#the Crystal Empire Express

[13o7billionyearsinthemaking]

so I've seen @savs-avvy post on the equestrian engines and how we should put the ttte beam on them sooo.

I've stretchfully humanoid the trains

[twilight-zoned-out]

Milo Thatch, Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)

[natalievoncatte]

“Open your eyes and look at what you did.”

Lena was tired. Fixing the world was heavy work, especially when it involved cracking the secrets of the ultimate weapon of a dead empire. Myriad was tucked away safely in her lab behind shielding and laser grids and the most advanced security systems in the world, but was most of all protected by Kara’s reputation. Supergirl couldn’t just smash her way into a building and steal something, especially not now, with so much public scrutiny against her.

Lena was expecting a night at home. Not to relax -she hasn’t relaxed until her brother’s wormy lips, turning blue in death, spilled those four little words and cracked her heart in half, broke it into so many pieces that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men and not even Supergirl could put it together again. What was left of her capacity for that kind of love was gone now. Lex had started the process of ripping it out.

Lena has finished it, casting the bloody shreds on the icy floor of a mausoleum in the arctic, not turning back even once to see.

She knew the DEO was watching her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake that she could seize on. She knew they were itching to take her out. Kara would probably lead the charge herself. She’d crow about how she didn’t want to do this and didn’t want to hurt Lena and then she’d perp walk her like a villain of the week.

It wasn’t remorse that swirled in her stomach. It wasn’t regret that iced her veins. It wasn’t sorrow that made her eyes burn, and it wasn’t doubt that made the clicks of her heels echo in her empty lifeless penthouse.

She did not feel any of those things. Soon, no one ever would again. A world without lies, without strife, without pain. Those twisting, burning emotions would be gone. For everyone.

For her.

Lena froze when she heard the soft click of a hammer being thumbed back on a pistol.

“Turn around.”

Lena tensed. Alex. She should have expected this- Alex didn’t care about the rules when it came to her sister.

Slowly, Lena turned. Alex was right behind her, gun in one hand, phone in the other. She started to play a video on the screen. Lena recognized it at once as the Fortress of Solitude.

“Why?” Alex choked out. “Why did it have to be you?”

Lena pressed her eyes shut, scrambling for something to say. There was a real chance that this confrontation ended with her in a pool of blood on the floor.

“Open your eyes, you bitch! Open your eyes and look at what you did!”

Lena opened them and was confronted with what she had refused to see before, what she had turned from before portalling out. Like a biblical prophet she knew that if she but turned back for a last look she’d have been undone.

Alex recorded Kara locked in the cage as she approached, calling her sister’s name. Kara didn’t respond. She simply lay curled on the floor, faint green scratches scored in her exposed skin. As Alex drew nearer, Lena could hear Kara making a peculiar sound- a rhythmic, trilling thrum, a deep basso rumble as if she were… purring.

And sobbing.

Lena tried to look away but Alex’s expression tightened. Lena forced herself to stare into the screen- the picture blurred as Alex must have been fumbling with the Kryptonian controls. Finally, the crystal cage retracted.

“Kara,” Alex was saying. “Kara, oh my god, where’s Lena? Is she alright?”

Lena flinched. Alex’s jaw tightened as their eye briefly met.

Kara’s face was a mask of pain and grief, clouded with an agony deeper than any physical hurt.

“It was Lena.”

“What?”

“It was Lena. She took Myriad from the armory and she… she was so mad, Alex. It was like she h-hated me. She was lying the whole time after I told her who I was, she already knew and she was so mad. Alex I think she hates me now.”

Kara began to sob and make that damned purring sound at the same time.

“Don’t hurt her,” Kara whimpered, “don’t hurt her, Alex. She’s good, I promise she’s good she just needs our help.”

Alex turned off the video and pressed the muzzle of her gun to Lena’s forehead.

Lena closed her eyes.

“I have every reason to,” Alex began.

“Do it,” Lena hissed. “It’s what we both want, just fucking do it. She’ll get over it.”

“No,” Alex choked out, her voice drowning in emotion. “No she won’t, ever. She has an eidetic memory. If I blow your fucking head off like I should, her last memory of you will be that, what you did to her in her most sacred place, forever.”

“Good,” Lena snapped, opening her eyes. “Good. Then she’ll know how I feel.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Like she tore my heart out. I believed in her. I gave myself to her in a way I never have for anyone else. I let her in after I swore on my mother’s grave I’d never let anyone else hurt me like… like someone else did. She hammered her way into my life with her kindness and her concern and her comfort and it was all a FUCKING LIE, Alex!”

Lena sucked in a hitching breath and went on, forcing herself to go on as she blinked to force the tears from her eyes.

“It was all a lie. I’m just a Luthor to her, to you, to all of you. I sat in that apartment on game nights and movie nights and you all knew. You all knew, and you mocked me. So many cryptic comments and weird little jokes and now I know why. I let myself believe it. I let myself believe she wanted me. She kept trying to tell me something over and over and she kept backing away from it and…”

Lena froze.

The gun fell away, and Alex just stared at her.

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking God,” Alex gasped.

“No,” Lena protested, “no it’s not that!”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Holy fuck, how did I not see this before? You bought a billion dollar publishing company on a whim for her. The flowers, the way you looked at me before she told you I’m her sister. Jesus. Jesus Christ, Lena. You God damn drama queen.”

“I’m a drama queen? You pointed a gun at my head!”

Alex racked the slide back, and turned the weapon so Lena could see the follower of the empty magazine had locked it open. It was unloaded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lena screeched.

“I came here to tell you to give me Myriad back and stay the hell away from my sister,” said Alex.

“You pointed a real gun at my head! I don’t care if it was unloaded, the first rule of gun safety is…”

“You thought it was something else,” said Alex.

“God damn it,” Lena began, but Alex cut her off.

“You thought she was working up to tell you something else. You thought she was going to confess her love, didn’t you?”

Lena went completely still.

She had know it, of course. She had known it the way that she knew the sun would rise in the east and set in the west, the way way she knew the stars would shine and the tide would beat against the shore. She had known it in the hollows of her bones, in places she forgot she could feel.

She had not known she knew it.

Lex’s words buffeted her from memory and she felt a knew shattering, even deeper this time.

“I fucked up,” someone said, only it was Lena, her own voice echoing from somewhere far distant. She was only dimly aware of the painful jolt in her tailbone as she slid down the cabinet behind her and her ass landed on the hardwood floor.

“When Lex told me, he proved it. He proved it. I didn’t want to see it but he proved it to me. I’m not what she wants. She’ll never want me like I want her.”

Alex looked down at her and Lena watched her expression shift, dancing through a dozen different emotions.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“You have anything to drink here? Something good, I don’t want to pussy around with box wine. This is a whiskey occasion.”

Perplexed, Lena simply said, “Side cupboard, there’s a bottle of single malt and some tumblers.”

Alex didn’t bother with the glasses. She took out the bottle and uncapped it, whistling softly before she took a long pull straight from the bottle.

“Smooth,” she said, not even wincing. “Shit, this bottle probably costs a month of my rent.”

“It was my dad’s favorite,” Lena muttered. “My first drink was that scotch. He gave me a little sip when I was twelve. Lillian screeched at him for it.”

“She would, she’s a thundering bitch,” said Alex.

Alex sat down and passed Lena the bottle. She took a drink and passed it back, and they sat there in silence for a while, passing drinks back and forth.

“See I’m not a shrink or anything,” said Alex, “but if I had to analyze this situation I think what I see is you hurting Kara hoping that she’ll hurt you back and validate your feelings so you can stop feeling sad about her.”

“Fuck you,” Lena muttered.

“Not my type. Besides, bro code. My sister has dibs.”

Lena almost spat out a mouthful of scotch. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know when she’s doing the zoom zoom thing, she has a comms piece in her ear. I listen in on what she’s doing,” Alex began to imitate Kara in a grating falsetto. “Lena you have to jump!”

“What?”

“Remember that time she was going to let the entire city’s water supply be poisoned to save you?”

Lena took another pull before passing the bottle back.

“Yeah,” said Lena, not caring that her Irish accent was slipping out.

“Or that time she flew you to the DEO after Edge poisoned you?”

“She saves people all the time,” Lena protested.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t bridal carry them to safety and moon over them like a lovesick teenager and do the whole brushing their hair back thing. She says something corny and flies off. Unless it’s you. The whole world goes on pause when it’s you.”

“It can’t be.”

Alex took a way too long drink and looked at her.

“Did it never occur to you that she might have two secrets? That the one might compel her to keep the other?”

Lena rubbed at her eyes. The whisky was weighing heavily on her, and before she knew it, she was sobbing.

To her utter shock, Alex rubbed her back.

“Here’s what we do. You and me go get Myriad,”

“I’m too drunk to drive.”

“Then call your chauffeur, you spoiled rich brat,” Alex snapped, “and we go get Myriad and we go back to the DEO. You apologize and you and Kara talk this out, and you remember that if you ever physically harm my sister again I actually will shoot you.”

“Also,” said Lena. “You and I. You and I will go get Myriad, not you and me.”

Lena yanked the bottle back and finished it.

“Okay. Okay fine, let’s-“

There was a double thud as boot heels hit the balcony, a sound Lena had long grown used to. She and Alex both watched as Kara slid the balcony door open and swept into the penthouse, cape flaring majestically behind her.

God she was so pretty, and so handsome. She was like a brave knight in some fairytale, head bowed and jaw set like she was marching to a battle she wasn’t sure she could win.

Lena’s chest ached.

“We need to talk,” Kara intoned. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore, but I can’t let you do something you’ll regret forever. I…”

She trailed off as she saw a very drunk Alex sitting next to a very drunk Lena Luthor, the pair sitting against Lena’s kitchen cabinets and dishwasher, respectively, having clearly finished off the empty bottle of scotch that sat between them.

“What the hell?” said Kara.

“Did she just cuss?” said Alex.

“She did,” said Lena.

“What is this? What are you two doing? Alex, is that your gun?”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “I’m gonna get an Uber so you two can talk this out.”

“What?” Kara said, utterly baffled.

As she stood, Lena drew her legs up and hugged her knees. She looked away at first, then looked up and made herself meet Kara’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

With a tenderness that belied her strength, Kara gently raised Lena to her feet. She’d kicked off her heels and Kara loomed over her, soft hands that could crush steel resting gently on her arms. Lena couldn’t bear the weight of her concern. Seeing the worry in Kara’s eyes, the unconditional compassion, hurt her as much as staring into the sun.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” said Kara. “I’m the one who should apologize. You were right, Lena. I forced myself into your life and pushed past all your barriers but I never lowered mine. I tried to live in your heart but made you live like a guest in mine. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better,” Lena whispered. “I want you.”

Kara went very still.

“You want me?”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Kara.”

Kara took a half step forward and pulled Lena into an embrace, guiding her into a hug. As those arms like stone walls curled around her and the cape sheltered her against Kara’s unnatural, fever-hot warmth, Lena choked back a hitching sob. It almost felt like it would be okay.

“It’s alright,” Kara whispered. “It’ll be okay. We can come back from this.”

“How? I hurt you, Kara.”

“I forgive you.”

“You can’t just-“

“Shhh,” Kara nuzzled against the crown of Lena’s head. “I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 2 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), kinda mean Nat, Daddy kink, BDSM, restraints, Begging, multiple orgasm, strap on (r receiving) rough sex, fingering (r receiving) poor Natty who doesn’t understand feelings 🤲🏼

Word Count: 3,7 K

A/N: Second part is here! More details about the relationship will appear in the next chapter + maybe Natasha’s secret will already be revealed, who knows🙌🏻🙌🏻

The air in the dimly lit room was thick with tension, a palpable sense of danger surrounding the two women seated at the mahogany table. Natasha Romanoff exuded an aura of power and mystery with her piercing green eyes and wavy red hair falling past her shoulders. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the polished surface, a subtle yet commanding gesture that spoke volumes about her authority.

Maria Hill, whose steely gaze and unwavering loyalty were etched into every line of her face, stood by Natasha's side like a watchful sentinel. Her clenched jaw and furrowed brow betrayed the gravity of the situation. As she began to update Natasha on the latest developments in the shadow world they navigated with practiced finesse, a sense of unease settled over the room like a heavy cloak.

Maria's voice was quiet and measured as she described the intricate web of alliances and betrayals that threatened to engulf her carefully built empire.

"Dreykov's men have invaded our territory, testing our defenses, trying to find a weak spot," Maria explained, her tone a mixture of concern and determination. Natasha leaned back in her chair, the soft leather creaking slightly under her weight, her eyes never leaving Maria's face.

The crackle of the fireplace in the corner sent flickering shadows dancing across the walls, adding an eerie undertone to the already tense atmosphere in the room. Natasha's fingers closed around the crystal glass of whiskey in front of her, the amber liquid swirling hypnotically as she considered Maria's words. Beneath her calm facade simmered a variety of conflicting emotions, a potent cocktail of concern, admiration, and a simmering undercurrent of defiance.

Natasha's mind was like a stormy sea, each wave crashing against the walls she had carefully built around herself. Maria watched her carefully, her sharp eyes noticing every slight change in Natasha's demeanor. The weight of unspoken words lay heavy between them, a silent understanding that went beyond mere words.

Natasha's gaze flickered from Maria's unwavering eyes to the crackling fireplace in the corner, as if seeking comfort in the dancing flames. The room seemed to shrink around them, suffocating in its intimacy, each breath taken with measured caution.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Last Night ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The room was shrouded in shadow, the only source of light coming from the dimly lit bedside lamp. Natasha leaned back on the silk sheets, her gaze fixed on the woman in front of her, her expression a mixture of desire and dominance.

"Daddyyy.." whispered the woman who was Natasha's nightly attendant, her voice trembling with anticipation. Natasha's lips curved into a predatory smile as she beckoned the woman closer, her eyes dark with desire. "Come here," she commanded, her voice dripping with authority.

The woman obeyed, her movements careful as she approached Natasha, keenly aware of the power dynamics at play. Natasha's touch was possessive, her hands sliding over the woman's skin with a need that bordered on desperation.

In the heat of the moment, Natasha's mind wandered to forbidden fantasies, her desires leading her down a treacherous path. And then, in a moment of reckless abandon, she spoke a name that did not belong to the woman herself, but held power beyond imagination.

"Y/n.." Natasha murmured, her voice animated with desire as she lost herself in her fantasy.

The woman froze at the unfamiliar name, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to understand Natasha's slip of the tongue. "Y/n?" she began, her voice shaking with uncertainty. "Who is Y/n?"

Natasha's expression darkened, her features twisting with hurt as she realized her mistake. "What do you mean?" she snapped, her voice irritated.

The woman took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "The name..." she explained, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "You just said a different name, Y/n.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed at the mention of your name, her defenses instinctively rising to protect her fragile heart. "That name means nothing to me," she insisted, her voice cold and dismissive.

But the woman saw through Natasha's facade and recognized the pain and longing that lay beneath the surface. "Natasha, please," she pleaded, her voice laced with compassion. "I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you said her name. Who is she?"

Natasha's anger flared, her facade of control fading as she pushed the woman away with a forceful gesture. "Enough," she growled, her voice sharp with frustration. "You're here for my pleasure, nothing more, remember that."

The woman backed away at Natasha's sudden outburst, her heart sinking as she realized the futility of her efforts. "I-I know! But I might be able to help you with that..with her. Sounded like you were caring-"

But Natasha was beside herself with reason, her mind clouded by anger and fear. "Get out of here," she ordered, her voice icy and unforgiving. "I don't want to see you again."

The woman's heart shattered at Natasha's words, the pain of rejection cutting deeper than any physical wound. With one last sad look, she turned and fled the room, leaving Natasha alone in the darkness with her demons.

As the door closed behind her, Natasha was left with nothing but the echo of her own regret, the weight of her choices pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. And in that moment of loneliness, she realized the true price of her pride and stubbornness.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Now ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Maria cleared her throat, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "Our sources have confirmed that the rival cartel is taking steps to expand its territory," she began, her voice firm despite the tension in the room. "They are targeting our key distribution networks and..."

Natasha's mind wandered, a hint of annoyance crossing her face as memories of the past overshadowed her thoughts. Your face popped into her mind, an unwelcome reminder of a vulnerability she had long buried.

"Natasha?" Maria's voice broke through the fog, jolting Natasha back to the present.

Natasha's jaw clenched as she forced herself to focus, pushing aside the unwelcome memories that threatened to consume her. "Continue," she commanded, her voice clipped and dismissive.

Maria hesitated for a moment, narrowing her eyes in concern as Natasha's sudden change in demeanor irritated her. "Is everything okay?" she asked in a worried voice.

Natasha's mask fell, revealing the turmoil raging within her. "Everything is fine," she replied curtly, her kindness betraying her inner turmoil.

But Maria was not so easily fooled, her instincts honed by years of loyalty and service to Natasha. "You seem distracted," she remarked in a soft yet searching voice. "Do you have something on your mind?"

Natasha bristled at the suggestion, her defenses ramping up to protect her wounded pride. "I don't have time for distractions," she snapped, her voice sounding frustrated. Maria stood firm, unfazed by Natasha's outburst. "With all due respect, Natasha, this is important," she insisted, her gaze unwavering as she met Natasha's eyes. "We must be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Natasha's resolve wavered, her anger melting away in the face of Maria's unwavering loyalty. "I know," she admitted, her voice softening a little. "I...I just have a lot on my mind."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As she entered the room, Natasha's eyes immediately fell on the ropes and shackles hanging from the ceiling. She felt the familiar stirrings of power and control, her body already humming with anticipation. When she turned to face you, she could see the young woman's wide eyes and slight trepidation mixed with excitement in her gaze.

"Take off your clothes," Natasha instructed. "And then kneel on the floor, hands behind your back."

You obeyed, your heart beating faster as you removed your clothes, revealing your delicate, slender figure. As you assumed the kneeling position, Natasha stepped behind you and gently ran her fingers through your hair.

"Good girl," she purred, feeling a wave of satisfaction as you shivered under her touch. This has been going on for several weeks now. Natasha was desperate and called you. But her being desperate for you is another story.

Natasha walked over to the table laden with ropes, restraints, and other toys. She chose a piece of soft, supple rope and approached you with it. "Arms up," she ordered. "I'm going to tie you up." You obeyed, raising your arms above your head as Natasha began wrapping the rope around your wrists.

The rough texture of the rope brushed against your sensitive skin, sending tingles down your spine. You closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh as Natasha pulled the ropes tight and straightened your arms.

Now that you were securely bound, Natasha walked to the front of the room where an intricate set of leather restraints hung from the ceiling. She attached the restraints to your wrists, pulled you up, and secured you to the ceiling hooks.

Your body was now spread out, vulnerable and exposed to Natasha. Natasha stood before you, taking a moment to admire her work. She ran her fingers over the curve of your chest, tracing a line across your stomach, pausing just above your aching sex.

"You look so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice hoarse with excitement. Your breath caught, your body trembled as Natasha slowly began to lunge at you. You could feel the heat of Natasha's breath on your skin, causing goosebumps. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Natasha picked up a whip from the nearby table and gently ran it along your thighs.

The leather strands caressed your skin, burning gently with each smack. You moaned softly, your body's reaction betraying you. You craved more, wanted Natasha to test your limits and bring you to the brink of pleasure and pain.

And as if she could read your mind, Natasha flicked the whip harder, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through your body.

"Please..," you begged, your voice tight with desire.

Natasha knew what you wanted, so she’s smacking your breasts and stomach with the whip, leaving a satisfying red mark on your skin. Your moans grew louder, your body arching in pleasure and pain.

Natasha enjoyed the power and control she had over you, her own desire growing with each lash of the whip. She dropped the whip and moved closer to you. She ran her fingers over your wetness, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"You like that, don't you?" Natasha teased, pressing her fingers deeper into your core. You nodded and bit your lower lip as Natasha began to stroke your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Natasha's touch was incredibly skillful, bringing you closer to the edge with each movement of her fingers. "Beg for it," Natasha growled, nipping at your ear with her teeth. "Beg for me to make you come."

"Please," you gasped, your body burning with desire. "Please let me come. I need it. I need you..“ Natasha giggled darkly, continuing her relentless assault on your sensitive flesh.

You writhed and moaned beneath her, your body begging for release. Natasha's own need rose, her arousal unmistakable as she ran her fingers over your clit.

She plunged her fingers deep inside you, feeling your muscles tighten around them as she began to thrust harder and faster. "Oh, fuck, yes.." you gasped, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable levels.

Your hips rose, seeking more friction, more pleasure. Natasha did not disappoint, her fingers moving in a fast and steady rhythm that matched your pace. Your breathing quickened, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt the familiar tingling before the surge of pleasure, the blinding light that was your release.

"Cum for me," Natasha demanded with a low growl. With one final thrust of Natasha's fingers, you break, gasping and moaning as you come violently against her.

Natasha held you there, prolonging the ecstasy as you shuddered and trembled. As you came down from your high, Natasha slowly pulled her fingers from your wetness, bringing them to her own lips and sucking them clean.

"You taste so fucking good," she said, her eyes shining with lust. You couldn't help but blush and squirm as Natasha continued to lick and tease her fingers. "You're so fucking wet and ready for me."

Natasha wrapped her arms around your shoulders, her mouth finding yours in a new wave of passion. You could feel Natasha's hands sliding down your body, grabbing your ass and kneading your flesh.

"I want to feel you i-inside me," you whisper, gasping for air. Natasha didn't need to be asked twice, she was already hungry for your taste. She lifted your legs up and wrapped them around her waist, going deeper into you with each thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other, their moans and groans of pleasure, punctuated by the occasional curse word. It was raw and primal, and both of you reveled in it.

Your body trembled beneath Natasha's as you gave yourself over to the experience. You could feel every inch of Natasha's fake cock inside you, filling you and stretching you to the edge of pain. But you wanted more. You wanted to feel everything Natasha had to offer.

"Beg me to thrust harder," she gasps, your fingers digging into Natasha's back. "Please...fuck me harder...!"

Natasha's fingers dug into your hips, holding you tight as she thrust into you with an intensity that took both of your breath away. "Yebat (fuck), you feel so good," Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

Your nails dug into Natasha's back, leaving red welts. You were lost in the haze of pleasure, her mind blank except for the rush of sensations coursing through your body.

Natasha's thrusts became wilder and her breath came in ragged gasps. Your own orgasm was already building inside you, each pounding thrust pulling you closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm coming," Natasha growled, her clit rubbing against yours with each movement. Your response was only a soft whimper, your muscles tightening around Natasha as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

Natasha's thrusts became more erratic, her body stiffening as she followed you over the edge."Oh, fuck!" Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your hips. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Your orgasm continued to rip through you, leaving you shaking and gasping. Natasha's body fell against of yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for air.

Slowly, Natasha pulled out of your body, freeing you from your bonds. She’s bringing you over to her bed, your legs trembled, still caught in the aftershocks of your orgasm. Natasha wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you close and kissing you deeply.

"You were incredible," Natasha murmured, tracing patterns on your stomach with her fingers. You smiled exhaustedly, your heart still racing. "That was... incredible."

Your vision blurred, every muscle in your body frozen in a wonderfully wild tableau. Natasha pulled you close, their sweat-soaked bodies entwined as they fought to catch their breath. Their mutual satisfaction hung thick and heavy in the air.

Your breaths mingled as you stared at each other, eyes glazed with contented exhaustion. Your heavy breaths formed a synchronized rhythm as you embraced in the dim light, skin flushed and chest heaving. Exhausted and exhilarated, you lay in her arms, still and calm, letting the lulling drum of their synchronized heartbeats sing you to sleep.

As the fog of post-orgasmic pleasure dissipated, tenderness stirred within Natasha, wrapping her heart in an unfamiliar warmth. It was a feeling that reached beyond the boundaries of physical pleasure and crept behind the heavy curtains that normally concealed her feelings.

In those fleeting moments, she wanted nothing more than to surrender to the dreamy cloud of affection that swirled around her. Yet she resisted, clinging grimly to the remnants of her past.

Natasha could barely comprehend the confusing feelings that left her speechless. She had always believed that she was incapable of such vulnerability. You shifted your weight and pressed your cheek against Natasha's chest. Your eyelids were heavy with the impending sleep.

Despite the inner turmoil, Natasha felt her heart swell at the sight. She put an arm protectively around you and traced lazy patterns on your back. Her fingertips left a fiery trail on the skin beneath.

Natasha's heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful sleep, your dreams carrying you to a land free from the burden of reality. Natasha's defenses dropped and the irresistible lure of exploring deeper emotional terrain seduced her.

It was a foreign path, one she had never allowed herself to tread. And yet here she was, rowing the swaying boat through choppy waters, only partially certain of her destination.

She shifted you gently in her arms, maneuvering you so that they were lying side by side on the plush crimson velvet. The dim lights danced on their entwined bodies as you touched, sweet memories of the forbidden fruit they had just enjoyed.

Their limbs intertwined effortlessly and the wry smiles they shared conveyed a wealth of unspoken intimacy. The room was filled with the soft glow of moonlight, casting a halo around your sleeping form as you lay nestled against Natasha's side.

As Natasha's racing heartbeat gradually slowed to a steady rhythm, she lost herself in the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the rhythmic sound like a soothing lullaby. And in that quiet moment of intimacy, as your warmth seeped into her skin, Natasha felt something stir inside her - a stirring of feelings she had long denied.

With shaking hands, Natasha brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, her touch gentle and reverent. And as she looked at the sleeping figure beside her, bathed in the soft light of the moon, Natasha felt a wave of longing wash over her - a longing for more than fleeting passion and desire.

In that moment of vulnerability, Natasha's walls crumbled, her defenses laid bare before the only person who had managed to break through her cover.

With a soft exhale, she whispered the words she hadn't dared admit for a long time, not even to herself. "I think I'm falling in love with you," Natasha confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. And as the words hung in the air between them, she knew there was no turning back.

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🏷️ TAGLIST:

@new-Lee-marvel-fan-blog @taliiiaasteria @kipitou @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Duty-Bound

CONTENT WARNING: Blood (minor), violence, body horror

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Summary:

Shortly after recovering from the Plundervine attack, Celestia is readjusting her methods of protecting Equestria...

Having grown increasingly distrustful of herself and those around her, Celestia has taken to running things on her own again. She needs to remove any risk, even when it might take a familiar shape. In the midst of this process, things are breaking down at Canterlot Hospital and the guards stationed there have requested intervention--immediately.

Transcript below:

Title Page:

Plague Ponies Episode 6: "DutyBound"

Shortly after recovering from the plundervine attack, Celestia is readjusting her methods of protecting Equestria...

Content Warnings: blood and violence, body horror, disease mention

Comic Start

Celestia, thinking: What a quiet morning..

As she is lowering the moon and raising the sun for the day, Celestia is startled by the fiery arrival of a letter.

Celestia, thinking: Another letter...

Seeing Twilight's mark on the wax seal, Celestia's expression softens.

Celestia, thinking: Oh, it's from Twilight! Certainly a welcome change of pace...

Twilight's letter reads:

"Dear Princess Celestia,

I have begun preparing Ponyville for mass contagion as you have instructed. Construction of the experimental facilities are nearly complete, and I am gathering information on pre-existing infrastructure historically used in Ponyville in times of health crisis.

Granny Smith has shared with me an account of past protocols used during times of sickness. I intend to continue to work with the insight of everypony here.

We now have confirmation that a majority of Ponyville harbored an early version of the sickness. Although we assume that the wave of magic from The Tree of Harmony cleansed most of the residents...the small amount of remaining infections remain yet unaccounted for.

Participants to undergo observation have been selected, and testing is expected to run smoothly. Will an official statement be made soon? I believe patients may cooperate more readily when presented with more information.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle"

Celestia lets out a sigh as she finishes reading Twilight's letter. She sends out a pre-written response letter and heads to the throne room. Upon entering, she uses alicorn magic on the throne to reveal a spiral staircase descending far below the castle.

Celestia's reply to Twilight reads: "Dear Twilight Sparkle,

For now, continue as you have done and keep the peace. In the wake of the recent Changeling invasion and the return of The Crystal Empire, keeping the peace is our priority.

I leave the continued care of The Elements of Harmony and The Tree of Harmony to you. I wish your princesshood had started during more peaceful times, but I know you and your friends are well-equipped to handle them.

Yours,

Celestia"

Celestia, thinking: Twilight, at least, can be trusted. What dark times these are, that nopony can be trusted--not even those dearest to us...

Celestia hesitates before entering a lit room at the end of the underground passageway.

Celestia Hello "Luna".

Luna stares up at Celestia from low on the ground. Her front legs and wings are restrained by chains. Black anti-magic crystals grow from her primary horn.

Luna: Sister, you must release me! Think of our subjects!

Celestia: Luna would understand that is precisely why I do this.

Luna: Sister, you are unwell...you cannot continue this way on your own--

Celestia: Silence.

Celestia uses her magic to raise Luna up. It seems to cost her a lot of effort as beads of sweat roll off of her body. She does not the dark curls of magic slinking by Luna's legs.

Celestia: I have been the sole guardian of Equestria for a thousand moons. I will not compromise the safety of my ponies. Not even for this. Changeling.

Luna hangs limply in the air, held up by the restraints on her wings.

Luna: It is you who are compromised. Your judgement grows hasty.

Celestia: Enough--

Luna: The gazes of your subjects you so thrived beneath...have become a burden to your addled mind.

Celestia: How dare you...

Before either of the sisters can say more, a letter arrives in a burst of flame.

Celestia: A letter from The Royal Guard...

Sunburst and Moondancer are in a storage closet. There is banging coming from the other side of the door.

Sunburst: I'm sure help is coming soon...we've just got to sit tight and stay calm!

Moondancer: You've said that for the past hour and a half now at least.

A particularly loud "CRACK" startles both ponies.

Moondancer: Can't I get one second to think?

Moondancer leaps to her feet and braces her hooves against the door, lighting her horn. Sunburst watches in both fascination and alarm. There's a flash of light, and a pink bubble now covers the door, blocking out all the noise.

Sunburst, thinking: To think, she'd cast a sustained spell just for some peace and quiet...

Moondancer: I know it's a little excessive...but I really needed a break from the noise. I'm normally on the analytics team so I'm used to...quieter environments.

Sunburst: I don't think any of us are used to hiding in a storage closet during a biohazard breach...but your barrier is definitely helping.

Sunburst: It's funny, we've been in the same project this whole time and I had no idea you were such a skilled spell caster! Silencing spells are so complicated, and this one is so stable--

Moondancer: It's not that hard once you've done it a few times. But um, thanks.

Moondancer awkwardly adjusts her glasses to brush off the praise. Sunburst doesn't really know what to say.

Sunburst: Ah, anyways, Moon Dancer, right? How are you at layering spells?

Moondancer: I've been doing it since I was a filly, why?

Sunburst: How familiar are you with magnetism spells?

Celestia and two Royal Guards are flying to the hospital. One of the guards is Flash Sentry.

Celestia: Report!

Flash Sentry: The quarantine zone was overrun at around sunrise. We were forced to lock down the laboratory.

Celestia: "Overrun"?

Flash Sentry: The patients have become...aggressive. All but two of the researchers have been evacuated.

Celestia: Contact with patients must be a last resort. Retrieving the researchers is priority.

They arrive at the hospital and find flashes of light coming from the windows.

Guard 1: That light...! It must be the researchers. None of the patients are able to use magic in their current state.

Celestia: I will lead. Avoid coming to blows if you can. I would like there to be little harm inflicted here today.

Both guards: Yes, your Majesty!

Celestia looks grim. She is still sweating quite a bit, clearly not at her best.

Celestia, thinking: I should never have entrusted this project to external facilities...I'm sorry for endangering you, my little ponies.

Celestia: Prepare to--what...

Celestia looks up in bewilderment to see the two missing researchers floating in pink bubbles. Sunburst is putting a haggard looking Fancy Pants to sleep.

Moondancer, whispering: Princess!

Sunburst, whispering: Please, ah, watch your step!

Moondancer: We've been putting patients into a magical sleep as we find them.

Celestia: And the two of you are alright?

Moondancer: It's been a strange day in the lab for sure...luckily Sunburst here had the idea to combine bubbles of silence and a gravity reversal spell so we didn't have to stay trapped in a storage closet. Who knows how long it would have taken for us to be discovered!

Sunburst: It wouldn't have been much of a plan if there weren't a spell caster capable of pulling it off!

Moondance: Oh please, this isn't much--Woah!

Moondancer and Sunburst are surprised as something zooms by.

Flash Sentry: Princess, watch out!

Lyra Heartstrings slams into a wall close to everyone. Flash Sentry moves instinctively to shield Celestia. Before anyone else can react, he has a spear pointed at Lyra.

Flash Sentry: Halt! You are charged with unruly flying in the presence of the princess. Put away your wings and come with us quietly...

Lyra Heartstrings: Run!

Flash Sentry looks over his shoulder to see an unrecognizable Fleur De Lis contorting herself through the halls Lyra had just flown from.

Lyra Heartstrings, quietly: Stay silent...she can't see us.

End transcript.

[nottivagos]

MAFIA CARLOS MAKING A COMEBACK?? i'm the one who is going to cry ヽ(；▽；)ノ no rush for the fics but i so want to wait until you get jock!carlos out before sending ideas, maybe art student!danny even if i'm not a danny girlie but i have an idea 👀 i don't to overwhelm you with ideas. you got this! good luck!!

- 🐇

You're back again I see.... Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Wednesday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: 🐇NONNIE!!! ugh i love you. this one has been sitting in my drafts for WAYYYYYY too long. if you want a song to listen whilst reading this one, check out "When You Dress Up" by Lucia and The Best Boys <3

Smokey air clung around you as wisps of grey floated to the ceiling, in the vast, antique Billiard Room on Carlos’s estate. The stagnant stench of rich Cubans and imported whiskey burnt your senses. The atmosphere heavy with the weight of dirty money, the reek of wealth wrapped suffocatingly tight around yourself.

The eyes of men that dared look at you for too long burnt into your bare skin that dared make itself noticeable, their gazes lingering on the flimsy fabric that clung ever too desperately to your frame. The faint sounds of cheap lighters crackled every so often, followed by men’s relaxed sighs as they took that initial drag of the sweet nicotine which rushed through their blood. Condensation off of your crystal glass became uncomfortable to the touch as you sat silently in the lion’s den, waiting for that hungry someone to pounce.

Low murmurs was the ambience for the evening. Business talks lowly conversed as men whispered into each other's ears about their next deals with sleazy politicians or when their next imports of drugs were coming into the country.

You’d become accustomed to the large fortune Carlos Sainz owned. The empires he’d conquered to be at the top, the blood that had been shed on the pavements of Madrid, the screams of commonfolk’s fear that rang around your ears— it was like second nature now. At first it was endearing. Really, it was. Why wouldn’t it be? You were allowed as many shopping sprees as your heart desired, unlimited budgets for items you didn’t need more of, the designer goods that were constantly being added to your ever growing wardrobe— you swam in Carlos’s luxury, indulging in materialistic filth.

However, you soon found yourself becoming desensitised to the thrill of receiving such gifts. It was obvious to the naked eye that Mr Sainz had a looming, heavy influence on what you wore around his lavish grounds. Yes, you had the liberty of buying whatever you chose, but you didn’t have the liberty of showing off the full outfits that you wore. 

‘The first rule of being a trophy: play dress-up and sit pretty.’ You remembered one of Carlos’s lackey's wives telling you. The advice was like a distant memory back then. You recalled not knowing what a ‘trophy’ meant in that scenario, but you soon came to understand why she said it.

Stay silent, sit pretty, don't bring too much attention to yourself and you'll survive in this life. That was what ingrained into your mind as you adjusted yourself slightly waiting for Carlos to arrive.

Wearing something that he wouldn't approve of was frisky, you knew that, but what you also knew was that you were practically untouchable. Despite wearing the black, flimsy, low cut dress that rode up your thighs which made heads turn, and their eyes glimmer with hunger at the sight, Carlos’s men knew their place in correlation to you, and it was very noticeable that you weren't going to be touched by them anytime soon.

Time droned on deadly slow, the soft ticks of the antique grandfather clock made it even more harrowing. You could sense a shift in atmosphere when Carlos arrived, the small talk dissipated into nothing. Long hair tickled your bare shoulders as you locked eyes with him for a brief moment. Carlos always had a knack for giving you an unreadable expression— a walking paradox for emotion, some may say— but the way his jaw locked into place as he assessed the way the dark fabric clung to you in the wrong places was enough to make your heart drop.

He took his seat next to you, a large hand coming to rest on your bare thigh almost immediately. The touch wasn't as loving as it usually was, no, this one held possessiveness to it. A flicker of agitation glimmered in his eyes before he cleared his throat to proceed with the meeting he'd arranged.

How you dreaded everything from the moment he started talking, the murmuring of others following. A smug burst of confidence was your overall tragic downfall, as a cocktail of emotions swam around in your stomach, mixing with the alcohol that burnt in its wake. You'd never even wanted a meeting to be over so fast, yet secretly yearning for it to not. Biting your inner cheek in desperation, you caught one of Carlos’s lackey's giving you a smirk in your peripheral vision. A hitched breath followed, as you swallowed your embarrassment, looking straight ahead to try and compose yourself.

Carlos gave you a harsh squeeze on the thigh in response to the change in your demeanour. It was almost as if it was a warning. Maybe even a silent ‘I told you so’. You didn't dare look at him, the intensity of his anger suffocating you as the meeting blurred into nothing whilst your head screamed out in agonising dread.

The rest of the evening was a blur. One by one soon enough Carlos’s lackeys were leaving, some with their partners, some after slipping wads of cash to the man sat next to you, some with no recognition of Carlos on the way out.

The last man finally exited the large room as the large, oak door closed with a stark click. Carlos had already moved over to the pristine, untouched pool table at this point, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter placed on another small table beside it. He let out a tut as he let his glass fill to a moderate amount, before a sharp snap of his fingers followed, demanding you come to him.

“Carlos, I—” you began to try to reason, your voice a little shakier than usual. The cold man was emotionally unresponsive, as you brought a hand to brush against his upper arm in hope of a little change in demeanour.

If anything, trying to reason made it worse. Something in Carlos snapped, a large hand wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you towards him, before he pressed your back against the pool table, his body looming over you as his brown doe eyes stayed locked onto your's from above.

Opening your mouth to plead your case, a finger came to press against your lips. “Not another word,” Carlos’s thick accent was dark, the command evident as you submissively nodded helplessly.

“You've already made a few heads spin this evening, haven't you princesa?” His interrogatives bit harshly as he settled himself in between your legs. “What were you thinking, huh? Dressing like that in front of my men? Looking for some kind of reaction?”

“Carlos,” you breathed hopelessly, eyes widened as you stood below him completely at his mercy.

“I didn't tell you to speak, did I?” He butted in, a dark eyebrow raised in response.

“No Carlos,” you responded, “you didn't.”

“Then be a good girl and don't talk,” he drawled into your ear, his hot breath fanning onto your ear as he pressed his lips against your neck, a little underneath your earlobe.

You shivered slightly, feeling his hot kisses trail down the side of your neck as his teeth grazed the skin. A pathetic whine escaped your lips as you laid underneath him helpless, just letting him barrage you with hard bites and soothing licks of his tongue over the sore spots on your collarbone.

You moaned softly, writhing slightly in Carlos’s grip. You felt yourself getting wetter as Carlos peppered wet kisses across your visible chest, before finally catching your lips with a searing one. Your lips melted on his as your mouths fought for dominance, Carlos’s growing clothed erection grazing against your damp panties, the friction driving you crazy.

When he pulled away, a little line of saliva connected both of you together, his lips forming into a wicked upon the sight of you lying on the pool table. Chest rising with ragged breaths, cheeks flushed a harsh crimson, eyes wide and pleading. Carlos’s bites still stung, and you both knew there would be hickeys in their wake tomorrow, a punishment for dressing like you did this evening.

“Carlos,” you pleaded with a soft whine. “I'm sorry, please,” you whispered, the look in your eyes begging for more.

He just chuckled tauntingly in response. “You really think you deserve being fucked after what you've done, huh, cariño?” He teased with mockery, his brown eyes darker than usual.

“Such a dirty girl for me,” he drawled, calloused fingertips tracing along your collarbone ever so slowly which drove you even more insane. “Is that what you wanted all along? To dress like this just so I'd fuck you?” He asked as his hand came to cup your cheeks, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your flushed apple.

You bashfully shook your head, an obvious lie on your part, gulping nervously in response. You couldn't make eye contact with him, not with the pooling desire burning in between your legs, which you'd begun to rub your thighs with to help alleviate.

“My, my,” Carlos hummed, licking his lips ever so slightly. “Maybe if you weren't so much of a slut, I'd take you right now,” he mumbled, “but after that little show you put on for my men? Now I'm not so sure.”

You groaned in response to his words. Your body yearned for his touch, the slow trails of his fingertips ghosting over your hot skin as it practically begged for more. Carlos pitied you. The sight was so beautifully saddening, you looked so desperate, so needy for him and it only added fuel to his own fire.

“Look at you,” Carlos sighed before letting out another tut in mockery, looking down at you with a feigned frown, “all helpless and needy for me. Whining underneath me like the bitch you are,” he added before he slid down your thighs, positioning himself on the floor in between them.

“Open up for me nena,” he commanded lowly, nudging your thighs apart slightly. “Come on,” he encouraged.

Abiding to his command, you spread yourself apart, just so your soaked panties were on display for him. Carlos let out an amused laugh in response to the sight, before his fingertips came to clip themselves around the hem and pull them down your legs with ease.

“Carlos,” you breathed again, feeling his hot breath mingle with the cold air of the room on your slick folds. “Carlos, I—”

You were cut off by Carlos’s tongue delving into your weeping cunt uninvited, nose slightly nudging against your clit as you gasped in response. Hungry hands clawed at his head almost instantly, nails combing through his beautiful brown hair as he continued to lap up at your pussy, his tongue working miracles as you moaned loudly.

The heat in your belly burnt swiftly as you felt yourself teetering over the edge with every lick or suck Carlos made on your slick cunt. Eyes rolled back as the coil began to tighten to a new intensity as you felt your imminent crash of ecstasy waiting to happen impatiently.

Your nails dug into Carlos’s scalp as your body finally let go after the pleasure became agonisingly too much to handle, your body shuddering uncontrollably with the longing release your body was desiring for. Crying out with an overwhelming pleasure, you whined as Carlos lapped at your dripping pussy, savouring the taste of your orgasm on his tongue.

“Good girl,” he purred onto your cunt, before pressing a soft kiss against it. He stood up from his knees, some of your juices still congealed on his face as he looked down at your panting mess of a state.

“Next time I won't give in so easily, cariño,” Carlos cooed as his hand came back up to your face and rubbed your cheek again. “Dress like that again in front of my men and I'll take you in front of them,” he warned, his thick accent low as he had a devilish smirk on his face, “but I bet you'd like that wouldn't you, princesa?”

like mafia!carlos? fancy sending me an ask in my inbox so you can be included in my notebook! - notti <3

[pretzel-box]

Hello ●♡●

Do you mind if request a pregnant!reader who gets sent down into Hadal Blacksite?

She was arrested for being associated with a famed drug dealer (you may pick) and was now sent to life in prison. But Hadal picked her up and sent her to retrieve the crystal.

Eventually she meets Sebby, from that point on you can drive the story ^^

Sorry if this sounds weird. First time requesting someone 😅

words: 1,1k

tags: pregnant! female reader, comfort

The sound of the facility’s massive gates clanging shut echoed in your ears, the final barrier between you and the world you once knew. The cold, harsh reality of the Hadal Blackside settled over you like a shroud, suffocating and oppressive. You had heard the stories about this place—the darkness, the desperation, the things that lurked in the shadows. But nothing could have prepared you for the weight of it, the feeling that you were truly, utterly alone.

Except you weren’t alone.

A hand instinctively rested on your stomach, where a life grew inside you. The life of a child whose father had betrayed you, framed you for crimes you hadn’t committed. The memories flooded back—the frantic nights, the lies, the realization that the man you had once trusted with everything had set you up to take the fall for his empire’s sins. You hooked up with a man, knowing he had money and you would be financially secure till he used you and you found out about the truth behind his business. Blinded by drugs, money and criminal motivation he blamed you and exposed you in front of the police and now, you are here, sent to this hellhole with no hope of return, carrying his child.

You wandered through the winding, decaying corridors, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty. The facility was a labyrinth of rusted metal, flickering lights, and shadows that seemed to move on their own. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something far more sinister yet metallic, something that made your skin crawl.

It wasn’t long before you stumbled upon a small shop tucked away in one of the darker corners of the facility. The space was cluttered with all manner of items, some useful, some strange, all scavenged from the depths of this godforsaken place. Your eyes fell on the shopkeeper, a tall, serpentine figure with fluorescent blue eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light. His long, coiled tail was laying casually over the slight wet floor, and his gaze was sharp, assessing you with a mixture of curiosity, caution and unmotivation.

“You look lost,” he said, his voice smooth and surprisingly gentle, given his intimidating appearance. His large claw-like hands rubbing against each other as he kept staring at you.

You hesitated for a moment, the reality of your situation crashing down on you all over again. You didn’t know who to trust, if anyone, in this place. But you were desperate, scared, and you needed someone—anyone—to help you.

“I…I was sent down here,” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “Framed for something I didn’t do. And now…” You paused, your hand instinctively moving to your stomach again. “Now I’m here. Alone. And I’m pregnant.”

The shopkeeper’s expression shifted, the hard edges softening as he took in your words. For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching you with those piercing blue eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh, he moved forward, his tail shifting with a sinuous grace as he approached.

“My name’s Sebastian,” he said, his tone gentle now, almost kind. “And this is my shop. My wares are on my tail, batteries on the table next to me…” He paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he took in your exhausted, tear-streaked face. “And you can rest here, free of charge.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight of kindness that you hadn’t expected to find in a place like this. The offer of refuge, even just for a little while, was more than you could have hoped for. A small, shaky breath escaped your lips, and you nodded, the tightness in your chest loosening just a bit.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your voice still trembling slightly.

Sebastian nodded, gesturing to a makeshift bed in the corner of the shop—a crude but inviting space with blankets neatly folded on top. “It’s not much,” he said, almost apologetically, “but it’s better than most places around here. You should get some rest.”

You glanced over at the bed, the exhaustion of the past few days weighing heavily on your shoulders. The idea of lying down, of letting your guard down for just a moment, was terrifying. But you were so tired—tired in a way that went beyond physical fatigue. Your heart ached with the burden of your situation, and the weight of your unborn child felt heavier with every passing moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian studied you for a moment longer before reaching out, his clawed hand hovering near your shoulder as if he was unsure whether to offer comfort. “This place…it’s not for people like you. It's even a surprise that they send you down here.,” he said quietly. “But you’ll find that most of us down here have our own stories. We all carry something.” His gaze flicked briefly to your stomach before meeting your eyes again. “Some more than others.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. The enormity of your situation, the betrayal, the fear for your unborn child—it all came crashing down on you, and you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

Sebastian moved closer, his presence unexpectedly reassuring despite his fearsome appearance. “You’re safe here, for now,” he said softly, his voice like a balm to your frayed nerves. “At least as safe as you can be in this place. I’ll help you, as much as I can.”

You didn’t know why, but something in his words, in the way he looked at you, made you believe him. Maybe it was the way he seemed to understand without needing to ask questions, or maybe it was simply the fact that he was offering help when you felt most alone. Whatever the reason, you found yourself nodding, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Sebastian nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ll be okay,” he assured you, his tone firm but comforting. “We’ll figure this out, together.”

As you stood there, the reality of your new life beginning to sink in, you realized that for the first time since you had been sent down here, you didn’t feel completely alone. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And as you looked up at Sebastian, the man who had so unexpectedly become your lifeline, you felt a small spark of hope flicker to life within you.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a future for you and your child in this dark, twisted place.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Yandere Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader headcanons?

(You said you're more into the prequels and original trilogy than the sequels, right?)

Yes you're right! :) Anakin is THE best!! Plus Republic and Empire era are my favs.

Yandere Anakin Skywalker headcanons

Star Wars masterlist

Dead dove do not eat below

Anakin is one of those who gets attached very fast. But he can get very, very attached too and the person who happens to be the one is you.

At first, Anakin saw you as a mere good friend, but as the Clone Wars progressed and the Separatists under Count Dooku, Darth Sidious and General Grievous became more of a threat, his growing feelings for you lead him to take you to Coruscant where he and the Jedi could keep you safe.

Of course, other jedi questioned him about you, especially Obi Wan and Mace Windu, but Anakin didn't listen to their "Feelings lead to the dark side." antics and soon decided it would be best for him to take care of you himself.

Anakin had C-3PO and R2-D2 in your chambers if he couldn't be there, he knew atleast droids could be trusted.

Anakin always loved expressing his feelings/attachments via gifts, and everytime he came back from a mission or a battlefield, he brought you the most valuable item he could find, his favourite were Kyber Crystals from Sith he slayed. He loved the way your eyes lit up when he gave them to you.

Soon enough, Anakin's feelings for you overwhelmed him and he swore that once he's powerful enough, nothing will take you away from him. He's aware that he is the chosen one and he will take advantage of it, especially if it means keeping you safe with him.

Anakin's attachment to you has grown so large, that he will gladly slice off heads for you like he did for Palpatine with Count Dooku.

Knightfall Anakin

He is so much more ruthless than the Anakin you knew before, but he will deny them saying:

"No, I am still the one you knew. The only thing that grew ruthless is my love for you."

Now nothing will step between you and him, but if, Anakin will make sure to crush them, kill them if he has to.

Anakin will even try holding back Palpatine from hurting you if he feels like Palpatine sees you as a problem.

You cannot fool him, he knows when you're up to something and he won't let you. If Anakin feels like it, he deems restraints fit to keep you with him.

He is certain, with his new Empire, he will finally have the power to bring peace to the Galaxy, crush any rebellion, kill any enemy who tries stealing you away.

Darth Vader

Even the cybernetics can't stop his burning feelings for you, not at all, they might have even made them stronger.

Vader doesn't know mercy anymore and anyone who dares touching you will get choked by him.

If you, for some reason, run away from him, there is no place to hide in the Galaxy. The Empire reigns over the Galaxy, and Vader will send Stormtroopers, even Bounty Hunters after you.

Anakin was already much taller than you, but Vader is now way taller than you thanks to the cybernetics. He is scary, and the way he slaughters the rebels makes your bones clatter, having you automatically be good for him and not question him.

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[ayaki-channn]

VEIL OF WINTER'S EMBRACE.

-S. Haruchiyo

WARNINGS: Themes of violence and crime, emotional distress, and depictions of toxic relationships.

DESCRIPTION: Sanzu Haruchiyo must choose between the allure of danger and the redemptive power of love, revealing the fragile beauty that can blossom even in the harshest cold.

In the heart of winter, the air was sharp and biting, each breath crystallizing like whispers of secrets long buried beneath layers of snow. The world outside lay draped in white, a pristine facade that belied the chaos lurking just beneath its surface.

Amidst this serene backdrop, You stood by your frosted window, gaze lost in the swirling snowflakes. Each flake danced in the dim light, a fleeting reminder of the beauty that existed outside their tangled thoughts. Your heart ached with a familiar heaviness, a reminder of Haruchiyo, the man you loved, who now felt more like a ghost haunting your days than a partner you could rely on.

Sanzu Haruchiyo was entangled in the dark underbelly of Japan, a rising star in the most dangerous criminal organization in the nation. Your relationship, once a sanctuary of warmth and romance, had become a battlefield of silences and unspoken fears. Each time he slipped away into the shadows of his world, he left behind an emptiness that threatened to swallow you whole.

As you wrapped your arms around yourself, a shiver ran down your spine—not just from the cold, but from the realization that you were losing him to a world that demanded his devotion far beyond what your heart could endure.

The door creaked open with a reluctant sigh, revealing Haruchiyo, whose weary silhouette cut a stark figure against the soft illumination of the room. He stepped inside, his coat heavy with the chill of the winter night, the weight of his existence palpable in the air. Fatigue etched deep lines across his face, a canvas painted with shadows that told tales of a world far removed from your own.

Without sparing you a glance, he strode to the bar, pouring himself a glass of rich, dark wine. The crimson liquid sloshed gently, as if reluctant to leave the bottle, mirroring the tumult within your heart. You watched him, feeling the familiar ache of longing twist within you, but it was swiftly overshadowed by a profound sorrow.

“Haruchiyo,” you ventured, voice trembling, a fragile whisper in the oppressive silence.

“What am I to you?”

He paused, the glass hovering at his lips, the question hanging in the air like a haunting specter. When he finally turned to you, his expression was a carefully constructed mask, revealing nothing of the tumultuous emotions that roiled beneath.

“You?” he replied, his tone devoid of warmth, slicing through the air with a dispassionate edge. “You are merely a slut I plucked from a club one random night. Nothing more.”

The chill of his words seeped into your very bones, and you felt as though the warmth of your shared moments had been extinguished, leaving only a cold, echoing void in its place. He regarded you with a detached indifference, as if you were a fleeting amusement, a mere trinket in his lavish life.

“Consider yourself fortunate to remain here,” he continued, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. “Most women wouldn’t last long in my world. You should be grateful I still keep you around.”

A deep sorrow crashed over you like a frigid wave, each word striking you with the force of a winter storm. “Grateful?” you echoed, the bitterness of the word lingering on your tongue. “Grateful for what? To be treated as a mere shadow in your life?”

He shrugged, taking another languid sip from his glass, the ruby liquid reflecting the dim light. “This is my reality. You’re quite lucky to be here because I permit it. Don’t forget that.”

Anger mingled with despair, a tempest swirling within you. “Lucky?” you said, your voice rising, trembling with emotion. “Lucky to be just another name in your roster? Lucky to witness you prioritize your criminal empire over our love time and again?”

His gaze met yours, hard and unyielding. “This life demands sacrifice, and you are part of it only because I allow it.”

The truth of his words crashed over you like an avalanche, and you turned away, the sting of tears threatening to betray you. “What do you want from me, Haru?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Is this all I am to you?”

For a fleeting moment, his facade cracked, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his features. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold resolve. “You know what I want. You should know by now.”

In that moment, an ember of defiance ignited within you. “I want more, Haru. I want to be loved—not as a trophy or a fleeting distraction, but as someone who matters.” With those words, you stepped toward the door, the chill of the night beckoning you with an alluring promise of freedom.

But as you reached for the handle, a sharp click echoed through the room, freezing your figure in place. Haruchiyo had drawn his gun, the barrel glinting ominously in the dim light. “You’re not leaving,” he declared, his voice a low growl, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Your heart raced, the gravity of the moment sinking deep. “You would shoot me?” you asked, voice trembling yet resolute. “After everything we’ve shared?”

“Don’t test me,” he warned, his finger hovering over the trigger, his breath a mixture of anger and something unnamable.

Desperation clawed at you, and you turned to him, eyes brimming with tears that shimmered like fragile glass. “You think you can silence what we had with a single pull of the trigger? You think that love can be extinguished so easily?”

You stepped closer, your voice softening, the warmth of your words cutting through the icy tension. “Sanzu Haruchiyo, I have loved you fiercely, even when you pushed me away. I see you—truly see you, beneath the layers of this dangerous facade. I know you’re trapped in a world that demands everything from you. But you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to lose me.”

For a moment, he hesitated, the gun trembling in his grip as your words wove through the darkness, seeking the flicker of humanity buried within him.

“You’re just a distraction,” he muttered, though the conviction in his voice wavered.

“Am I?” you countered gently, stepping even closer, daring to bridge the chasm between them. “You’re a man torn between the life you’ve chosen and the love that could set you free. You don’t have to be this monster. You can choose me instead.”

Time seemed to stretch, and in that fraught silence, Haruchiyo’s resolve wavered. The gun lowered slightly, his breath hitching as he fought against the storm of emotions raging within.

“I can’t…” he whispered, as if admitting it out loud would shatter the very foundations of his existence.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the weapon, and he flinched but didn’t pull away. “You can, Haru. You can choose love over fear. You can choose me.”

In that instant, the weight of his world felt lighter, as if the burden he had carried alone began to dissipate. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice a stark contrast to the fierce man you had known.

With the gun slipping from his grip, clattering to the floor, you took a bold step forward. You cupped his face in your hands, searching his eyes for the flicker of warmth you knew still lingered there. “Then don’t. Let me in, Haru. Let’s face this together. Love is a choice, and I choose you, always.”

In that moment, something shifted in him. The icy veneer he wore melted away, revealing the man you had fallen for—the man who could love fiercely despite the darkness surrounding him. As you leaned in, your foreheads touched, a gentle promise against the chaos of their lives.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath, yet it echoed with the weight of a vow.

“I will,” you replied, your heart swelling with hope. “As long as you choose to fight for us.”

In that embrace, amidst the shadows and uncertainty, the promise of a new beginning unfurled—a love untainted by the darkness, blossoming like the first flowers of spring against the frost of winter. Together, they would carve a path illuminated by the light of their love, forging a bond that could withstand the trials ahead, hand in hand, heart to heart.

[mlm-writer]

Atish'an (Dorian x M!Reader)

Pairing:  Dorian Pavus x Male Elf Inquisitor (trans-friendly) Rating: General Audiences Words: 1306 POV: Second Summary: The inquisitor is having feeling for the Tevinter, but the tragedy of a past lost make it hard to act on those feelings. Tags: hurt & comfort, love confession (?), flirting, Dorian's fabulous moustache, getting together (?), Elven language & dash of angst

A tingling sensation danced  like a warm fire over your lips. It had been a while since you had speed-walked towards your chambers, but you still felt it. It was lingering like a ghost, a remnant. You touched your lips lightly, replaying the abrupt kiss Dorian gave you after Mother Giselle accused him of being some sort of bad influence. Maybe he was. You didn’t care though. 

Your hand reflexively reached up to the pendant hanging from your neck. The simple jewellery wasn’t worth a single piece of gold, but you had made sure it survived the conclave, the journey through time and the attack on Haven. The thin chain was starting to get some wear and tear from your nervous fiddling and the pendant itself was losing its outer coating. “Zevwen,” you whispered the name into the cold air, like a soft prayer for your long gone lover. It had been a good decade ago, but you could recall the last day you heard his voice crystal clear.

He was pale as the snow in the mountains. The only colour on his visage was the redness around his eyes. Fingers, thin and trembling, lightly held onto yours. His voice had been a mere fragment of what it used to be. “Ma vhenan, you were meant for great things; I have always seen legends in your soul.” Such a convoluted way to tell you to live on, venture away from the clan and carve your own path. You did just that a few months ago; look where that got you. 

A deep sigh left your lips, before you rose from where you were seated on the edge of the bed. You tucked the pendant back under your clothes and went on to be the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, the random guy who is going to defeat Corypheus. No big deal. 

—

The Winter Palace was as grand as the Game was despicable. In the grand mess of schemes and murder, Dorian seemed to have enjoyed himself in some way. You suspected he would mingle well with the nobility. A few times when you passed him by, a young Orlesian woman was trying to woo him. The forbiddeness of a Tevinter man was very popular among the younger ladies. It was somewhat amusing to see Dorian suffer through tactfully rejecting them one by one, without causing a political debacle that would torture Josephine for months to come. 

“There was an ancient dowager looking for you. Said she had twelve daughters. I told her you left already.” Dorian made his grand entrance on the balcony. There was really no hiding from him. “You can thank me later or now, but… you look distracted. Something on your mind?” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. It had been a wild night, but even as an entire empire was on the verge of crumbling, you had often found your mind drift to the way he was filling out that ridiculous red tunic. 

“Did you need me for something?” You finally turn your head to really look at him; that was a mistake. Steel grey eyes bore into your soul, searching for answers to inquiries he had not even made yet. You tried to keep your expression neutral, hiding your emotions beneath a blanket of professionalism. 

Dorian turned towards you, one arm handsomely leaning on the edge of the balcony. “Oh, I always need you for something.” He gave you another one of those insincere charming smiles; you were both inept at expressing honest emotions. “I would say the question remains whether you need me, but I know you do. Afterall, you would not have extended the invitation of the scheming marquis if you didn’t.” His arm waved around in a grand motion. You hummed and nodded in reply, knowing he would continue talking no matter what your reaction was. “In any case, I know what you need now too. A distraction.” He pushed himself off the stone and offered you a hand. “Dance with me, Inquisitor.” 

A smile creeped onto your face. You tried to hide it by looking down, but you knew Dorian had already seen it. Without a word, you took his hand. He pulled you into the empty space on the balcony. The music drifted through the slit between the doors, guiding your intimate dance under the night sky. Josephine had appointed you a dance teacher for tonight, so you would fit in, but Orlesian nobility apparently danced differently from the Tevinter nobility. It was hard to anticipate Dorian’s movements. Maybe it was just Dorian, ever the storm, the chaos, the novelty. Maybe Dorian actually didn’t know how to dance. 

Nonetheless, he held your eyes hostage with his. The warmth of his body seeped through your fancy clothes. The sweet scent of his perfume filled your nose. He was everywhere around you, making your heart race and heat rise to your face. You dipped him; matching smiles adorned both your faces. “This is the moment you kiss the evil magister, Inquisitor.” His soft-spoken, alluring words broke the spell. Anxiety creeped up your spine. You pulled him up and let him go. “Or not,” Dorian added without hiding the disappointment in his tone. 

You took a steadying breath and rubbed your face. “Sorry… We… We need to talk.” When you looked at Dorian again, he had his arms crossed. He seemed to be waiting for you to continue speaking. It seemed like he had his mind sorted already and it was just you who needed to talk. You leaned over the edge of the balcony, avoiding eye contact. “Please do not misunderstand. I do like you. I just…” The emotions clogged your throat. Dorian slid into the space beside you. He put one of his strong arms across your shoulders, pulling you against him. You leaned against him, finding peace in his presence. Another calming breath helped you find your words again. “I have lost someone dear to me before… We did not even live a perilous life back then and we…” A rough chuckle escaped your tight throat. Dorian waited patiently for your every word. “I thought I would spend my life with him, but illness got a hold of him before our future could. I do not know if my heart is strong enough for another loss like that.” 

You allowed yourself to lay your eyes upon Dorian again. For once, the Tevinter seemed to be serious. He pulled you close against him, resting his head against yours. “I cannot promise you will never lose me, but I can promise you that I will make every second of joy worth any possible moment of mourning.” His voice vibrated through your body, lulling you into comfort. “It is not good for the skin to be mourning me while I am still alive.” 

You couldn’t suppress the chuckle bubbling up. You turned towards Dorian. He faced you, a confident smirk on his lips, but fear of rejection hidden in his eyes. “You’re right. I should not mourn you while you’re still breathing.” You caressed his face, playing briefly with that wonderful moustache. “I’d like to pick this up without the Orlesian court lurking around the corner, if you’d let me.” 

Dorian took your hand and placed a gallant kiss on your knuckles. “I am quite looking forward to what exactly you will be picking up, Inquisitor.” His grin churned your insides in a way that was both frightening and delightful. “Until then.” His fingers lingered on yours as he slowly let go of your hand with a flirtatious wink. Dorian turned to walk away, hips swaying a little with every step he took to leave the balcony. He left you more fearful than ever, but also -  for the first time in a long while - hopeful. 

—————

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[amequeer]

My post-crystalized headcanons

To celebrate finishing main ninjago series, here's how I view them after 15 tiring seasons lmao + some things i think they got into I usually draw them canon way so it was fun

Kai: • he/him, bisexual (in denial) • loves social media and interacting with his fans • did at least one (1) tiktok dance and it's somewhere on internet • practices e-boy fashion but refuses to acknowledge that • goes to concerts with Cole and Nya

Jay (BRING REDHEAD JAY BACK): • he/they/she, bisexual • unironically wears christmas sweaters all year round • got into game development after Prime Empire • regularly goes to therapy, advocates for mental health and self-expression • send Nya like +20 gifs a day

Zane: • all pronouns, queer • does tutoring for kids mostly when not on duty • often replays tough memories to study situations and get ahold of his emotions in the future • started reading Lloyd's old comic books • really enjoys elegent fashion

Cole: • he/they, gay • fully blown punk and social activist • DJ's as a part time job • got Kai and Nya into metal music and going with him to concerts • started small garden as a way of connecting with his earthy powers

Lloyd: • he/they, queer and demisexual • got horns, tail and few more new characteristics after being an oni • started swimming regularly as a way of meditation • embraces his inner child more often by visiting arcade and comic book store • spends a lot of quality time with Misako

Nya: • she/they, bisexual • hosts kickboxing classes for women • often lectures at university about tech, really got into working with younger generation • started doing lots of social work, thanks to Cole • goes on few days long hiking trips alone

Art requests and asks are open!

[atlasthegreatest]

Duty and Devotion / Talia Al Ghul x Star Sapphire!Female Reader

Which, Talia and Y/n navigate the complexities of their respective responsibilities. But, despite the weight of their obligations, the two women find time for each other, stealing quiet moments that reinforce their love.

Word count: 3572

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

Talia al Ghul swept through the corridors of her estate like a shadow, her dark silk robes whispering around her ankles. Every step she took carried the weight of responsibility, the League of Shadows demanding both precision and grace from its leader. The same hands that mastered weapons and assassins now held a cup of tea, an unusual but tender gesture meant for someone waiting for her upstairs.

Through the halls of this fortress of shadows lived something—someone—who had slipped beneath Talia’s carefully cultivated armor. She ascended the staircase to her chambers, her expression softened ever so slightly at the thought of the person inside. A familiar glow peeked from beneath the door: the telltale shimmer of violet light that belonged to her beloved.

Inside, the soft hum of cosmic energy filled the air. Y/n hovered lazily off the bed, a swirling aura of magenta and violet surrounding her like a cocoon. The Star Sapphire power crystal pulsed faintly on her hand, synchronizing with the beat of her heart as she communed with the emotional energy of love. Yet even as Y/n's focus remained elsewhere, the smile on her face was immediate the moment Talia entered.

“Took you long enough,” Y/n teased, opening one eye as she drifted down from her levitation. “I was starting to think I’d have to storm your League meeting.”

Talia smirked in response, her lips quirking with amusement. “Tempting, though I fear you’d embarrass me in front of my subordinates.” She set the tea down on the nightstand, her gaze softening. “How goes the war of the heart?”

Y/n let out a small laugh, the sound rich with warmth. “Same as always. The universe is full of people who don’t know how to love properly.”

“And yet you remain here, tethered to me.” Talia’s voice was velvety smooth, low with affection, as she sat gracefully beside her on the bed.

“How could I not?” Y/n whispered, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “You’re my favorite distraction.”

The two of you lingered in that closeness for a moment, savoring the silence, the bond between them woven not only from passion but also from trust. The kind of trust that lets two people, both powerful and burdened, take refuge in one another. Their hands tangled together without thought, her fingers cool against the warm glow of Y/n’s aura.

“We’re doing this, huh?” Y/n asked softly, brushing her thumb across Talia’s knuckles. “Balancing love and duty without destroying ourselves?”

Talia let out a rare chuckle, the sound a delicate ripple of amusement. “If we can rule worlds and command armies, surely we can manage a relationship.”

“Ha. Famous last words.”

But despite the playful tone, the truth of it ran deeper. Both of you bore responsibilities—Talia with her empire of shadows, you with the cosmic force of love as a Star Sapphire. It could have easily pulled you apart, these burdens. And yet, here you were, finding pockets of peace in stolen moments like these.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Talia murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face, “how it is that I can feel like myself only when I am with you.”

Y/n cupped her cheek, her ring pulsing with soft light in answer to the love thrumming through her veins. “I think love does that. It doesn’t change who you are—it just shows you who you could be.”

Talia kissed her then, slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that tasted like promises. Y/n melted into it, her hands slipping into her hair as the familiar spark between them ignited. But just as it began to deepen, Talia’s phone buzzed insistently from across the room, dragging both of them back to reality.

Talia pulled back with a soft exhale, her forehead resting against Y/n’s. “Duty calls,” she said, regret lacing her words.

Y/n sighed, nodding in understanding. “Same here.”

It was the unspoken agreement between you two: love would never be abandoned, but neither would your responsibilities. You knew what you’d signed up for when you chose her, just as she knew what it meant to love a Star Sapphire. There were meetings to attend, battles to fight, and worlds—both cosmic and earthly—that needed saving.

But neither of you doubted that you’d find your way back to each other. Always.

As Talia stood to answer her call, Y/n floated off the bed once more, summoning her violet aura to life around her. Talia glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable but her gaze heavy with meaning.

“Until tonight?” she asked.

Y/n gave her a wink, her body already shimmering with the light of her ring. “Always.”

And with that, Y/n vanished in a flash of violet light, leaving behind nothing but the lingering warmth of love.

———————

Talia leaned back against the windowsill, watching the last traces of your violet light fade from the room. Even with Y/n’s absence, the air seemed to hum with her presence, like the afterglow of a dream she didn’t want to wake from.

A soft sigh escaped her lips. She was no stranger to duty. Her life had been built on sacrifice—carrying the weight of her father’s empire on her shoulders, commanding assassins, and navigating endless political intrigues. She thrived in the cold, calculated edges of the world. But with Y/n, everything was different. Warmth. Light.

Talia had always thought of love as a distraction, something dangerous and uncontrollable. Yet somehow, with Y/n, it wasn’t a hindrance. It became an anchor. A balance she hadn’t known she needed.

On the other side of the galaxy, Y/n hovered in the silent expanse of space, her violet aura pulsing gently around her. A holographic construct of her communicator shimmered to life on her wrist. The image of an alien woman, one of her fellow Star Sapphires, flickered into view.

“Are you sure you should be on Earth so much?” she asked, her brow arched. “The emotional tether you’ve formed there… It’s strong.”

Y/n gave her a small, knowing smile. “Love is the whole point, right? I can’t exactly do my job if I ignore it.”

The alien Sapphire tilted her head but didn’t argue. “Just don’t lose yourself. Your duty to the Star Sapphires—”

“—is still my priority,” Y/n assured her, though your thoughts drifted back to Talia. “I know what I’m doing.”

The connection ended, leaving her alone in the cosmos. It was an unspoken struggle, balancing the responsibilities of two worlds: the Star Sapphire Corps and her love for Talia. The universe constantly demanded Y/n’s attention, and yet she always found herself drawn back to Earth—to her.

Y/n raised her ringed hand, letting the light it emitted swirl into a familiar construct: a glowing outline of Talia’s face, serene and sharp, just as she’d looked moments ago. A soft laugh escaped Y/n. She’d never intended to fall in love with someone like her—a woman wrapped in shadows and power. But somehow, she’d taken her heart and held it as if it were her most treasured possession.

And the truth was, Y/n didn’t mind. She would fight for her responsibilities—and for her.

———————-

Later that night, the sound of gentle rain pattered against the windows of Talia’s estate. She slipped silently through the hallways, her presence like a shadow gliding over stone. Her day had been filled with strategies and whispered threats, but now the only thing on her mind was Y/n.

She found Y/n in her quarters, lying on the bed in the same languid sprawl she often took when she wanted to tease Talia about how much she “missed” her, even if only hours had passed. Y/n’s aura shimmered faintly, and she wore a content expression as if the whole universe could wait while she lay here, waiting for Talia.

“You’re back early,” Talia observed as she slipped off her robe, draping it across a nearby chair.

“Missed me?” Y/n teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Talia shot her a glance that was equal parts amused and exasperated, but she couldn’t deny the truth. “Terribly.”

Y/n opened her arms in invitation, and with a soft huff of mock impatience, Talia slid into her embrace. The moment her body pressed against Y/n’s, everything else—the League, the Corps, the endless demands—melted away. There was only this: the quiet rhythm of her breath, the warmth of Y/n’s body against hers, and the unspoken promise that no matter where their duties pulled them, they would always return to each other.

“You’ve been working too hard,” Y/n whispered, her fingers trailing gently along her back.

“So have you,” Talia murmured, her voice low and intimate.

“We are terrible at taking breaks.”

Talia smirked, her lips brushing the skin just below Y/n’s ear. “Then let’s make the most of this one.”

Y/n hummed in agreement, shifting so Talia was tucked beneath her chin, her slender form fitting perfectly against hers. For a moment, there was only the sound of rain outside and the steady beat of two hearts in perfect sync.

Talia’s hand drifted lazily over the glowing ring on Y/n’s finger, her fingers tracing its intricate lines. “I sometimes wonder,” she whispered, “if the universe gave you to me by accident. Or if fate had plans I never saw coming.”

Y/n tilted her chin upward and kissed her, slow and tender. When she pulled back, her lips barely brushed Talia’s as she whispered, “Not an accident. Definitely fate.”

Talia’s lips quirked, but her eyes softened in the way they only did when she was with Y/n. “Good. I’d rather not have to fight fate.”

The night stretched on in quiet bliss. The weight of their respective responsibilities lingered in the background, ever-present, but for now, neither of them cared. Here, in the sanctuary of each other’s arms, the rest of the world could wait.

It was always like this—brief moments stolen from the chaos of their lives, woven together into something precious. Y/n knew tomorrow would bring new challenges and new missions. Talia would return to her world of shadows, and she would return to her cosmic patrols.

But no matter what came next, this—she and her—was constant. A promise written in the stars and carved into the deepest parts of their souls.

And as they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/n knew without a doubt: no matter where duty was called, love would always bring her home.

Bonus chapter:

The early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of Talia’s estate, casting soft, golden beams across the stone floor. Y/n was sitting cross-legged on the rug, a mug of tea cradled in her hands, watching Talia from the corner of her eye. Talia stood at the window, regal even in moments of rest, the light highlighting her sharp cheekbones.

Moments like these were rare—domestic, quiet, and soft around the edges. No missions. No space duties. Just the two of them. Or, well… three.

A quick pattering of footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by the familiar sound of Damian Wayne’s voice. “Mother, where is my—oh.” He stopped short in the doorway, eyeing Y/n with that cool, calculating expression she knew all too well.

“Good morning to you, too, kid,” Y/n teased, taking a sip of her tea.

Damian crossed his arms over his chest, the faintest hint of a frown tugging at his lips. “I’m not a kid.”

Y/n smirked. “Right. You’re practically ancient now at thirteen.”

Talia turned from the window, her gaze softening as it landed on her son. “What is it, habibi? You seem restless.”

Damian hesitated as if weighing his next words carefully. It was rare to see him so uncertain, though Y/n supposed her presence—and the unusual display of affection between her and his mother—was still something he was getting used to.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I need my practice sword. The new one you promised.”

Talia arched an elegant brow. “And where exactly did you leave your old one?”

Damian’s frown deepened. “It was a tactical miscalculation. I left it at Father’s.”

Y/n snorted into her tea, earning a sharp look from the boy. He was always so serious, always carrying the weight of the world on his small, determined shoulders. It was a bit like looking at a miniature version of Talia—just as intense, just as proud.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Y/n said with a grin. “Even a Star Sapphire can misplace things. I once left my ring floating in orbit around a moon for three days.”

Damian gave you an unimpressed look. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Before Y/n could reply, Talia stepped in smoothly, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Your training can wait a few hours. You’ve earned a morning of rest.”

Damian blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Rest is unnecessary. Discipline is—”

“Non-negotiable,” Talia finished with a small smile. “Yes, I know. But even assassins and warriors need time to recharge, Damian.”

Y/n leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “She’s right, you know. And if you take a break, we could do something… fun.”

Damian gave the woman a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised. “Your idea of fun involves flying across space.”

“And yours involves throwing shurikens at things,” Y/n shot back, grinning. “But I was thinking more along the lines of a sparring match. Unless you’re scared?”

His eyes narrowed instantly. “I’m not scared.”

“Oh, I know,” Y/n said, standing and stretching her arms over her head. “But I am curious to see if you’ve improved.”

Talia watched the exchange with an expression that could only be described as amused fondness, her arms crossed loosely. It wasn’t often that someone could tease Damian without provoking outright hostility, but Y/n had a way of slipping through his defenses just enough to keep him on his toes.

Damian turned sharply on his heel. “I’ll get my practice sword. Don’t go anywhere.”

The moment he disappeared down the hall, Y/n caught the faintest hint of a smile on Talia’s lips. “He likes you, you know,” she said softly.

Y/n laughed. “He has a funny way of showing it.”

Talia stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on Y/n’s waist. “For Damian, tolerance is the highest compliment. But I think, in time, he’ll grow to love you.”

Y/n kissed her, slow and soft, savoring the brief moment of closeness. “Good,” she murmured against her lips. “Because I already love him. Almost as much as I love you.”

Talia’s eyes sparkled with something rare—pure, unguarded joy. It was a look she reserved only for Y/n and, perhaps in quieter moments, for her son.

The sound of Damian’s return echoed through the halls, the clattering of his practice sword loud and intentional.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” he called out, marching into the room with his sword in hand. “I won’t go easy on you just because Mother likes you.”

Y/n grinned and summoned a violet construct—a glowing, translucent blade to match his. “Bring it on, kid.”

————————

Talia watched from the sidelines as the two of them squared off, her heart full. For once, the shadow of the League seemed distant, and the burdens of the universe felt lighter. This—family—was what she had never dared dream of.

As Damian lunged forward and Y/n met him with a burst of playful energy, Talia knew she had found her perfect balance.

The violet construct of Y/n’s sword shimmered brightly in her hand as Damian charged forward, his practice blade arcing in a precise swing. Y/n blocked it with a resounding hum of energy, the impact rippling through her aura. The boy’s stance was impeccable—disciplined, quick, and fierce, just like his mother’s. But Y/n could tell he was holding back.

“Come on, Damian,” Y/n teased, twirling the glowing sword in her hand. “I thought the heir to the League of Shadows would hit harder than that.”

His eyes narrowed with fiery determination. “I don’t need to hit hard. I need to outsmart you.”

Before Y/n could respond, Damian feinted left, spinning with impressive agility, and aimed a strike at her side. Y/n parried with ease, blocking his blade with an effortless flick of her wrist.

“Nice try.”

Damian gritted his teeth and came at her again, faster this time, clearly frustrated. He moved like a whirlwind, driven and precise, each blow sharper than the last. Y/n admired his skill—he was good. But no matter how talented he was, she had something in her corner that even the most dangerous assassin lacked: cosmic energy.

With a flick of her ring, Y/n conjured a glowing, violet construct—a replica of him. Damian stopped short, wide-eyed as he faced himself in the form of radiant energy. His double gave him an exaggerated bow.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Damian muttered under his breath, exasperation flickering across his face.

“You fight well,” the construct said in your voice, mimicking the boy’s stance perfectly. “But how do you fight yourself?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, jaw set, and lunged at the duplicate without hesitation. His sword sliced through the construct with surgical precision, shattering it into shimmering violet shards.

“Cute trick,” he huffed.

“Thanks,” Y/n smirked, dispersing the remaining shards into the air with a wave of her hand. “But you’re still too serious, kid.”

Damian’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Focus is not a flaw.”

“Oh, but it is a weakness,” Talia’s voice purred from the sidelines.

Both Y/n and Damian turned toward her. She had leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded, a look of amusement dancing in her eyes. “You let her distract you,” Talia pointed out, gesturing toward Y/n with a small, knowing smile.

Damian’s scowl deepened. “She’s using alien powers. That’s not fair.”

Y/n shot him a grin. “Love isn’t fair, kid.”

He groaned under his breath, sheathing his practice sword with an air of melodramatic frustration. “You’re both insufferable.”

Talia gave a soft chuckle, the kind of laugh she rarely let escape. “You’ll understand one day, habibi.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Doubtful.”

Despite his grumbling, Y/n caught the brief flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Beneath all his layers of irritation and discipline, she knew there was fondness—however reluctant—budding between the two of them.

————————-

After the sparring session, the three of them moved to the garden behind Talia’s estate. It was a surprisingly peaceful space for someone with as dangerous a life as hers. Towering trees and fragrant blossoms lined the courtyard, creating a quiet refuge from the chaos that often consumed their lives.

Damian sat cross-legged under a tree, polishing his sword with careful precision. Meanwhile, Talia rested against Y/n’s side on a bench, her hand loosely intertwined with hers. The late morning sun cast a soft, golden glow over the garden, and for a moment, the world felt still.

“These moments are rare,” Talia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll make them count.”

Talia tilted her head slightly, her dark green eyes tracing the contours of Y/n’s face with quiet affection. “How is it,” she mused, “that someone with the entire universe at their fingertips chooses to stay here?”

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Because love is my power source, remember? And you—” Y/n paused, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “You and Damian are all the fuel I need.”

Talia’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, and for a moment, the weight of her responsibilities seemed to lift.

From his spot under the tree, Damian gave a small, exaggerated cough. “Are you two going to be gross all day?”

Talia shot him a warning look, though the amusement never left her face. “Respect your elders, Damian.”

He muttered something under his breath about how emotional displays were unnecessary, but Y/n could see the way his shoulders had relaxed, his guarded walls lowered—if only slightly.

Y/n grinned at him. “One day, kid, you’re going to meet someone who makes you just as insufferable as us.”

“I highly doubt that,” Damian said flatly, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him.

As the afternoon stretched on, Y/n found herself lying on the grass, Talia resting her head on her chest while Damian sat nearby, half-listening to the conversation. Y/n told stories about her space patrols—of distant stars, alien lovers reunited, and the strange wonders of the universe. Damian listened with reluctant curiosity, occasionally chiming in with sharp-witted remarks.

Talia, for her part, seemed content just to listen to the cadence of Y/n’s voice. Every now and then, she would glance at her son, her gaze warm with unspoken pride.

In this strange, mismatched family, Y/n found something that felt miraculous: home.

And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the garden in soft shades of twilight, Y/n knew without a doubt that no matter where her duties took her—across the stars or into the depths of danger—she would always return to them.

To Talia, the woman who had wrapped herself around her heart like the shadows she commanded.

To Damian, the fierce boy who tried so hard not to care—and failed spectacularly.

And to the love that bound all three of them together in a way that no mission, no galaxy, and no enemy could ever break.

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (god killer)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Pairing: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: coventat

- Next part: the path

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

The sky over Arrakeen was a deep orange, dust from the desert swirling in the air as the winds picked up. The entourage from House Corrino descended from their ships with all the pomp and arrogance expected from the Imperial family. Behind them, the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam and several other members of the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood followed closely, their expressions masked but sharp. Key members of The Guild walked with a purposeful step, their faces unreadable beneath the shadows of their hoods.

Standing at the forefront, Leto, you, Aenys, Hawat, Gurney, Paul, and Jessica stood with a mixed delegation from House Atreides and Targaryen, their posture tense as they awaited the visitors. The air was thick with animosity, and it took only moments for the strained atmosphere to become palpable.

The Emperor Shaddam IV approached first, his eyes sweeping over the gathered assembly with a practiced air of indifference. But the weight of his arrival wasn’t lost on anyone. This was no casual visit; this was an attempt to salvage his slipping grip on the universe.

With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Shaddam spoke, his voice ringing out over the wind. "Duke Leto, your continued presence on Arrakis has not gone unnoticed. I believe it's time to ensure the future of the Empire... with an alliance." His gaze flickered to Paul, then back to Leto. "I offer you the hand of my daughter, Irulan, in marriage to your son, Paul. Together, we can secure stability, and your position here on Arrakis will be... acknowledged."

Leto’s expression didn’t change, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation. Before he could respond, Paul spoke up, his voice clear and resolute. "I refuse."

A ripple of surprise passed through the assembled crowd, though the Reverend Mother’s expression remained unreadable. Shaddam’s jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. "Refuse? You would reject an Imperial marriage? This is an opportunity to—"

"I said no," Paul cut in, his voice unwavering. "I have no interest in your daughter or your offers."

Leto nodded, stepping forward to back his son. "My son’s decision is final. We will not be part of your schemes, Shaddam. Not now, not ever."

The air grew colder as the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen took a step forward, her piercing gaze landing on Jessica. "You’ve allowed this, Jessica? You’ve let your son and the Duke to ally with... dragonspawn from across the universe, and now you sit idly while another great House is removed from our plans?"

Her words were a thinly veiled insult, but the true jab came when her eyes flickered briefly toward you, who stood quietly beside Leto, visibly pregnant. The weight of the Reverend Mother's disdain was clear, and her implication stung even more sharply.

Leto’s irritation flared into anger. He moved, standing protectively in front of you, his expression dark and filled with warning. "You will not speak to my wife or her family like that ever again. Do you understand?"

The Guild representative, sensing the mounting tension, stepped forward next, his voice calm but filled with an undercurrent of menace. "Duke Leto, your involvement with the Targaryens threatens the flow of spice across the universe. Without it, the Guild cannot operate. The Empire will collapse."

Leto narrowed his eyes at the man. "On the contrary," he said evenly, "the spice has never flowed in such capacity as it does now. Thanks to our combined efforts, production is higher than ever. The Targaryens have helped ensure that. So if your concerns lie with the spice... they are unfounded."

The representative stiffened, but before the conversation could continue, Aenys stepped forward. His presence was commanding, even without the dragons looming in the distance. His cold, calculating gaze landed on Shaddam, and for the first time, the Emperor seemed unsettled.

"You will leave Arrakis," Aenys said, his voice as sharp as the blade of a sword. "You and your lapdogs," he glanced at the Reverend Mother and the Guild representative, "will vacate this planet. And if I see an Imperial frigate inside my space again, it will be shot down on sight."

The silence that followed was deafening. Shaddam’s face flushed with barely concealed fury, but he said nothing. He knew better than to challenge the Dragonlord outright, not when so much power hung in the balance.

The Emperor straightened, turning on his heel without another word, and his entourage followed suit. The air was still thick with unspoken threats as they left, but for now, the battle had been won.

As they walked away, Leto exhaled, turning to look at you, his hand finding yours. The silent solidarity between you both was enough.

The caverns echoed with the rhythmic clink of armor and boots as Feyde-Rautha Harkonnen led his men deeper into the labyrinth beneath the sands of Arrakis. These dark, twisting tunnels had become familiar to him over the past weeks, each incursion pushing further into Targaryen territory. His troops moved with caution, their eyes constantly scanning the shadows, ever wary of a sudden dragon's breath or a Targaryen ambush.

But Feyde had learned something important during their operations: the Targaryens, despite their might and dragons, weren’t invincible. Every push into these caverns yielded more valuable intel. Every hidden nook and cranny they uncovered revealed a little more about the enemy. His men had grown bolder, emboldened by the small victories that came with each excursion.

In the dim glow of their torches, one of his lieutenants approached, his helmet tucked under his arm, eyes sharp with anticipation. "We’ve gathered enough information to draw her out," he said, his voice low but steady. "Daenys. If we push the right buttons, we might just get her on dragonback."

Feyde barely glanced at the man, his eyes focused on the walls of the cavern as though considering every possibility, every outcome. "And the brothers?" he asked, his tone almost disinterested. He was fixated on one target alone—you.

"They’ve been busy consolidating their forces, especially after the failed attack on the Atreides stronghold. But they’re spread thin, focused on the desert infrastructure and maintaining alliances. If we strike at the right moment, we can cut off their support before they realize what’s happening."

Feyde finally turned his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Good. We need to be patient, though." He moved further into the cave, the dark rock reflecting his calm confidence. "Daenys... she’s been reported to be giving birth, hasn't she?"

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, as we speak. It’s unlikely she’ll engage us anytime soon."

Feyde’s smile grew, dark and calculating. "Then we wait. We’ve been patient this long. What are a few more months?"

His words sent a wave of quiet murmurs through the ranks of his men. The Harkonnens were not known for their patience, but Feyde had always been different. He enjoyed the chase, the slow unraveling of his enemies' weaknesses. And now, with you vulnerable, he felt the thrill of victory closer than ever before.

"Her brothers will be busy handling the Targaryen forces, and she’ll be occupied with the birth." Feyde’s voice dripped with cold certainty. "Which leaves her dragon. Without their full strength behind them, we’ll have our opportunity. But we must strike carefully. If we push too soon, we risk tipping our hand."

The lieutenant nodded, understanding the subtlety of the plan. "So we’ll keep observing. Wait for the perfect moment."

Feyde’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the cavern. "Exactly. Let them think they’re safe. Let them enjoy their moments of triumph. Because when we strike, it’ll be from the shadows, and they’ll never see it coming."

The cavern grew quiet again, save for the faint sounds of Feyde’s men continuing their quiet work. Each step they took, each hidden chamber they mapped, brought them closer to their goal: to draw you out, to capture or kill you, and to send a message to your House that even dragons could be hunted.

Feyde turned back to the darkness ahead, his mind already calculating the next move. "Let her rest," he muttered to himself, more amused than concerned. "We’ll take care of her when the time is right."

For now, patience was their greatest weapon. And Feyde intended to wield it with the precision of a dagger.

The walls of the Arrakeen stronghold hummed with a strange sense of anticipation. Inside, the combined forces of House Atreides and House Targaryen moved with an unspoken purpose, the air thick with the knowledge that something monumental was happening. It wasn’t just another political maneuver or military strategy; this was personal. Deep within the stronghold, you were giving birth.

The room where you lay was a blend of tradition and innovation—Targaryen banners fluttered alongside the Atreides colors, while advanced medical technology hummed alongside ancient Targaryen remedies. Leto stood by your side, his face pale but his grip on your hand steady, as if holding you could anchor him through the storm of emotion that surged within him. The birth of his children—your children—was imminent.

Through the haze of pain, you felt the world narrowing, every breath drawing you closer to the moment that would change everything. It felt both surreal and inevitable, a moment foretold in both your visions and Paul's dreams. Even now, through the intensity of it all, you could sense the connection that bound your House to this moment, to this new life.

The midwives moved around you, their voices calm and steady, guiding you through every wave of pain. Leto whispered words of encouragement, though his voice cracked with the strain of watching you in pain, helpless except for his presence. His fingers brushed your hair from your face, his gaze never leaving yours.

Hours passed, but time lost meaning in the blur of effort and anticipation. And then, at last, the cry. A piercing wail that broke through the tension in the room.

“A boy,” one of the midwives announced, her voice filled with awe.

And then, moments later, another cry—softer, yet no less powerful.

“A girl.”

You leaned back, your body spent but your heart full, as the midwives moved to place the newborns in your arms. Leto, standing by your side, gazed down at them with a look that was equal parts disbelief and pure joy.

“They’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken love. “What should we name them?”

You watched him, seeing the pride and awe in his expression, and you knew that these names would carry more than just family legacy—they would be the beginning of a new era.

“The boy,” Leto said softly, looking at his son, “Aenor, after both our families.”

He then turned his gaze to your daughter, her tiny fists clenched as she wriggled in your arms. “And for the girl... Rhaelys.”

The names settled over the room like a benediction, their weight both ancient and new. The children squirmed in your arms, already carrying the legacy of two Houses—one born of fire and blood, the other born of dignity and honor.

Suddenly, the doors to the chamber burst open with an energy that could only belong to one person. Aenys, your father, strode in, his usually composed face uncharacteristically lit with excitement. He took in the scene, his gaze immediately finding you and the twins in your arms. His eyes softened in a way that few had ever seen.

“Grandchildren,” he breathed, his voice carrying the awe of a man who had seen much but never this. “My first.”

You watched as the great Dragonlord, the warrior who had led your House through exile and war, approached with a reverence you had never seen from him before. He knelt beside the bed, his fingers brushing the soft heads of Aenor and Rhaelys with a gentleness that was almost startling.

“You’ve given me the future of our House,” Aenys said, his voice low, meant for your ears and Leto’s. “And they will carry both the blood of the dragon and the strength of House Atreides.”

Leto smiled at your father, though he still looked slightly stunned by everything happening so quickly. “They will be raised to honor both our legacies.”

Aenys met Leto’s gaze, and for a brief moment, the two men—once strangers from different worlds—shared an unspoken understanding. They were bound now, not just by an alliance, but by blood, by family.

For a moment, all the political intrigue, all the looming threats from Harkonnen and the Empire, faded into the background. In this room, in this moment, there was only joy.

As the door to the chamber opened again softly, Paul stepped inside, his movements hesitant at first, as if unsure he was ready to confront the reality of his dreams. He had seen them—your children—in countless dreams and visions, both as siblings and as something entirely different in other paths that might have been. This moment, though, felt like a convergence of everything he had seen and everything he hadn’t yet understood.

He approached slowly, his eyes drawn immediately to the newborns resting in your arms, their small forms swaddled in the deep silks of both House Targaryen and House Atreides. Leto, still at your side, noticed Paul and gave him a quiet nod of acknowledgment. Aenys, standing tall but calm beside you, watched Paul with a knowing look, recognizing the deeper forces at play.

“They are perfect,” Paul said, his voice barely a whisper, though it carried the weight of his vision. He stepped closer to you, his eyes scanning the tiny faces of his brother and sister. The boy, Aenor, had a shock of silver hair, pale like the moon over Arrakis, and his lilac eyes already opened, gazing with a strange awareness that mirrored your own. The girl, Rhaelys, had a softer expression, her own eyes closed but her features delicate, bearing a gentleness beneath the strength of her bloodline.

Paul couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu. He had dreamed of them long before now, but in some dreams, they weren’t just his siblings. They were... something more. A different path. A different destiny. In those visions, they had worn the marks of power, rulers in their own right, shaping the course of history in ways he could barely comprehend. But here and now, they were simply his family. And yet, the weight of what they might become lingered in the air, as if the future was still waiting to unfold in ways none of them could fully grasp.

Paul crouched slightly, meeting Aenor’s steady gaze. The boy blinked, as if studying him in return, and Paul felt a chill run through him. “I saw you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “In a future that never came.”

You tilted your head, watching Paul carefully. “What did you see?”

Paul swallowed, unsure how to explain the tangled web of visions that had haunted him for so long. “I saw them as something else. Rulers... or maybe warriors. They were powerful in ways I didn’t understand. And in those dreams, I wasn’t their brother. I was something else. An ally, maybe. Or a rival. It was unclear.”

You nodded, a soft understanding passing between you both. You, too, had seen pieces of those possible futures in your own dragon dreams, fleeting images that seemed to tug at the edges of your consciousness. But here, in this moment, the reality felt far more grounded.

“They are our future now,” you said quietly, shifting slightly to adjust the swaddle around Rhaelys, whose tiny fist had poked out, waving gently in the air. “Whatever paths were before, this is the one we’ve chosen.”

Paul glanced at you, his expression softening. “I hope you’re right.”

Aenys, standing behind you, cleared his throat, his booming voice breaking the quiet moment. “You were meant to be here, Paul,” he said, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “To witness this. To know that your dreams may show many paths, but the choice is always yours.”

Paul straightened, his eyes lingering on the twins a moment longer before he looked to his father, Leto, and then back at you. “I hope they find strength in the legacy we’re building,” he said finally, stepping back slightly to give you space.

Leto’s hand brushed yours again, the gesture gentle, as if grounding you both in the present. Whatever the future held, whatever dreams or visions haunted them all, this was a moment of peace. A new generation had been born, and for now, that was enough.

In the stronghold’s bustling halls, preparations were well underway for a modest celebration in honor of the birth of Leto and your twins. It had been decided that the gathering would be small but significant—just enough to mark the occasion without overwhelming the household. Gurney Halleck had taken it upon himself to lighten the Duke's load, and alongside Vaegor and Duncan Idaho, he moved through the stronghold like a man on a mission. There was laughter, hurried work, and Gurney’s gruff voice could be heard giving orders, his own way of making sure everything was perfect for Leto and you.

“C’mon, Duncan, a bit more care with those banners. We’re not Harkonnens throwing some slapdash party,” Gurney said, shaking his head as Duncan adjusted a hanging cloth bearing the colors of House Atreides.

Duncan chuckled, always enjoying Gurney’s particular brand of leadership. “And here I thought we were aiming for subtle, not grand.”

“Subtle, yes,” Vaegor muttered as he checked the seating arrangements, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the hall. “But we are still Targaryens, and nothing is done without purpose.”

As they continued preparing, Thufir Hawat stood a short distance away, overseeing the security measures with his usual hawk-like intensity. His focus shifted, however, when he spotted Jessica standing in the corner of the room, her face tight, watching the preparations with an unreadable expression. He hesitated only a moment before making his way over to her.

"Lady Jessica," Hawat greeted, his tone respectful but firm. "This birth... it changes things, doesn’t it?"

Jessica’s gaze didn’t shift from the preparations. “Changes? It solidifies things, Hawat. The twins are a sign that the path Leto has chosen is... complete.” Her voice carried a heavy weight of resignation.

Hawat’s eyes narrowed. "A path forever severed from the Sisterhood’s grip. The blood of the dragon now runs through House Atreides, and there will be no turning back. No more Bene Gesserit manipulations, no more whispered futures for next Atredies Dukes to follow.”

Jessica turned toward him, her face calm, but her eyes betrayed the storm within. “You think I don’t know that? The Sisterhood will make me suffer for my failure, Hawat. They will see it as a betrayal of the highest order. I was supposed to be their instrument, their key to controlling this House and securing their plans for the future. And I failed.”

Hawat’s face softened, though only slightly. “The Duke made his choice, Jessica. And you know, deep down, it was his to make. The Sisterhood tried to guide him, but they didn’t account for the will of the Targaryens. Or for your son.”

Jessica’s lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “It’s not just me who will suffer. The Duke... Leto, he will pay a price too. One that may come from forces even he doesn’t see coming. The Emperor is watching. The Guild is waiting. And the Sisterhood... they will not forget.”

Hawat glanced back toward the preparations for the celebration, the laughter and lightness of the moment starkly contrasting the conversation. "Leto is prepared for the consequences of his actions. He knows the stakes. And if the Targaryens have taught us anything, it’s that survival sometimes means cutting ties with old masters."

Jessica gave a small, bitter laugh. “You speak as if survival is something guaranteed. But the Sisterhood... they have long memories. And they’ll find a way to make sure the Atreides pay for defying them.”

Hawat turned his sharp gaze on her. "That’s where you’re wrong. The Atreides are no longer under their control. Leto has forged a new alliance, one with blood as strong as the Bene Gesserit’s... perhaps even stronger. Whatever retribution the Sisterhood plans, it’ll be met with the strength of two Houses. The Atreides will survive."

Jessica didn’t respond, but her silence was telling. Hawat could see the resignation in her posture, the realization that her place in this House, in Leto’s life, was slipping further away. As the preparations continued around them, it was clear that the twins’ birth wasn’t just a celebration of new life—it was a sign of a new era. One where the influence of the Sisterhood had no place.

And as Hawat turned back to the gathering, a quiet determination settled in him. The Duke had made his choice, and it was one that would shape the future of House Atreides. Whether the Bene Gesserit liked it or not.

The nursery within Arrakeen’s stronghold was quiet, a rare moment of peace after the whirlwind of the past few weeks. The soft coos of the newborn twins filled the room as you sat by their cribs, watching over them with a serene expression. The sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the scene.

The twins, Aenor and Rhaelys, lay bundled in silks, their small bodies nestled comfortably. You had been there for hours, unwilling to leave their side. There was something calming about their presence, a reminder that even amidst the chaos of politics and war, life went on.

The door creaked open softly, and Leto stepped into the room, his presence both comforting and curious. He paused for a moment, taking in the scene before him. There you were, sitting with your children, the embodiment of the union that had changed the course of his life—and his House—forever.

But it wasn’t just the sight of you and the twins that caught his attention. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed something unusual in the cribs.

Two large, smooth dragon eggs rested beside the children, their surfaces shimmering with a faint inner glow. These were not like the egg you had gifted him on Arctis—no, these were different. They pulsed with a quiet energy, a warmth that radiated from within. They were alive.

Leto moved closer, his gaze locked on the eggs. "These... they’re not stones," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "They’re viable."

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips as you nodded. "Yes, they are."

Leto crouched beside the cribs, reaching out hesitantly to touch one of the eggs. It was warm to the touch, a steady pulse of life beneath the surface. The realization hit him slowly, the weight of the moment sinking in. These were no mere ornaments—these were the future. Dragons, like the ones of old Valyria.

"Your father left these, didn’t he?" Leto asked, though he already knew the answer.

You nodded again, your gaze soft as you watched the twins sleep beside their eggs. "It’s the custom of our House. A gift to the next generation. My father... he wanted them to have something of our legacy."

Leto exhaled, the magnitude of it all washing over him. "Your father... never does anything without purpose."

A chuckle escaped your lips. "No, he doesn’t. But this—this is tradition. It’s how we ensure our bloodline remains tied to the dragons. And now, Aenor and Rhaelys will have a connection to them, too."

Leto rose to his feet, his eyes not leaving the eggs. The implications were staggering. He had known that by marrying into your House, his children would carry the blood of the dragon. But this—this was something more tangible. More real. The prospect of dragons flying once more, born from his own offspring, filled him with a strange mix of pride and awe.

"It’s incredible," he said softly, turning to look at you. "I never thought... that I’d see dragons reborn, let alone through my own children."

You smiled, a warmth in your eyes that mirrored the life within the eggs. "They are part of both of us now, Leto. Both Atreides and Targaryen. And they will shape the future of our Houses."

He reached out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "I wonder if they’ll ever know the weight of the legacy they carry."

"They will," you said quietly. "But for now, they are just children. Let them be that for a little while longer."

Leto nodded, though the gravity of the future still lingered in his mind. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand never leaving yours. "You’re right. Let them be children."

As the two of you stood together, watching over your sleeping twins and the dragon eggs beside them, there was a sense of peace in the room. A quiet understanding that, whatever came next, your children would inherit something far greater than titles or power. They would inherit the fire and blood of two great Houses.

And with that, the future—though uncertain—felt a little more secure.

Four months had passed since the birth of your twins, and though you had spent much of that time in relative peace with them and Leto, the call of duty had never fully left your mind. Now, as you stood overlooking the expanse of the deep desert, your thoughts shifted to more pressing matters. The Harkonnen forces had been a constant thorn in your side, their antagonistic movements near the borders of the Targaryen base growing bolder by the day.

Your brother, Maelor, stood beside you, his face drawn in concentration as he debriefed you on the current situation. “They’ve been probing our defenses for weeks now,” he said, his tone sharp with frustration. “It’s clear they’re trying to find a weakness, and with the Atreides dealing with their own skirmishes, it’s become harder to hold them off.”

You frowned, your eyes narrowing as you looked out at the horizon, where the enemy forces gathered just beyond sight. It was time to act. “We’ll engage them head-on,” you said, your voice steady with resolve. “I’ll take Vexiae and lead a strike from the air on one front. You and the Atreides can take them from the other.”

Maelor nodded, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “You’re sure you’re ready? It’s only been a few months since…”

“I’m ready,” you interrupted, your gaze hardening. “Our enemies won’t wait for us to be prepared, and neither will I. It’s time to remind them who they’re dealing with.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel, making your way toward the hangar where Vexiae was being prepared. Your dragon had been restless in the past months, sensing your absence from battle, and now it was time to unleash her once more. The attendants were already busy armoring the great beast, her deep red scales gleaming under the desert sun, and the black battle plating fitted perfectly over her wings and chest.

You donned your own battle attire, each piece of armor clicking into place with a precision that felt like second nature. The weight of your sword at your hip was a familiar comfort, and the feeling of purpose settled into your bones as the wind whipped through the base.

As you approached Vexiae, the dragon let out a low, rumbling growl, her fiery eyes locking onto yours. There was a shared understanding between you and the creature—this was what you were meant for. Battle. Leadership. Victory.

Mounting Vexiae, you took a moment to adjust the reins, feeling the powerful muscles beneath you coil in anticipation. Your dragon was ready, and so were you.

“Maelor,” you called down to your brother, who was giving final orders to his troops. “Once we start the assault, I expect you to crush them from the ground. We’ll meet in the center.”

He looked up, giving you a firm nod. “Don’t get too far ahead of us.”

With a final glance back at the base, you clicked your heels against Vexiae’s sides, and with a mighty roar, the dragon leaped into the sky, her wings spreading wide as you soared into the air. The wind whipped against your face, but you felt nothing but focus. The Harkonnens wouldn’t know what hit them.

As you flew over the expanse of the desert, the enemy forces came into view, their encampments scattered across the sand like dark blots against the endless dunes. Vexiae let out a roar that echoed across the landscape, her breath steaming in the cold desert air. The Harkonnen soldiers below turned their heads skyward, panic already beginning to spread as they saw the dragon descending upon them.

Good. Let them fear.

You pulled on the reins, guiding Vexiae into a sharp dive, her armored form cutting through the air like a blade. The moment before impact, you pulled up, sending a torrent of dragonfire down onto the soldiers below. The screams of the Harkonnens filled the air as their front lines were consumed in flames, and the chaos of battle began in earnest.

With Vexiae circling above, you directed her strikes with precision, setting fire to their weapons caches and burning through their defenses. On the horizon, you saw Maelor’s forces advancing, the Atreides banners flying high as they charged the enemy from the opposite side.

This was only the beginning. Today, you would remind the Harkonnens and the entire universe that House Targaryen was not to be trifled with.

And they would burn.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stood at the edge of the battle, watching with cruel satisfaction as his forces engaged in a desperate clash against the Targaryen and Atreides troops. His eyes, however, were fixed on the sky, where your dragon, Vexiae, soared through the air with deadly grace, scorching the ground beneath with fire.

Ever since Arctis, since that cold, humiliating day when you had bested him, Feyd had been waiting for this moment. The moment he could bring you and your dragon down, erase the memory of that defeat, and claim the ultimate prize. And today, he had the means to do it.

The Harkonnen weapon—heavy artillery tanks outfitted with specialized targeting systems—were ready. These machines were designed for one purpose: to take down a dragon, even one cloaked from typical radar systems. The technology had cost more than a few lives in experimentation, but now, in this moment, it was all worth it.

“Prepare the artillery,” Feyd ordered, his voice laced with anticipation. He could barely contain the excitement that thrummed through him. “And fire when ready. Let’s clip that beast’s wings.”

His men rushed to follow his command, the whirr of machinery filling the air as the massive artillery guns locked onto Vexiae. It was a weapon designed to track through the Targaryen radar cloaking—a rare find, one they had kept hidden for this very moment. A cruel smile spread across Feyd’s face as he watched the targeting system lock onto you and your dragon.

“Fire!” he commanded, and the ground beneath him shook with the force of the artillery shell being launched.

You were in the midst of a turn, guiding Vexiae for another strike when the first shell hit. It slammed into the dragon’s side with terrifying force, sending you both spinning through the sky. The impact jarred you violently, and you struggled to regain control, but the second shell followed just seconds later, this time hitting one of Vexiae’s wings.

The dragon let out a piercing roar of pain as her wings folded beneath her, and together, you plummeted toward the ground. The wind whipped past your face, and the world spun in a dizzying blur of sand and sky.

Feyd’s laughter echoed across the battlefield as he watched you and Vexiae crash into the sand below. The impact sent a cloud of dust and debris rising into the air, and for a moment, everything was silent.

Slowly, the cloud of sand began to settle, revealing the scene below. Vexiae lay crumpled on the ground, one wing broken and twisted, her body barely moving as she struggled for breath. You were beside her, motionless at first, before a pained groan escaped your lips. You were alive, but barely.

Feyd moved forward, his steps deliberate and slow, savoring every moment as he approached. He had waited for this. Every night since Arctis, he had dreamed of this.

He stood over you now, his shadow falling across your broken form, and for a moment, he simply looked down at you, his expression a mix of glee and triumph.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “The great Targaryen dragonrider, brought down at last. How poetic.”

You groaned again, trying to move, to reach for something—anything—but your body was weak, your strength nearly spent. Vexiae stirred beside you, her fiery eyes still glowing with the embers of life, but she, too, was gravely wounded.

Feyd crouched down, close enough that you could see the twisted smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he said softly, his voice filled with malice. “Ever since you humiliated me on Arctis. But now, you’ll pay for that.”

His hand reached for the blade at his belt, and as he drew it, the sunlight gleamed off the cold steel. He held it up, admiring it for a moment before turning his gaze back to you.

“I think I’ll take my time,” he whispered, his voice low and venomous. “Make sure you feel every bit of what’s coming.”

His men gathered behind him, watching with eager anticipation as their leader prepared to finish what he had started. The Harkonnen forces had triumphed here today, and now, they would claim their victory by ending you and your dragon.

But even in your weakened state, something inside you stirred—a flicker of defiance, a refusal to give in. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. Not yet.

Feyd’s blade hovered above you, and he smiled once more, savoring the moment.

“Goodbye, Targaryen.”

Hawat stood silently before Duke Leto in the war room, his face unusually grim. The atmosphere was heavy, and Leto could sense that whatever news Hawat had brought was nothing short of catastrophic. Without waiting for the formalities, the old Mentat spoke.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice low, “we’ve just received word from our scouts. The Lady Daenys… she and Vexiae were struck down. The Harkonnens... they had a weapon. A heavy artillery tank designed to target her dragon.”

The words hit Leto like a blow to the chest. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His vision blurred with a mix of rage and fear, his heart pounding in his ears. Daenys. His wife. The mother of his children. The one he had sworn to protect. Gone? No. Not gone. She couldn’t be.

“How bad is it?” Leto forced out, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself.

“Maelor’s forces are already en route,” Hawat replied. “The last we heard, Lady Daenys and the dragon were alive, but barely. The Harkonnens captured them. If we move now, we may still reach them before... before anything worse happens.”

Leto didn’t need to hear anything else. He straightened, all trace of the emotional blow vanishing from his face as the cold, calculating commander in him took over. He turned to his men, already gathering in response to the shift in his demeanor.

“Prepare the Ornithopters,” he ordered, his voice sharp. “We leave immediately.”

Gurney and Duncan exchanged quick glances before nodding and moving to carry out the Duke’s orders. Leto turned back to Hawat, who was already plotting their course. Every second felt like a dagger twisting in his gut. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not to the Harkonnens.

“Gather all available troops,” Leto continued. “I want a full strike force. We will retrieve her. And if the Harkonnens have done anything... anything...”

His voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear. The air in the room was charged with tension as everyone moved with purpose. Leto’s mind raced, filled with images of Daenys—her laughter, her strength, the way she had looked at him the last time they spoke. He couldn’t let that be their final moment together.

Soon enough, the Ornithopters were ready, engines humming and wings twitching as they prepared to take flight. Leto climbed into the pilot’s seat of his own craft, the familiar feel of the controls in his hands grounding him, giving him a focus amidst the storm of emotions threatening to engulf him.

“Ornithopters ready,” Hawat said from his seat beside Leto. “Maelor and his forces have already engaged Harkonnen forces on the ground. We’ll arrive in time to support them.”

Leto nodded, his jaw tight. He refused to acknowledge the worst possibilities that lurked at the edges of his mind. All that mattered now was reaching you. Saving you. Bringing you back.

The Ornithopters lifted into the sky, slicing through the night air. The wind whipped around them, but Leto’s focus was unshakable. His eyes were locked on the horizon, where you were. Where the battle raged.

And where he would bring you back, no matter the cost.

Leto’s Ornithopter descended swiftly, the dust and sand swirling around the landing zone. His heart raced, each beat a dull thud in his chest. As the craft touched down, Leto was out of his seat before it fully settled, his boots hitting the ground hard. The scene before him was chaotic, and the signs of battle were all too clear—charred earth, shattered machinery, and the remnants of fierce combat. But there was one thing missing.

You.

Maelor approached him quickly, his face grim but composed. His Targaryen troops were scattered, securing the perimeter, while others sifted through the debris. Leto could see it in his eyes before the words even came.

“She’s not here,” Maelor said, his voice tense. “We’ve searched the area. There are signs of the fall, signs of her dragon, but they’re gone.”

Leto felt his chest tighten, as if the very air had been pulled from his lungs. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

Maelor glanced around the battlefield, his frustration barely masked. “There was a fight. Vexiae landed hard—there are scorch marks from her breath, the Harkonnens were retreating... but they took her, Leto. They took my sister.”

The Duke’s heart sank deeper. His gaze swept over the battlefield, hoping, praying for something—anything—to tell him you were still near. But all he saw were the remnants of the battle. The scorch marks, the disturbed sand, even the faint impressions where Vexiae had struggled to stand. But no you. No dragon.

“Where’s Aelor?” Leto asked, his voice strained, trying to keep his focus.

“Busy on another front,” Maelor replied, his own frustration palpable. “He’s dealing with a Harkonnen push near the southern ridge. I was sent here... but I never expected this.”

Leto clenched his fists, trying to fight off the rising tide of anger and panic. “So they took her. Alive.”

Maelor nodded, his jaw tight. “They must have. There’s no sign of her body, and they wouldn’t leave something like that behind. They want her alive, for now.”

The weight of those words settled over Leto like a crushing force. He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the area once more, looking for any sign, any clue that could lead them to you.

“The Harkonnens... they’ll pay for this,” Leto said, his voice low and deadly. “But first, we need to find her. We need to get her back.”

Maelor’s expression softened slightly, a rare moment of shared determination. “We will,” he said quietly. “I’ll not rest until she’s safe.”

The Duke’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with a thousand questions, none of which could be answered here. He had to think clearly, to strategize. You were out there somewhere, and he couldn’t let his fear paralyze him.

“We’ll split our forces,” Leto ordered, his voice steadying. “You continue the search on the ground. I’ll cover the skies. We’ll find her, Maelor. We have to.”

Maelor nodded, already moving to rally his troops. Leto turned back toward his Ornithopter, his jaw set with determination. His mind was filled with the image of you—your fierce spirit, your warmth, the way you’d looked at him just days ago.

He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t.

As he climbed back into the pilot’s seat, Leto cast one last glance at the battlefield, at the place where you’d fallen. There were no answers here. But he would find them. He would find you.

...

Feyd's blade hung in the air, poised for the final strike, but then he hesitated, his twisted smile morphing into something more calculating. He took a step back, lowering the blade as an idea flickered in his mind, sharper and more sinister than any weapon.

“No,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with malice. "Killing you would be far too easy."

You were barely conscious, the world spinning in and out of focus as pain throbbed through your body. Vexiae groaned beside you, her labored breaths heavy in the silence. But even through the haze, you could feel the shift in Feyd’s demeanor, the sudden decision that had stayed his hand.

He turned to his men, who had gathered nearby, watching their leader with eager anticipation. "Secure them both," he ordered, gesturing at you and the dragon with a flick of his wrist. "We’ll transport them back to base. I want them alive."

A murmur of confusion rippled through the Harkonnen troops. They had expected blood, a swift and brutal execution. But none dared to question Feyd. His command was law, and they moved quickly to obey.

Hands grabbed at you, rough and unrelenting, as they lifted your limp form from the ground. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest, but you had no strength left to resist. Vexiae, too wounded to fight back, let out a weak growl as chains were wrapped around her massive body, binding her wings and legs.

Feyd watched with a sickening grin as his men worked. "I’ve waited too long for this moment," he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "You’ll be more useful to me alive, I think. I have... plans."

You were dragged toward a waiting transport, your vision fading in and out, but you caught snippets of conversation as the Harkonnen soldiers moved quickly to secure both you and your dragon.

"Careful with her," one of them muttered. "She's worth more than all of you combined."

Feyd stepped closer to where you were being loaded into the transport, crouching down to look into your face. His eyes glittered with a cruel satisfaction. "You’ll be coming with me," he said, his voice low and venomous. "And when we get back to base, I’ll make sure you see just how thoroughly you’ve lost."

You could barely make sense of his words, the pain clouding your thoughts, but one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to kill you. Not yet.

As they chained you down inside the transport, your mind drifted in and out of consciousness. You thought of Leto, of Aelor, of your children. Of what would happen to them if you didn’t escape. But escape seemed impossible now. Everything hurt. Everything felt so far away.

Feyd stood at the entrance of the transport, watching you with that same calculating gaze. "We’ll see just how much the dragonspawn is willing to suffer," he said quietly, almost to himself. "And what secrets you might hold."

The door to the transport slammed shut, sealing you inside as the engines roared to life. The last thing you heard before the world went dark was the distant growl of Vexiae, still fighting for you, even in her weakened state.

But for now, you were at Feyd's mercy—and whatever twisted plans he had in store.

[mafuluzx]

Can I have a Lloyd x m!reader⁉️ basically reader is a villian and is almost like himiko toga. reader basically asks Lloyd for his blood so Lloyd is obviously confused so one of readers teammates r like " reader ain't no way ur in love with the person we've been fighting" and the ninjas find out that to reader blood = love or sum like that⁉️( ik its silly request but😭)

It's not silly at all, don't worry!!! And I'm sorry this took so long! My motivation has just been kinda down for a while. I'm not sure if this is good enough, but I tried my best.

WARNING! Needles, for those who cannot handle them.

Lloyd x male reader oneshot!

Takes place in the start of season 12, Prime Empire

Love it?

"We're almost there, come on!" Lloyd quietly lead the team towards one of the many warehouses in Ninjago city. Apparently the mechanic, as he calls himself, was apparently in there right now, ready to steal a motherboard to some old video game that was only available in arcades, and even those had been shut down for reasons unknown.

Soon enough, the ninja got to the ware house as they heard speech from inside. They couldn't hear everything clearly, but the sentences "Find it!" and "The motherboard is all we need!"

Lloyd placed a finger on his lips and motioned for the ninja to keep quiet as they moved right next to the main doors.

The ninja hesitated to enter as they heard someone, someone else, laugh manically inside the ware house. Lloyd ignored it, and instead motioned for the others to go in, before he counted to three.

And on three, they burst into the building, the mechanic and his goons stiffening up as they got on guard. Everyone wore stiff and worried expressions... except one.

"Sorry to crash the party boys!" Nya let out the mechanic growled, before Jay joined in.

"Guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?" The blue ninja spoke before reaching out to pull out his weapon, but Lloyd quickly placed a hand in front of Jay, stopping him.

"No weapons, guys. These are just low level thugs." He spoke as Cole smirked.

"My fists are my weapons!" He le out as he punched the air.

"I would not classify the Mechanic as low-level. He's suspected in thirty-six unsolved criminal cases, not mentioning the unnamed accomplice." Zane commented as the mechanic smirked, before clearing his throat.

"Thirty-seven." He simply stated before his robotic arm extended, hitting Zane and sending him flying to the other side of the room. Without a second to waste, the ninja split up to fight the mechanic and his goons.

Lloyd didn't let his guard down for a second, even when he noticed one of the goons, dressed a little differently than most, storing at him with wide eyes. The boy's eyes glimmered like crystals as they stared straight at Lloyd mid fight.

Although the boy himself was currently fighting Zane, it was like the white ninja wasn't even there. Although it made Lloyd somewhat nervous, he ignored it as he knocked down one of the mechanic's goons, before kicking another out of the warehouse with a powerful kick.

But suddenly Lloyd felt someone shove him to the ground from behind. He and the person rolled into a corner, away from the fight, before Lloyd finally saw the person. It was the boy who had been staring at him earlier.

"Hey, Lloyd Garmadon, right?! My name is (y/n), (y/n) (l/n), just so you know. Ah, I can call you Lloyd, right? Or is Green Ninja better? Kyaahh! I can't believe I'm speaking to the Green Ninja! Oh, what if he thinks I'm annoying... Doesn't matter!" The boy blabbered on and on as Lloyd tried to punch and kick him away, and failed, every time. The boy was on all fours on top of Lloyd and kept him pinned to the ground as he talked.

"Ahhhh! I don't know what to do! Hehehee..." The boy named (y/n) spoke a bunch of nonsense before suddenly pulling out a knife and pressing it gently against Lloyd's face.

The boy muttered something, but it was too quiet for Lloyd to hear. Knowing he might me killed at any moment, Lloyd stopped struggling, and instead grabbed the hand that was holding the knif. He needed to act fast.

"Lloyd, Lloyd, I wont kill you~! Just-" Before (y/n) could say anything else, Lloyd twisted his wrist so that he dropped the knife. In a few swift movements, Lloyd finally kicked off the other boy, before running back into the fight and after the mechanic, who had just called out.

"(l/n)! Stop fooling around!" The mechanic called the boy his last name, as the boy's twisted smile turned into a childish pout.

"But, but, but, buuuuuuut! It's the Lloyd Garmadon!" The boy called back, but the mechanic only scoffed.

"Then stay if you'd like, return to base once you've held this guys off long enough." The mechanic said before pulling one of his goons up, and running to an open window.

"Aye, aye, mech-man!" The boy called after him as the mechanic jumped out of the window with one last shout.

"It's boss to you, blood sucker!" The mechanic then disappeared out of sight, before Lloyd called out.

"Zane, Cole, Nya! Go after him! We'll hold the rest of them back." Lloyd instructed as Zane, Cole and Nya charged out of the same window, leaving Jay, Kai, and Lloyd to fight inside the warehouse.

"Blood sucker? Hey, are you vampire?" Jay was the first one to do anything. No one was attacking the opposing side yet. The goons had all been knocked out, leaving only the boy named (y/n) (l/n) to smile at the three ninja. Well, just mainly the green ninja, but whatever.

"Jay, vampires aren't real." Kai stated as Jay turned ´his head to the red ninja.

"How would you know? Have you ever seen one?" Jay asked before Lloyd sighed, and spoke up.

"Jay, concentrate. Now, sorry to say, but we'll have to take you down!" Lloyd said the last part to (y/n), who weirdly looked nothing but happy with the statement.

"Oh, the Lloyd Garmadon is talking to me! Kyahh!! What an honor, what an honor! Oh, quick question, may I have a blood sample from you?" (y/n)'s tone suddenly changed as he pulled out a syringe from behind his back.

"No way! I hate needles!" Jay spoke before (y/n) turned his head towards the blue ninja.

"Shut up! I wasn't talking to you." (y/n) scoffed before turning back to Lloyd with a beaming smile.

"So what do you say? It'll hurt just a bit!" Lloyd watched as (y/n) waved the syringe around like a nurse gone mad.

"No thanks." Lloyd simply answered as Kai spoke up.

"Um, this is getting weird, so how about we fight this out instead?" (y/n) looked taken back for a second, but in the end lowered the syringe and pulled out a knife with his other hand.

"Sure!" He beamed before charging towards the ninja without warning. Before the could as much as dodge, (y/n) had already slashed past Lloyd, making a deep cut in his leg.

"Don't worry, the knife is fully sanitized!" (y/n) spoke leisurely as Kai and Jay ran towards him. But (y/n) knocked the two away easily, making it look like he was fighting a bunch of toddler instead of the all-powerful ninja.

Lloyd pressed on his bleeding leg before trying to get some space between himself and (y/n), but the latter was much faster, charging and pressing the syringe behind Lloyd's knee.

Quick as lightning, he drew in some blood before ripping the syringe away.

"Don't worry, it's fully sanitized too!" (y/n) spoke again, of course talking about the now filled syringe.

"Oh this is perfect! Ah, I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do!" (y/n) spun around with the syringe in hand, ignoring the three ninja approaching him slowly.

"Oh, wait, I was supposed to go back. I completely forgot!" (y/n) suddenly let out in realization, before whipping around to face Lloyd, who had gotten up even with his bleeding leg, fists drawn and ready to punch (y/n).

"It was so nice to meet you, Green Ninja!" (y/n) beamed before throwing himself onto Lloyd, giving the Green Ninja a hug before kissing Lloyd on the cheek.

"I gotta go now! I'll miss you!" (y/n) jumped away without a warning to the entrance of the warehouse, before turning back one last time and waved to Lloyd with a smile.

Lloyd noticed something had changed about the boy in the midst of the fight, strangely. A ring had appeared on his ring finger, as if out of thin air.

It made Lloyd wonder, and look down at his own hands too. What left Lloyd even more puzzled was the ring that had appeared on himself, and it definitely matched with (y/n)'s. Jay and Kai saw that too.

"Uh, did you get engaged to a stranger?" Jay questioned as a half joke, before Kai spoke up.

"Shouldn't we go after him?"

....!

[thetinyadventurer]

So I did some thinking last night and I finally understood something: I think I understand why Helga would’ve come back for revenge in the proposed sequel to Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

I’d be royally pissed too! First of all that betrayal from Rourke would hurt like hell! She spent 13 years with the guy, enduring life-threatening situations, overcoming obstacles and she believed he had her back! In the comic they released titled “The Secret of the Shepherd’s Journal” Milo’s grandpa expresses concern for Helga’s safety when she goes to scout out an ancient temple on her own. He warns Rourke and Helga that the place is likely guarded and heavily trapped. Rourke assures Milo’s Grandpa that she’s “been through far worse than this”. And he’s right if you look into her dossier file. To me, this shows two things. One, Rourke’s worked with Helga long enough that he knows her strengths and what she’s capable of. He knows that she’s tough as nails and is competent enough to not only carry out his orders but to succeed as well. In short HE TRUSTS HER! Two, Helga would have the same trust in Rourke in return. You don’t just go out and fulfill your C.O.’s orders without question unless you are a) absolutely loyal to them or b) trust them completely. Again, those two have been through a lot and I imagine that they’ve come through for each other time after time.

Sidebar: Now that I think on it this explains why Helga stuck with Rourke to the very end during the expedition to Atlantis. Even though she was clearly uncomfortable at some points. (Seriously just look at her expressions during the Heart of Atlantis Scene. Girly is NOT okay!) But she pushed past her own feelings to fulfill her end of the bargain because, again, SHE TRUSTS HIM! They’ve been through harder situations in the past and Rourke’s come through before so why SHOULDN’T she trust him?! Also, at that point, once they’d taken The Heart of Atlantis there was no going back. They’d taken an artifact that is sacred and vital to the Atlantean people, they committed regicide— They can’t undo their actions with a simple “sorry” so they had to commit! Plus if they gave it up at that point they would’ve been met with retribution.

Anyway! Rourke’s betrayal would have hurt so damn bad! I kinda have an idea of what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you trusted and I imagine the feeling was 10x worse for Helga. She’d be feeling anger, disbelief, confusion and a myriad of other emotions. Of course she gets her revenge when she shoots the balloon thus dooming Rourke to his fate.

HOWEVER, now that we have confirmation that she would’ve survived via Rourke’s shattered crystal remains we can infer that her suffering wouldn’t have stopped there. For one thing, her injuries would’ve been extensive and painful as hell. If Helga came back as a cyborg we can infer that the shards from Rourke didn’t heal her completely. Otherwise she’d have no need for replacement parts. So this chick, once she SOMEHOW managed to survive the intense volcanic eruption, would’ve had to crawl her way out of that place. Probably still injured and in extreme pain. I asked my husband (who has incredible pain tolerance btw) what it feels like to break a bone and he explained to me that it does more than “just knock the wind out of you”. You hear the crack and then you feel it. REALLY feel it. It’s a pain that’s so intense that it can immobilize you and put you into shock depending on the injury. So… Helga trying to move with numerous broken (maybe even shattered) bones would be the worst experience ever! And let’s not forget the damaged, possibly ruptured, organs that she’d be dealing with. I imagine that she probably would’ve spent days in utter agony and she couldn’t die because the crystal shards would’ve kept her alive.

Even worse, there’s no one coming to help her. Everyone thinks she’s dead (obviously) so she’s on her own. She’d only have her own thoughts for company and I imagine that the anger and resentment would grow with each passing moment. And who’s to say that Rourke’s own rage didn’t somehow transfer over to her via the shards and add fuel to the fire. She’d probably be blaming everyone for her predicament at that point and thus the seed of vengeance is planted.

Anyway, she makes it to the surface somehow and is probably rescued by some people. Some wounds might’ve gotten infected at the time resulting in amputations and such. And by the time she’s somewhere safe her life has changed forever. She’s lost limbs and who-knows what else, everyone thinks she’s dead. She can’t go back to Mr.Whitmore for work because of what she did (she’d probably get imprisoned) and it’s not like she could go home to her family. The world is in chaos being plunged into WWI and who knows what her family dynamic is like so… She’ll have to adapt. She’d probably obtain the cybernetic limbs and would spend a significant amount of time recovering. Next she’d gather resources and would obtain a crew. This would also take a long time… And that entire time her friends are reaping the rewards of their trip to Atlantis. They got the money she believed she was owed.

After all, SHE’D made the difficult choices! SHE was the one who was willing to get her hands dirty— To go against her conscience and leave an entire civilization to die out! She was willing to risk it all and would hope it’d be worth it— Only to get stabbed in the back and forgotten while her friends get rich! AND THEY DIDN’T EVEN LOSE ANYTHING!

So yeah, of course she’d be pissed!

Though I doubt she’d be willing to take personal responsibility for any of it. From personal experience, trauma and the emotions that come with it can really screw up your brain! Rational thought (at least for me) wasn’t exactly in the cards and I think it’d probably be the same for Helga, too. To Helga she’d be a victim in all of this and knowing her she wouldn’t take that sitting down. Going back to Atlantis and getting revenge for her would be cathartic (and less expensive than therapy). It wouldn’t take her suffering away but it would make it all worth it!

TLDR: I overanalyzed about Helga again and I made an essay. Basically, I can see why Helga would come back for revenge. I’d be pissed off too if I’d been betrayed, mortally wounded, mutilated and forgotten about, too.

Anyway! Enjoy your day people! Here’s a Helga gif!

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 4: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 2k

Warning: slightly jealous, and over protective Bakugo. Also some suggestive themes but just a hint if you squint. (Not with Bakugo)

---

FLASHBACK

The dim glow of the club lights did little to mask your presence. You stood out like a shadow in a room of neon, every glance confirming what you already felt—you didn’t belong here, and everyone knew it.

You caught sight of your target near the bar—a man whose charm was as dangerous as the empire he controlled. To the world, he was a philanthropist, a charming businessman. But beneath the polished veneer, he was the beating heart of the city’s most ruthless mafia.

And tonight, you had to make him fall for you.

The mission was clear: gain his trust, infiltrate his world, and dismantle his empire from within. But first, you needed information—secrets only he held.

You approached with calculated grace, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor. His eyes found yours almost immediately, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smile that could disarm anyone. Almost anyone.

"Enjoying the party?" His voice was smooth, like velvet over steel.

You returned his smile, letting your expression soften just enough. "I was, but it seems the guest list just got more interesting."

He chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that carried a hint of danger. "And who might you be?"

“Lily.”

You offered your name—an alias, of course. Every move, every word was a part of the act. You had studied him for weeks, memorized his habits, his preferences, even the way he liked his whiskey. Everything had led to this moment.

"You seem new to this circle," he said, his gaze lingering.

"I am," you admitted with a coy tilt of your head. "But I hear you're the man to know."

His interest piqued, he gestured to the bartender for another drink, his focus never leaving you. "Well, I’d hate to disappoint a pretty thing like you."

The bartender slid a glass of whiskey into his hand, and without looking away, Anthony Moretti gestured for another drink—this one for you. A silent offer, a test. You accepted with a graceful nod, the delicate crystal cool against your fingers.

“So, tell me,” he said, leaning casually against the bar, his eyes scanning you with a lazy confidence. “How’d a girl like you end up in a place like this?”

“A girl like me?” you echoed, arching a brow.

He smirked. “Yeah. You’re different. You carry yourself differently from the rest of the women in this room.”

“You think I’m different, yet we’ve only just met?” you countered, your tone teasing but sharp.

He shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not about time. It’s the way you move—graceful, confident. Look around. You’re the only woman here who’s not just looking for a good time.”

You leaned in close, your lips just a breath from his ear. “And how do you know that’s not part of my plan?”

His hand slid up your spine, his touch cold yet electrifying. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and smooth.

You smirked, the power shift undeniable. “Do you flirt with every girl like this?”

“Only the ones with a smile as dangerous as yours.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful challenge. “Take me on a date first. Then maybe—just maybe—you’ll get to fulfill that little fantasy.”

He chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you?”

You mirrored his smirk, repeating his earlier words with a sly grin. “I get what I want. After all, I’m a woman of grace and courage.”

PRESENT

In the past few hours, your world had shattered. The once-pristine hotel room—now buried beneath sealed documents and worn case files—felt suffocating. You sat on the couch, your eyes locked on the man across from you, but his words were lost. Old memories surged through your mind, an unrelenting loop of failures and regrets.

“Are you even listening to me?”

James Tucker, the federal agent seated before you, leaned forward, his tone sharp. You remembered the day you met him eight years ago—his skepticism evident. A seasoned operative, Tucker had seen it all, yet back then, he’d dismissed you as another pretty face the hero committee forced on him. 

But you proved him wrong, rising as Nova, a masked hero and one of America’s top three. The public adored you, but only a few knew your true identity. Even after your supposed death, your secret had remained intact.

“YN,” James repeated, his voice pulling you back.

“How did he escape?” Your voice was cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“We’re not sure,” James admitted. “Surveillance spotted him in America weeks ago, but he slipped through our fingers at an airport.”

“You knew for weeks and didn’t tell me?” Anger simmered beneath your words.

“It was for your safety. If the call was traced—”

“So you waited for me to reach out?” you snapped. “You let him get closer.”

“I had no choice,” James said firmly. “When Moretti was arrested, we seized everything. Among his possessions were messages—coded, but clear. He’s had eyes on you since the day he was locked up.”

Your blood ran cold. “If he’s been watching me, then he’s been watching my friends.”

James nodded grimly. “It’s likely. You were supposed to be dead, but his people found you alive. He won’t stop now.”

You ran a hand over your face, the weight of it all crashing down. “I should’ve known better. I never should’ve taken the job.”

“No one saw this coming,” James said softly.

“I should have,” you muttered. “I’m smarter than this.”

James leaned closer. “You can’t blame yourself. This isn’t on you.”

“No, but I’m the one left to pick up the pieces,” you shot back. “I’m the one who has to live with it.”

“That’s why you need to finish this. Put an end to Moretti once and for all. Then, maybe, you’ll finally get your life back. Maybe even see your parents again.”

The mention of your parents struck a nerve. Tears blurred your vision as you whispered, “They’ll never forgive me.”

James’s voice softened. “Maybe not. But they’ll never forgive you for giving up, either.”

You straightened, resolve hardening. “So where do we start?”

James exhaled, relieved. “This stays off the radar. But you can’t do it alone.”

You saw where he was heading and cut him off. “No. We’re not involving the pros.”

“Japan’s top heroes could help,” he pressed.

“They’re my friends,” you said firmly. “I won’t put them in danger. Not with a monster like Moretti.”

“They’re pros, YN, not civilians.”

“I said no!” Your voice cracked. “I nearly died back then. I won’t drag them into this and watch them die because of me.”

Tears spilled as you continued, your voice breaking. “We lost too many people last time. I lost everything. I can’t lose anyone else. If I have to fight him alone, so be it. I’ll burn this whole country to the ground before I let him hurt them.”

James’s face darkened. “YN—”

“No,” you snapped. “You of all people should understand.”

James’s jaw tightened. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“Then don’t bring my friends into it,” you fired back. “This is my fight.”

James sighed, knowing he’d lost. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But we need intel. Lay low, keep it casual. Do you still have access to the hero database?”

“It’s stashed in a box at home,” you replied.

“Good. Start there. Moretti’s not alone, and we need to move before he does. The gift was a warning. If we don’t strike first, it’ll be too late.”

Watching as he got up to use the bathroom, you grabbed to check your phone.

Ten missed calls from Bakugo.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, suddenly remembering that he was stopping by your house during patrol to check on you.

You dialed him back as quickly as you could, the phone barely ringing once before he picked up.

“Where the fuck are you, it’s one in the morning?” he snapped.

You hadn’t even realized how late it was until he mentioned it, and suddenly, exhaustion washed over you all at once.

“Katsuki, I’m sorry, my phone was on silent,” you responded, voice shaky.

“I almost called a search and rescue for your ass.”

You sighed, guilt gnawing at you. “I’m sorry again, I promise I’m safe.”

“Whatever. Where are you?”

“I'm staying with a friend tonight.” You couldn’t tell him the truth—that you’d dropped everything and taken refuge in a hotel the moment that goddamn gift showed up at your door.

“Who?”

Pausing, you internally scolded yourself—every single one of your friends was also Bakugo’s friend. Of course, he’d know if you were lying.

There was no way out now. You tried to think of an excuse, but before you could, James's voice cut in from the other room.

“I’m gonna run and grab some food. I’ll be back.”

Fuck me.

“Who’s that?” Bakugo’s voice was sharp now.

“Just a friend, Katsuki,” you said quickly, praying it didn’t sound as forced as it felt.

“You don’t answer my calls, you lie about where you are, and now you expect me to believe he’s just a ‘friend’?”

His words were making your head spin. You could feel the anger building in your chest. “Who are you, my dad? And why the hell do you care so much?”

You didn’t mean it. You secretly wanted him to care more than anything, but you’d never admit it out loud.

“I don’t, tell him Dynamight says hi though.. ” Bakugo shot back coldly, his words hitting like a punch before abruptly ending the call on you. 

The one person who always made everything feel a little more bearable was now being a major ass.

You wanted to tell him everything—confess the truth, explain why you couldn’t keep pretending. But you knew the kind of person he was. If you told him, he wouldn’t hesitate. He would drop everything to help you, to save you. And that was exactly why you couldn’t tell him.

You knew how strong he was. How capable, how unyielding. He could face anything, but this? This was different. This was too dangerous, too much to bear. You couldn’t drag him into your mess, couldn’t risk losing him in the way you knew you might.

So, for now, he would have to be mad at you. Maybe that would make things easier. It should, at least. Because hating you meant he wouldn’t ask questions, wouldn’t try to fix something that was already broken beyond repair. It meant he wouldn’t get involved in a battle that would only tear him apart.

And as much as it stung, you couldn’t help but feel a twisted relief. It was selfish, you knew. But it was the only way to keep him safe.