination. “What’s bothering you?”

Her presence was like a candle flickering in the dark, illuminating the shadows you had been trying to hide from your soulmates. But you weren’t ready to bare your burdens yet. You shook your head softly. “It’s nothing, really. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking too much,” Natasha interjected, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Come here.”

You let them pull you into their embrace, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you like a shield. Wanda’s soft voice hummed a comforting tune while Natasha rested her chin atop your head, her grip grounding you.

In that moment, the barriers began to dissolve. “I just feel… lost,” you finally confessed, words tumbling out like marbles that scattered through the air. “After everything, I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

Wanda’s fingers paused in their gentle weaving of magic as she listened intently. “You belong with us, here. But you need to feel that, feel it in your soul,” she said, her tone sincere.

Natasha gently tilted your chin up, her green gaze piercing into yours. “You’re not alone. You never have been and never will be as long as we’re together. We’ll face this together, no matter what.”

“But what if I can’t find my way? What if I’m just a burden?” Your voice faltered as tears threatened to spill, the weight of your insecurities crashing over you.

“Listen,” Wanda said, a glimmer of determination sparking in her expression. She moved closer, creating a small bubble of intimacy. “Every battle we have fought has its own scars, but they don’t define us. They remind us of what we’ve overcome. You are stronger than you know.”

Natasha nodded, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. “And burdens? We all carry them. But we also help each other carry those burdens. You’re never a burden to us.” Her voice turned softer, more intimate. “You are our light, our joy. You breathe life into this place.”

That was the moment when it clicked in your heart—their love was a force of nature, unyielding and bright. You grasped tightly to Wanda’s sleeve and Natasha’s hand, feeling the solidarity of their presence. Their faith in you fortified your spirit, helping the brittle edges of your heart mend.

“No more hiding,” you declared, feeling a surge of strength in your voice. “I want to let go of this doubt. I want to start fresh. But I’ll need you both.”

Natasha’s smile radiated warmth. “We’re with you, always,” she vowed, pulling you tighter into their embrace as Wanda hummed a melody that spoke of peace and healing.

“Let’s have a night to ourselves,” Wanda suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “No missions, no threats—just us. We can bake, watch movies, anything you like.”

You laughed softly at the sudden shift in mood, the idea of retreating into your own little bubble of comfort both enticing and empowering. “That sounds perfect.”

As the night unfolded, laughter echoed through the compound. There were flour fights in the kitchen, playful jabs regarding baking skills, and a cacophony of terrible singing during movie time. In moments of chaos and joy, your heart felt lighter, free from the burdens that had weighed it down.

Later, as the three of you nestled together on the couch, the tender warmth of their presence enveloping you, you realized that your world, once blurred by uncertainty, was now filled with colors you never knew existed. The shadows may remain, but with Wanda and Natasha by your side, you were ready to face them head-on.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the soft sounds of their breathing intertwined with the joy of companionship, you embraced the truth—that in love and comfort, you had found your way home.

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.6k

warning; blood, vomit °°3

notes; hello hello everyone, here is the part 3 a bit earlier this time ! Please take into account the warnings it's nothing to big but I rather mention them before. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment (I'm down to see if you guys have some theories for the next parts :)) ) or ask to be on the tag list ;)) See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 2 or part 4

---

The morning sun had barely risen over Velaris when you began preparing for your trip to the Winter Court. The crisp air carried a hint of frost, a promise of the cold that awaited you in Kallias’s domain. Your latest commission was an intricate and challenging one—a weapon requested personally by the High Lord of the Winter Court. The order was for a ceremonial glaive, crafted with a blade of shimmering, icy blue steel that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was designed to resemble the ancient trees of the Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length, meeting a pommel embedded with a crystal that glittered like freshly fallen snow.

You admired the weapon one last time as you packed it carefully in a protective case. The glaive was a masterpiece, a blend of artistry and power that you were proud to deliver personally. But as you were finalizing your preparations, Alex approached you, his expression a mix of determination and concern.

“Nana, I think I should stay in Velaris,” Alex began, his tone firm despite the lingering traces of the boyish enthusiasm he usually carried. “The shop needs someone here, and I can handle things while you’re gone.”

You paused, turning to face him fully. “Alex, it’s not just about the shop. Leaving you on your own in Velaris for a week, it’s not safe.”

Alex crossed his arms, his brows furrowed in a way that reminded you of your younger self. “But Nana, you’re the one who taught me how to take care of myself. And besides, business is going great! We can't afford to close the shop for a week, maybe even longer. I can just tell customers that we’re temporarily closed for new orders, but that we are still selling regular weapons.”

You sighed, considering his words. “It’s not just about the money, Alex. It’s about making sure everything stays secure. The shop, our work, you—it’s all important.”

Alex stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “And that’s exactly why I should stay. I know how much this place means to you, to us. I’ll make sure nothing happens, I promise. Stellan can stay with me for protection, and you know he’s more than capable of keeping any trouble away.”

You glanced at Stellan, who was lounging nearby, his dark eyes watching the conversation with quiet understanding. The direwolf had been your protector for years, and you knew that with him by Alex’s side, there was little to fear.

“But Alex, you’re still young. I can’t help but worry,” you said softly, your concern evident in your voice.

Alex’s expression softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I know, Nana. But you’ve trained me well. I can handle the shop, and Stellan will keep me safe. Besides, I’ll just be here in Velaris—it’s not like I’m going anywhere dangerous. You’ll be back before I know it, and everything will be just fine.”

You hesitated, the protective instinct within you clashing with the knowledge that Alex was more capable than you sometimes gave him credit for. The truth was, he was right. Business was good enough that closing the orders for a week wouldn’t be a disaster, and with Stellan at his side, the risks were minimal.

Finally, you sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement. “Alright, Alex. You can stay, but promise me you’ll be careful. No taking on new orders, just handle any clients who come by and tell them we’re temporarily closed for them. And if anything happens—anything at all—you send word to me immediately.”

A grin spread across Alex’s face, a mix of relief and excitement. “I promise, Nana. I won’t let you down.”

You smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I know you won’t, Alex. Just remember, Stellan’s there to protect you, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. I’ll be back before you know it.”

As you finalized your preparations, you brought Stellan downstairs, where he immediately positioned himself near Alex, his massive frame a comforting presence. “Keep an eye on him, Stellan,” you said softly, rubbing the direwolf’s head. Stellan’s eyes met yours, and you felt reassured by the silent understanding between you.

With everything settled, you turned to Alex once more. “I’ll leave early tomorrow. You know where the emergency contacts are, and if anything comes up, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Alex nodded, his expression serious now that the plan was set. “I’ve got it covered, Nana. Just focus on your trip and getting that amazing glaive to Kallias.”

You smiled, feeling a mixture of pride and a hint of anxiety as you realized how much Alex had grown. “Thank you, Alex. I’ll bring you back something from the Winter Court.”

Night had fallen over Velaris, and the familiar routine of winding down the day had set in. You were seated in your bed, sketchbook open on your lap as you meticulously worked on the designs for your next project. The soft light of the moon filtered through the curtains, mingling with the warm glow of the candles, creating a peaceful ambiance. Alex was fast asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even, the day’s events having worn him out.

Stellan, ever vigilant, lay at the foot of the bed, his eyes half-closed but his senses still sharp. As you sketched, you felt a deep sense of contentment, the tranquility of the moment wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. But that peace was suddenly shattered.

Within seconds, the atmosphere in the room changed. The air felt thicker, charged with something ominous that set your nerves on edge. Stellan’s ears shot up, his body tensing as a low growl rumbled from deep within his chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you felt a chill run down your spine.

Before you could react, a dark shadow coalesced in the corner of the room, and Azriel, the shadow singer, materialized before you. His face was grim, his usual calm demeanor replaced with urgency. "We need you," he said, his voice clipped and direct, wasting no time on pleasantries.

Without another word, he reached for your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. The world around you blurred as shadows enveloped you both, and in the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your apartment.

You arrived at the House of Wind, the sudden change in surroundings leaving you momentarily disoriented. The grand, familiar architecture did nothing to ease the confusion swirling in your mind. Azriel was already moving, his expression dark and unyielding as he led you down a corridor.

"Azriel, what’s going on?" you demanded, struggling to keep up with him. The urgency in his movements only heightened your anxiety. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I don’t have time to explain," he replied, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "You’ll understand when you see it."

That statement did nothing to calm your nerves, but you followed him without further question, your heart pounding in your chest. The path he led you down seemed endless, the tension in the air growing thicker with each step. Finally, he pushed open a heavy door and ushered you inside.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of herbs and something far less pleasant—blood. Your eyes immediately landed on Rhysand, who stood near the bed with a look of barely-contained worry. Madja, the healer, was at his side, her face set in grim determination. But it was the sight of Cassian that made your breath catch in your throat.

He was lying on the bed, his usually powerful and imposing figure reduced to a broken and battered state. His wings, once magnificent and strong, were shattered—twisted at unnatural angles, with blood staining the once-proud feathers. The sight was enough to bring a sharp gasp to your lips, your hand instinctively covering your mouth.

Madja’s eyes met yours, and in that moment, you understood why Azriel had brought you here. There was no hesitation in her voice as she spoke. "Y/N, we need your power. You’re the only one who can heal him."

Your heart raced, fear and uncertainty clawing at your insides. You had never used your abilities on something this severe before, and the mere thought of it sent a wave of doubt crashing over you. But as you looked at Cassian, writhing in pain and clinging to consciousness, you knew there was no other choice.

Steeling yourself, you stepped forward and surveyed the state of his wings. The damage was extensive, and you knew that to heal them properly, you needed to use your power to its full potential—a process that required something very specific.

You turned to Azriel, your gaze falling on the blade at his side. "Truth-Teller," you said, nodding toward the dagger.

Azriel hesitated for a moment but then handed you the blade without question, his eyes dark with concern. Taking a deep breath, you positioned yourself over Cassian, holding your arm above his wings. With a swift motion, you made a shallow cut along your forearm, letting your blood drip onto the mangled wings below.

Azriel's eyes widened as blue flames flickered to life where your blood touched, spreading over Cassian’s wings. "Y/N, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You glanced at him, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Don’t worry. The fire doesn’t burn—it heals."

As the flames grew, their warmth enveloping Cassian’s broken wings, you focused all of your energy on mending the shattered bones and torn flesh. The process was intense, your body straining under the effort as the flames worked their magic, knitting together what had been broken.

But as the flames did their work, a frown creased your brow. Something wasn’t right. You could feel it—a lingering darkness that wasn’t being touched by your fire. Once the wings were fully healed, you stepped back, still frowning as you scanned Cassian’s body for the source of the disturbance.

"Rhysand, Azriel," you said, your voice tense, "help me turn him over."

They moved quickly, carefully shifting Cassian onto his back. You placed one hand on his face and the other over his heart, closing your eyes as you focused on the strange, dark presence that clung to him.

Madja watched you closely, her expression filled with concern. "Y/N, what’s going on? What do you feel?"

Your eyes snapped open, and without answering her, you leaned down, your instincts guiding you as you pressed your lips to Cassian’s mouth. The taste was bitter, acrid, and wrong. You inhaled sharply, feeling the dark presence surge up, and with a gag, you spit out a thick, black liquid.

But it wasn’t over. You reached into Cassian’s mouth, your fingers searching, feeling for the source of the darkness. Your hand closed around something cold and solid, and with a grimace of effort, you began to pull. 

A long, snake-like spirit, dark and twisted, slithered from Cassian’s throat, its form writhing in your grasp. It fought against you, but you held firm, your determination outweighing the horror of what you were doing.

"Hold him straight!" you commanded, urgency in your voice.

Rhysand and Azriel quickly moved to hold Cassian upright, their faces etched with shock and concern. As they did, Cassian began to vomit, thick black liquid spewing from his mouth and covering you as you knelt in front of him. You didn’t flinch, your focus entirely on the cursed spirit in your hand.

With a final, forceful pull, you yanked the spirit free from Cassian’s body. It writhed in your grip, hissing and snapping, but it was powerless outside of its host. You held it aloft, the dark entity thrashing violently as you turned to the others.

Rhysand, covered in a mixture of concern and gratitude, stared at you, his voice calm but firm. “I think we all need some explanations, Y/N."

Breathing heavily, your body and clothes drenched in Cassian’s vomit and the remnants of the cursed spirit, you nodded wearily. "I’ll explain everything," you said, glancing down at yourself with a hint of exasperation. "But first... I need a shower. I’m still covered in Cassian’s… well, everything.”

—— 

Rhysand led you through the winding halls of the House of Wind, his pace measured and deliberate. The tension from the night’s events lingered in the air, a heavy reminder of the seriousness of the situation. He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a room that was both elegant and functional, with the understated luxury typical of Velaris.

The room was furnished with deep, rich fabrics, the bed draped in dark, sumptuous linens. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the walls. A balcony at the far end of the room offered a breathtaking view of Velaris, the city’s lights twinkling like stars against the backdrop of the night sky. Beyond, the Sidra River glimmered in the moonlight, its gentle flow a calming presence.

Rhysand gestured toward an adjoining door. “The bath is through there. Take your time, Y/N. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You nodded, your body aching with exhaustion and your mind still spinning from the events that had just transpired. As you entered the bathroom, you were greeted by the sight of a grand, sunken bath made of smooth marble. The water was already drawn, steaming gently and scented with soothing herbs that filled the air with a calming aroma.

You sank into the bath, letting the warmth seep into your bones, washing away the grime and tension. The soft light of candles flickered around you, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus soothing your frazzled nerves. As you soaked, you allowed your thoughts to drift back to that night long ago when everything had changed.

You had been just a child, wandering through the woods late at night. The night was alive with shooting stars, bright streaks of light cutting across the dark sky. You’d been entranced, watching the stars fall when you stumbled upon a glowing entity lying in a small crater, its form otherworldly and beautiful. It was like a scene from a dream, the world around you shimmering with magic.

The creature had been weak, its light flickering like a dying flame. It had reached out to you, a small, scared girl, asking for your help in a voice that echoed in your mind rather than your ears. You hadn’t understood the full weight of the decision at the time, but you had agreed to help it, to take it into yourself, binding its essence to yours. From that night forward, you were never the same.

After your bath, you stepped out and found a set of clothes laid out for you—fitting for Velaris, yet with a touch of practicality that matched your own preferences. A tailored tunic of deep indigo, embroidered with subtle patterns, paired with fitted leather pants that allowed for ease of movement. A sturdy yet elegant belt completed the outfit, cinching at your waist with a silver clasp. It was both comfortable and suited for someone who needed to be ready for anything.

Once dressed, you stepped out onto the balcony for a moment, letting the cool night air brush against your face. The view from the House of Wind was nothing short of spectacular, the city of Velaris spread out beneath you like a sparkling jewel. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to breathe in the peace of the night, to let the beauty of Velaris ground you before you had to face the others.

When you returned to the main room, Rhysand was seated near the fireplace, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. Azriel stood off to the side, half-hidden in the shadows, his gaze flickering toward you as you entered. He didn’t sit but remained in the shadows, a silent sentinel. There was something different in the way he looked at you now—something intense, as if he were seeing you in a new light.

You moved toward them, your steps measured as you took a seat across from Rhysand. The silence between you all was thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken questions and the lingering shock of what had just occurred.

“How’s Cassian?” you asked, breaking the silence, your voice quieter than usual.

Rhysand’s expression remained neutral, his violet eyes sharp and assessing. “Madja is with him. He’s stable, thanks to you. His wings will heal in time, and the curse… whatever it was, is gone.”

You nodded, relief mixing with the residual tension in your chest. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Rhysand’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued, his tone calm but probing. “Madja told us about the healing flames, but what you did tonight—extracting that curse—it’s something we didn’t expect. We need to know, Y/N. How is it possible?”

You took a deep breath, the memories of your past stirring once more. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you, a strange, unreadable intensity in his gaze that only added to the tension in the room. But you pushed it aside, focusing on the question at hand.

“We all make mistakes,” you began, your voice steady, though the weight of the words pressed heavily on you. “When I was young, I made a contract with a creature that fell from the sky. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before—an entity of pure power, beautiful and terrifying.”

Rhysand leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable as he listened. “A contract?”

You nodded, your gaze distant as you recalled that night in the woods. “I was just a little girl, alone and afraid. I was out in the woods, mesmerized by the falling stars when I stumbled upon this creature. It was weak, dying, and it asked for my help. It needed a host—someone to share its power with, in exchange for life. I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to, but I said yes. I took its essence into me, and from that moment on, it became a part of me.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he remained silent, his posture tense. There was something almost protective in the way he watched you, though he kept his distance, as if struggling with his own thoughts.

Rhysand’s gaze remained steady, assessing you as you spoke. “And that’s how you gained your abilities.”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “The creature’s power is vast, but it’s also dangerous. I’ve had to learn to control it, to keep it from consuming me. The blue flames you saw—they’re just one aspect of it. But tonight, with Cassian… I could feel the curse inside him, a darkness that my flames alone couldn’t touch. I had to draw it out, to confront it directly.”

“And the curse?” Rhysand asked, his tone careful.

“It was tied to something much darker,” you explained. “The creature’s power allowed me to see it, to pull it out before it could do more harm. It was a risk, but I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Azriel shifted slightly, his gaze softening as he listened. There was a tension in his posture, as if he were grappling with something internally, but he remained silent, letting Rhysand lead the conversation.

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Azriel before turning back to you. “You’ve been carrying this burden alone for a long time.”

You nodded, the weight of your confession settling over you. “I didn’t want to involve anyone else. It’s my responsibility, my mistake.”

Rhysand’s expression softened just slightly, though his voice remained firm. “You’re part of this court now, Y/N. You don’t have to face this alone.”

Azriel’s gaze met yours across the room, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between you—a connection that felt both new and ancient, as if something had shifted irreversibly between you two.

As you finished recounting your story, the room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of everything hanging in the air. You sighed softly, rubbing your temples as the exhaustion from the night caught up with you. Finally, you stood, a sense of duty pulling you back to the reality of your responsibilities.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” you began, glancing between Rhysand and Azriel. “But I need to get back home. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to leave for the Winter Court to deliver Kallias’s order.”

At your words, Azriel’s expression immediately shifted. His brows furrowed, and he took a step forward, his posture rigid with concern. “That’s not possible. You can’t go alone—it’s too dangerous.”

You met his gaze, a flicker of frustration sparking within you. “Azriel, I’ve been traveling alone for hundreds of years. I’ve crossed continents, faced dangers you can’t imagine. I know how to take care of myself.”

Azriel’s frown deepened, his eyes darkening with a mix of worry and something more. “Things have changed. After what happened tonight, we can’t take any chances. The roads to the Winter Court aren’t safe, especially not for someone like you.”

You took a step closer to him, squaring your shoulders, determined not to be underestimated. “I’ve handled myself just fine, Azriel. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting. I’ve faced worse than bandits or creatures in the wild. I can deal with it.”

Azriel opened his mouth to argue further, his wings flaring slightly in his agitation, but Rhysand raised a hand, cutting him off. “Azriel, calm down,” Rhysand said, his tone soothing yet firm. He then turned to you, his expression more measured. “We know you can handle yourself, Y/N, and we trust your judgment. But just promise us you’ll be careful.”

You nodded, appreciating their concern but determined to maintain your independence. “I will. I’ve been traveling for centuries, and I know how to handle whatever comes my way. I’ll be back next week, and we can talk more then.”

Rhysand offered you a small, understanding smile. “We’ll look forward to it. There’s much more to discuss, and we’ll be here when you return.”

Azriel, still tense, stepped closer, his gaze intense but still filled with worry. “I’ll fly you back to your place,” he said, his tone steady but leaving no room for argument. “It’s late, and you should rest before your journey.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Azriel.”

Before you could step out into the cool night air, Azriel shrugged off his jacket—a soft, dark leather that still carried the warmth of his body—and draped it over your shoulders. The jacket was far too big for you, the sleeves hanging well past your hands, but the warmth and the gesture itself made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s cold out,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper in the quiet of the night. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he added, “And the wind can be biting when we’re flying.”

You pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of leather and something distinctly Azriel surrounding you. “Thank you,” you murmured, genuinely touched by the small act of kindness.

With his jacket securely around you, Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you effortlessly as his wings unfurled. The warmth of the jacket and his presence eased the chill of the night, and as he took off into the sky, the cold wind seemed to matter less.

Flying with Azriel, wrapped in his jacket, you felt a strange comfort. The world around you blurred momentarily as the ground fell away, and then the night opened up before you—a vast expanse of stars and the twinkling lights of Velaris below. The city was breathtaking from this height, the Sidra River winding through it like a ribbon of silver, reflecting the moonlight in shimmering patterns. The rooftops of the city glowed softly, the night alive with a quiet, serene beauty that took your breath away. Everything became a blur of twinkling lights and darkened streets, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, soaring through the night sky, sharing a silence that felt more like an understanding than anything else.

The cool wind whipped through your hair as Azriel flew, his strong wings cutting through the air with practiced ease. Despite the speed, his flight was smooth, each powerful beat of his wings propelling you forward with a steady, unerring grace. You found yourself momentarily entranced by the view, the way the world seemed so peaceful from up here, so distant from the chaos and dangers you had faced below.

Azriel’s grip on you was firm but gentle, his warmth a comforting presence in the cold night air. You could feel the tension in his body, the silent worry that still lingered despite your reassurances. It was as if every beat of his wings was fueled by an unspoken need to keep you safe, to ensure you returned to Velaris unharmed.

The flight was over too quickly, and before you knew it, you were descending toward your apartment. Azriel landed lightly, setting you down with care. The ground felt solid beneath your feet again, but you couldn’t shake the lingering sensation of being cradled by the night sky.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, offering him a small smile. “I’ll be fine, Azriel. I’ll be back next week, and we’ll talk then.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening just slightly. “I’ll be waiting. Just… be careful, Y/N.”

“I always am,” you replied, giving him a reassuring look before turning to head inside.

As you thanked him one last time and made your way inside, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the jacket—a comforting reminder of the connection that had silently grown between you two.

As you quietly made your way up the stairs to your apartment, the door creaked open to reveal Alex waiting for you in the living room, his arms crossed and a comically exaggerated look of suspicion on his face. Stellan was by his side, watching you with calm, knowing eyes, but Alex’s expression was what really caught your attention.

“What is going on, young lady?” Alex began, his voice mock-serious. “A guy intrudes our place, you run off with him without a word, and then you come back hours later with different clothes, a MEN’s jacket, and then he flies you home? Hmm, hmm, hmm…”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his over-the-top delivery, the tension from the night finally breaking as you took in his antics. “Alex, I promise, it’s not what it looks like!”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a smirk. “Oh, really? Because it sure sounds like something out of those romance stories people talk about. Are you sure you’re not hiding something from me?”

Still chuckling, you shook your head, stepping further into the apartment. “I was helping a friend, that’s all. And the clothes were a necessity after… well, let’s just say the night got messy.”

Alex’s grin widened, clearly enjoying every bit of this. “And the flying home part?”

You sighed, though your smile remained. “That was just Azriel being… protective. And practical.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex nodded sagely, as if he had it all figured out. “Sure, sure. Just Azriel being ‘protective.’”

You reached out to ruffle his hair, playfully messing it up. “Enough, you little troublemaker. It’s late, and we both need to get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Alex laughed, batting your hand away but finally relenting. “Alright, alright. But you’re not off the hook, Nana. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Duly noted, Captain.”

As you headed to your room, Stellan trailing behind you, you couldn’t help but smile at Alex’s antics. Despite the seriousness of the night, his playful teasing was exactly what you needed to lighten the mood.

And as you finally settled into bed, the weight of the day easing off your shoulders, you knew that no matter what challenges the Winter Court or the future might bring, you were ready to face them—with Alex’s humorous observations always keeping you grounded.

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[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

A lesson in power

Duke Leto Atreides x f!reader

Summary: Your house is no match against house Atreides. Leto shows you.

Cw/triggers: smut, nsfw, p in v, captive reader, power imbalance, I will say dub-con vibes at first, kind of possessive Leto.

The leaders of your house didn't know how powerful house Atreides really was when they sent an army towards it.

You only knew rumors, and your leaders didn't really go into detail with the strength of Atreides' army.

You were among the fighters that have been captured.

Standing infront of him inside his personal chambers, the Duke chose you to make an example of what happens if someone messes with Duke Leto Atreides.

"You should be relieved to know I won't be doing a counter attack on your pathetic house."

Leto reached out, gripping your chin firmly.

"Tell me, did your leaders tell you about our mighty house?"

"No, Duke..." you answered softly, looking him in the eyes.

Leto hummed, "Do not mess with our house. Your house wouldn't be the first that would have been wiped from existence because they've attacked us."

He stepped back, his fingers moving to slowly undo his uniform.

"Undress, get on the bed and prepare yourself for me." came his firm order.

Seeing nothing else you could do besides obeying his command, you hesitantly undressed and laid down on the bed.

After Leto stripped down, he turned towards you, wearing nothing but his boxers which did nothing to hide the prominent bulge.

The Duke stalked towards you, his expression intense with desire but also authoritative. Once at the bed, his eyes roamed over your vulnerable form, then set themselves down onto your core.

He gripped your thighs, spreading your legs, stepping between them, then reached into his boxers to pull his thick cock out.

"Brace yourself." was the only warning he gave you before pushing his girth into you.

At first you let out a gasp at his sudden impalement, his hand coming down to rub your clit. Despite your situation, you found yourself getting increasingly wet, your head falling back against the sheets.

Leto used this to lean down, keeping his movements steady.

"You're loving it, don't you?" he rasped, his hands moved to to grip your hips, holding them as his hips now increased their pace.

The only thing you could do was moan in response, the overwhelming ecstasy made you fall limp.

"Listen to those sounds... enjoying yourself pretty good here, hm?" he chuckled dryly, slowing his pace slightly, turning to look at how his cock disappeared into your dripping pussy.

Oh, how he enjoyed that sight. Made him wish he could see it more often instead only this once...

"You know what?" he asked between thrusts. "Maybe I should keep you as a trophy... so the leaders of your house would always remember the day they messed with the wrong people..." he said huskily.

His words reached you, but you couldn't focus on giving an answer.

Feeling the build up in your belly, your hips bucking up into him on their own, your orgasm was fast approaching.

Leto felt you tightening around him, it caused him to chase his own release, his thrusts became sloppy and his grip on your hips tightened almost possessively.

The pleasure he delivered was too much for you, you couldn't hold back any longer then your slick pussy clamped down on him, gripping his girth like a vice.

Leto groaned deeply, his hips jerking erratically at his desperate state, then with a last slam against you, he filled you up.

"Fuck!" he groaned, collapsing down on top of you, his face falling into the crook of your neck, with both of you panting.

After Leto had calmed down, he pulled his softened cock out of you, watching his cum oozing out of your spent pussy mixed with your own juices.

Leto then stood up, putting his soft cock back into his boxers, looking down at your exhausted form on his bed.

"And now, let's talk about your loyalties, shall we?"

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

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