#steel marketplace

[ecafez-tatasteel]

Steel's incredible recyclability empowers industries to embrace a cycle of use without ever diminishing its strength or quality.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

#that washing machine was more emotionally present in my childhood than my actual parents

"smart appliances" fuck u i want them dumb as a brick and incidentally as sturdy and enduring

[geocyclist]

Marketplace find of the week: two Otis Elevator Co. storage cabinets in pretty good shape. The brass handles are a nice touch.

Made by Livingston & Co. in Philadelphia, I wonder what their original use was? My theory is that they were accessories to elevators and held spare parts and maintenance items.

A couple of dents ands bent spots were repaired and now they sit flat and the doors close smoothly!

Swivel pad C-clamp locking pliers are a lifesaver when working with sheet metal.

[cubexcrative]

Steelofy

Steelofy is an online marketplace that provides quotes and online bookings for steel industry, fabricators and skilled workforce through an extensive network of partners. On Steelofy, customers can read detailed service offerings and user reviews of each provider before selecting which company to use. https://steelofy.co.uk/about

[thesecondhandwoman]

Hii

(Firstly, English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes) Well, can you do one of Ambessa or Sevika with the blind Reader, but who is already used to it and can do several things on her own, giving her one scare or another? Like, disappearing out of nowhere and coming back with some shopping as if nothing had happened. Even better if she has a guide dog.

BLINDED LOVER

Ambessa x Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: You had always worried Sevika and Ambessa when you went out alone, besides the company of your guide dog due to the fact you were blind. And when you come back home with a scrap, they were all over you.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Since it could have been Ambesa or Sevika, I chose both (because I’m a simp.)

The late afternoon sun dipped below the skyline of Zaun, casting the world in golden hues laced with the grime of industrial fog. Your guide dog, Juno, trotted by your side, her pace steady, her breathing even. The city’s familiar scents—steel, oil, and the sharp tang of something burning—filled the air.

Your cane tapped lightly along the ground in a measured rhythm. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Paired with Juno’s footsteps, it was a song you’d long since memorized.

The marketplace was its usual mess of noise, voices overlapping as street vendors called out deals, children squealed in the distance, and the faint rumble of distant machinery shook the ground. It was loud, sure, but you’d been navigating this chaos for years. Juno, ever the professional, led you with practiced precision.

“Good girl, Juno,” you murmured, fingers brushing lightly over the harness. Her tail wagged once.

You reached for the small mental checklist you’d built in your head. Bread, fruit, the spicy honey Ambessa likes, coffee for Sevika. You’d already grabbed the honey and bread, and the smell of fresh fruit told you that the next stall was your target.

“‘Scuse me, sweetheart,” a rough voice called as someone brushed by your shoulder, too fast and too close.

You barely had time to react. The edge of something sharp—maybe a metal buckle, a jagged bag strap, or a chipped corner of a crate—scraped against your cheek. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it stung like hell, a bright hot flash of pain that made you suck in a sharp breath.

“Ah, dammit,” you hissed, pressing your fingers against your cheek. It was warm and sticky. Blood. Not much, but enough to be annoying.

The person was gone as fast as they’d come, no apology, no acknowledgment. Juno bumped her head against your leg, her way of checking in. You gave her a quick pat.

“I’m okay, Juno,” you assured her, feeling around in your bag for the tissues you always kept on hand. You found one and pressed it to the scrape. “Just a bump. No big deal.”

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Zaun was crowded, chaotic, and full of sharp edges, both literal and metaphorical. You weren’t made of glass. People bumped into each other here—it wasn’t personal.

But you knew it would be personal to them.

Sevika was pacing again.

Her heavy boots thudded against the floor, her metal arm flexing at her side. She glanced at the clock, eyes narrowing at the numbers like they’d wronged her.

“She’s late,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low but tense. “Fifteen minutes past her ‘forty minutes tops,’ Ambessa.”

“Patience, darling,” Ambessa replied from the kitchen. The clink of glass echoed as she set her wine down on the counter. “She’s not fragile. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sevika muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “Still doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Ambessa hummed knowingly. She stepped forward, her broad frame moving with the kind of grace that made every motion look like a deliberate strategy. She approached Sevika, fingers trailing lightly down her metal arm, cool against the smooth steel.

“You worry because you love her,” Ambessa said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Sevika’s temple. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Sevika’s scowl softened, just a little. “Yeah, well, loving her makes me want to keep her wrapped in steel.”

“Which she’d chew through the second you tried,” Ambessa quipped, eyes crinkling with affection.

Their moment of calm was interrupted by the soft jingle of Juno’s collar and the familiar, rhythmic click-thud of your cane tapping its way through the hall.

“Door,” Sevika muttered, already moving.

Her sharp eyes watched as the handle turned, the door opening to reveal you. Juno stepped in first, her tail wagging happily, tongue lolling as she looked up at Sevika like she’d just returned from a grand adventure.

“Hey,” you called, breathless but cheerful. “Sorry I’m a little late. The market was wild today.”

You closed the door behind you, hands busy feeling for the lock to twist it into place. It took you only a second longer than usual, your muscle memory guiding you. Your bag hung from one arm, a reusable tote filled with clinking jars and fresh bread.

Sevika’s eyes were on you instantly, sharp as a blade. She stepped forward, already halfway through scolding you for being late when she froze.

Her gaze locked onto the smear of dried blood along your cheek.

“The hell is that?” Sevika’s voice was low, deadly quiet.

You blinked, turning toward her. “Huh?” Your hand lifted automatically to your cheek, fingers brushing over the half-dried scrape. It stung, but it wasn’t bad.

“Oh, this? Some guy bumped into me,” you said casually, tilting your head toward the sound of her footsteps. “Not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Sevika was suddenly in front of you, all heat and intensity. Her metal fingers gripped your chin, tilting your face up gently but firmly. “That’s blood, babe.”

“I know,” you said with a sigh, letting her tilt your head as her eyes scanned you like you were a broken machine she needed to repair. “It’s barely a scratch, Sev. Just some guy with a bag. Happens all the time.”

“Not supposed to happen to you,” she muttered, her eyes hard as stone, jaw tight. Her human hand ran over your face, as if checking for hidden injuries you might not have noticed. Her thumb brushed over the scrape, so, so gently, and you felt her exhale slowly.

Ambessa’s presence was sudden but not surprising. She moved behind you, one hand resting on your shoulder. Her touch was a slow, grounding weight, firm but never overbearing. Her fingers brushed over your hair as she stepped closer, taking in the sight of the dried blood.

“Did he touch you?” Ambessa’s voice was deceptively calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that made generals surrender without a fight.

“Not really,” you said quickly, turning your head to face her. “He brushed past me too fast, and something sharp caught my cheek. It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Sevika growled.

“Yes, it is,” you insisted, pulling back slightly, though her hands lingered on you. “Seriously, it’s not like I got jumped. It’s Zaun. People bump into people.”

“People,” Sevika muttered, eyes narrowed, “shouldn’t bump into you. Especially since you are blind. Shit, you have everything to show them that too.”

“Sevika,” you sighed, exhaustion seeping into your voice. “I’m not a porcelain doll. I got bumped, not broken.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sevika grumbled, arms folding over her chest, her gaze still locked on your cheek like it had personally insulted her.

Ambessa leaned down, her lips brushing your temple, her voice warm but firm. “It matters because you’re ours.”

Your chest ached at that, not from pain, but from love so fierce it felt like armor.

“Come on,” Sevika muttered, taking your hand and pulling you toward the couch. “Let me clean it up.”

You didn’t argue, since you knew there was no winning when both of them had decided you needed coddling.

Later that night, the three of you lay curled together on the couch, Juno snoring softly at your feet. Sevika sat with her back to the armrest, one leg draped over yours, her human hand tracing lazy circles on your knee.

You rested against Ambessa’s chest, her arms folded around you, her warmth seeping into every inch of you. Her hand brushed through your hair in slow, soothing strokes.

“You two are ridiculous,” you murmured, but you were smiling.

“Love is ridiculous,” Ambessa replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Yeah,” Sevika muttered, leaning down to kiss the side of your face just below the freshly bandaged scrape. Her lips lingered there, soft and careful. “And we love you.”

“Too much,” you said, but your eyes were already closing.

“Not possible,” Ambessa whispered, fingers threading through your hair.

You didn’t argue. You didn’t need to.

You were home, and even if you couldn’t see it’s beauty, you could feel it with them.

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter One

Masterlist

Prince Telemachus who is favored by Athena with a reader who's favored by Apollo. Both under the guidance of the god and goddess of wisdom and knowledge respectively. One a fierce warrior and the other a lovely musician. Yet complete opposites of their role when it comes to a peaceful artist and intimidating opponent.

an - Telemachus will be here next chapter, don’t worry

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The Gods and Goddesses of Greece were known for many things, scorned by some and yet worshipped by many. One thing they were especially known for was to do in their contact with humans. In love, childbirth, war, and death, the gods changed the lives of many mortals, warranted not always for the better.

And two of the most powerful among these sky dwelling immortals were no strangers to this meddling in human affairs. Romantic rendezvous of the most personal kind to forging warriors with nothing but a cheap sword and minds of steel.

Apollo and Athena, god and goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge respectively, meant to pass on their skills to the humans of earth that they deemed worthy.

And complete opposites.

One, the most handsome god in all of Olympus. Often finding himself entangled with mortals that caught his attention. If not for Aphrodite, it would come as a shock to very few if he was the god of love with his affection for many throughout history.

The other, known as the virgin goddess for her complete disinterest in all romance. Living for the fight, mind a fortress that no warrior or crush could infiltrate.

Oh how unlucky were they when choosing their new mortals to train for the new generations…

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The sun was on its journey to rise above Ithaca, letting its golden light rest across the bustling marketplace, filled with the chatter of vendors and the clinking of coins. It was how it usually was with each new kingdom you moved to. At least each one had a similar experience in shopping, full of the same crowds.

Young children straying from their mothers who bought the household essentials, men who bought tools or just passed through. And boys, the same age as you. All mostly tan with black hair. Every kingdom had its similarities, especially with its choices of acquaintances.

“How about that one? The boys in Ithaca are cute for you, maybe one taller than you? Or are girls more your type? I haven’t asked you that yet, have I?” Apollo’s voice rings out in his usual smooth, teasing tone.

Of course, one thing that was always the same in every kingdom was Apollo as well. Your oh so loving patron god. Stuck to your side since you were little. God of oracles, healing, archery, music and arts, light, knowledge… blah blah. He loved to remind you of all his titles.

But at the moment he is pointing out the other boys around your age in the marketplace. Since he’s unseen by the public, he’s twirling some of the curly hair of a brunette next to you before moving over to a boy buying a loaf of bread and inspecting his face.

“Don’t you have the gift of knowing the future, great god of prophecy?” You retorted, rolling your eyes yet keeping your mouth closed. Easy to talk to a god when he reads your mind when you share your thoughts… You just felt lucky you didn’t look crazy talking to thin air.

Even if he was unseen, he was always excited to interact with the locals in one way or another.

“Unfortunately my little ray of sunshine,” he teases again, poking your cheek enough to bring out a huff from your lips. “I can only see the more important facts of the future. Your love life isn’t the same level of importance as a titan breaking free.~”

You, as usual, ignored his teasing, his poking and prodding was something you had been forced to get used to over the years. Despite moving from town to island across Greece, he had always found where you were and his interest meant a strange sort of friendship.

“Really, in all my years of knowing you I haven’t seen you give even a second glance to these people.” His eyes washed over all the crowds in the busy street, but he was no longer content with the choices he had. Now ignoring the boys who he seemed so fond of only seconds before.

“Are my choices not good enough? Don’t tell me you have high standards.” His whining was sarcastic, as it always was. If you didn’t know by the shining golden hair and a bow in his arm you’d think he was Hermes.

Before he could continue his onslaught of “boy talk”, you let your thoughts into his mind as your response.

“You’re one to talk. I think most people know you because of your little adventures of human love.”

Despite your refute, he didn’t back down on his bright smile and insistence of romance. Ignoring your words completely.

“So I am right, you do have high standards. What do you look for in a person? Good looks, godly power? Because I think you’re out of luck.” He gestured to the boys in the market, now completely uninterested in all of them.

All he got in response was a huff of agreement to respond to one of his questions. You would answer, and he was happy since you would usually shut his inquiries down before he could spit them out.

“I guess… somebody who’s willing to help others. But not someone weak, I don’t want to have to protect anyone all the time, I would be too stressed out to ever leave them alone.”

The market was busy, filled with new weapons built in Sparta, comfortable Chitons from Mycenae, and a booth of items from Athens. Greatly known as a city that had many temples for the gods and adored Apollo as one of the main powers, especially his music. So seeing beautifully strung lyres on the cloth of the table was no shock.

“Oh, and someone who likes the arts. A person who can appreciate beauty and passion.”

As you talked you hadn’t realized you picked up one of the lyres, mindlessly tuning the strings and strumming an almost divine tune. Apollo was your music teacher after all.

“I think passion is one of the most important things in the world, for gods or humans. They need to be confident. Not in an egotistical way, but they need to be proud of themselves for their victories either small or large.”

Before you could continue, Apollo was laughing. That wasn’t a good sign, he never laughed unless something was happening and as far as you were concerned it must’ve been recent.

Looking around for the source of the laughter you quieted your mind from your monologue on love… oh.

This whole time you had thought you were just mindlessly tuning the lyre, but instead it was playing a lovely melody. Your fingers seemed to work in muscle memory to create a tune. This was the song you were currently writing… great.

Not only that, but the surrounding crowd at the stalls of bread, wine, and clothes were all watching with looks of confusion and interest.

This sucks. You didn’t ask for this attention.

Before you can place the instrument back down and apologize for touching the equipment of the shop opener, a little girl tugs at the waist of your chiton.

“Excuse me?” Her sweet voice calls out, a small hand having a vice grip on your clothing. She was adorable, who were you to ignore such a nice kid?

“Yes? Is there something you need?” You replied, no longer hearing the laughs of Apollo. In fact, the market sounded much quieter than normal. Still you bent down, getting closer to eye level with the child. Her fist freeing your dress and going shyly behind her back.

“Could you play more music? It was really pretty.” She glanced up at you shyly, before returning her gaze to her feet. Who in their right mind would say no to her?

Probably someone who was asked to play music is a market full of strangers with no prepared songs in mind…

“I appreciate your kindness, but-”

“Please?” Before you could finish a little boy ran up to you next, his eyes even more puppy dog than the girls. “We wanna hear the… the?”

He was pointing at the instrument, now less excited and more confused. His pleading eyes turned curious.

“The lyre, it’s an instrument for playing music.” You explained, petting the boy's head gently. Your smile warmed your cheeks as his excitement returned to his face.

“Play it! Play it!” The two chanted, and now you really couldn’t ignore them.

So you gave in, strumming the strings just as Apollo taught you. Creating a beautiful song of joy, humming mindless lyrics that were yet to be created.

And as you played, the children danced. Left in fits of giggles and spins, song pulling in the rest of the small ones from their mothers side to join the fun. It was adorable, pure childish fun.

You couldn’t help but laugh with them, continuing the song. Watching all their smiling faces with content.

But this break of peace was suddenly broken by a shopkeeper. A man, in middle age, with a scornful expression. Heavy brows furrowed as he glared menacingly over the street. His shoulders held highly over the crowd of children. One of which being tugged at by his burly hands.

“Quit it, you’re blocking the work.” His voice called roughly, commanding the end of joy and ruining the laughter of innocence.

All of the little ones stopped, some running back to their mothers so they could hide behind their legs and others standing frozen at the tall beast of a man.

Without thinking you gently placed the lyre back onto its original stand at its booth and walked up to the man. Gripping his wrist that held the child’s shoulder and tugging the kid free.

“Is there a problem?” You snapped at him, letting go of his wrist and standing straight. The child you freed running to hide behind your legs, watching in fear.

A crowd had gathered, but unfortunately the market rarely had strong men. Either gone for Troy or lazing as suitors in the castle, there was no knight in shining armor. Not that you needed one.

Mothers and their children, as well as older gentlemen and teen boys watched on, pulling away.

“This is a workplace, not a place for play.” He barked back at you, the sun dimming in the sky. Apollo was quick to become unhappy, as he usually was when you were in trouble.

“They’re children, all they do is play.” Retorting, you gestured to the young now hidden in fear. “I am the one you have an issue with.” Your eyes stalked upward into his, cold and unforgiving.

How dare he be so harsh with the innocent souls of the young?

“Maybe you are the one I have an issue with, girl.” He stepped towards you, the air growing thick as if time had stilled and each surrounding audience member had stolen all the oxygen during their bated breath.

“And yet you will do nothing. This is a place for ‘work,’ not ‘play.’” You didn’t step back, instead standing your ground. You continued. “And if that is true, you should get back to work before the day is lost.” The sun glowed behind your head, creating a darker silhouette of your frame.

Unwilling to move, the man stood in stillness for a few seconds. Challenging you with his eyes, but seeing you not back down he just huffed. His chest deflated as his chin wasn’t held as high as it was before. He averted his gaze from you, tearing his eyes to the ground next to you.

“Fine.” Was all he said before he shuffled back to his stall.

As you watched him, the child you pulled from him hugged your leg.

“Thank you.” She sniffled out, nuzzling into your thigh and slightly shaking. It was heartbreaking to observe her fear.

“Everything is okay, sweetheart.” You smiled and pet her head, letting your fingers feel her soft hair. Her tenseness faded away and she slowly let go of your leg, looking up at you with gratitude.

Apollo had made sure the sun was shining bright again. Giving you a proud smile and nodding towards the lyre you once prayed. Insinuating you strum again for the children.

So strum you did, spending the rest of your morning with the children and their mothers of the town singing soft songs of beauty.

If only you had known Queen Penelope would catch wind of this…

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Taglist-

@dog-and-cat-person230 @m-carriaga2021

[mrsfancyferrari]

Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Happy Ever After

Anon: Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Song: Love Story by Indila

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not used to the story of Romeo and Juliet so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 8.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aragonia, nestled between towering mountains and winding rivers, lay a land of unparalleled beauty and prosperity. The kingdom was a tapestry of lush, verdant landscapes, where rolling hills were adorned with wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.

Majestic castles, their spires reaching towards the heavens, stood as a testament to the kingdom's rich history and the ingenuity of its people.

The citizens of Aragonia were a proud and industrious lot, known far and wide for their skilled craftsmanship and unwavering commitment to their community.

From the bustling marketplaces in the heart of the capital city to the quaint, charming villages that dotted the countryside, the people of Aragonia lived in harmony, their days filled with the laughter of children and the rhythmic hum of daily life.

At the center of this enchanting kingdom stood the grand palace, a sprawling edifice of gleaming marble and intricate stonework.

Here, the wise and benevolent ruler of Aragonia presided, guiding the kingdom with a steady hand and a deep understanding of the needs of his people.

Under the watchful eye of the monarch, Aragonia flourished, its reputation for prosperity and innovation spreading far beyond its borders, drawing in visitors from near and far who marveled at the beauty and wonder of this truly remarkable land.

Princess Y/N, known for your grace and beauty, was the eldest daughter of King Alfonso VII. You had inherited your father's intelligence and compassion, making you a beloved figure within the kingdom.

Prince Carlos, on the other hand, was the youngest son of King Ferdinand III. Despite his noble status, he possessed a rebellious spirit that drew him closer to the commoners.

King Alfonso and King Ferdinand were embroiled in a bitter feud that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. The two monarchs harbored deep-seated animosity towards one another, stemming from long-standing political and personal disputes.

This toxic rivalry manifested in a climate of tension and distrust, with the two men constantly vying for power and influence. The tension between them spilled over into their respective families, creating a rift that only served to exacerbate the already precarious situation within the kingdom.

As the conflict escalated, the people of the land found themselves caught in the crossfire, uncertain of their future and the stability of the realm. . . .

"Princess Y/N, are you ready for the party?" your servant asked you as you stared out of your oval-shaped window, revealing the endless sea and the docks.

"Yes Matilda, I am ready," you muttered.

You were not. You hated going to these parties that your father organized. The grand halls filled with nobility, the endless chatter about alliances and politics, and the constant pressure to present yourself as the perfect princess made you feel suffocated.

You'd rather stay here and watch the sea forever, losing yourself in the gentle rhythm of the waves and the distant calls of the seabirds.

As you reluctantly turned away from the window, you couldn't help but sigh. The ocean had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could dream of freedom and adventure far from the palace walls.

But duty called, and you knew you had to uphold your role, no matter how much it pained you.

Adjusting your gown, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for the evening ahead, wishing that one day you might find a way to escape the gilded cage that held you.

Your father expected you to charm the guests, forge new alliances, and perhaps even catch the eye of a suitable suitor. He had always emphasized the importance of these gatherings for the kingdom's future, and he relied on you to play your part perfectly.

Despite your own desires, you knew that failing to meet his expectations could have serious repercussions for both you and the realm.

The thought of potential suitors filled you with a mixture of dread and resignation. You longed for a partner who understood your love for the sea and your yearning for freedom, rather than someone who only saw you as a pawn in their political games.

Yet, you knew that such a romantic ideal was unlikely in your world, where alliances were forged not by love but by necessity. . . .

"Carlos! Are you sure this isn't going to get us into big trouble?" Mercutio whispered as the three of them pushed through the overgrown garden of the Alfonso family.

Carlos grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Relax, Mercutio. I've done this a dozen times before. The Alfonsos are too busy celebrating to notice a few extra guests," he replied confidently, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

"Besides, we blend in perfectly. Just act like you belong, and no one will question a thing."

Benvolio, trailing behind them, chimed in, "He's right, Mercutio. Remember last summer when we crashed the mayor's gala? We even got compliments on our outfits!" He adjusted his mask and smoothed his clothes, trying to muster up some of Carlos' bravado.

"Let's just have fun tonight. What's the worst that could happen?"

The garden was a labyrinth of lavishly manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead that cast a magical glow on the scene. Stone statues of mythical creatures peeked out from behind dense shrubbery, and a grand marble fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling like liquid diamonds.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, adding an enchanting allure to the evening.

"Just blend in," Carlos finally whispered before slipping into the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Mercutio and Benvolio exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit, mingling seamlessly with the other revelers.

The sound of laughter and music enveloped them as they made their way toward the heart of the celebration, hoping their disguises would hold up under the scrutiny of the Alfonso family and their guests.

Carlos was dressed in an elegant black suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, his mask a matching black with delicate filigree that framed his eyes.

Mercutio wore a deep blue velvet coat with silver accents, his mask resembling a Venetian masterpiece with feathers that added a touch of mystique.

Benvolio, opting for a more understated look, sported a dark green ensemble with subtle bronze details, his mask simple yet sophisticated, giving him an air of quiet confidence.

Carlos, Mercutio and Benvolio all arrived at the mansion, eager to have a good time. As they mingled with the guests, no one had any idea that they were from the rival Ferdinand family.

They blended in seamlessly, sipping drinks and chatting merrily, their true identities hidden from the unsuspecting crowd.

The three friends revelled in the freedom of being anonymous at the party. They could let their guard down and truly enjoy themselves, without the constant tension and rivalry that existed between their family and the Alfonso.

For once, they were able to forget the long-standing feud and simply live in the moment, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. . . .

"Everyone! Please give your full attention to King Alfonso and his daughter, Princess Y/N who make their appearance tonight!" The announcer stated, catching everyone's attention and the room came to a silent halt.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of royal triumphs hung on the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the background, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the top of the imperial staircase, a majestic red carpet led straight to the throne, where King Alfonso and Princess Y/N stood in their resplendent attire.

King Alfonso, a striking figure with a commanding presence, wore a robe of deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold embroidery. His crown, encrusted with precious gemstones, rested regally upon his silver hair, which added to his dignified look.

His piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a mixture of authority and benevolence, and a jeweled scepter in his right hand glinted under the chandelier's light, symbolizing his unchallenged power and leadership.

Princess Y/N, standing gracefully beside him, was the epitome of elegance and poise. Your gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin in shades of royal blue, shimmered with every movement.

A tiara of diamonds and sapphires adorned your flowing locks, complementing your serene and captivating beauty.

Your eyes, a brilliant shade of green, radiated warmth and kindness as you acknowledged the gathered guests, while your calm demeanor and gentle smile hinted at the wisdom and strength that lay beneath your refined exterior.

Carlos and his friends were at the buffet, eagerly sampling the lavish spread of delicacies when the announcement echoed through the hall.

While his companions barely glanced up before returning to their plates, Carlos found himself captivated by the sight of you. Your graceful presence and ethereal beauty held him spellbound, making it impossible for him to look away.

The sparkle of your tiara and the gentle warmth in your eyes seemed to draw him in, as if you were the very embodiment of a fairy tale come to life.

As his friends continued their animated conversation about the best dishes at the buffet, Carlos remained rooted to his spot, his gaze fixed firmly on the princess.

He felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic pull that made the noise and bustle around him fade into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; all he could see was you, and all he could feel was the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you might notice him amidst the sea of faces.

The first dance came soon after the announcement, and Carlos knew it was the perfect chance to make his presence known. As the music started, couples began to fill the dance floor, but Carlos's eyes never left you.

Gathering his courage, he approached with a respectful bow, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity in his gaze, and placed your hand in his.

As you both moved gracefully to the rhythm, the world seemed to blur around you. Carlos felt a sense of belonging and purpose, each step affirming the connection he felt.

In your presence, the grandeur of the ballroom faded, leaving just the two of you, sharing a moment that neither would soon forget.

"What is your name?" you asked, your voice as melodious as the music enveloping the room. Carlos hesitated for a brief moment, the truth perched on the edge of his tongue.

"My name is Charles," he lied. A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

You tilted your head slightly, a curious glint in your eyes as you continued to dance. "Charles," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, Charles, what brings you to our celebration tonight?"

Carlos swallowed hard, determined to maintain his composure. "I came with friends," he replied, gesturing subtly towards the buffet. "But now, I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity to dance with you, Princess."

Carlos and you danced gracefully before your father, the King. As the music came to an end, your father gave you a pointed look, signalling that it was time to separate and greet another potential suitor.

You leaned in to Carlos and whispered, "Meet me in the west garden in an hour."

Carlos' eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made your way through the throng of guests, exchanging pleasantries with the various noblemen and women who sought your attention. However, your mind was focused on the upcoming meeting with Carlos.

As the appointed hour approached, you slipped away from the main festivities and hurried to the west garden. Carlos was already there, waiting for you under the moonlit sky.

"You came," You said, relief evident in your voice.

"Of course," Carlos responded, taking your hands in his. "I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you, even if it's just for a moment."

"Carlos, I... I don't know what to do. My father expects me to entertain these suitors, but that's not what my heart wants me to do."

Carlos squeezed your hands gently, his eyes searching yours. "Sometimes, we must follow our hearts, even if it means defying expectations," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"I know it might be difficult, but you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who cherishes you for who you are, not just for your title."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your father's expectations and the longing in your heart. "But what if my father never approves? What if he forces me to marry someone else?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carlos stepped closer, his grip on your hands firm and reassuring. "Then we'll find a way to be together, no matter the obstacles. Love is worth fighting for, Princess. And I promise, I will fight for you."

"But how, you've only met me today," you started, your voice tinged with skepticism.

"It's something called love at first sight, Princess," Carlos teased, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. It's not just about the title or the expectations—it's about the connection we share, even in such a short time."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but doubt still lingered. "But what if this feeling fades? What if we regret defying everything for a chance that might not last?"

Carlos' expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. "Feelings like this don't fade easily, Princess. Genuine connections are rare and precious, and I believe ours is one of them. We owe it to ourselves to explore this, to give our hearts a chance to truly know if it's real."

"Okay," you replied shyly, a blush rising to your cheeks. No one has ever spoken to you like this before; it has always been about fulfilling duties and consummating the marriage.

Your entire life, you were taught that love was secondary to alliances and obligations, but Carlos' words stirred something deep within you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than duty.

Carlos' eyes softened as he noticed your hesitation. "This world we live in often binds us with chains of duty and tradition. But sometimes, those chains need to be broken for us to truly live. Let me prove to you that what we have is real. Let me show you a world where love and happiness aren't just dreams but possibilities."

His words carried a promise, a vow that resonated with the unspoken desires in your heart.

You nodded, unable to speak any more, tears welling up in your eyes. Carlos' hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, the simple gesture sending a shiver down your spine. His lips lingered for a moment, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected comfort and reassurance his presence brought.

As he pulled back, his eyes never left yours, a silent promise passing between you.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing together against the backdrop of an uncertain future.

You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength and determination blooming within you. With Carlos by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that love, for once, would guide your path.

"Should your first job to court me be to kiss me on the lips?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. Carlos chuckled, the sound light and full of promise.

"If that is what the princess desires," he replied, his voice low and husky.

He leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't; instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if both of you were savoring the moment's significance. Then it deepened, becoming a silent conversation of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you saw the same exhilaration mirrored in Carlos' eyes.

"Consider it the first of many," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because this is just the beginning of our journey together."

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. The kiss had unlocked a floodgate of feelings you had kept hidden for so long, and in that brief, magical moment, you felt truly seen and understood.

As you gazed into Carlos' eyes, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together, strengthened by the bond you had just forged.

"How will I communicate with you?" Carlos whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "We'll find a way," you replied, your voice steady with conviction. "Whether through letters, messages, or the silent understanding we share, we'll always be connected."

Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with trust and determination. "I believe in us," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Princess Y/N! Where are you?" you heard your maid, Matilda, yell out your name, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and worry.

You turned towards the sound, your heart sinking slightly at the reminder of your duties and the world that awaited outside this intimate bubble.

"I think that's the sign to leave, but don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow," Carlos said, letting go of you reluctantly. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Promise?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"Promise," Carlos replied, his gaze unwavering.

With one last lingering look, you turned and began to walk towards Matilda's voice, feeling Carlos' eyes on you until you disappeared from view. . . .

"Matilda, you saw who I was with, am I right?" you asked, staring out of your window as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room.

"Yes, Princess," Matilda replied, her voice hesitant but clear.

"Do you recognize him?" you pressed, turning to face her, your curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension.

Matilda nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. He is the youngest child of our rival, King Ferdinand's child, Prince Carlos."

A gasp escaped your lips, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion grip you. "Prince Carlos? But how... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Matilda's eyes softened with understanding. "I didn't want to alarm you, Princess. I saw how happy you were. But you must be careful; our kingdoms have a complicated history."

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

If Prince Carlos had lied about his identity, how could you trust anything else he had said

The promise he made to you felt sincere at the time, but now, doubt gnawed at your heart. What if his intentions were not as pure as you had believed?

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the once-clear path ahead now seemed clouded with uncertainty.

Yet, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in the connection you had felt with him. Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, there had been moments of genuine warmth and understanding in your conversations.

Could it be possible that he, too, wished for peace and a way to bridge the divide?

You knew you needed to tread carefully, but the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be more to his story than deceit kept a small flame of optimism alive within you.

Your heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. "Matilda, what should I do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Matilda stepped closer, her expression filled with empathy. "Princess, you must tread carefully. Confront Prince Carlos and seek the truth. But remember, matters of the heart are never simple, especially when they are entangled with the affairs of state. Trust your instincts, but also be prepared for whatever truths may come to light."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—fear, hope, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Matilda's words echoed in your mind, urging you to confront Prince Carlos yet cautioning you to brace for the truth.

Your heart beat erratically, torn between the desire to uncover the reality and the dread of what that reality might reveal. . . .

"Good morning, Princess," you heard Carlos say as he emerged from behind a bush, his mask still on from yesterday.

You were in your garden, the same place where Carlos had left you last night. His presence startled you, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to face him.

"Carlos," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his real name, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "I see you know the truth," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I need to know the full truth. Why did you hide your identity from me?"

His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt and resolve as he stepped closer, the morning light casting shadows across his masked face.

"I never intended to deceive you," he said softly.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Carlos reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that was both strikingly handsome and etched with sorrow. Your breath hitched at the sight, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the chiseled features and the intense eyes that had once seemed so distant.

It was as if a barrier had been lifted between you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

"I feared that revealing my true identity would ruin the connection we had built. Our fathers have a long history of conflict, and I didn't want that to stand between us. But now, I realize that honesty is the only way forward. I hope you can understand and find it in your heart to trust me once more."

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. "Carlos, this isn't just about our fathers' past. It's about the trust between us, the foundation of any relationship," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning. How can I be sure there aren't other secrets you're hiding?"

Carlos looked down, his expression a mix of shame and determination. "I understand your hesitation, but I promise you, there are no more secrets. I want to build a future with you based on honesty and trust. Please, give me a chance to prove myself," he implored, reaching out to take your hand.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was sincerity and a deep longing. "Carlos, this isn't going to be easy," you said, your voice softening.

"Trust has to be earned, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again. But I want to try. I want to believe that we can overcome this, together."

Carlos's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he whispered, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that my intentions are true. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, facing the world together."

You nodded, feeling a cautious optimism bloom within you.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you both felt that it might just be possible to forge a future built on a foundation of truth and mutual respect.

"Good," you muttered, cupping his face to place a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this newfound honesty. But soon, it deepened with a mutual understanding that this was the first step towards mending what had been broken.

Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing the determination etched in his gaze.

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if we're going to start fresh, maybe we should celebrate with dinner tonight. How about you cook for me? I've been dying to taste your famous paella."

Carlos chuckled, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Ah, my culinary skills, eh? You know, I only bring out my best recipes for special occasions. But for you, I think I can make an exception."

"You'd better," you teased, giving him a light nudge. "And don't think you can win me over with just food. I'm expecting some serious effort on your part."

Carlos grinned, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted. Just wait, by the end of the night, you won't have any doubts about my commitment to us."

You both laughed, the tension easing as you basked in the warmth of this new beginning, ready to face whatever came next, together. . . .

Carlos couldn't help but sneak another glance at the grand Alfonso mansion as he crept through the garden, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, finally reaching the veranda where you stood waiting.

"Absolutely," you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. "I've thought about it, and I don't want to waste any more time. If we're going to build a future together, let's start now."

Carlos took a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. I'll make Friar Laurence wed us tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a rush of exhilaration. "Yes, Carlos. Let's take this leap of faith together. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just us, united in a promise to face everything hand in hand."

"Until tomorrow, princess. I can't wait to make you my wife," Carlos said, kissing your knuckles.

Your heart raced as his warm lips brushed against your skin. The way he looked at you, with such adoration and longing, sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that there was no one else you'd rather spend the rest of your life with.

"I can hardly contain my excitement," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "The thought of becoming your wife fills me with such joy."

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with love. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, in front of all our loved ones, I will make you mine forever." He brought your hand to his lips once more, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

As he reluctantly pulled away, you already felt the loss of his touch. But the knowledge that soon you would be bound to him for eternity filled you with a sense of peace and belonging.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

The next day, under the cover of dawn, you and Carlos made your way to Friar Laurence's small chapel. The early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor.

Friar Laurence stood at the altar, a knowing smile on his face as you approached. "Are you both ready to take this step?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Carlos squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, Friar," he replied with unwavering certainty. "We are ready to start our life together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

Friar Laurence began the ceremony, his words a soothing balm to your anxious heart. As you exchanged vows, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Friar Laurence started, "Carlos and Y/N, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring an end to the conflict between your families."

Carlos said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, Friar Laurence. With this marriage, I hope my father and Y/N's father can find peace."

"As do I, Carlos. Our love will show them that there is a way forward, beyond this senseless feud."

Friar Laurence smiled, "I pray that your marriage will be the first step towards reconciliation. May God bless you both."

For those precious moments, it was just the two of you, bound by love and the promise of a future together. . . .

Later that afternoon, Carlos met with Mercutio in the secluded garden behind his family's estate. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees.

Benvolio, ever the jester, was the first to speak. "Carlos, you look like a man with a secret. Do tell, what has you so radiant today?"

Carlos couldn't suppress his joy any longer. "My friend, I have wonderful news. This morning, Y/N and I were married in Friar Laurence's chapel."

Benvolio's eyes widened in surprise. "Married? So soon? But what about the feud between your families? Do they know?"

Carlos shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Not yet, but we hope that our union will be the catalyst for peace. We believe that our love can end this senseless conflict. Now, more than ever, we need your support and discretion."

However, he is soon stopped when he sees Tybalt Alfonso, Y/N's cousin, there arguing with Mercutio. The tension in the garden was palpable, cutting through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

Tybalt's face was flushed with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at Mercutio. "What are you doing here, Montague?"

Tybalt spat, his voice laced with venom. "This garden is not for the likes of you."

Mercutio, ever the provocateur, smirked and replied, "Oh, Tybalt, must you always be so dramatic? We're simply enjoying the lovely weather. Besides, Carlos invited us."

Carlos stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "Tybalt, please, this isn't the time for old grudges."

Tybalt glared at Carlos, his eyes burning with fury. "You dare refuse my challenge?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are sworn enemies, and you will face me in combat!"

Carlos held up his hands, his expression calm and resolute. "I cannot, Tybalt. You are like family to me. I love you as a brother, and I will not raise my hand against you."

Tybalt's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected response. "What madness is this?" he demanded.

"We have been at odds for years, and now you claim to love me as kin?"

"It is no madness, Tybalt," Carlos replied evenly. "My heart has changed, and I see now that our feud has been a foolish and pointless thing. Let us put aside our differences and embrace as family."

Tybalt's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You mock me with your words, Carlos," he growled.

"I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue. The time for talk is over - draw your sword and fight, or be forever branded a coward!"

"I cannot believe you refuse to fight like a true man," Mercutio spat, his eyes narrowed in frustration as Carlos once again declined the challenge.

"Do you not have the courage to face me on the battlefield?"

Carlos averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, Mercutio, but I have no desire to engage in such violence. Perhaps we could resolve this matter peacefully."

Mercutio scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Peaceful? Bah! You dishonour yourself and all those around you with your cowardice."

He stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "If you will not fight, then I shall take your place and show you how a true warrior conducts himself."

Before Carlos could protest, Mercutio had already turned to face Tybalt, his sword drawn and his stance ready.

"En garde, Tybalt!" he called out, his voice ringing with a mixture of anger and excitement. "Let us see who is the better swordsman!"

Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords, the blades gleaming in the sunlight as they began to duel.

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the streets as the two men traded fierce blows, their movements swift and precise.

Sensing the escalating tension, Carlos attempted to intervene, stepping between the combatants in a desperate bid to stop the fighting.

However, Tybalt, blinded by rage, lashed out with his sword, aiming to strike Carlos but instead catching Mercutio in the chest.

Mercutio cried out in pain as the blade pierced his flesh, crimson blood spilling onto the cobblestones. He staggered backward, his own sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound.

Tybalt, realising his mistake, hesitated for a moment, his expression a mix of shock and regret.

The brief pause was all Carlos needed to seize Tybalt's sword arm, wrestling the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. Mercutio, his strength fading, collapsed to his knees, his laboured breaths echoing in the stunned silence that had fallen over the scene.

Mercutio drew his final, shuddering breath, his body racked with agony. He turned to his friend Carlos, pain etched across his face.

"Alas, dear friend, I fear my end is nigh," Mercutio said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This wound, it burns like fire, sapping my strength with every passing moment."

Carlo grasped Mercutio's hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Speak not of such things, good Mercutio. You shall recover, I promise you."

Mercutio managed a weak smile. "Nay, Romeo, my time has come. Promise me, promise me you'll not forget me." Romeo nodded solemnly, a single tear cascading down his cheek.

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend."

Carlos's heart ached with unbearable sorrow as he held Mercutio's hand tightly. "Your memory will live on in my heart forever, Mercutio," he vowed, his voice breaking.

With a final squeeze, he watched helplessly as the light faded from his friend's eyes. . . .

Carlos felt furious at Tybalt for killing Mercutio. The death of his dear friend had left him overcome with rage.

How dare Tybalt take Mercutio's life in such a callous manner? Carlos seethed with anger, his fists clenched as he replayed the tragic events in his mind.

In that moment, all Carlos could think about was avenging Mercutio. The thirst for retribution burned within him, clouding his judgment.

He knew he had to confront Tybalt, to make him pay for this heinous act. Carlos was determined to ensure justice was served, no matter the cost. His grief had morphed into a fierce, unyielding desire for vengeance.

Carlos scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Tybalt. The coward had fled, leaving chaos and heartbreak in his wake. Carlos's rage intensified with every passing second, knowing that Tybalt had not only taken Mercutio's life but had also escaped without facing the consequences of his actions.

The thought of Tybalt's cowardice fueled his resolve, and he vowed to track him down, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.

Determined and unwavering, Carlos rose to his feet, his mind singularly focused on his mission. He would hunt Tybalt to the ends of the earth if necessary, driven by a mix of grief and fury.

The streets that once seemed familiar now felt like a labyrinth he had to navigate to find his enemy.

As he moved forward, each step was a promise to Mercutio: justice would be served, and the pain inflicted upon his friend would not go unanswered.

Carlos and Tybalt found each other in the dimly lit alleyway, the tension between the two palpable. They circled one another, eyes locked, hands gripping their weapons tightly.

Without warning, Tybalt lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Carlos parried the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the narrow passage. The two men traded blows, their movements quick and precise, each one trying to gain the upper hand.

The fight raged on, neither man willing to back down. Tybalt's attacks grew more frenzied, his desperation fueling his strikes.

Carlos, however, remained calm and focused, his counterattacks landing with devastating precision.

In a final, desperate attempt, Tybalt made one last lunge.

But Carlos was ready, and with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his blade deep into Tybalt's chest. Tybalt's eyes widened in shock, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Carlos stood over Tybalt's lifeless body, his chest heaving with the adrenaline of the fight. The rage that had fueled him moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, somber silence.

He glanced up at the darkened sky, a sense of emptiness washing over him as he realized that, despite his victory, the void left by Mercutio's death could never truly be filled.

Realising what he has done, Carlos fled in a panic. The weight of his actions overwhelmed him, and he knew he could not face the consequences.

The Prince arrived on the scene, his expression grave.

With a booming voice, he declared, "Carlos, your crimes for killing Tybalt are unforgivable. You are hereby banished from Aragonia, effective immediately. You must leave our lands at once and never return, lest you face the full extent of our justice."

Carlos trembled, knowing there was no arguing with the Prince's decree.

You crumpled to the floor, the news of your cousin Tybalt's death and your husband Carlos' banishment hitting you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the letter that had delivered such devastating news.

The room seemed to spin, and you felt an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The love you had for Carlos was now intertwined with the grief and anger over Tybalt's demise, leaving you torn and shattered.

Days turned into nights, and the sorrow did not relent. You wandered through your home, haunted by memories of happier times, now tainted by the tragedy that had befallen your family.

Friends and family tried to console you, but their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the chasm of pain that consumed you.

The future seemed bleak, and you struggled to find a way forward, questioning how you could ever rebuild your life with the two most important people ripped away from you.

Each moment brought a fresh wave of anguish, the love for Carlos clashing violently with the grief and anger over Tybalt's death. You found yourself trapped in an endless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to reconcile the two.

At night, when the world was quiet, the memories of Carlos's gentle touch would surface, only to be shattered by the haunting vision of Tybalt's lifeless body, leaving you torn between the man you loved and the cousin you had lost.

"Y/N! Open the window door!" you heard someone too familiar say at your balcony at night.

You were about to sleep when you ran to the balcony to see Carlos, your husband who was supposed to be banished from the kingdom for killing your cousin.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" you asked, opening the window for him, still angry for his actions.

"Y/N, my love, I had to come back. I couldn't live without you," Carlos pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I did it to protect you. That cousin of yours was a threat, and I had to eliminate him."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? By murdering my own flesh and blood? Do you have any idea what you've done? You're a wanted man, Carlos. If they find you here, they'll kill you."

"I don't care about that," he said, reaching for your hand. "All that matters to me is you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

You pulled your hand away, your heart torn between your love for Carlos and the weight of his actions. "Carlos, you have to leave. This is madness. I can't protect you, and I can't be with you, not after what you've done."

"They didn't tell anyone but your cousin killed Mercutio," Carlos muttered.

"What? That can't be true," You exclaimed, your heart racing. "My cousin would never do such a thing!"

Carlos shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it is true. I was there, I tried to stop them. They were trying to cover it up. I'm sorry I killed Tybalt but it was justice for Mercutio,"

You felt a sense of disbelief wash over you.

"Tell me everything, Carlos," you demanded, your voice trembling. "I need to know exactly what happened that night."

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It all started when I was telling Mercutio about our marriage. Tybalt suddenly came out of nowhere and challenged us to fight. Tybalt lost his temper and attacked him. I tried to intervene, but it was too late. When I saw Mercutio fall, I knew I had to act."

You could see that Carlos wasn't lying through his eyes, which made you feel even worse. You walked further into your room, your hand on your face, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.

Carlos followed you, quietly closing the window behind him to ensure no one would hear your conversation.

"Y/N, I know this is difficult to accept, but I had no choice," Carlos said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't let Tybalt get away with what he did to Mercutio. Our friend needed justice, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Carlos, despite the anger and betrayal still burning within you. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the truth pressing down on you both.

"Y/N, I didn't come here to discuss bloodshed and the past," Carlos said, his voice steadying as he took a step closer to you.

"Then what did you come here to discuss?" you asked, leaning against the nearest wall to face him, your eyes searching his for answers.

"Us," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "We haven't really consummated the marriage, have we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. "Carlos, this isn't the time," you whispered, trying to hold back the storm of emotions. "Our lives are in danger, and all you can think about is us?"

Carlos raised his eyes to meet yours, determination etched in his features. "Yes, because despite everything, I love you. And I need to know if there's still a chance for us, if you still love me too."

You stood there, stunned by his confession. The love you once felt for Carlos was now tangled with the pain of recent events. "Carlos," you began, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened. Mercutio's death, the feud—it has all changed us. But I can't deny that a part of me still cares for you."

Carlos took another step closer, his eyes softening. "Then let that part guide you," he pleaded. "We can find a way through this, together. We can honor Mercutio by trying to build something better, something that isn't marred by hatred and violence."

You searched his eyes, longing to believe in the possibility of a future where love could triumph over the shadows of the past.

"Y/N, I want you," he said, his voice low and husky.

You looked up at him, your heart racing. You wanted him too, but you were still scared. . . .

"I don't know if I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll be gentle, I promise," he said, his fingers tracing the outline of your face.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn't resist him any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded, and Carlos led you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Carlos pulled you close and kissed you, his lips hot and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body melting against his.

He started to undress you, his hands skillfully removing your clothes. You stood there, trembling with anticipation, as he kissed every inch of your body.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You let out a moan, your body responding to his touch.

He continued to explore your body, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your pussy, he spread your lips apart and started to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep inside you.

You let out a loud moan, your body writhing with pleasure. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in to stimulate your clit.

You felt an orgasm building inside you, and you grabbed onto Carlos's head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," you moaned. "Don't stop."

He didn't stop, and soon you were crying out in pleasure, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Carlos stood up and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. You could taste your own juices on his lips, and it only turned you on more.

He reached down and pulled out his cock, and you could see the desire in his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he entered you in one swift motion.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you up, your body adjusting to his size. He started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, and you urged him on.

"Harder, Carlos," you moaned, "harder."

He responded by thrusting even harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke. You let out a loud cry as you came again, your body shaking with pleasure.

Carlos continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He let out a loud groan as he came, his hot cum filling you up.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat. You kissed him, your tongues intertwined, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

"Let's run away together," you muttered breathlessly, your lips still tingling from the intensity of your kiss.

Carlos looked into your eyes, his face softening with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a surge of certainty wash over you. "Yes, let's leave everything behind and start fresh, just the two of us."

Carlos smiled, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. We can go anywhere you want," he said, caressing your cheek. "Paris, Bali, or even a small cabin in the mountains. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

You kissed him again, your decision cemented by the passion you shared, ready to embark on a new journey together.

"You stay here and rest, and I'll pack for you," he said, sitting up with a playful smirk. "I've gotten a good eye for fashion, you know."

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief and exhilaration wash over you. "Oh really? I'd love to see your choices," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Carlos stood up and began gathering clothes and essentials, his movements quick and efficient. "Trust me, you'll look amazing in everything I pick," he said confidently.

You watched him, a smile playing on your lips, feeling a newfound sense of freedom. "I can't wait to see where this adventure takes us," you murmured, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Carlos turned to you, holding up a sundress and a pair of sandals. "How about this for our first stop in Paris? It's perfect for a romantic stroll along the Seine," he suggested with a wink.

You giggled, nodding your approval. "I love it! And maybe a hat to go with it? We don't want to look like typical tourists," you added with a playful grin.

He chuckled, placing the outfit in the suitcase. "Consider it done. And for the mountains, I've got just the thing—cozy sweaters and boots for those chilly nights by the fireplace," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You felt a rush of warmth and affection, knowing that no matter where you went, as long as you were together, it would be perfect.

"Here's to new beginnings," you said, raising an imaginary glass, and Carlos joined in, the two of you basking in the glow of your shared dreams and the promise of endless possibilities. . . .

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Matilda burst into your room, her face pale with panic.

"Where are you?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear. She tore through the room, throwing open the closet doors and rifling through drawers, but all she found was an empty suitcase and a note left behind.

Matilda's hands shook as she unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. "Dear Matilda, I've decided to start a new chapter with Carlos. I hope you understand. Please don't worry about me; I'm finally following my heart. Love, [Your Name]."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew deep down that you were doing what was best for you. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Be happy," sending her silent blessings to wherever your adventure was taking you.

Matilda took a moment to collect herself, then resolved to support your decision despite her initial shock. She decided to focus on her own journey, finding solace in the thought that you were finally pursuing your happiness.

Matilda knew that breaking the news to your family would be difficult, so she opted to tell a little white lie.

Over breakfast, she calmly explained to your parents that you had taken a spur-of-the-moment business trip and would be out of touch for a while.

"It's a great opportunity for her," she said, forcing a smile. "She didn't want to worry you with the details but assured me she'd be back soon."

Your parents exchanged concerned glances but ultimately trusted Matilda's explanation. As the days turned into weeks, she continued to cover for you, providing updates and reassuring them that you were doing well.

Deep down, Matilda felt the weight of the secret she was keeping, but she knew it was what you needed.

She found strength in the hope that one day, you would return to share your incredible journey with everyone. . . .

[officialabortive]

bakugou x witch! reader

———

Bakugou dosen't believe in witches. Their just another bullshit story parents tell to scare their children in to behaving properly. Even as a child, he upfront refused to believe the whole "black cats are witches in disguise" crap.

If cats were really witches, they wouldn't be licking their own assholes to get clean

Currently passing through a creek side village. Katsuki, ever the clueless amiture when it comes to casually interacting with animals rather than hunting them, made an amiture mistake. Tossing a scrap peace of chicken breast in the direction of some random ally cat, before continuing on his previous path. The meat landed right beside long whiskers accentuated by tufts of surrounding black furr. Only to get chomped down after a single hasty sniff of inspection.

Eyes wearily followd his every move as Bakugou reached the town's center, where the open marketplace is held. Stands of freshly harvested crop and everyday trinkets scattered every which way. Not that he cares. That's usually the case. This is always the "welcome" given by isolated little villages such as this.

Eyes naturally pin to the unknown. Anything unrecognized or out of the ordinary grasps attention, weather wanted or not. It's obvious these people have never have never seen a barbarian in their lifetime. It wouldn't be all so suprising if they've been told tall tales just as so many others have. Rumors of how people of barbarian tribes are just that; Barbarians. Wild, untamed, and uncivilized groups no better than animals living among trees and rolling in mud pools.

The hustle and bustle makes way once again as he approaches a weapons and blades vendor, no one wanting to be caught staring. The blacksmith behind the booth, a peppy teen boy with scruffy hair —presumably nothing more than an apprentice— tries to act nonchalant, albeit poorly. Bakugou stands unbothered by the way the boys shoulders slightly tense as he scans through the wide selections of hand crafted items. Onel dagger in particular catches the blonde's eye. Fine steel edges connecting to an intricately made hilt, depicting detailed images of dragons in flight. Its maker is undoubtedly a veteran of their craft.

Bakugou pulls a tightly woven burlap sack from the satchel connected to his belt, tugging at its drawstring.

The fact that he's being trailed and under watch of a wild animal irked him. Not due to the act itself, but fact that he feels such a tense squeeze of unsettlment underlying within his chest. It's simply a critical strike to his pride. Even if it caught him off guard —which would never happen — bakugou could take that thing down in a heartbeat; he knows that. Hours of walking were spent trying to simultaneously figure out why the hell is he put at such unease.

'This damn cat has been trailing me since I skipped town! The fuck does it want?'

Barbarians are taught to remain in a constant state of observation, subconsciously scanning their surroundings. It's a bit of a habit is habit for most of his people. It's common practice for the tribes to train all five senses from a young age. figure tailing close behind. It's presence hard to miss, especially come nightfall when it's stealth tactics were a bit... lacking

Those eyes. the way moonlight reflects from their surface made it as if they themselves were illuminated. Its probably just a figment of imagination due to fatigue, but bakugou notes the abnormal sheen of intelligence in that cat's stare. Its unsettling, really. The feeling of being observed by a fully sentient being.

"What?"

It came out as more of a snappy grumble than an actual question. Especially when its delivered with such a stone cold glare.

A furry little head popped up from within the grasses, prancing out of hiding with a perked tail in a manor couldn't be described as anything less then peppy. Kind of like a small child that's finally been found in a game of hide-and-seek.

It's probably just because Katsuki's ease in his travels as of late. A frisky little party member who takes claim of his cloak by sitting on it, and paws at the laces of his boots until they came untied. Bakugou getting circled and yelled at whenever he pulls out the slightest bit of food, which more often than not ends in trash talk.Though it never really escalates any farther for one reason or another A wave of grey clouds rolled about in the distance. If the thunder claps and harsh wind were anything to go by, it's was going to be a hell of a storm. The last thing bakugou needed was soaking travel gear, so he set up camp up wind in attempts to keep dry. But the storm ended changing course, bypassing him and his furball completely! X And the swarms of mosquitoes that are almost always in places such as these, just weren't there Only dragonflies and grasshoppers dodging the furry paws swinging at them with purpose Katsuki not being able to tread through mildly tall grass without somebody attacking on his boots

Unfinished

TBC?

[moonmaiden1996]

Bound by Fate Chapter 8

1, 2,3,4,5,6,7

Yasopp, Lime Juice, and Hongo dragged you through the chaos of the marketplace, weaving through a crowd that had devolved into a panicked, writhing mass driven purely by terror. Shanks’s unleashed Haki had transformed the once-vibrant bazaar into a battlefield, its air saturated with fear and desperation. Bodies littered the ground where they’d fallen, unconscious or trembling, their faces twisted in agony. Others staggered and screamed, their cries swallowed by the suffocating pressure of his overwhelming presence. Stalls that had once burst with color and life now lay in ruins—splintered wood, crushed fruit, and shattered glass trampled underfoot in the frantic exodus.

The air was a choking haze of sweat, blood, and smoke, every breath clawing at your lungs. The raw tang of destruction lingered on your tongue. Around you, the world blurred into a hellish whirl of fragmented sounds and jagged motion. The cacophony of breaking stalls, desperate wails, and distant roars hammered at your senses, but within the protective cocoon of the pirates surrounding you, the chaos was dulled—eerily muted, like the muffled calm at the heart of a storm. Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out all thought. The sting of your bitten lip was the only thing grounding you to the present.

Lime Juice led the charge with unyielding determination, his grip firm but not cruel as he hauled you forward. His movements were precise, each step navigating a path through the carnage with an almost preternatural focus, as if he alone could see the way. Behind you, Yasopp was a shield against the press of bodies and debris, his movements fluid and practiced. He swatted away anything—or anyone—that threatened to close in, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd with deadly intent. Hongo flanked your other side, every muscle tense and coiled, his hand hovering near his weapon as his eyes darted relentlessly, searching for danger amid the pandemonium.

“Move faster,” Lime Juice growled, his voice low but edged with urgency. The command cut through the noise like the slash of a blade.

Nearby, the rest of the Red-Haired Pirates stood as living barricades against the tide of panic. Lucky Roux, his usual mirth nowhere in sight, was a wall of grim resolve, batting aside fleeing townsfolk with methodical precision. Monster’s massive frame dominated the streets, his movements deliberate as he swept through the chaos like a wrecking ball, clearing a path. Bonk Punch’s booming voice thundered above the hysteria, rallying his comrades with commanding orders. They were unrelenting, each one a fortress holding back the storm, carving a fragile path to safety in a world consumed by madness.

Finally, the edge of the marketplace came into view—a sliver of reprieve from the hellish chaos. As the cacophony dimmed, a narrow side street stretched out before you, its stillness oppressive after the turmoil. Half-shuttered windows cast flickering shadows over the cobblestones, their pale light trembling in the heavy air. The sharp scents of spilled ale and charred wood lingered, a bitter reminder of the devastation left behind. Lime Juice released your arm abruptly, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Still, his body remained taut, as if ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Yasopp and Hongo closed ranks around you, their stances tense, eyes scanning the darkened street.

“Don’t stop moving,” Hongo ordered, his tone sharp. Yet, beneath the edge of command, a flicker of unease betrayed the mask of control he fought to maintain.

From somewhere distant came the echoes of battle—clanging steel, the sporadic crack of gunfire—an unrelenting reminder that safety was still far out of reach. Then, splitting the night like a jagged blade, came Shanks’s roar. It was a primal sound, raw with anguish and fury, a force that made the very air tremble. The sound reached inside you, twisting your chest and clawing at your resolve, as if it were not merely heard but felt in the marrow of your bones.

Yasopp exchanged a tense glance with Lime Juice. “Where to now?” he asked, his voice taut but steady, a thin veneer over the strain beneath.

“We keep moving,” Lime Juice said firmly, his jaw set like iron. The words felt more like a mantra than a plan, as if he were convincing himself as much as the others. “We can’t let him catch us.”

The unspoken truth lingered, heavy as lead: If he did, none of them would survive.

The vibrations of the battlefield seemed to chase you, rattling the stones beneath your feet and pressing on your shoulders like an invisible weight. At last, Lime Juice veered sharply into the shadows of a dimly lit cafe, its door hanging slightly ajar. Inside, overturned chairs and scattered crockery spoke of a hasty abandonment. The stale scent of burnt coffee clung to the air, bitter and sour against the tension that clamped down on your chest. Without hesitation, Lime Juice dragged a table against the door with practiced efficiency, the scrape of wood against stone grating in the tense silence. Yasopp guided you to crouch behind an overturned booth, his hand briefly squeezing your shoulder in reassurance before he turned to scan the room.

Hongo paced restlessly, his agitation crackling like electricity. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword with every step, and his jaw tightened with each pass. His sharp, darting gaze flicked to the door repeatedly, as though expecting it to burst open at any moment.

“We shouldn’t be hiding,” he muttered, his voice low but brimming with frustration. “Shanks is out there. The others are out there. We should be fighting.”

“Enough,” Yasopp snapped, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his own misgivings. “This is the plan. We follow orders.”

Hongo froze mid-step, his glare cutting through the shadows. “That doesn’t make it right,” he said, quieter but no less intense. “We’re sitting here while he’s tearing himself apart out there—for what?”

“For her,” Yasopp replied simply, jerking his head toward you.

The weight of their argument pressed down on you like a physical force, guilt coiling tightly in your chest. “This is my fault,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “It’s not fair. I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t start that,” Lime Juice interrupted sharply, his tone clipped.

“But it is!” you cried, tears stinging your eyes. “He’s fighting because of this—because of me!”

“Because he loves you,” Yasopp said, his voice calm and unyielding. “That’s why we’re here. He gave us an order—to protect you.”

The words struck you harder than any roar or crash of battle. You opened your mouth to respond, but another deafening explosion shook the walls of the cafe, followed by Shanks’s guttural roar—feral, raw, and unrelenting. The sound reverberated through your bones, making the air itself feel alive with tension.

“We can’t stay here,” Hongo muttered, his hand already on his weapon. “We need to move.”

Lime Juice hesitated, his jaw tightening as he weighed the options. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll find a way out. Lock the door behind us. Don’t move from this spot,” he ordered you, his voice firm. “We’ll calm him down.”

Yasopp crouched beside you, his gaze steady but softened. “If anything happens—”

“I’ll be fine,” you cut him off, forcing a resolve you didn’t feel into your voice.

“Spicy food calms the nerves, you know.”

The door closed behind them with an ominous finality, leaving you alone in the cafe’s suffocating stillness. The silence felt alive, pressing down on you like a heavy shroud, broken only by the distant echoes of battle. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, feeling the frantic hammering of your heart beneath your palm, as the weight of the night threatened to crush you.

The voice, warm and weathered, broke the suffocating silence like a crack of thunder. You spun around, heart hammering. An old man sat at a corner table, his sudden presence unnerving, as if he’d materialized from thin air. A tattered hat obscured most of his face, but his eyes—bright, sharp, and too knowing—pinned you in place.

With a steady hand, he pushed a steaming bowl of pasta toward you. The aroma struck immediately—rich and fiery, the heat of chili oil curling through the air. “Chili oil pasta. Eat. It’ll help.”

Your breath caught. “Who are you?” you demanded, your voice a tight thread of suspicion. “How did you get in here?”

He chuckled, the sound low and grating, like boots on gravel. “The door wasn’t locked,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “And who I am? That’s not important.”

You stepped back instinctively, keeping the overturned booth as a barrier between you. The spicy aroma seemed to cut through the lingering chaos in your mind, the bowls curling steam rising between you. “Why are you here?” you asked, your words slicing through the tension like a blade.

The old man sighed, his shoulders sagging as though under an invisible weight. “To apologise,” he said. “The pollen—this bond. It wasn’t meant to unravel this way.”

The air in the room thickened. “You know about the pollen?” you asked, your pulse roaring in your ears.

He nodded slowly. “My grandmother used to tell me stories about Devil Fruit pollen. How it could forge unbreakable bonds between souls.” His voice dipped, heavy with regret. “I’d never seen it work before, but I thought…” He trailed off, his gaze falling to the table. “I thought it would bring balance. That it would awaken something natural between you two– mutually.”

His words struck like a cannon blast. Your hands gripped the edge of the booth, trembling under the weight of his confession. “Why?” you demanded, your voice raw with anger. “Why would you do this to us?”

His gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a quiet, resonant tone. “Because the world is breaking,” he said. “It’s choking on greed, despair, and cruelty. But love—real, unshakable love—brings hope. It inspires change. You and Shanks…” He met your eyes with startling intensity. “You’re going to make him stronger. Better. And through that strength, you’ll inspire others. The world needs heroes.”

The room seemed to warp around his words, their weight twisting in your mind. “You think forcing bonds will save the world?” you spat, fury shaking your voice. “You think you had the right to decide this for us?”

“I didn’t force anything,” the old man replied calmly, almost sadly. “Love either thrives or it doesn’t. The pollen only awakened what was already there.”

His words sank deep, unsettling something within you that you couldn’t name. You wanted to refute him, to deny the implication, but a small, unyielding part of you hesitated. “Shanks would never hurt you,” the man continued, his tone unwavering. “He can’t—not truly. His soul yearns for you. And this…” He gestured toward the door, where the faint, distant sounds of battle rumbled on. “This is his soul, fighting for you.”

The world narrowed to that single statement, its gravity pulling you under. “His soul?” you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice over the storm in your mind. “That doesn’t—”

“Make sense?” The old man smiled faintly, a shadow of sadness and understanding passing across his face. “It rarely does. But love—real love—makes heroes unshakable. Remember that.”

You glared at him, anger bubbling to the surface. “Pirates don’t make good heroes,” you said bitterly.

“Better than none at all,” he replied, his voice quiet but firm, as if it were a truth carved from stone.

Before you could respond, the old man stood, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He tipped his hat toward you in a strangely formal gesture, and without another word, he turned and walked to the door. Panic clawed at your chest.

“Wait!” you called, scrambling around the booth to follow him.

But by the time you reached the doorway, the night swallowed him whole. The cobblestone streets stretched out before you, empty save for the distant flicker of firelight. The battle raged on, its chaos a constant backdrop. You stepped out, searching frantically for any trace of him, but it was as if he’d vanished into thin air.

The cool night air pressed in, vast and suffocating all at once. You stood frozen, your thoughts churning. Somewhere in the distance, the echoes of Shanks’s fury roared, vibrating through the ground beneath your feet.

Had a very crappy week with exam presentation and work. So looking forward for the winter holidays and being able to write again.

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST

@commanderfreethatdust @hauntedluna

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty-Two

You cross the one line Silco warned you never to cross.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,000

Warnings: (Attempted) realistic portrayal of a schizophrenic episode, implied threats, unprotected piv sex, creampie, intimacy

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

You should have been meeting with Silco that afternoon. It was the date of your intended appointment, but you were out walking around the marketplaces of the Lanes with a few of the Haven’s personnel. The knowledge that you had originally meant to be somewhere else only made your free day sweeter. 

You didn’t know why Silco had postponed your meeting, but he had. The note he sent hadn’t required an answer, so you hadn’t had the chance to ask whether he had a reason at all. 

Perhaps you would ask when you met up later in the week. Or perhaps you wouldn’t. Silco’s business was his own. 

You were laughing at a terrible joke Rowan had cracked when you heard something strange. When you paused in place, the others came to a stop as well. You could tell from their expressions that they heard it, too - crying wasn’t an uncommon sound in the Undercity, but screaming hysterics were a different story. 

The sound echoed off the stone walls of the surrounding area, making it difficult to track, but you managed to find the source at last: a small figure in a narrow alleyway between two buildings. You were already moving toward the figure when you came to a stop, dread curling in the pit of your belly. 

It was Jinx.

“Jinx?” you called, cursing yourself when she jumped violently. It looked like the name physically hit her, and her eyes were wide and betrayed when she glanced over at you. 

The look in her eyes was one you knew all too well: she was having an episode. 

“Who is that?” Steel asked, trying to peer around you. 

“She called her Jinx,” Arunn said, sounding confused. “Who is Jinx?” 

You turned back toward them, trying to stay at an angle that would let you see them while still keeping an eye on Silco’s daughter. “I know her. She’s one of Silco’s people. She needs some time to calm down, then I need to get her back to the Last Drop.” 

Rowan stiffened. “One of Silco’s people is a kid?” 

“Who cares?” Duran asked. “Why are we helping Silco?” 

You frowned at him. Duran was new, an ex-addict who had just made his way through the Haven’s program and wanted to stay. You weren’t sure why - he wasn’t exactly focused on helping other people. 

“If we choose to ignore someone who needs help,” you asked, trying to keep from getting harsh with him, “what makes us different from Silco?” 

Duran looked away, abashed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“It sounded like it came from a place of hurt, not hatred,” you agreed. “But I think it would be best if you all went back to the Haven. Not because I think you can’t handle it, but because having fewer people here will be less overwhelming for her. Besides, someone should tell the guards why I’m not coming back on time. This could take a while.” 

“We’ll let them know,” Steel agreed, elbowing Rowan and Duran until they followed her. Arunn stayed where he was, eyes shifting from you to Jinx and back. 

“You can head back to the Haven, too,” you told him. “I’ll be fine.” 

Arunn still didn’t move. “I’ll stay with you. This could be some kind of Silco trap or something. And you might need help getting her back to the Last Drop later.” 

You wanted to argue that, but it was a fair point. Jinx was an energetic girl, but episodes like this one could take a lot out of a person. “You’ll have to stay out of sight around the corner, and try not to make any noise.” 

“I can do that,” Arunn agreed, stepping back around the corner in question. Before you went down the alley, he stopped you. “Be careful.” 

“I will be,” you promised.

As you walked down the alleyway, you watched Jinx’s motions with a practiced eye. She seemed to be worse than she had been before you spoke with the Haven employees. Then, she had been loudly sobbing. But now, she was quiet - muttering to herself as she paced around the narrow space between the buildings, grimacing and occasionally hitting herself on the side of the head.

“Hey, it’s just me,” you said vaguely, trusting that she would recognize your voice. “I’m going to sit here for a little while, if that’s all right with you. ” 

Jinx didn’t seem to hear you. She was still talking to herself, a series of disjointed questions and half-statements aimed at no one or someone only she could see. Her eyes tracked back and forth like she was watching someone, though you carefully looked away when she turned in your direction. 

She gave a startling, barking laugh that made you jump. It didn’t sound pleasant in the slightest. Her taps to her head went from light thumps with the heel of her palm to fist-like strikes and you tensed.

By the time she had braced herself against a wall and whacked her forehead on the bricks, you were on your feet. By the second hit, you had placed your hand firmly against the wall. The force of her forehead against your palm made your hand sting. 

Jinx glared at you, but you kept your expression impassive. “I don’t want to interfere, but I can’t let you hurt yourself. Okay? I’ll be sitting down over there. Join me when you can.” 

As you settled back into your previous seat, Jinx scowled. Fortunately, she didn’t move to headbutt the wall again. Instead, she went back to pacing. 

“Have you ever noticed that some of the old scrap pieces around the Lanes look like faces?” you asked, keeping your voice casual and conversational. Jinx didn’t react. “I think it could be creepy in the right light, but there’s something kind of cute about them. Like the lights side-by-side above Rusty’s Needles. The tattoo gun on the sign makes it look like they’re two eyes and the gun is the mouth. It makes me happy when I see it.” 

Jinx still didn’t react to you, but the muttering had gone from an uninterrupted stream to occasional bursts. The quiet stretched longer between them as her pacing slowed. You kept rambling about faces and other optical illusions around the Undercity. 

You were debating the pros and cons of a particular streetlight when Jinx dropped heavily to sit beside you on the ground. Her back was slumped against the wall and her eyes fell shut. In a raspy voice, she asked, “What about the windows on the warehouse on sump level 27? They look like eyes.” 

It took a moment to get your momentum back, but you recovered quickly. “Yeah, they do. But the tracks from the ash make it look like they’re wearing makeup.”

“What’s wrong with makeup?” Jinx asked, eyes still closed.

“Nothing,” you assured, studying her while she wasn’t looking. “But those buildings have been here for… what? Fifty years? Seems like a big commitment for a makeup regimen.”

She didn’t give any verbal response, but the corner of her lips curled upward. 

You sat in companionable silence for a while, but Jinx didn’t seem to regain any energy. Her face was paler than normal, lines of weariness bracketing her mouth. She hadn’t moved since she had sat down, her back curled against the wall behind her. When you glanced down, you watched her fingers tremble subtly. 

“I think we should get you back to the Drop,” you said at last. 

Jinx hummed. 

“Unless you want me to get your dad and have him pick you up?”

Jinx hummed again, but this time, the sound was distinctly negative. “He’s outta town.” 

You frowned. Silco had left town and hadn’t told you? That was weird. “Okay, what about Sevika?”

The snort she gave was a clear enough answer on its own, but you listened to the explanation anyway. “Sevika went with Dad. She hates me, anyway.” 

You chose to ignore the last muttered addition to that. “Is there anyone at the Last Drop who can keep an eye on you? I don’t want you to be alone right now.” 

“Ran.” 

Despite the moments you waited, Jinx didn’t add anything further to the short explanation. Okay, so Ran must be a person. 

“Let me tell my friend that he doesn’t need to wait for us, then we’ll start for the Drop.”

Jinx didn’t respond, which you assumed was a way of saying that she was fine with it. 

“Arunn?” you called, only slightly louder than you and Jinx had been speaking. You were ready to call again when he peered around the corner of the building. When he saw you looking in his direction, Arunn started toward the two of you. 

“Everything good?” he asked softly when he was standing in front of you. 

“Yeah, I’m just going to take her back to The Last Drop,” you explained. “Can you let everyone know that I’ll be back soon?” 

“They already know,” Arunn said, looking stubborn. “Besides, I’m going with you.” 

“You don’t need to.” When you were on your feet, you turned to help Jinx only to find her already standing, leaning heavily against the wall. “We can make it.” 

Arunn sighed. “I know you can, but people are going to see the two of you and try to take advantage. It’ll be easier if there are more of us.”

“I can still fight,” Jinx insisted, shifting to lean against you instead of the wall. Her slender frame was heavier than it looked, and her eyes were still closed. 

You hummed skeptically and Arunn shook his head at you. “I’m coming along.” 

“Fine,” you agreed, mostly because it would be getting dark soon and you wanted to get Jinx home before that happened. “Let’s go.”

The market where you had been browsing was between the Haven and The Last Drop, but there was still a significant distance before you got Jinx home. Silence reigned as you made your slow, steady way through the first few streets. 

Jinx cracked her eyes open around the halfway point. You would be encouraged by the idea that she was recovering from her fatigue, but you were supporting more of her weight than ever. It was also concerning that she was staring intently at Arunn. 

“Have I met you yet?” Jinx asked, leaning forward slightly to watch him without you between them. 

“Don’t think so,” Arunn said with a shrug. “I haven’t met you.” 

“Jinx,” she said offering a casual salute. 

He paused for a moment and you watched to see what he would do. He wasn’t under any obligation to give his name, of course, but you weren’t sure whether he knew that. “Arunn.” 

“Good to meetcha, Arunn,” Jinx told him, stumbling a bit as she turned to look where you were going instead of at him. Her knees had buckled for a moment, leaving her resting her full weight on you. Your shoulders complained - Jinx’s arm was slung up and around your neck, so they were carrying the brunt of the additional weight.

Arunn watched as you readjusted Jinx’s arm over your shoulders. He would probably have helped, but one of you needed to be ready to handle any threats that approached. 

“Hey Jinx,” Arunn said abruptly. “You ever had a piggy-back ride?” 

“A piggy-back ride?” Jinx repeated, perking up noticeably. “Not since I was a kid.” 

You frowned at that - Jinx was all of twelve years old. She was still a kid, even if she had that world-weary look shared by all too many children in the Undercity. 

Arunn didn’t seem as caught up in his own thoughts as you were. He stilled, squatting slightly and bracing himself with his arms down and out to either side. “Hop on.”

The smile on Jinx’s face made your chest ease a little. She hurried forward eagerly, hopping onto Arunn’s back with only a little unsteadiness. The two got settled quickly enough, then turned expectantly to you. With a smile of your own, you led the way toward The Last Drop.

From there, the process of returning Jinx to her home was surprisingly simple. You took her to The Last Drop and the bartender rushed off to retrieve a medium-height person with black hair. When you had confirmed with Jinx that this was Ran, you and Arunn passed her over to get some rest. 

Before you left, Jinx tackled you in a hug. She did the same for Arunn, and you were warmed to see how quickly his surprise melted to pleasure as he patted her back and told her to take things slow. 

The walk back to the Haven was quiet but companionable. Arunn didn’t press for details about how you knew Jinx or ask why you wanted to help her. Instead, he asked whether you had taken a look at some of the menu ideas he had put together. 

Arunn had spearheaded a partnership between the Haven and Stocked, Nimi and Michah’s grocery store. He purchased the foods that didn’t sell very well on the Haven’s behalf, then worked with Micah to build recipes using the foods he had purchased. The patients loved his cooking, and Nimi adored the fact that Arunn helped them move less popular foods. Micah was always happy to cook, and especially when he could teach as dedicated a pupil as Arunn. 

Things were quiet for the next few days. You had only just started to wonder when Silco would be back in the Undercity when one of the guards handed you a tersely written message.

Come to The Last Drop immediately. 

You hadn’t bothered writing a reply. If you were supposed to meet with Silco immediately, you would arrive at the same time as whatever message you intended to send. 

Your sense of dread was palpable as you retraced your steps to The Last Drop. It was the late hours of the morning, and the building seemed entirely empty. There was no one in the main room and you didn’t see a soul as you climbed the staircase up to Silco’s office. 

A perfunctory knock on the door was replied to with a one-word answer: Enter. When you did, Silco stared at you, gaze hard. “Close the door behind you.” 

You did, distantly wondering if the thundering of your pulse would be visible in your neck when you turned around. 

“Tell me exactly what you were thinking.” 

You took a deep breath at the menace in Silco’s voice as he issued the order. Still, you had been thinking about this since the incident with Jinx, and your half-prepared speech tumbled from your lips in a rush of words. 

You explained that you had found Jinx in the alleyway and had stayed there as she calmed down. You told him how you had offered to get him, but Jinx told you that he was out of town. You finished with how Ran had led Jinx upstairs as you and Arunn had left. 

“Did I not tell you to stay away from Jinx?” 

Silco’s whip-like voice made you flinch, but you recovered quickly. “I don’t see how I could have done anything different, Silco. There are people who would take advantage of a young girl having a crisis, even somewhere as public as the markets-”

“Zaunites know better than most how to take care of themselves,” Silco dismissed, tucking his hands behind his back as he paced around the office. “You are letting your outside experiences color the way you treat people here.” 

“Rape and assault can happen anywhere,” you shot back, watching as Silco straightened, his expression darkening rapidly. “And they happen in Zaun far more often than anywhere else I’ve lived. If you think I was going to leave Jinx alone while she calmed down, you don’t know me very well.” 

“What did I tell you would happen if you spoke with her again?” 

You shook your head slowly. “That conversation was a long time ago. Probably that you would kill me.” 

“And did you remember that when you disobeyed my orders?” It was almost worse that Silco’s voice had softened into something quiet and gentle. It made you feel like he was going to pounce on you, especially since he was steadily working his way closer to you.

“I did,” you confirmed, half-wondering if you should have lied. “It didn’t change my decision on how to proceed and I wouldn’t change anything now.” 

Silco nodded thoughtfully. “Follow me.” 

You sighed inaudibly when he turned. If this was how you were going to die, so be it. You had no regrets. 

He led you through the doorway in the corner. You were already frowning in confusion when you stepped into his bedroom, but it faded as Silco kissed you. 

It was hungry and desperate and not at all what you would expect from a man who was going to murder you in the next few minutes. There was a fumbling at your back as Silco reached behind you to close the door. As soon as that was done, he started working at your clothing. 

You were pliant in his arms, distracted by a combination of his tongue in your mouth and your own surprise at still being alive. The instant you were fully bare, Silco started maneuvering you toward his bed. 

When you got there, collapsing backward onto the soft springiness of his mattress, Silco’s hands moved to the fastenings of his own clothing. He stripped himself as quickly as he could, joining you on the bed before the last stitch hit the floor. 

He held himself up and over you, leaning down to continue claiming your mouth. You couldn’t keep yourself from relaxing into it, but you didn’t try very hard. There was something… different about the way he was touching you, something almost reverent.

As your lips worked together, tongues exploring each other, Silco dropped his lower body further and further toward you. When his length was pressed against the cradle of your hips, you both gave a groan. He was hard against you, and your folds were slippery with your own desire. 

There was no resistance at all when he plunged his cock into you. Your body accepted him willingly - even eagerly - and you moaned again at the feeling of him stretching and filling you. 

He surged forward until he was buried inside of you, then paused. You were locked together so closely that you couldn’t tell which body’s pulsing you felt, but it pounded through the entirety of your body. Silco’s natural eye was heavy-lidded, almost closed, but he still watched you with satisfaction written across his face. 

“That’s it, pet,” he said warmly. “Let me in. I’ll bring you pleasure you never dreamed of.”

It seemed like an odd request considering that you had been meeting up for almost a year, but you weren’t in the mood to start arguing the particulars with him. Instead, you wrapped your legs around him, urging him to press harder against you. 

Apparently, that was enough of an answer, because Silco started to rock slowly into you. He never left you entirely - he couldn’t, with the way your legs were tight around his flexing hips - but it didn’t matter. He moved as far as he could, choosing the perfect pace to keep you gasping and clenching around him. 

One of his hands was braced beside your head, holding him poised above you as he thrust into you with that steady rhythm. The other hand was busily exploring you. 

He wasn’t focused on your breasts and clit the way he normally was. Instead, Silco’s hand worked over your body, sweeping down your arms and cradling the curve of your hip. He stroked over the globe of your ass and continued down your leg, catching for a moment in the sensitive space behind the bend of your knee. 

You might have ignored it as a new form of torture, but Silco’s gaze stayed fixed on you the entire time. His eyes were zeroed in on your face, watching and weighing the impact of each touch. When he had finished his first exploration, he did it all again, concentrating that time on all of the places that had made you breathe a little heavier for him.

And all the while, his body kept that steady surging into and out of yours. 

Sex between you and Silco was often a frantic, hurried experience. Either you didn’t have time to share anything slow and reverent, or you didn’t have the desire to. You were low on time or one of you was angry or any one of a dozen reasons that you didn’t opt for anything slow and careful. 

To put it simply, if a little crassly, you and Silco fucked. 

This was different. You weren’t fucking. This wasn’t even simple sex. If anything, it was making love - a phrase you had always found both embarrassing and awkward. But it fit this. The slow thrusts, the gentle touches, the way his eyes had yet to move from your face…

Perhaps the most surprising part of all was that you didn’t mind it. 

Silco was murmuring in your ear, delivering small compliments and encouragements almost as often as he delivered strokes of his body in yours. All of it was interspersed with gentle kisses, and you looked forward to them just as much as you did everything else. You started leaning up to accept those kisses, too eager to wait for him to close the distance between you. 

Despite the dramatic change in pace from how things usually went between you, you found your orgasm drawing ever-closer. Silco continued to deliver his gentle, measured thrusts even as your hands unwound from the sheets to grip the warm skin behind his shoulders. Your inner muscles tightened, your back arching slightly against the surface of the bed. 

“Silco,” you said with half a gasp. “I’m close.” 

He hummed, a hint of a smile curving his lips. “Good. Come for me, darling.” 

The warm entreaty left you helpless, spasming around him as your body shook and flexed against the onslaught of pleasure. Your fingers tightened against the muscles of his back, trying desperately to ground yourself with him. It didn’t work - the slow and steady pushes of his body into yours kept your orgasm feeding out slowly until you could hardly remember a time before the overwhelming sensations. Silco watched raptly the entire time.

You hit a point when your body stopped being able to react, like the pleasure had finally overtaken you to the point when your nerves were numbed to the hormones flooding your system. 

Your body had started to calm, pulsing slowly around Silco’s as you came down from your peak. Silco cursed, pushing quickly into you. It was the first time he had broken that careful rhythm, and your eyes opened to watch as Silco’s pleasure overcame him. 

His natural eye fluttered closed, the Shimmer-infused one meeting your gaze intently. Silco’s lips parted slightly as he gasped and pushed as far into you as he could. His cock twitched and pulsed inside of you, warmth spreading from where he was nestled in your core. 

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he kept himself firmly against you. It wouldn’t last - he would soften enough to slip free of you without intervention from either of you, but you knew that he liked to enjoy the closeness when he could. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, voice almost inaudible with the way he was speaking against your skin. 

“Mmm?” It was all you could muster, but you hoped it got your point across. 

“For taking care of my daughter.” 

You hummed again, entwining yourself more thoroughly in his arms. Perhaps it been your imagination, but it had almost seemed like he was going to say ‘our daughter’.

---

Author's Note - I know we've seen less of Jinx than most of you were guessing we would, but Silco seems like the type to keep all aspects of his life separate from each other if possible. I hope this makes up for it!

Also, I don't claim to know much about psychotic episodes, so I did a lot of research. I based reader's response on this one in particular, an article from the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) about how to support a loved one who suffers with psychotic episodes. If there's anything glaringly inaccurate or offensive about this portrayal, please reach out and let me know so I can fix it!

Finally, thank you for reading! As a reminder, I do not offer a taglist for explicit works, but you can find everything I've written on my masterlist or on AO3, where I write under username InkSplots. I'll see you soon with another chapter!

[nunununuy]

Part 10

Part 9

Prince x Fem Reader

Tittle: Changing the Fate of the Third Prince

It’s been nearly two weeks since you arrived in Vallora, a bustling trade city in southern Selvaris. At first, everything felt unfamiliar—the cacophony of the marketplace, the rich aroma of spices wafting through the air, and the mingling sounds of merchants’ laughter and hawkers shouting to advertise their wares. But gradually, you’ve begun to adjust to the rhythm of this city, so different from the rigid formality of Zantheria’s capital.

Your days in Vallora are filled with work, an escape from the memories of the capital. As your family’s representative, it’s your responsibility to ensure the success of their new trade branch. You meet countless people—local merchants, sea captains from far-off lands, and even city officials eager to curry favor with your family.

One of the people you frequently work with is Arlen, a local spice trader. A man in his early thirties, Arlen is warm and full of laughter. He often helps you navigate the complex network of Selvaris trade and offers advice on understanding the local culture. His cheerful and open demeanor makes you feel at ease, though you still maintain some distance.

There’s also Lila, a young woman who owns a silk shop in Vallora’s main market. Lila has become a friend you visit whenever you’re exhausted or simply want someone to talk to. She reminds you of Selina—kind-hearted, lively, and full of warmth.

Despite all the new faces you’ve encountered, a hollow ache lingers in your chest. Each night, when the day’s busyness fades, you return to your room on the upper floor of a family-owned trade house. In the quiet solitude, your thoughts inevitably drift back to the capital. Back to Raphael.

You’ve tried not to think of him. You’ve worked hard to forget. But the memory of his face, the deep timbre of his voice, and the small moments you shared together haunt you still. You know you made the right choice—leaving the capital and giving him the freedom to pursue his own happiness. Yet, deep down, the ache of longing refuses to fade.

Every morning, you walk through the market, meet with merchants, and review the financial reports for your family’s branch. Your days are busy, but there are moments when you find yourself standing at the edge of the docks, gazing at the endless expanse of the sea, wondering if Raphael ever thinks of you the way you think of him.

“Daydreaming again?” Lila’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts one afternoon as you inspect a stack of silk in her shop. You offer her a faint smile, masking your emotions.

“Just tired,” you reply shortly.

“Of course you’re tired. You work as if the world is ending,” Lila retorts, folding a silk cloth neatly. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone here. We’re all already impressed by your dedication.”

You simply smile, but the truth is that this hard work isn’t to prove anything to anyone else. It’s for yourself—to convince yourself that leaving the capital, and leaving Raphael, was the right choice.

---

Unbeknownst to you, Raphael is now only a day’s journey from Vallora.

He’s thought of you the entire way, his sharp eyes fixed on the map that marks your last known location. His expression is cold, but behind that mask rages a storm of emotions. Anger, betrayal, and longing swirl within him, relentless and unyielding.

The knights accompanying him know better than to ask too many questions. They simply follow their prince’s orders, even when he pushes the pace, traveling through the night to close the distance between you.

“Did you really think you could leave me?” Raphael murmurs to himself, his gaze fierce as he looks toward the horizon. “I’ll bring you back, no matter the cost.”

Vallora’s skyline now looms in the distance, its lighthouse standing tall by the harbor, a beacon signaling the end of his journey. Raphael steels himself. Nothing will stand in his way this time—not even you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Vallora, you sit on the small balcony of your inn, letting the night breeze carrying the scent of the sea wash over you. Once again, you try to convince yourself that this new life is a fresh start. But deep down, you know there’s still something—or someone—you’ve yet to truly let go of.

And without your knowledge, the storm named Raphael is drawing ever closer.

---

That night, the air in Vallora was calm, with only the gentle sound of waves in the distance. You had just changed into a soft blue nightgown and were about to lie down in bed. The exhaustion from a full day’s work was settling in, and all you wanted was to escape your thoughts with sleep.

But a sharp knock at your door halted your steps. You turned, confused. Who would come at this hour? The knock came again, more insistent this time. Quickly, you walked to the door and opened it. Standing before you was the head steward of the family’s trade house, his face filled with unease and a hint of panic.

“Apologies for disturbing you, miss, but… there’s a nobleman here. He insists on seeing you immediately,” he said, his voice slightly trembling.

Your brow furrowed. “A nobleman? Who would come at such a late hour?” you asked, bewildered.

The steward simply shook his head, clearly uncertain how to explain. “I think you’d best see for yourself, miss.”

Feeling a strange sense of unease, you grabbed a thin shawl to cover your shoulders, exposed by your nightgown, and followed the steward downstairs to the main sitting room. Your heart began to race for reasons you couldn’t quite pinpoint—perhaps worry, perhaps curiosity.

When you reached the sitting room, the door was closed. You took a deep breath before slowly pushing it open. But as the door creaked and you stepped inside, your steps froze.

There, standing in the room, was a figure all too familiar. Raphael.

He was clad in a black traveling cloak, dusty from the journey, but his regal presence was undiminished. His dark hair shimmered faintly in the glow of the candlelight, and his eyes bore into yours, brimming with emotions you couldn’t fully decipher. But one feeling was unmistakable—longing.

“(name)", he said softly, his voice warm and filled with a yearning that rendered you speechless.

Before you could form a response, Raphael began walking toward you. His steps were firm yet unhurried, as though he didn’t want to frighten you. And before you could process what was happening, he stood mere inches away, gazing at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

Slowly, he raised a hand, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, as though ensuring you were real. “You… you’re really here,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost a breath.

You didn’t have time to reply. In a heartbeat, he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was firm, almost desperate, as though he couldn’t bear to let go. The familiar scent of him filled your senses, and the warmth of his body against yours was both comforting and overwhelming.

“Raphael…?” you finally managed to say, though it was barely more than a whisper.

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. He held you tighter, burying his face in your hair, before murmuring near your ear, “I missed you. So much.”

The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers through you, and the weight of his words, coupled with the strength of his hold, made your face flush. You were too stunned to either return the embrace or push him away. Your mind felt as though it had stopped working.

“Why did you leave without telling me?” Raphael continued, his voice heavier now, raw with emotions he couldn’t suppress. “I searched everywhere for you. I won’t let you leave me again, (name).”

You remained silent, too overwhelmed to respond. Your body was stiff in his arms, but inside, you were trembling. You struggled to steady your breathing, to make sense of what was happening.

“Raphael, what are you—”

“I came to take you back,” he interrupted, not letting you finish. He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His dark blue gaze was like an endless ocean, filled with emotions you could only begin to guess at.

“I’m not leaving without you,” he said firmly, his voice low but resolute, a small, determined smile tugging at his lips.

You didn’t know what to say. One thing, however, was certain: tonight, all your carefully laid plans for a new life in Vallora were on the verge of collapsing.

___

[ringleaderising]

in related news to breeding pairs I have acquired a pair in an effort to obtain the Bronze/Bronze/Abyss dragon I suddenly have dreams of, and I may end up keeping the two of them as a pair proper if people like them?

They'll be g2+ so no "pure g1 parents" stuff here but I plan on likely breeding them in fire and making the lore that they're blacksmithies raised for a short time in Water who use the water magic contained within their bodies to quench and simultaneously imbue the swords placed inside with an innate magic for those who fight with them to use- this display has become something of a spectacle for onlookers at the Grand Marketplace, and their booth is often visited for the display as much as the fine steel they forge.

Sword Swallowing Blacksmithies. Performance and wares. Is this anything.

[ninibeingdelulu]

“I should’ve bought you flowers…”

plot- you run into Leon, your ex boyfriend CLICK ME

A bitterly crisp autumn breeze whistled down the empty cobblestone streets of the sleepy rural marketplace, rustling scarlet and amber leaves scuttling across Leon's boots.

He dug both leather-clad hands deeper into his jacket pockets while hunching further into the insulated collar turned up against the biting chill as he strode purposefully onwards.

Mid-afternoon foot traffic always remained relatively scant throughout town - most of the local shops and farmstands having already packed up for the day once their fresh harvests sold through.

All except for the lone family grocer tucked away on the far corner where Leon typically grabbed essentials for the upcoming week.

Just the way he preferred it - in and out quickly with minimal interactions beyond terse polite nods at the shopkeep ringing up his basket.

Today, however...

The distinct figure standing alone beside the open-air produce section instantly seized Leon's attention like an icy fist clenching vice-tight around his ribcage.

That unmistakable silhouette he'd know from a thousand lonely city blocks away no matter how many endless nights of haunted insomnia blurred his vision.

Even from behind, every perfectly etched line of those slender shoulders and the elegant slope of that elegant neck remained scorched into his memory as if branded by a white-hot iron fresh from the forge.

Despite the crystalline sunlight glinting off your silken hair spilling in luxurious waves, Leon's pulse roared thunderously in his ears until all else fell abruptly silent.

As if the earth itself ground to a screeching halt on its axis to better amplify the way his heart stuttered at the mere sight of you for the first time in over a year.

Leon's first instinct was to pivot on his heel and retreat - retracing his steps back the way he came before you'd sensed his presence.

But something deep and inexplicable within kept rooting him to that frostbitten cobblestone, feet feeling as though they'd taken sudden root.

He watched through the hazy blur as you stepped minutely closer to the vendor's stall, slender fingers curling pensively around the handle of your tote as your head swiveled ever so slowly.

Until those wide soulful eyes he knew better than any remembered prayer swiveled to lock with his for one breathless moment suspended in amber streaks of morning light.

Your lips parted on a shocked inhale while recognition washed across those beloved features with the force of a tidal wave.

Leon remained frozen to the spot - a poor reconstruction of the suave federal agent and hardened hunter of biohazard evils crumbling away to expose the hollowed out shell he'd become in your absence.

All those tightly regimented walls built up over the past year came crashing down to lay the tattered remnants of his heart exposed as an open wound once more.

One side of his lips tugged upwards in a weak facsimile of a smile that never reached the enduring anguish flickering behind those shadowed steel-blue irises.

With supreme effort, Leon forced air into his lungs enough to grit out two words scorching like acid across his tongue:

"Hey...stranger."

It was all the unraveling threads of his frayed composure could muster without shattering completely.

He swallowed thickly while pivoting on his heel, boots scuffing against the cobblestone as he made to continue onwards.

Away from here...away from you. Before any deeper glimpses of vulnerability managed to slip through and reveal his soul's innermost hemorrhaging.

Leon only managed to make it a few paces before your tremulous voice calling out finally fractured what remained of his crumbling resolve.

"Leon...wait."

He halted obediently while squeezing his eyes shut against the ghostly caress of your honeyed syllables washing over him for the first time in far too long.

Drawing a harsh, shuddering inhale, Leon gradually turned back just enough to chance a sidelong glance over his shoulder without meeting your pleading gaze head-on.

It was all the restraint he could cling to not to fully whirl around and stare...to greedily drink you in after being denied that forbidden oasis for what felt like an eternity.

"I..." Your speech briefly faltered- words clearly failing to manifest the roiling ocean of emotions swirling across your expression before you visibly steadied yourself.

"What you said one year ago, about not being...enough...That's not true at all. You were always more than enough for me."

A bitter, mirthless chuckle rasped past Leon's lips - barely even audible over the keening winds.

"Yeah...and it took you one entire year to say it ? Why didn’t you said it back then, before disappearing ?"

Both of you recoiled in unison at the harsh self-loathing barb like physical blows.

Your dismayed features twisted immediately into anguished denial only to falter helplessly as he shook his head firmly, making an abortive motion as if to physically halt the reassurance already forming on your lips.

"Look, I'm...sorry. That wasn't fair of me."

Leon dragged his palm down the exhausted lines of his face while fixing that stormy azure gaze straight ahead.

Away from the irresistible temptation of your wounded eyes he knew would unravel the few stray threads of his composure still wound tight.

"I counted every minutes, every seconds…damn, y/n."

His adam's apple bobbed in a pronounced swallow against the tightening pressure rapidly constricting his throat.

"I missed you, but over the months I realized it was a mistake...Now, wherever the road led you from here after we parted ways, well..."

Leon swept one final glance over his shoulder then to convey everything his faltering speech couldn't accurately translate.

"I really do hope wherever it takes you next makes you happier than I ever could."

With one final rueful quirk of his lips, the former RPD survivor pivoted on his heel once again and simply walked away without looking back.

Only once those ramrod shoulders had disappeared entirely around the winding village path did Leon allow himself to sag boneless against the nearest building's stucco exterior.

He scrubbed both palms across his face to muffle the wrecked keen ripping itself from his very marrow as endless rivulets of searing pain left twin trails streaking each chiseled cheekbone...

[datura-tea]

okey dokey! i just finished the fallout show! some Thoughts under the read more

tl:dr, the (bethesda) fallout vibes were definitely there. i liked it as a show on its own merits but as a part of the series canon... i'm mad, and that anger is kind of overriding the little i liked about it. overall maybe 2.5/5 stars and im being generous

things i liked:

visually, it's stunning - i could see scenes already being made into gifsets - the color grading is pretty good; even in dark scenes i could see and understand what was happening

the sets are soooo good!! costume design was alright too

title cards were fun and cute

they did some interesting stuff with the cultures of both vault 33 and the brotherhood of steel

they used the sound effects from the games :)

i liked the wastelanders!!! big npc and random encounter energy. i kind of want a whole show of just them. for example i love the marketplace and settlement in filly; it feels very lived in

the background characters weren't just young thin able-bodied conventionally attractive white people :) there's so many elders, which i loved!! ma june and barv were cool. i love gruff old lesbians

lucy!!! she was already kind of weird and a little off-putting even in vault 33 ("what's your sperm count" as an opener to the husband she was just arranged married to is WILD) and i like that. she's sweet and bullheaded and surprisingly competent :)

maximus is kind of an ass, but is also a pathetic nerd and brotherhood dickrider who actually doesn't really know anything. kind of a girlfailure

the ghoul was pretty cool too!! i liked him, though more for his prewar story than the one he has post-apocalypse

lucy's brother norman kinda grew on me. "i lack enthusiasm for every job that i do here" so relateable. also short king <3

THE DENTIST THAT BUYS TEETH. never thought that would be a Thing but now that i think about it, it makes sense

the monsters that we have were cool!! wish there had been more of them

MATT BERRY IS IN THIS!! i just really like him so i got excited :))

maximus and lucy's "wanna have sex?" talk LMAO

vault 4's various mutations!!

those giant unwieldy fuckass duffel bags that brotherhood squires lug around hahahhahahaaha

vault 4 and its genetic experiments because its main conceit is that it was ruled by scientists who hybridized humans. it's exactly the right amount of fucked up i want in a vault

i like that the protagonists regularly get captured and eat shit

FRED ARMISEN IS ALSO HERE

haha hacking minigame :) also chatting via terminals (and im assuming pipboys?) is canon now

they're growing crops in the wasteland + bustling trade + livestock + pets yay

robobrain was cute

things i was just ok with:

dane, the they/them brotherhood of steel aspirant who was fucked over so maximus can get their spot as a squire LMAO what a waste of a potentially cool character

IT'S SO FUNNY that there's yodelling whenever the ghoul comes into the scene ????? WHY

fight scenes.... pretty good but someone definitely had the bloody mess perk (i don't do well with gore so ew yucky). also lots of [VATS NOISE]

pipboy was not used as much as i thought it would be

cousin stuff... i get it, i guess in a vault you'd have a lot of cousins and not a lot of choice, so some incest would probably happen

the ghoul being vault boy's inspiration?? not sure what to feel about that tbh

the casual dismemberments... and equally casual attaching of limbs... not even prosthetic limbs.....

the vaulties eating good healthy well-balanced meals. giving out caviar in the welcome basket. kinda 50/50 on it

the vault 31 - 32 - 33 subplot couldve been more fucked up

have brotherhood knights always been celibate or did i miss the memo

there are regular chickens and... deer? for some reason?

the ghoul's design. it's fine in action but mostly it's meh

the vault 4 cult for moldaver

vault 4 as a refuge for shady sands survivors. im mad about it but like. i get it

that guys "elixir" (some altered jet??) fixing everything about thaddeus' foot instantenously AND GIVING HIM HEALING POWERS???

things i did not like:

lucy's plot premise is very much fallout 3 redux

lucy and maximus as a ship is very meh and kind of forced and not compelling. go give us nothing!!!

wilzig's head as a macguffin that everyone is after... ehh kind of just okay as a plot device

also the ghoul randomly eating that other ghoul???

the squire who bullied maximus calls himself fat but he isn't fat?? not even chubby??? hello????? just got a soft face

water chip being fucked feels very fallout 3 also but they kind of dropped it?

they definitely named cooper howard after todd. as tribute probably, which he doesn't deserve

fiend = cannibal now?????

maximus recognizing vault 4 as a cult but not recognizing the brotherhood as one lol

vault tec evil capitalism vs hollywood communists storyline was kind of basic. and bland. and weak

the enclave could've been established + explored better

no geckos or any other west coast-specific monsters

showing me ncr ranger armor when the ncr is gone

ghouls have healing powers?? WITHOUT RADIATION??

things i hated hated hated:

the ghoul needing drugs to combat the Disease That Turns Ghouls Feral

feral ghouls being basically zombies :/

IN EPISODE FIVE. THEY REVEAL. THAT SHADY SANDS. WAS BOMBED. THE ENTIRE NCR. WAS BOMBED. IN 2277. THE YEAR OF THE FIRST BATTLE OF HOOVER DAM

BASICALLY RETCONNED FNV?? IM PUTTING MY EARS IN MY FINGERS AND GOING LA LA LAAAAA

VAULT-TEC DROPPED THE BOMBS ???? BIG MT + MR HOUSE BEING IN ON IT????

THE BIG STUPID FUCKING REVEAL IN EPISODE EIGHT?? THAT THE OVERSEER BOMBED SHADY SANDS BECAUSE HIS WIFE DIDN'T WANT TO GO HOME WITH HIM??? FUCK THAT???

the brotherhood being the main faction of the west coast now. booo!! booo!!!!

the fucking last shot of new vegas being a burnt out husk. probably foreshadowing that hank is going to house's body but. UGH I HATE IT

to summarize: it came out strong! and stumbled hard falling face fucking first at the finish line. i would have liked it a lot more if it did not shit on the west coast as much as it did. because what the FUCK. if it was set literally anywhere else and left the ncr alone i would have liked it more, because on its own, as a self-contained story, divorced from the rest of the fallout series canon, it's not bad!!! it's fun, there's some good bits, it has the ~vibes~ but - and this is a big but - i don't know what it's trying to say. it's all very surface level and the very vague themes i picked up on are not really reiterated in the plot

it's like... the bits that make it fallout are there. vaults. the brotherhood. ghouls. a dog named dogmeat. but there's something lacking. it's like your usual sci-fi post-apocalypse show with a fallout veneer. idk. i like it for what it is but also i hate it for what it's emblematic of. that's all