#the chandelier incident | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

controld3vil · 3 months

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the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole.

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead.

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle.

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one.

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification.

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that.

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts.

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother.

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding.

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often.

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper.

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you.

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes.

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.”

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb.

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially.

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality.

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob.

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds.

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?”

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,”

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy.

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned.

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier.

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered.

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you.

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze.

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage.

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish.

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are.

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle.

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential.

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced.

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies.

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses.

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship.

“No,”

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply.

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying?

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects.

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,”

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly.

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.”

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover.

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen.

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city.

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another.

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face.

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king.

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure. You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this.

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself.

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire.

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome.

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.”

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes.

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you.

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted blooadshed as much as him.

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harveybwabbit92 · 3 months

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Grocery girl: Ken Sato x reader Pt. 2

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Part 1

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It had been almost a month since that strange incident with Sato. R/n tried bury it in the back of her mind but it always seem to find it's way back to the surface, it also didn't help that he was the main topic on every news outlet or at every water cooler gossip R/n has accidentally eavesdropped on. Apparently things weren't going very well for Mr. Sato's career.

Heck, even Meimei seems to have lost her earlier admiration for the baseball player as the younger girl had stopped asking R/n about him and switched to swooning and gushing over some K-pop group she fell in love with to anyone that would listen; R/n included, but that's teenagers for you they loose interest in things too easily, not that Meimei's uncle AKA the Boss was complaining he was just happy the kid was taking her job seriously now! So was R/n cos that meant Meimei would stop following her around asking about Mr. Sato every time she got back from a delivery.

Speaking of...

R/n pulled into Mr. Sato's driveway it seemed like the usual drop off situation until R/n got out of the van and nearly dropped the box of groceries at the sight that waited for her outside, R/n had to take a minute for her brain register what she was looking at first.

She thought it was a dummy left outside, before realizing it was person passed out on the steps and not just any old person. "Mr. Sato!" R/n put the box down and ran over to the downed baseball player she rolled him over to get look at his face and winced. Cripes! he looked like he'd been dragged through hell and back again!

R/n quickly tried to rouse the knocked out Sato by shaking him but that did little other making him mumble incoherently, R/n then through great struggle managed to lift him up off the stairs and was stunned at how heavy the baseball player was as his weight damn near sent them both tumbling backwards!

But R/n managed to steady them both as she pretty much dragged his limp body up the stairs. "This would be so easy for me if you'd just wake up." R/n grunted as she readjusted Ken so she could knock on his door; Hopefully his assistant was here and she could take care of him.

However when the front door opened on it's own there was no one there waiting. R/n stared nervously into the seemingly empty house, she heard nary a creak or breeze as she reluctantly took a step inside and tried not to yelp when the door suddenly shut behind her leaving the house in almost complete darkness.

Then the thoughts started creeping in and for brief moment R/n wondered if this was all possibly all a ruse and that Mr Sato was secret serial kill and that strange noises she heard last time was screams of his last victim...After all, who would suspect the famous baseball payer?!

But then R/n's more rational side reasoned how that ridiculous that was! if there was a killer on the loose there would've been some kind of news about it. R/n calmed herself down and dragged Mr. Sato to the first couch she found before getting his abandoned groceries from outside, R/n went against policy and opened them, grabbing a bottle of water and a Melon pan from it.

She left them on the coffee table for when he wakes up and was going to leave Mr. Sato for his assistant to find, But then R/n felt something off...did the floor just vibrate? Her brows furrowed as her eyes looked up at the ceiling and saw the boxy looking chandelier was swaying around; R/n shook her head. No, it wasn't her business... She got ready to leave, but then the thoughts about Mr. Sato possibly being a covert serial killer came back with a vengeance and she thought if he was hiding someone could that vibration them calling for help?

Checking to make sure Mr. Sato was still sleeping R/n cautiously crouched down low and pressed her ear to the floor only to jumped back with a gasp when she heard the same wailing from a month ago echoing from the floor below, R/n stood up and looked around the house for a way downstairs and found her only option was the large glass elevator cos of course the rich boy's got an elevator.... R/n stepped in and looked for a control button only for the elevator start moving on it own.

R/n tried to duck down in poor attempt to hide herself as it got closer to the bottom floor when it finally stopped and the delivery girl cautiously peeked out to see; well, she expected some kind of blood soaked torture room to be waiting for her, instead her eyes widened in awe at her futuristic surroundings if this was a basement it was like one she'd never seen before! The thoughts about Mr. Sato being a serial killer were quickly replaced with him possibly being a superhero fanboy.

This whole place screamed 'Batcave' as R/n stepped out of the elevator and began to wander around she wondered how much this place cost the baseball player to build? While R/n was gawking she failed to notice the large shadow slowly rising up behind her until it was too late.

R/n looked down and slowly turned around looking up as did her awe struck face slowly contorting into fear as she stared up at the beast behind her and shuddered.

"I never knew the harbinger of death would be so... pink!"

*hours later*

Ken is woken up to by the baby squealing and his alarms going off like crazy! He looked at the time 11 pm...Oh, he missed her 9pm feeding, he wondered Mina didn't wake him up? when he spotted the water and Melon pan on the coffee table and ate and drank those as he made his way to the elevator but it was already downstairs causing him to pause.

Ken's mind was still hazy from juggling everything he couldn't remember if he'd gone downstairs earlier and went outside through the airlock to get back up into the house? Or maybe Mina brought something downstairs for the baby to use?

The answer was the last thing Ken expected as he descended into his base to find the baby playing Daruma-san (statues/red light green light for us yanks) with Mina and...Ken choked on his food when he saw his grocery girl standing in the middle of his base in posed like Hamlet (she holding Mina in the Alas poor Yorick pose) She nearly fell over when she saw Mr. Sato gawking. "What the heck is going-Oh, nonono!" When then the baby noticed him and she immediately run up to Ken and picked him up much to his protest.

While this was going on R/n used this as her attempt to escape to the elevator only for Ken to notice her sneaking away and changed into Ultraman and block her path with his hand... R/n gasped as she looked up at the silver giant completely flabbergasted. "Okay, So not a serial killer." Now it was Ultraman's turn to be confused. "What?"

Cut to R/n trapped in her own containment chamber sitting down bored as she watches a frustrated Mr. Sato pacing around his base. "Y'know, You'll go bald if you keep tugging at your hair like that" she said with a sigh the baseball player ignored her as the delivery girl tried to readjusted herself in a more comfortable position but the tube was to narrow for her legs to properly stretch out. "Couldn't you have given me a bigger tube? this one's too cramped." Mr. Sato shot her a seething glare that shut R/n up as he walked up to her tube.

"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe you should've called ahead before breaking into my house!" He sneered The delivery just rolled her eyes. "For that last time, I didn't break in I found you outside..." Ken snorted obviously not believing her. "Hey you, floating eye lady" R/n called out to Mina who floated over to them. "Doesn't this place have cameras or something" Show this knuckle head I'm telling the truth." She said crossing her arms, while Ken barked a Mina not to listen her and wait for the cops, who were taking their sweet time getting here.

"The police are not coming because I haven't called them." Ken looked at the orb in disbelief. "What? why not?!" Mina played the footage from a few hours ago showing Ken staggering up his front steps and then dropping like a sack of potatoes 15 minutes later R/n's van pulled up showed her jumping and quickly checking Ken over before picking him carrying him inside, and showed how she got into his base.

"Told ya, if this is the thanks I get for helping; then maybe I should've left you there for the birds to crap on!"

"Okay, okay... but that still doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"Oh? what are you gonna do? keep me in this tube forever?"

"No, You going to help me...With her."

Mr. Sato points at the baby Kaiju in the tube next to R/n's who babble happily and waved when he pointed at her, R/n meanwhile got this shell shocked look on her face, she thought he was joking until R/n was free from the tube; but by the next morning found herself in a moving van with her belongs hastily stuffed inside headed back towards Mr. Sato's house.

{Bonus, how R/n ended up playing with Emi:

R/n tried to back away from the pink dragon thing that was staring her down when it took a step near her, She gasped and instinctively covered her face...But, nothing happened? The delivery girl curiously peeked between her fingers and saw Pinky was staring at her; she put her hands down.

The monster moves again R/n throws her hands back up and the monster did the oddest thing it smiled while chirping and clapping at her. R/n was very obviously bewildered by it's strange behavior as she repeated same action a few times before something clicked in her head; Peek-a-Boo.... It's thinks R/n was playing Peek-a-boo with it . "You're just a baby, aren't you?" The Kaiju tilted it's head at R/n bemused.

*Ken Sato has a baby Kaiju in his basement...what the crap?!*

The delivery girl screamed mentally as the baby Kaju chirped and covered it's face with it's hands; R/n knew what it was doing and played along "Oh no, where'd the baby go?" The delivery girl pretended to look around while side eyeing the elevator which the baby was currently blocking, The kaiju pulled it's hands away from it's face as R/n cheered "Oop, there you are!~" the baby squealed excitedly as this floating eye-ball robot suddenly appeared and started asking questions.

R/n explained herself and promised that she wouldn't tell anyone about this if the eye would let her leave. However, as soon as R/n took a step towards the elevator... The baby started sniffling and tearing up causing the delivery girl to panic. "No, no, I'm not leaving I'm not leaving, I promise, I'll stay here!" R/n said petting it on the leg and not realizing just how true those words would end up being in a few hours.

------------

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

#Again pulled another all nighter for this I think I fell asleep at 3am #ultraman #tokusatsu #ultraman rising #emi ultraman #ultra series #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #afab reader

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cynic-spirit · 1 month

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the heel incident

Aemond stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, his sharp gaze scanning the room. The party was in full swing, a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits mingling under the soft glow of chandeliers. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, but Aemond’s focus was solely on Y/N.

She was breathtaking tonight, draped in an elegant, long evening gown that hugged her figure perfectly. The way she moved, the way her smile lit up the room—everything about her commanded his attention.

But as he watched her, Aemond noticed something was off. Y/N had stepped away from the crowd, her brow furrowed as she glanced down at her heel. Her movements were awkward, as if she was trying to free herself from something. Then he saw it—the clasp of her heel had tangled with the delicate fabric of her gown, trapping her in place.

Without a second thought, Aemond made his way toward her, his strides purposeful and swift. He barely noticed the whispers that followed him or the way the crowd seemed to part as he moved through it. His focus was entirely on Y/N.

When he reached her, Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "It’s stuck," she murmured, her voice laced with irritation as she tried to untangle the clasp herself.

Aemond didn’t hesitate. He immediately bent down, one knee touching the marble floor, his hands reaching out to help. His fingers worked deftly, carefully freeing the clasp from the fabric without causing any damage. He could feel the weight of the room’s stares, the shock of the onlookers palpable in the sudden hush that fell over the ballroom.

But Aemond didn’t care. Let them be shocked. Let them whisper. He wasn’t the feared and ruthless mobster in this moment; he was just a man helping the woman he loved. He could sense the disbelief in the air—the idea that someone like him, with his reputation and power, would kneel for anyone was unfathomable to them.

But to Aemond, this was the most natural thing in the world. Y/N was his everything—his queen. She had a power over him that no one else did, and he would do anything for her, whether it was tearing down their enemies or helping her with a stubborn clasp at a party.

Finally, the clasp came free, and Aemond looked up at Y/N, his eyes meeting hers. There was gratitude in her gaze, mixed with something deeper, something that made his chest tighten with emotion. He stood, brushing his hand lightly over her gown to smooth out any wrinkles, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, her voice soft, meant only for him.

Aemond gave her a small, private smile, one that was reserved only for her. "Anything for you, my love," he replied, his voice low and tender.

As he straightened up, the murmurs around them grew louder, but Aemond remained unfazed. Let them talk. Let them be shocked. He had no interest in their opinions. The only thing that mattered was Y/N, and the way she looked at him like he was the only man in the world.

With a final, reassuring squeeze of her hand, Aemond guided Y/N back into the party, his presence as commanding as ever. But now, everyone knew—behind the cold, ruthless exterior of the Targaryen mobster was a man who would kneel for his queen without a second thought.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen soulmate #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x soulmate #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #hotd

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twst-kumi · 4 months

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Imagine Dreamlight Reader x Twst boys

This idea was stuck in my mind since talking with my friends. So I'm putting it there in case I may want to develop the idea . Don't know if I will do a series tho.

Imagine Reader who fell in a rift and are now stuck in Twisted wonderland. They appeared in middle of the ceremony through the coffin. The talking cat who opened/burned the coffin squashed under them before exploring.

Imagine the mirror recognizing you have magic but are unable to put you in any house. Your magic is also unknown for this world so you can't really go into a dorm. Plus you reveal you are not a student anyway. You got here on accident.

Imagine discovering that Dreamlight valley doesn't exist in this world. But you don't despair as you just have to find the door or another rift to go back. Reader isn't even surprised when they saw Ramshackle and comments passively how they saw worse.

Imagine after the Chandelier incident, Reader is quite confident that they could easily found magic stone. Ace and Deuce are confused when they just pick a pickaxe appear out of nowhere. After the whole ordeal, remember they had some Dreamlight shard and gem stone that could be used for repairing the chandelier. Also use some to repair the dorm.

Imagine Reader who couldn't help but laugh at the introduction of the great seven. Ace sometime look at them weirdly as they talk about them like they knew each historical figures personally.

Imagine Reader who couldn't help but comment how Malleus ressemble Maleficent but more friendly. They don't know who he is but can tell he is related to the fairy.

Imagine Reader who are the only one who can actually purify blot. Reader who love to go back to the mines and are actually able to get some gem in it.

Imagine Reader who use the mirror in Ramshackle to talk with Mickey and explain the situation. Also reader who turned a part of the garden into a vegetable garden and sell them both to Sam and Monstro lounge.

Imagine Reader who overall are so used to deal with other people problem and big crisis that they act like it's another Tuesday morning.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #floyd leech #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #neige leblanche #ace trappola #twisted wonderland deuce #ruggie bucchi x reader #lilia x reader #idia x reader #silver x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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fr0stf4ll · 1 month

Text

Forge of Starlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

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

word count ; 5k

warning; /

notes; heyy, I hope that all of you are doing fine ! Here is part 4, pretty calm chapter but I think that you will like it ;))) To be honest I'm already done writing the story, I might change some details because I'm still not really happy about some parts but the overall storyline is finished. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment or ask to be on the tag list ;)) I'm always super happy to see your feedbacks and comments on the story. See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 3 or part 5

---

Wrapped in the warmth of a thick, fur-lined cape, you made your way through the vast and unforgiving landscape that led to the Winter Court. The journey had been long, the cold biting at your skin despite the layers of wool and leather beneath your armor. Your boots crunched through the snow with every step, the sound a constant reminder of the icy terrain you traversed. The fur trim of your cape brushed against your face, shielding you from the harsh winds that howled through the mountains.

Your outfit was designed for both warmth and practicality—leather pants tucked into sturdy boots, a long-sleeved woolen tunic layered under a thick, high-collared vest, and over it all, the heavy cape that provided not just warmth, but protection from the elements. The fur-lined hood of the cape was pulled low over your brow, keeping the icy wind from nipping at your face. Gloves made of soft, supple leather protected your hands, though your fingers itched for the familiar feel of your weapons.

The landscape around you was breathtakingly beautiful, despite its harshness. The snow-covered mountains rose like jagged teeth against the clear, cold sky, their peaks piercing the heavens. The ground beneath your feet was a blanket of pristine white, unmarked by any sign of life save for the occasional tracks of a snow hare or a fox. The air was crisp and clean, filling your lungs with a chill that was both invigorating and biting.

As you neared the Winter Court, the terrain began to change subtly. The trees, tall and ancient, were dusted with snow, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. The air grew colder, the wind sharper, as you approached the heart of Kallias’s domain. The palace, when it came into view, was a marvel of ice and stone, a structure that seemed to rise organically from the frozen earth itself. Its spires glistened in the weak sunlight, the walls shimmering as if carved from a single massive block of ice. It was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, a testament to the power of the High Lord who ruled within.

As you entered the grand hall, the cold air seemed to intensify, but you were prepared for it. Your breath misted before you as you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the ice-encrusted walls. The interior of the palace was no less magnificent than its exterior—glittering chandeliers of ice hung from the ceiling, casting a cool, ethereal light across the room. The floors were a mosaic of frosted tiles, and the walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the history and power of the Winter Court.

Kallias awaited you at the far end of the hall, his tall, imposing figure clad in robes of pure white, trimmed with silver. His eyes, as cold and sharp as the winter wind, met yours as you approached, and he offered a nod of acknowledgment.

"Y/N," he greeted, his voice as icy as his surroundings. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

You inclined your head in respect. "It was, High Lord. The Winter Court is as beautiful as ever."

Kallias’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It is. And I am eager to see the weapon you have forged for me."

With a practiced motion, you unclasped the leather strap that secured the long, narrow case at your side. Carefully, you lifted the lid, revealing the weapon within—a glaive, forged from the finest steel, its blade gleaming with an icy blue sheen that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was intricately designed, resembling the ancient, snow-laden trees of the Winter Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length. At the base of the hilt, a crystal embedded in the pommel caught the light, glittering like freshly fallen snow.

Kallias’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took in the sight of the weapon. He stepped forward, his gloved hand reaching out to grasp the hilt. The glaive fit perfectly in his hand, its weight balanced, its craftsmanship flawless. He swung it once, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp, crisp sound that resonated through the hall.

"It’s exquisite," Kallias said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N."

You bowed your head slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’m glad it meets your expectations, High Lord. It was an honor to craft something for the Winter Court."

Kallias’s gaze lingered on the weapon for a moment longer before he turned his icy eyes back to you. "It more than meets my expectations. It surpasses them. You have a gift, Y/N, and I’m fortunate to have been able to commission such a weapon from you."

There was a moment of silence as Kallias continued to study the glaive, the air between you filled with the mutual respect of two artisans—one of ice, one of steel. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly.

"You must be tired from your journey," Kallias said, his tone shifting to something more cordial. "Please, stay as my guest. You are welcome in the Winter Court as long as you wish."

You inclined your head again, appreciating the offer. "Thank you, High Lord. I may take you up on that, but I must return to the Night Court soon. There are other matters that require my attention."

Kallias nodded in understanding. "Of course. But for now, rest. My stewards will see to your needs."

With that, he handed the glaive back to you, and you secured it once more in its case. As you followed the steward who had been summoned to lead you to your quarters, you couldn’t help but marvel at the power and grace of the Winter Court—its beauty, its cold, unyielding strength. The journey had been long, but the successful delivery of such a finely crafted weapon made it all worthwhile.

As you were led to your quarters, you wondered what the days ahead would bring, knowing that whatever challenges lay before you, you were more than prepared to face them.

After a much-needed rest in the luxurious quarters provided by Kallias, you found yourself summoned to dinner with the High Lord and his wife, Viviane. The invitation was delivered with the same formality and grace that characterized the Winter Court, and you dressed accordingly, choosing an outfit that was both practical for the cold and respectful of the occasion. You opted for a tailored, high-collared tunic in deep blue, paired with fitted leather pants and sturdy boots designed for both warmth and movement. Over the tunic, you wore a vest of finely stitched leather, its dark hue matching the rich blue of your tunic, and lined with fur for added warmth. A thick, fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders, adding the final touch of protection against the biting cold.

The dining hall itself was as magnificent as the rest of the palace, with walls of ice that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. A grand table made of polished, dark wood stood at the center, set with fine crystal and silverware that sparkled under the light. Kallias and Viviane were already seated when you arrived, their regal presence filling the room with an aura of quiet power.

Viviane greeted you with a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling with kindness. “Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Please, sit. I hope the accommodations were to your liking?”

You returned her smile, inclining your head respectfully as you took the seat offered to you. “Thank you, Lady Viviane. The accommodations were perfect—your hospitality is most generous.”

Kallias nodded in agreement, his expression calm and composed. “We are glad to hear that. You’ve traveled far, and your work has been extraordinary. You deserve the best.”

As the first course was served—a delicate soup made with winter vegetables and fragrant herbs—you found yourself relaxing into the atmosphere. The warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, combined with the rich scents of the food, created a sense of comfort that was almost surprising in the cold grandeur of the palace.

As the meal progressed, Kallias leaned back slightly, regarding you with an inquisitive gaze. “Tell me, Y/N,” he began, his voice casual but laced with curiosity, “are you finally settling down? It’s not often we hear of someone as skilled as you staying in one place for long.”

You smiled softly, nodding as you set down your spoon. “Yes, I’ve returned to my roots. I’ve settled back in the Night Court, where I grew up. It feels right to be back home, even after all the years of traveling.”

Kallias’s eyes sharpened with interest, though he remained composed. “The Night Court, you say? And how has that been? Is it… a unique place, from what I’ve heard.”

You nodded again, careful with your words. “It’s been a good experience, returning to the Night Court. It has its own charm, and I’ve found a certain peace there that I didn’t realize I was missing.”

Viviane, ever the gracious hostess, leaned forward slightly, her gaze warm. “It must be wonderful to return to your roots after so long. I can imagine it offers a sense of stability, something to hold onto.”

“It does,” you agreed. “After years of traveling and crafting for different courts, it’s good to have a place to call home again.”

Kallias seemed to consider this for a moment before his expression shifted slightly, a more contemplative look in his eyes. “Y/N, do you see yourself as a blacksmith for the rest of your life?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’ve dedicated most of my life to the craft. It’s something I’m deeply passionate about. But… I’ve also wondered if there’s more I could do, especially now that I’m settled in one place.”

Kallias nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing something in his mind. “With your skills and the relationships you’ve built across the courts, have you ever considered becoming an emissary? You already have a good rapport with most of the High Lords, and your experience is invaluable.”

You blinked in surprise, the idea not one you had expected to hear. “An emissary?” you repeated, trying to imagine the shift from blacksmith to diplomat. “It’s not something I’ve considered before… but I suppose it could be an interesting path.”

Kallias was about to continue when he seemed to catch himself, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, that’s a matter for Rhysand to consider. While our relations with the Night Court are… decent, I’m not one to aid in growing another court’s power.”

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. “I understand, High Lord. And I appreciate the suggestion, though. It’s something I’ll have to think about.”

Viviane reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kallias’s arm. “Don’t mind him, Y/N. He’s always thinking three steps ahead, even during a simple dinner.”

Kallias chuckled softly, inclining his head. “Indeed, but it’s worth considering. Your talents shouldn’t be confined to one craft alone, no matter how extraordinary it may be.”

The conversation continued in a more relaxed manner as the evening wore on, the three of you discussing everything from the beauty of the Winter Court to tales of your travels. Despite the formality of the setting, there was an ease to the dinner that you hadn’t anticipated—a warmth that contrasted pleasantly with the cold elegance of the palace.

As the dinner came to an end, you felt a sense of satisfaction not just from the meal, but from the knowledge that you were appreciated here in the Winter Court. The suggestion of becoming an emissary lingered in your mind, a seed planted by Kallias that you knew would take root in the days to come.

For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, grateful for the hospitality of the Winter Court and the new possibilities that lay ahead.

Later that evening, after the dinner with Kallias and Viviane, you found yourself back in the comfort of your room. The luxurious quarters were warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as you settled into a plush chair by the window. The view outside was breathtaking—a serene expanse of snow-covered mountains under a clear, starlit sky. The quiet beauty of the Winter Court seemed almost surreal after the intense conversations of the day.

As you stared out at the snow-draped landscape, your thoughts began to drift back to the events that had transpired before your journey here—specifically, the night with Cassian. The memory of his broken wings and the dark curse that had infested his body sent a shiver down your spine. You had dealt with injuries before, but nothing quite like that. The sight of Cassian in such a vulnerable state, combined with the pressure of having to save him, had shaken you more than you cared to admit.

You couldn’t help but wonder how Cassian was doing now. Madja was a skilled healer, but the curse had been something different—something darker and more insidious. You hoped that your efforts, combined with Madja’s expertise, would be enough to see him fully recovered.

But your thoughts didn’t linger on Cassian for long. Instead, they wandered to Azriel—his overprotective reaction when you mentioned your journey to the Winter Court. You had been taken aback by the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice had tightened with worry when he insisted that you couldn’t go alone. It was unlike him, or at least unlike the composed, stoic Azriel you had come to know.

A small blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the way he had draped his jacket over your shoulders before flying you home. The warmth of the leather, combined with his proximity, had stirred something in you—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. Azriel was undeniably attractive, with his dark, brooding looks and those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through you. But more than that, he was one of the most skilled warriors in Prythian, a member of the Inner Circle, and someone who carried a weight of responsibility that few could comprehend.

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mixture of admiration and frustration. Azriel was everything you weren’t—an elite warrior, trusted confidant of the High Lord, and part of a circle that wielded immense power and influence. What were you, in comparison? A blacksmith, skilled in your craft, but still just someone who worked with metal and fire. You had traveled far and gained respect across the courts, but it was hard to shake the feeling that Azriel was somehow out of your league.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, though. Every time you thought of him—his calm presence, his quiet strength—it sent your heart fluttering in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. But you reminded yourself that someone like Azriel wouldn’t be interested in you, not in that way. He was dedicated to his duties, and you… you were just a blacksmith.

Still, the memory of his protective concern lingered, the way his eyes had softened slightly when he insisted on flying you home. It was a gesture that spoke of something deeper, something that made your heart ache with longing.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was foolish to dwell on such things. Azriel was a friend, and that was enough. There was no sense in imagining something that could never be.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help the small, wistful smile that tugged at your lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Azriel’s concern than simple duty. Perhaps there was a connection there, one that went beyond the roles you both played.

With a sigh, you stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the endless expanse of snow and stars. The Winter Court was beautiful, but your mind was already drifting back to Velaris, to the Night Court, and to the people who had become an unexpected but welcome part of your life.

And as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held—for you and perhaps most of all, for Azriel.

——

Back in Velaris, the shop was quieter than usual. Without the rhythmic clang of metal on metal or the hum of the forge, the space felt almost too still, the usual lively energy dampened by your absence. But that didn’t stop Alex from doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He was darting between customers, expertly answering questions and showcasing various weapons with the kind of enthusiasm that belied his young age. Stellan, your faithful direwolf, was sprawled out near the counter, watching the activity with an expression that could only be described as long-suffering patience.

A particularly persistent client had been lingering in the shop for the better part of an hour, his eyes darting around as if expecting to spot you at any moment. He was a tall, lanky man with a nervous energy, and he had been pestering Alex incessantly.

“Are you sure she’s not here?” the man asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his tone edging on desperation. “I need to speak with Y/N directly.”

Alex, who had been maintaining his polite demeanor with admirable restraint, forced a smile that was beginning to strain at the edges. “As I’ve already mentioned, sir, Y/N is currently away on business. She won’t be back until next week.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as if Alex were trying to trick him. “But I really need to speak with her. Can’t you just call her? Or maybe she’s in the back?”

Alex’s forced smile twitched, and he muttered under his breath, “On the name of the goddamn Mother, I’m going to hit him.” He forced his voice back to a more polite tone as he said, “I’ve already checked, sir. She’s definitely not in the back. And no, I can’t call her—she’s in the Winter Court. They don’t exactly have a postal service for emergencies.”

The client frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “But this is important! Can’t you at least take a message?”

“Sir,” Alex said, his voice straining to maintain its politeness, “I’ve taken five messages from you already. I promise I’ll give them all to Y/N when she returns. But for now, there’s really nothing more I can do.”

The man didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to argue again, but Alex had reached his limit. He could feel his frustration bubbling up, and he was just about ready to scream when the shop door swung open with a loud creak.

In walked Cassian and Azriel, both of them cutting imposing figures as they strode into the shop. Cassian’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, and Azriel’s intense gaze swept over the scene, quickly taking in the situation.

The persistent client froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two warriors. Cassian’s expression was one of barely concealed amusement, while Azriel’s was much cooler, a silent but clear warning to the man that he was pushing his luck.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked, his voice light but with an edge that sent a shiver down the man’s spine.

The client swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Azriel’s presence. “N-No, no problem at all,” he stammered, his previous determination evaporating. “I was just… uh… I’ll come back later.”

With that, the man all but bolted for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave the shop. The door slammed shut behind him, and the shop was suddenly filled with silence, save for the faint crackling of the forge in the background.

Alex let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned against the counter, wiping a hand across his brow. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered.

Cassian chuckled, walking over to ruffle Alex’s hair. “You handled that well, kid. He was lucky he didn’t push you any further—looked like you were about to go feral.”

Alex grinned up at him, his earlier frustration melting away. “I was close, really close. But thanks for the help! Can I interest either of you in a fine sword? Or perhaps a dagger? We’ve got some new arrivals that are really top-notch.”

Azriel, who had been leaning casually against the counter, let out a soft chuckle. “Not today, Alex. We’re not here to shop.”

Cassian, still grinning, shook his head. “Yeah, as tempting as it is, we’re actually here to see if Y/N’s back yet. We wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

Alex’s face brightened at the mention of your name. “Oh! No, she’s not back yet. She should be here by tomorrow, though. I haven’t heard anything from her, but she always keeps her word.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good to hear. We’ve been worried about her, especially after everything that happened before she left.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of recent events, but he remained quiet, his gaze drifting around the shop as if lost in thought.

Alex, ever the perceptive one, caught the shift in Azriel’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. “But hey, if you want, I can show you some of the stuff she’s been working on! I know she’s got some special orders that are almost ready. You might even find something you like.”

Cassian laughed, clearly charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Maybe another time, Alex. We’ll just wait for her to get back. But thanks for the offer.”

Alex nodded, a little disappointed that he couldn’t make a sale but still pleased that the two warriors had stopped by. “No problem! I’ll let her know you were here as soon as she gets back.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Cassian said, giving the boy another affectionate ruffle of his hair before turning to leave. Azriel followed, but not before giving Alex a small, almost imperceptible nod of appreciation.

As they walked out the door, Alex watched them go, a satisfied grin on his face. Stellan, who had been observing the entire exchange with his usual calm, gave a soft huff as if to say, “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

Alex glanced down at the wolf, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I know, boy. It’s never boring around here, is it?”

Stellan’s only response was to close his eyes and settle back down, clearly content now that the shop had returned to its usual, slightly chaotic but always interesting, routine.

As Cassian and Azriel stepped out of your shop and into the bustling streets of Velaris, the evening air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the scents of the city—freshly baked bread, the distant aroma of spiced meats, and the crisp tang of the Sidra River. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the cobblestone streets and the elegantly curved buildings.

Cassian glanced over at Azriel, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, you didn’t have to scare the poor guy so much back there. He practically ran out of the shop.”

Azriel shrugged, his expression unreadable as usual, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He was being persistent. Alexander was close to losing his patience.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “True, true. That kid’s got more fire in him than most people twice his age. But I have to admit, it was fun watching you in action. You’ve always had a knack for that brooding intimidation.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to make sure the shop was running smoothly while Y/N is away.”

Cassian’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of Y/N… you’ve been pretty protective of her lately, haven’t you?”

Azriel’s step faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered, keeping his gaze focused ahead. “She’s been through a lot. We all have. I’m just making sure she’s safe.”

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying this line of questioning. “Come on, Az. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been watching out for her. And don’t think Rhys didn’t told me the way you reacted when she mentioned going to the Winter Court alone.”

Azriel’s expression remained impassive, though his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s my job to protect the people in this court, Cassian. You know that.”

“Sure, sure,” Cassian replied, waving a hand dismissively. “But this feels a little more personal, don’t you think? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Azriel remained silent, his gaze focused straight ahead as they continued walking. The streets of Velaris were alive with activity—couples strolling hand in hand, children playing, vendors calling out their wares—but the conversation between the two warriors seemed to create a bubble of quiet tension around them. Cassian, always one to lighten the mood, decided to press a little further.

“You know, Az,” Cassian started, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “it’s not like that little kiss she gave me means you’re out of the running.”

Azriel shot him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t a kiss, Cassian. She was removing a curse. You know that.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement. “Hey, I’m just saying—if you’re worried about competition, don’t be. That ‘kiss’ doesn’t mean you’ve lost your chance.”

Azriel shook his head, resuming his walk. "It's not about that. Y/N deserves someone... better.”

Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically, catching up to Azriel with a few quick strides. "Oh, here we go. The 'I'm not good enough' spiel. Az, you’re one of the most honorable males I know. You're brave, loyal, and let's not forget, you have that brooding mysterious thing going on that females seem to love."

Azriel shot him a skeptical look. "Being 'brooding and mysterious' isn't exactly a selling point."

"Maybe not for you," Cassian quipped, "but trust me, it's working. Besides, Y/N isn't the type to be swayed by titles or power. She values character, integrity, and someone who sees her for who she truly is."

Azriel sighed, his gaze distant. "Even so, with everything in my past, the things I've done... I don't want to burden her with that."

Cassian placed a firm hand on Azriel's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Listen to me. We all have our demons, our shadows. Y/N included. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness. You can't keep punishing yourself forever.”

"She is… different. She’s strong, independent. She’s been through so much, yet she doesn’t let it define her. I admire that.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She is all of those things. And she’s got a good heart. But, Az, you know it’s okay to feel something more. You don’t have to keep everything locked away.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might brush off the conversation entirely. But then he sighed, a sound that was barely audible but heavy with unspoken thoughts. “It’s not that simple, Cass. She’s… well, she’s remarkable. But she’s also tied to things I don’t fully understand. And after everything… I’m not sure it’s right to complicate things further.”

Cassian looked at him, his expression serious for once. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… let things happen. If there’s something there, you’ll figure it out. And if there’s not, well, at least you won’t have any regrets.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, but Cassian could see the conflict in his eyes. Finally, Azriel murmured, “I don’t want to be a distraction for her. She’s got enough to deal with, especially after what happened.”

Cassian grinned, though there was a note of understanding in his voice. “You’re not a distraction, Az. If anything, you’re probably one of the few people who can help her with whatever she’s dealing with. And, just so you know, she’s not out of your league, no matter what you think.”

Azriel remained silent, the internal battle evident in his eyes. The bustling sounds of Velaris seemed to fade as the two friends stood in the midst of the crowd, locked in a moment of understanding.

After a beat, Cassian grinned, attempting to lighten the mood. "And besides, if you don't make a move, I might just have to swoop in. You know, for the sake of not letting such a wonderful female go unappreciated."

Azriel snorted, a rare genuine laugh escaping his lips. "I'd like to see you try."

Cassian winked, clapping Azriel on the back. "That's the spirit! Now, how about we head to Rita's and grab a drink? Maybe by the time Y/N returns, you'll have mustered up the courage to tell her how you feel."

Azriel smirked, his shadows swirling playfully around him. "Only if you're buying."

"Deal," Cassian replied, leading the way with a swagger in his step. "But remember, the next round's on you, especially if it gives you the liquid courage you clearly need."

As they made their way towards the river, laughter and camaraderie enveloped them. Yet, beneath the teasing and banter, the seeds of self-reflection had been sown in Azriel's heart, leaving him to ponder the possibilities that awaited with your impending return.

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#a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #cassian #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand

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azrielslittleslut · 2 months

Text

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 8

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, heavy angst, character deaths (not main), mentions of torture, mention of miscarriage, seriously this is a dark one

Word Count: 5.4k

series masterlist

a/n: i am so sorry... *hides behind computer screen* i promise this story has a happy ending...

Enjoy!

Azriel opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing as the memories of the night washed over him. He was lying on a cold, hard floor in a dimly lit room. Each breath he took sent sharp pains coursing through his body due to the tight ropes binding his wrists behind him.

Pain pulsed through his body as he struggled against the ropes, each movement exacerbated by a deep, throbbing ache in his abdomen. The hard surface beneath him drew the heat from his body, leaving him cold and shivering.

Azriel’s jaw was clenched in a mix of anger and pain, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to control the agony and think clearly. Despite the overwhelming pain, his eyes scanned the room for any detail that could be used to his advantage.

He lay on the floor of what looked like a dining room. It was elegantly furnished, with a large dining table in the center. There were plates on the table, full of half-eaten food. Above the table, there was a simple chandelier, casting soft, scattered light across the room. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the portraits on the wall above the table.

There were different portraits of a man, a woman, and a young woman, all smiling at each other. Some of them were of the man and woman together, while others were of the young woman alone.

Az forced his eyes to focus, grunting against his blurry vision. His heart stuttered as he realized the portraits were of Lou, Celeste, and you.

He was at your parent’s house.

He struggled against the ropes, his shoulders screaming in agony as he tried to free himself. Azriel’s mind whirled, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Had your parents been the ones who kidnapped him? Had you told them about the paintings, making them so angry that they decided to take matters into their own hands? Did you know he was here?

Azriel was so focused on himself that he almost missed the sound of labored breathing to his right. He paused and turned his head, his eyes scanning the dining room, the room falling away into silence as he looked.

Celeste was lying on the ground against a bookshelf. Her leg was twisted at an odd angle, and her floral-printed shirt was stained with blood. Her pretty face was marred by bruises and dried blood, and her eyes were closed in a peaceful yet haunting semblance of sleep.

She was dead.

“Damn it,” Azriel groaned, dragging his body across the floor to reach her. As he got closer, though, he saw her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “Celeste. Wake up,” he said softly. “Please wake up.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes. They were red and bloodshot, as if she had been crying. “Azriel,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Where is Y/N?” Blood trickled from the corner of her lips as she spoke.

Azriel leaned forward to look at the wound on her chest, careful to balance himself despite his bound hands. The wound looked like it was caused by a knife or dagger, and it looked like a mortal wound. “She went home,” he whispered, his voice laden with pain and guilt. “You told me to keep her safe. I failed you. I am so sorry.”

Celeste shook her head slightly. “She isn’t here, is she? If she were here…” she trailed off, taking a rough breath.

Azriel looked around the room, searching for her husband. “Where is Lou?” he asked.

She closed her eyes, and Azriel saw a single tear fall down her swollen cheek. “He’s dead. He tried to fight him off, but he wasn’t strong enough.” She tilted her eyes up, gesturing toward the hallway to their left. Azriel turned his head, and he gasped as he saw Lou lying there in a puddle of blood.

Even from here, Azriel could see that he was gone, that the life had left his body.

Icy rage filled Azriel, and he began to pull at the ropes again, not caring how badly they were biting into his wrists. “Who did this?” he snarled.

A low masculine chuckle filled the room, followed by lazy footsteps. “Look who’s finally awake,” the man said. But the voice was familiar to Azriel, and his vision went red with anger as he looked up at the man.

Matt stood at the doorway at the far end of the dining room. He was wearing a gray suit, and it was splattered with drops of blood. He held a silver hunting dagger in his hand, and he twirled it lazily between his fingers. “Sorry to ruin your evening, shadowsinger,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe, “but it’s just business. I’m sure you understand.”

“You,” Azriel growled, still pulling at the bindings. They weren’t budging, and a small part of him wondered who the hell had taught Matt how to tie such pristine knots. “You were at the ball. I saw you.”

“I was following you,” Matt responded with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I had planned on taking you earlier, but after what I witnessed between you and darling Y/N on the balcony…” He clicked his tongue before continuing, “I decided to wait and see what happened.”

Azriel’s body went numb as he mentioned you, and a horror he had never known filled his body at the thought of what this man could have done to you. “Where is she?” Azriel asked, afraid of the answer.

He normally wouldn’t be so straightforward. He was a spymaster, and he knew the dangers of revealing too much information. But he was desperate, and there were no other options.

Matt raised something in his hands. It was a cell phone, Az realized. “She should be here soon,” he said with a smirk. He looked over at Celeste, who was squirming uncomfortably on the floor. “The bond between a mother and daughter is truly something to admire.”

Celeste groaned. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” she said, her voice nothing but a whisper.

“What do you want, Matt?” Azriel asked. “Leave Y/N out of this. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Matt chuckled. “Well to begin, I would like you to call me by my real name, which is Mathias. But, unfortunately, Y/N is the one I came here for. And you, of course.”

“Then why did you do this to her parents?” He could have just taken Azriel and left them out of this. There was a special place in hell for Mathias, and if Azriel ever got the chance, he would make sure to be the one to send him there.

“They were just collateral. Wrong place, wrong time, as they say.”

Azriel gave up pulling at the ropes, his body filling with a heavy exhaustion. He glanced down to his pockets, and he felt a small sense of relief when he saw that his siphons were still there.

But they were still empty, and he still didn’t have his magic. He was weak. Completely useless.

“But this is all an easy fix,” Mathias continued on. “I will kill you, shadowsinger, and I will take your sweetheart with me back to Prythian.”

“Back to Prythian?” Az asked. “How do you know about Prythian?”

Mathias chuckled. “Did you really think I was human?” he asked. “Some spymaster you are if a measly glamour can fool you.”

Azriel looked at the male again, but this time, he saw a glimmer around Mathias, as if he had shielded himself with something. He looked human, but now that it had been brought to Azriel’s attention, he could sense a strange, otherworldly power radiating from Mathias. He had been fooled.

Just another failure to add to the list.

“Why are you here?” Azriel demanded, looking over his shoulder at Celeste. She was looking at him with pleading eyes, and he understood what she was asking. Keep my daughter safe.

Azriel didn’t know how he was going to keep you away from this male, but at that moment, he decided he would do anything to accomplish it.

Even if that meant giving up his own life for your safety.

He was saved from doing and saying something profoundly stupid as he heard a car pull into the driveway. He held his breath as he heard footsteps- your footsteps- running up the stairs outside. His mind went quiet entirely as the front door opened, and your sweet scent filled the room.

Azriel could do nothing but stare at you as you stalked into the dining room with eyes full of enough rage to bring down an army.

---

“What the fuck is going on?” you snarled, your voice sounding foreign to you.

The drive to your parent’s house had seemed to take forever, and you had nothing better to do but think. The more you thought about that strange text message from your mother, the more alarmed you became.

Your mother was a creature of habit, and you knew that she would never text you past 10 p.m., even if Azriel had shown up at their door. She was the type to deal with it and text you about it later in the morning.

Hell, the woman didn’t even sleep with her phone in the bedroom.

Your anxiety reached new heights as you drove up to the house. It was dark, save for a dim light in the dining room. Unease had filled your veins as you got out of your car, your legs taking on a mind of their own as they carried you up the steps and into the quiet house.

Now, you glanced around the room, your eyes stopping as you saw Azriel sitting on the floor. He was covered in blood, and his face and eyes were almost swollen shut. It was clear that he was in pain, and your nurse instincts took over as you looked at him. “Azriel,” you gasped, lurching toward him.

He shook his head, angling his body away from you. “Don’t worry about me,” he mumbled. “Go to your mother.”

Your entire world stopped as you looked behind Azriel and saw your mother lying in a pool of her own blood. Her face was pale, and her chest was shaking, as if she were struggling for each breath.

“Mama,” you cried, throwing your body over hers, not caring that her blood was soaking through your dress. You didn’t care that you called her Mama, which is something you hadn’t done since you were a child.

“My darling,” she whispered, reaching up to push your hair behind your ear. Her fingers on your cheek were cold, as if the life was already leaving her body. “Are you alright?”

You choked out a laugh as tears began to well in your eyes. “You’re bleeding on the floor, and you ask me if I’m alright?” you responded as you started to look at her wounds. You pulled her shirt down to look at her chest, and you gasped as you saw the hole there. Blood was pouring from it, so you reached down and tore off a large piece of fabric from your dress. You bundled it up in your hands and placed it on her chest, applying pressure as needed. “Where is dad?”

“He’s gone,” your mother said, her tone distant, her eyes empty.

“Gone where?” you asked as you continued to look over her body. Her leg was twisted, no doubt broken, and you quickly tried to think of all the things in this house you could use to stabilize it. There was nothing here, though, so you reached down to the pocket of your dress to grab your phone. “Damn it. I left my phone in the car. I need to get you to the hospital.”

Your mother grabbed the hand that was on her chest, her fingers digging into your wrist. “Your father is gone, Y/N. He’s dead. He died trying to fight him.”

The room around you started to spin as her words washed over you. Your father… the man who had raised you and loved you always, no matter the hell you had put him through. The man who had worked long nights and early mornings to provide for his family. The man who had taught you how to ride a bike and drive a car. Even now, you could hear his hearty laughter in your mind, and it was with a sharp pang in your chest that you realized you would never hear it again. But your mother had said he had died fighting someone.

Your body was numb, your mind silent, as you asked, “He died fighting who?”

From behind you, you heard a sinister laugh that made your entire body shiver. “The old man put up a good fight,” the voice said. It was masculine and strangely familiar. “But he was no match for me, especially when I shoved a dagger through his heart.”

Slowly, you turned your head to face the man who had killed your father. But it was no ordinary man that stood before you. It was Matt, dressed in a tailored suit. “You did this? All of this?” you asked, your voice cold. Deep in your bones, you could feel a tempest raging, like a storm on the ocean. “Why?”

Matthew laughed again, his head thrown back as if the two of you were talking about the weather. “For you, of course. I’ve already told your dear Azriel the whole of it. My name is Mathias, and I was sent here from Prythian to bring you back. I have been following the two of you all night. I was surprised to see you had left poor Azriel alone on the streets, but it gave me the perfect opportunity to lure you here, and to kill him.”

You glanced at Azriel. His head was lowered, his shoulders hunched, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on them. “I am so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I couldn’t stop him. He knocked me out, and he did all of… this before I woke up.”

All of the anger you had felt earlier dissipated in a moment. Perhaps when you were faced with life and death, things were put into a different perspective. You slid across the floor to him, grabbing him gently by the shoulder. You leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I forgive you, Azzy.”

He shuddered under your touch, his breath leaving him in a hiss. “If we survive this,” he said, turning his head to the side to look at you, “I will explain everything.”

“The two of you look so cute together,” Mathias drawled. He took a few steps toward you, and you felt Azriel tense under your hand. “Too bad your love for each other will be cut short.” He pulled a silver dagger from the inside of his jacket pocket, the blade gleaming in the light. “I’ve always wondered if the half-breed Illyrian warriors bleed red like the rest of us. I guess I’ll find out tonight."

You moved your hand down to the ropes binding Azriel’s wrists, your eyes on Mathias as he stalked toward you. “Can you fight, Azriel?” you asked as you started to undo the bindings. He was injured, but he was a warrior. An Illyrian warrior.

Whatever the hell that was.

Azriel sucked in a breath as his hands were freed, but he kept them behind his back. “Go to your mother,” he whispered, his eyes locked on Mathias. They were filled with predatory focus, a dark gleam that promised unending pain to anyone who hurt those he loved. “I will try to fight him off.”

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “I expect an explanation when all of this is over, Azzy,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond, but you didn’t miss the slight smile that he gave you. Azriel braced himself on the ground and pushed himself up, standing to his full height. Even from where you were on the floor, you could see that he was taller than Mathias, his shoulders broader, his body built to kill.

Mathias looked down at you, his eyes full of hatred. “Conniving little witch,” he snarled. He lunged at Azriel, his dagger at the ready. Azriel stepped to the side, his body moving so fast he looked like a blur. He grunted in pain as he moved, but he stayed upright.

You pushed away the thought that plagued your mind, the one that wondered where he had learned to manage pain like that.

A part of you wanted to watch the two of them fight, but you had to take care of your mother. You scrambled back to her side, placing your hand once again on her chest. Her eyes were closed, her lips blue. “Mom?” you whispered. “Please wake up. Please don’t leave me.”

Slowly, your mother opened her eyes. Her pupils were blown out, which wasn’t a good sign. “Y/N,” she gasped, “I need you to listen to me very carefully.” She coughed, and you watched in horror as blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

“Shh,” you cooed, running your hands through her blood-soaked hair. “Don’t speak. It will only tire you out.” You needed to get your phone to call for help, but you also couldn’t tear yourself away from her. A part of you knew that it was too late, and you didn’t want to leave your mother dying on the floor alone.

“Your father and I tried for a child for many years, but we were never blessed with one,” your mother whispered, her chest rattling. “We had many miscarriages before the doctors finally told us my body was not capable of carrying a child. Twenty-five years ago, we were sitting on the front porch when a woman dressed in black approached us. She handed us a child, a baby, and she told us to protect her. To keep her safe. We didn’t have to time answer any questions because she disappeared as quickly as she came… Y/N, that baby was you.”

You stared down at your mother, the room silent except for the sound of Azriel and Mathias fighting behind you. You wanted to turn around to see if Azriel was alright, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the woman on the floor in front of you.

What Mama Laveau had said was true. Your parents… weren’t your parents.

“I did not give birth to you, Y/N, but you are our daughter. You are the best thing that ever happened to us,” she said, her eyes moving to stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t have the answers to your questions, my love, and I am sorry for not telling you sooner.” She looked at you then, steel entering her voice as she said, “Stay with Azriel. He can protect you. Promise me you will stay with him.”

So many things raced through your mind. There was so much you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask. But for now, you could only say, “I promise.”

Your mother smiled, that kind smile that had eased your mind for years. She kept her eyes on you as she closed them, death finally claiming her broken body.

“Mama! No!” you screamed, but you knew it was too late. You lowered your head to her chest, sobs wracking through your body at the silence that had replaced her once-beating heart.

Azriel’s pained groan caught your attention, and you sat up, turning around the watch the scene behind you. Mathias had Azriel in a chokehold on the ground. You caught Azriel’s gaze, and his eyes were filled with pain and sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he gasped. “Please forgive me.”

You quickly moved down and pressed a kiss to your mother’s cold forehead. “I promise I will stay with him,” you whispered to her, hoping she could hear you through death’s divide. “I promise to make this right.”

You stood and turned around, squaring your shoulders against the heartbreak you felt. You didn’t know how to fight, but there had been too much death tonight. You wouldn’t stand by and let Azriel fight alone. And if he died…

Well, he wouldn’t die alone, either.

But you weren’t fast enough. You turned around just in time to watch as Mathias shoved his dagger into Azriel’s heart.

The world went quiet. You didn’t even hear Azriel’s scream of agony. You could only watch as his blood poured down his chest and splattered onto the floor. He crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap, and Mathias tipped his head back and laughed.

“It seems you do bleed red, bastard,” he mused, raising the blade to look at the blood covering it. He turned to face you, his expression nothing short of evil. “Now that we have no more distractions, my dear,” he said, pulling something that looked like glass from his pocket, “let’s go back to Prythian. The queen has requested your presence.”

Azriel raised his head just enough for you to look at him. Blood was spilling from his mouth as he tried to speak, but he was unable to form the words.

Stay with Azriel. He can protect you.

From deep within, that tempest that had been raging rolled on. Fire spread through your bones, your body, and an otherworldly anger filled your heart. Mathias had taken your father and mother, and it would be over your dead body that he took Azriel from you.

The world narrowed down to a single ember that seemed to burn within your chest. You closed your eyes and reached down deep into yourself, coaxing it to come alive. The ember turned into a living flame, so bright that it seemed to burn through your chest. You snapped your eyes open, gaze locked on Mathias. Something like fear raced across his features as he stepped back, his hand gripping the glass. You smiled at him as that fire roared through your body.

There was a voice inside of your head, old and ancient. It said, Rise up, our queen. Rise up.

You exploded.

---

Azriel was standing in a stark, barren landscape from his childhood: the unforgiving terrain of the Illyrian camps. The sky was overcast, a heavy gray that pressed down, totally suffocating the light. In the distance, a woman appeared, her face more familiar to him than his own.

His mother’s figure was shrouded in mist, her face dark and unreachable. She stood on the other side of a wide chasm that split the earth between them, her hands reaching out towards him with a desperate urgency he could feel even from afar.

Azriel ran towards her, his feet heavy, each step a struggle against the cold wind that ripped across the barren land. Her voice called out to him, carried on the wind, saying, “Azriel, my son. Do not give up. She needs you. We need her.” Her figure started to flicker, like a candle struggling against a storm, and no matter how fast he ran, the chasm remained wide and insurmountable.

He called out to her, but the wind swallowed up his words, and her image dissolved into mist. He grasped at the air as pain surged through him, not just from physical wounds but from a deep, aching sense of loss. He heard the voices and screams of all of those he had tortured and killed in his five hundred years. He heard your voice telling him how badly he had failed and hurt you.

“If this is where it ends,” he said to himself as the world started to fall away, “let it be so.”

The world shifted, the landscape crumbling away, and he was left falling, the echo of the voices growing fainter as he too dissolved into the darkness…

Azriel’s eyes snapped open, wrenching him back to the harsh light of reality. He was lying crumpled on the ground, and for a moment, he couldn’t distinguish between the dream and the waking world.

He raised his head, desperately looking around the dining room for you. He remembered seeing you hovering over your mother’s dead body. He remembered Mathias’s dagger going into his chest.

His memories were murky, but he did not recall the room being engulfed in flames. And he definitely did not remember being engulfed in flames himself.

Azriel scrambled back as bright, orange flames licked their way up his broken body. For a moment, the pain was so blinding he couldn’t even scream. He was suddenly taken back in time, back to that dark dungeon in his father’s keep. He could hear his half-brother’s laughing. He could smell the scent of his burning flesh.

But as soon as the pain started, it ebbed away. Azriel looked down at his body as the flames wrapped around him. They were no longer wild and uncontrolled. Now, they licked up his flesh in soothing waves, calming him. Healing him.

As the strange fire enveloped Azriel, the hole in his chest began to close, the flesh knitting together. The pain in his face went away, and he felt his broken nose and swollen lips and eyes heal in an instant. Deep within his pocket, the siphons suddenly sparked to life in a pulsating wave of blue light. The sudden wave of power rushing through him was strong, flooding his veins like a river breaking through a dam.

He roared in pain as his wings forcefully erupted from his back. The fabric of his jacket tore with a harsh rip as he instinctively spread them wide. The sensation was excruciating yet exhilarating as his wings found their strength again, the muscles and sinews awoken by whatever magic was coursing through him.

Simultaneously, shadows began to gather around him, their darkness mixing with the healing flames around his body. They swirled and danced in the air, caressing his newly healed skin and wings with a familiar coolness, their whispers filling his ears with the sounds of hidden secrets and silent promises.

As the pain subsided, Azriel felt more alive than he had in ages. His connection to the shadows deepened, their presence reassuring and empowering. With each beat of his heart, power pulsed stronger, fueling his senses. The raw energy was intoxicating, filling him with a potent mix of relief and invincibility.

He braced his hands against the floor, pressing down to raise himself up. The shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court stood, the flames winking out as his shadows surrounded him.

Master, master, they urged, their familiar whispers calming him enough to focus. Y/N needs you.

As Azriel spun in a circle, his wings clipped the wall, sending a spray of dust into the air. Panic surged through him as he frantically scanned the burning room for you. His mind recoiled at the thought of finding your body consumed by flames. You were human, so the fire would be merciless to you.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he caught sight of a burning figure before him. His heart thundered, pounding against his chest as he took a tentative step forward. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice raspy and strained from shouting over the roar of the flames.

Throughout his long life, Azriel had faced death and countless horrors that haunted even the bravest souls. He had stared down enemies and survived battles that would be spoken of in hushed, reverent tones for generations. But none of that, no terror he had ever known, could compare to the gut-wrenching fear clutching at him now.

Yet, as he stood there, something miraculous unfolded before his eyes. The flames that engulfed your body didn’t consume you; instead, they seemed to become a part of you, a blazing aura that radiated with intense heat and light. Your figure stood resilient, unharmed amidst the inferno, your eyes opening slowly to reveal a fierce, fiery gaze that matched the surrounding blaze. The room was illuminated brightly by the flames, revealing not a scene of destruction, but one of transformation

Your eyes were like liquid gold, flames dancing within them. That strange symbol on your chest was burning bright, like a powerful beacon. Your hair was moving in a strange wind, embers dancing around your head, almost like a crown. And at your back… you had wings. Great, mighty wings that were laced in fire.

You were truly a wildfire, powerful and untamed.

As Azriel’s eyes met yours amidst the swirling flames, a profound shift occurred deep within him. It was a startling sensation, a moment of recognition and connection that went beyond this realm, this world. The was a tightness in his chest, an ever-growing tension, like a cord waiting to snap. His heart, which had been pounding with fear, now beat with a new purpose, as if a missing piece had been locked into place.

He gasped as the cord snapped into place. You were his mate.

A sudden clarity washed over him. Every doubt and fear was swept away, replaced by a certainty that you were meant to be his, just as he was meant to be yours.

You were his mate, and you were burning, just like the world was burning. And Mathias…

Azriel searched through the flames for that traitor, that male who now posed a threat to the other half of his soul. “Mathias!” he roared, his voice dripping with venom. “Where the hell are you?”

He saw a flash of something through the flames, like glass, and he heard Mathias call out, “I’ll see you on the other side, shadowsinger.”

Azriel caught sight of Mathias for only a few seconds before he vanished into thin air, as if he had winnowed away.

“I will find you, you fucking bastard!” Azriel yelled, but Mathias was gone. Azriel’s mind was already whirling, thinking of all the ways he would torture that male when he got his hands on him.

Azriel reached out toward you, intent on grounding you from the maelstrom of power you were unleashing, but he recoiled sharply as your scream pierced the air. The sound was primal, full of raw energy, resonating with such force that the windows of the house couldn't withstand the vibration and shattered into a thousand pieces. Glass flew like crystalline rain, catching the light of the fire and twinkling in the chaos.

The room trembled, the foundations of the house groaning under the sudden, overwhelming force. A fierce wind whipped through the broken windows, howling like the spirits of the Whispering Woods themselves had been summoned into this small space. It swirled around you, the flames dancing wildly, coalescing into a vortex that centered on your figure. Azriel watched, his heart caught between awe and fear, as the air around you shimmered with the power of raw, untamed magic.

Suddenly, the space before you began to warp and twist, the air thickening as if struggling to contain the power you were channeling. A hole tore open with a sound like ripping fabric, revealing glimpses of another place—a hole like the one Azriel had fallen through a few days ago. Through the portal, he could see passing images of Prythian, his home. The energy pouring from you intensified as the portal stabilized, the edges of the tear glowing with the same fierce light that enveloped you.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the storm of magic ceased. Your body, overwhelmed by the exertion, went limp, and you collapsed. Azriel, reacting instantly despite his shock, darted forward to catch you before you hit the ground. Cradling you in his arms, he gazed down at your exhausted face. The flames had left you completely unscathed, but your entire body was covered in sweat, and your dress was handing in tatters. Your wings had disappeared, and he held your shivering, small body close to his.

“Fyrvor,” he whispered, running a finger down your cheek, “let’s go home.”

Azriel adjusted your weight in his arms, ensuring you were secure and as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. The last time he had traveled through a portal, it had been intense and blindingly painful.

Azriel cast one last glance at the burning house, his eye catching on Celeste’s body lying on the floor. The flames were reaching her now, and it would only be a matter of time before she would be engulfed entirely. “I swear on my life to protect her,” he promised the woman, hoping she could hear him beyond the veil of death. “She is mine.”

He crossed the threshold into the portal, his eyes closing as the world he had come to know fell away for a few moments.

With his mate secure in his arms, Azriel went home, back to Prythian.

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#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #dee writes #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar series #acotar fic #azriel angst #the lost queen

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youremyheaven · 5 months

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Mrigashira: Always On The Run

TW: abuse, kidnapping, r*pe, murder, stalking, violence, incest

I have been doing more research on Mrigashira simply because for the last month or so, I have been seeing more Mrigashira like incidents more and more often (synchronicity, I suppose). It's so fascinating to me how literally the themes of this nakshatra manifest in real life.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the mythology of this nakshatra, it goes like this:

Rohini was Brahma's favourite daughter. He loved her to such an extent that he tried to be sexually intimate with her. Traumatized, Rohini decided to leave heaven. She descended down to earth and took the form of a deer (a deer's head is the symbol of Mrigashira and the word "Mrigashira" literally translates to animal's head) so that she can hide away from her creepy father. Deers are animals who spend their lives in fear of danger. Every day it wakes up knowing that it will have to run for its life because its prey to many predators. There is no sense of safety.

In real life this translates to paranoia, stalking (being stalked as well as stalking others), kidnapping, being held hostage, incestual abuse, obsession, being exiled, going into hiding, being deprived of your "freedom", being gaslit/manipulated, stockholm syndrome, having a violent/unsafe home, being on the run, chasing as well as being chased etc

Lindsay Lohan, Mrigashira Rising (she is also Bharani Moon and Venusian women are highly susceptible to abuse, which I'll explore further in a separate post)

Lindsay starred in a movie called I Know Who Killed Me which revolves around a young woman who is abducted and tortured by a sadistic serial killer. After surviving the abduction, she insists that her identity is that of another woman.

I would say both the themes of being abducted and held hostage and also being very confused about your identity are linked to Mrigashira (I won't give away the twist of the movie, but you should watch it, its not as bad as some people say it is). You have to remember that in the mythology, Rohini changed form from a woman to a deer, so changing identities, being confused about who you really are and by extension being susceptible to gaslighting and manipulation and also being paranoid about the same are all Mrigashira themes.

However, its not just victims who have Mrigashira placements, unfortunately, many perpetrators have Mrig in their charts as well.

Boy George- Mrigashira Sun

In 2007, Boy George imprisoned a male escort in his house, chained him to the wall and beat him up. It was apparently a psychotic episode as George was struggling with cocaine addiction at the time. He was convicted and served a 15-month sentence.

Sia- Mrigashira Moon

Sia felt uncomfortable being in the limelight and would suffer from constant anxiety and nervous breakdowns as a result of it in the early phase of her career. So when she made a comeback, she decided to wear wigs that covered her face and basically kept her hidden from view (all of these are Mrigashira themes).

Sia's relationship and obsession with Maddie Ziegler (Saturn in Mrigashira) has been extremely inappropriate. In 2014, at the age of 11, Maddie starred in Chandelier for Sia who was 38yrs old. Sia was a huge fan of Maddie after watching her performances on Dance Moms and reached out to her to star in the video. This began a long series of collaborations and performances.

Sia kept creating projects for Maddie to be in just so that she can keep her close and in her own words "protect her". But she cast Maddie as an autistic teen in a movie called Music for which Maddie received huge backlash and is considered very insulting movie to the autistic community. Maddie didn't even want to be in it but Sia forced her.

For many years, Maddie was the ONLY person that Sia followed on IG (now she's one of the five people she follows lol). Maddie would apparently have sleepovers with Sia and they'd snuggle in bed together? 🤮🤢🤮idk why a teenager has to live and snuggle with some middle aged woman who isn't even related to her?? Sia gets away with all this bc she's a woman, if a man did all this to a teenager he'd be accused of grooming her. Sia even bought Maddie her first car and tried to adopt her?? Sia basically made Maddie codependent on her from her early teens. I hope one day all the truth comes to light because their dynamic is seriously disturbing and Maddie has yet to speak up about it.

I personally find it morbid that a woman who found fame so nerve wracking and damaging as to hide behind wigs for her entire career would put a literal child out there as the "face" of her brand and then claim that she was "protecting" her. What or who exactly is she being protected from lol? if anything she is being exploited by a creepy older woman.

Linda Hamilton, Mrigashira Moon

Linda played the iconic Sarah Connor in the Terminator who is supposed to be executed by a cyborg sent from the future. The entire movie basically features Sarah running for her life. This is a very literal manifestation of a Mrigashira trope.

Bae Doona, Mrigashira Moon

several characters that Doona has played echo Mrigashira-esque themes. In Cloud Atlas, she plays a humanoid clone who has to eat "soap" which is the food that clones eat to remain acquiescent (it takes away their ability to remember or form new thoughts that aren't programmed into them- basically a scifi dystopian version of being gaslit). She eventually breaks free and learns the "truth" about her condition (another Mrigashira theme is "learning the truth" because Rohini escaped heaven after learning the truth behind her father's love).

Ewan McGregor, Mrigashira Moon

Ewan starred in a movie called Big Fish which is about a frustrated son trying to determine the fact from fiction in his dying father's life.

Ewan plays the father in question. The son does eventually learn about the truth but blurring fact and fiction and not being able to distinguish which is which, being overly suspicious of others and their motives etc are all Mrigashira themes.

Liam Neeson, Mrigashira Sun

In The Taken movies, Liam stars as a former CIA operative who must rescue his teenage daughter and her friend who has been abducted by human traffickers for sexual slavery while on a trip to Paris.

Liam is on the run throughout the movie, except he's the one chasing them and he is on a mission to rescue his abducted daughter (extremely on brand Mrigashira trope).

Bear Grylls, Ketu in Mrigashira

speaking of running and chasing, lets talk about surviving in the wild, which also arguably correlates to Mrigashira. Bear Grylls aka the man who made a career out of teaching people how to survive in the wild has his Ketu placement here. i include Ketu placements because Ketu is how we channel our latent creative potential. it represents our imagination and creativity bc its the lowest point of our subconscious.

BTS made their debut on 12th June 2013, so they have Mrigashira Sun atmakaraka & Jupiter (Pushya Moon, Mercury in Punarvasu amatyakaraka)

I have often wondered why Armies are so uniquely obsessive and why BTS seems mutually obsessed with their armies. For the most part it is a wonderful rapport (minus the saesangs) and knowing their Mrigashira connection cements it further.

Amelia Earhart, Venus in Mrigashira atmakaraka

The Mrigashira urge to be an explorer of some kind is very interesting to me, I feel like they're always breaking into new territories and doing unprecedented things but always paying a personal price for it

Amelia was an American aviation pioneer. On July 2, 1937, Earhart disappeared over the Pacific Ocean while attempting to become the first female pilot to circumnavigate the world. To this day, no one is quite sure what happened to her.

Mrigashira nak is quite prominent in the charts of many people who have similarly gone exploring and never returned.

Michael Rockefeller, Venus AK in Mrigashira, Mars Amk in Mrigashira

In 1961, he was on an expedition (??) in present day Indonesia (then Dutch New Guinea) when the boat he was in had overturned. He was with the anthropologist Rene Wassing who was rescued the next day but Michael was never seen or heard from again despite intensive searches all over the area. He was declared legally dead in 1964. There have been speculations over the years that he may have been a victim of cannibalism (which was practiced by the local tribes).

Joshua Slocum, Ketu in Mrigashira

He was the first person to sail single-handedly around the world.

In 1909 he set sail from New England in the Spray (the name of his ship) to spend the winter in Grand Cayman and was lost at sea. He was assumed to have been the victim of a collision; he and the Spray were never found, and in 1924 he was declared legally dead.

To go exploring and never be found is tragically Mrigashiracore

Hart Crane, Ketu in Mrigashira

On April 27, 1932, Crane, in an inebriated state, jumped off or fell off the steamship USS Orizaba and into the Gulf of Mexico while the ship was en route to New York. His body was never found.

Glen Miller, Mrigashira Rising

American big band conductor, arranger, composer, trombone player, and recording artist before and during World War II, when he was an officer in the US Army Air Forces.

Miller went missing in action (MIA) on December 15, 1944, on a flight over the English Channel. In keeping with standard operating procedure for the US military services, Miller was officially declared dead a year and a day later. Nobody is sure as to what exactly happened to him and his body was never recovered.

Jodi Sue Huisentruit, Mars in Mrigashira AmK

She was an American news anchor for KIMT in Mason City, Iowa. She disappeared in the early morning hours of June 27, 1995, soon after telling a colleague that she had overslept and was running late for work. Since there were signs of a struggle outside her apartment, Huisentruit is believed to have been abducted. However, extensive investigations failed to uncover any clues to her disappearance, and Huisentruit was declared legally dead in 2001.

Victor Grayson, Mars in Mrigashira AK, Shravana Moon

He was an English socialist politician of the early 20th century.

On 28 September 1920, Grayson was out drinking with friends when he received a telephone message. He told his friends that he had to go to the Queen's Hotel in Leicester Square and would be back shortly. He did not return and no one knows what happened to him.

It has been speculated that Grayson was murdered to prevent his revealing evidence of corruption.

Salman Rushdie, Sun & Moon in Mrigashira

After his fourth novel, The Satanic Verses (1988), Rushdie became the subject of several assassination attempts and death threats, including a fatwa calling for his death issued by Ruhollah Khomeini, the supreme leader of Iran. Numerous killings and bombings have been carried out by extremists who cite the book as motivation, sparking a debate about censorship and religiously motivated violence. In 2022, a man stabbed Rushdie after rushing onto the stage where the novelist was scheduled to deliver a lecture at the Chautauqua Institution in Chautauqua, New York.

After the fatwa was issued, Rushdie took the name of Joseph Anton and lived in hiding under police protection for several years. The theme of Mrigashira running away and trying to hide manifests once again in this unfortunate example.

Vili Fualaau, Uttara Ashadha Moon, Mrigashira Stellium (Mercury, Mars & Rahu)

In the 90s Vili Fualaau's case made major headlines when Mary Kay Letourneau, his teacher was arrested for raping the 6th grader whom she had known since he was in 2nd grade. She was 34 years old and pregnant with 12 year old Vili's baby 🤢🤮🤢and claimed that she did not know that it was a crime to have sex with minors?? While awaiting sentencing, she gave birth to Fualaau's daughter.

Shortly after Letourneau had completed three months in jail, the police caught her in a car with Fualaau. A judge revoked her plea agreement and reinstated the prison sentence for the maximum allowed by law of seven and a half years. Eight months after returning to prison, she gave birth to Fualaau's second child, another daughter. She was imprisoned from 1998 to 2004. Letourneau and Fualaau were married in May 2005, and the marriage lasted 14 years until their separation in 2019. She died from cancer in 2020 and even though they were separated, Fualaau took care of her until she passed away. He publicly claimed that he never saw anything wrong in their relationship.

Obviously many victims struggle to form a coherent understanding of what happened to them. Some eroticize their experiences, others romanticize them or normalize them. Its often difficult for Mrig natives to fully comprehend or understand the insanity of the really messed up things they went through. Fualaau was groomed and raped by this woman since he was a child yet he held her in positive regard and remained married to her for nearly two decades and took care of her until she passed away?

Its similar to Brooke Shields, Mrig Moon who always spoke glowingly about the mother who made her do a full frontal nude playboy shoot as a 10yr old child??

Mrigashira being a deva gana nakshatra is quick to forgive and forget, it is also a Mridu or gentle nakshatra and often times, just how ??? sympathetic they are towards people who have abused them baffles me.

Gary DeVore- Jupiter in Mrigashira AmK, Uttaraphalguni Sun

He was a Hollywood screenwriter.

DeVore disappeared in June 1997, while driving at night from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Santa Barbara, California, prompting an extensive search and media speculation. DeVore was working in his office in Santa Fe trying to finish a script. DeVore had recently complained of writer's block, and so had decided to change his environment. When he finally finished the script, DeVore decided to drive home through the Mojave Desert. His wife Wendy was waiting for him at their beachfront house in Carpinteria, California. When she did not hear from him, she decided to call around 1 am (it was later discovered the call had not been recorded by the telephone company). He answered, but was not very specific on his location. This was the last time Wendy spoke with him.

A year later, he and his Ford Explorer were discovered submerged below a bridge over the aqueduct in Palmdale, California. After police had retrieved the vehicle from the water, it was found that his laptop containing the script (titled The Big Steal) was missing, as was his gun. DeVore's hands were missing; hand bones were found nearby but could not be conclusively identified as DeVore's. The discovery of DeVore's vehicle was considered suspicious, as the aqueduct was searched shortly after his disappearance was reported and nothing unusual was discovered. Police concluded that for DeVore to crash his vehicle in this location meant that he would have had to have driven 3 mi (4.8 km) against traffic without being seen. This would have been doubly difficult because the vehicle's lights were not switched on. DeVore's death has not been solved to date.

Patty Hearst, Jupiter in Mrigashira AK, Sun & Venus in Shatabhisha (I had previously explored how Shatabhisha natives often endure abuse)

She first became known for the events following her 1974 kidnapping by the Symbionese Liberation Army. She was found and arrested 19 months after being abducted, by which time she was a fugitive wanted for serious crimes committed with members of the group. She was held in custody, and there was speculation before trial that her family's resources would enable her to avoid time in prison.

At her trial, the prosecution suggested that Hearst had joined the Symbionese Liberation Army of her own volition. However, she testified that she had been raped and threatened with death while held captive. At the time of her arrest, Hearst's weight had dropped to 87 pounds (40 kg), and she was described by psychologist Margaret Singer in October 1975 as "a low-IQ, low-affect zombie". Shortly after her arrest, doctors recorded signs of trauma: her IQ was measured as 112, whereas it had previously been 130; there were huge gaps in her memory regarding her pre-SLA life; she was smoking heavily and had nightmares. She is said to have been brainwashed into committing crimes for the SLA

There is a really unfortunate pattern of Mrig natives being brainwashed by others, living in hiding, being on the run and generally feeling unsafe. These are some extreme manifestations of the themes of this nakshatra.

#mars #mrigashira #astrology notes #sidereal astrology #vedic astro notes #astrology observations #astro notes #nakshatras #astrology #astro observations #astroblr #vedic astrology

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fabulouslyflamboyant5 · 5 months

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The Unrighteous Knight Part 4

pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader

summary: when your past makes its way to your present, you have no choice but to face what you desperately tried to bury.

warning: canon typical violence, mentions of s*xual as*ult, themes of depression and su*cidal thought

word count: 1.5k

a/n: if you couldn't already tell, life hasn't been the greatest lately. writing has always been therapeutic, a comfort of sorts. so this fic has unintentionally progressed into something much darker than I intended for it to.

part one part two part three part four part five

The task of understanding oneself is easier said than done.

It is, in theory, a time for serendipity and unwavering resolve. Questioning is encouraged for it is sure to call forth inner peace.

In practice, you have experienced only chaos. Self-destruction of the highest level; the complete and utter repentance of self-fulfillment and appreciation.

You are destined to be happy, in the same ways your sisters were destined to be great.

And yet, you are the epitome of misery, lacking in accomplishments and cauldron blessed feats.

Rejecting opportunities is something favored by the weak, so you aren't quite sure why you seem to be doing just that.

Standing in front of the marble lined mirror, its obsidian edges sharp and artisan crafted, you cannot help but resent everything bestowed upon you.

Immortality, oftentimes revered by mortals, is no more than monotony dragged out over eternity.

Why is it you fight, would it be so difficult to give up?

Perhaps Azriel was only acting on your own subconscious ambitions that fateful night. Had he struck the littlest bit closer, just enough to pierce the fragility of your lungs, you could be resting contently in whatever fire ridden land you are destined for.

You mistake your tears for rain, not realizing the moisture cascading down your face is a product of yourself until you focus in on the image presented within the mirror. Occurrences such as these are rare. You devour sorrow with ease, but the physical act of crying is a poison you are yet to find an antidote for.

It's unfamiliar.

Almost as much as the thought, or impending reality, of being face to face with Azriel.

For the first time since the incident, you will be training with him again. Though Nesta did not outright mention he would be present, it would be foolish to assume her failed ministrations were not a warning.

So now, as you stand before your own reflection, crying, and cursing the universe for your creation, you wonder.

What could I be, if I were to leave this all behind?

Who may I have become, had I never been corrupted?

You imagine, for the first time in years, a better future for yourself.

And god damn, if it isn't a wonderous thing.

You lower your hands, resting them on your womb, and let your mind go places it had nearly forgotten. The montage is blurry, like a notebook immersed in history. But it is still there.

You’re still there.

Visions of clandestine ballrooms, all too tall bed chambers, and joyous smiles haunt your mind.

It’s supposed to be beautiful, it was beautiful.

But you know what comes next.

Chandeliers fall and their crystals scatter, a shack is built and the desperation for money has your body ravaged.

You clutch your stomach, never as flat as your sister’s, and let your body give into the tragedy you are reliving.

The sound that you release is not one you are familiar with.

It's primitive, wretched, horridly grievous.

Richoteing off of your bedroom walls, you claw at the pristine floor until your fingers are stained red, maimed into something else entirely.

As your voice rises in octaves, the crystals within your room begin to tremble. You sense their clattering, feel the vibrations of their destruction as they crack into pieces too small to be made anew.

You pay no mind to any of it. Not even when the grandiose chandelier bursts, leaving behind only linings of darkened copper.

You raise your head so it is no longer touching the floor and admire the destruction you have caused. Crystal fragments fall and swirl across the room. Their edges, sharp and jagged, wedge themselves into your exposed skin all while your back is reserved for the larger pieces of the bunch, supplied by none other than the chandelier that once hung proudly.

You think you may be bleeding, if the crimson droplets trickling across your body mean anything, that is. And yet, you fail to register the pain of your flesh being split apart.

A disease of the mind is what truly plagues you. Haunting you, playing out within your heart as if its curtains never even closed. And it’s ironic, because you lived it. Witnessed its rise and fall. Bathed yourself in its glory and scrubbed yourself of its grime. The curtains did close, for you were the one pulling them shut: The sole actress in the tragedy that became your life, remembered by no one, and loved by only the forgotten.

Trembling, you reach for your lower abdomen and caress it with your hands, tracing the scarred edges of the brand burnt into you. Moving up, down, and all across, your fingers, even through leather garments, are still able to make out the shape of the word lining your lower stomach.

R…U...I…N…E…D

You were barely an adult when the hot iron made contact with your malnourished flesh. All you remember is the searing pain and sound of coins being retrieved. Your “innocence”, as the leader liked to call it, had been sold not even an hour before you received the label. Double, perhaps triple your age, the man who placed the highest bid on you is the one you wish the most misery.

Had it not been for your own desperation, then perhaps you would still be intact. But you were impoverished, and your sisters grew desperate. No one, you are certain, knows the lengths you went to in order to bring home a salary. Even if it was only a portion of the bid, it was enough for a week’s worth of food, a testament to the nothingness you are valued at.

You have loved and you have lost, yet you have never truly grieved. How could you? A brothel is no place to rejoice, 18 is not old enough to process the crime you fell victim to.

Practically a child when you were sold off, a situation as disastrous as the one you lived though was not something you were capable of recognizing. Had you done so, you’d have crumbled. So you didn’t think of it, you buried it deep within the soil, under an oak sapling and left behind what could have been. In many ways, it did kill you. But you never quite broke. Fractured, perhaps, but you were still whole. Your edges were jagged and all light had gone out, but you still went on.

Life, whether you wanted it to or not, still went on.

You're sisters had one another, and you had pieces of yourself. How could you have revealed such a thing to them? Life was surely difficult enough.

You’d been raised to keep your struggles a secret, your mother conditioned it. To open up, to share such a tragedy with anyone, would be a betrayal to the one you’d been born loving, even if that feeling was never quite reciprocated.

~~~

For hours, you lay on the hard floor. Visions of wealth, poverty, and stolen mortality possess your mind.

Your tears have been never ending and your sobs have transformed into husky whispers of shame.

All’s cruel in love and grief, for the past will always bleed into the present. Devastation wraps her hands around your neck and you urge her to press harder, steal your breath and life with it.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is worth what you’ve endured.

It’s quiet, you're shaky breathing being the only sound within the room.

You hear the footsteps approaching and the door handle rattling, but pay no mind to it.

The fading sunlight from up above bleeds through the thin curtain, panting the man within the doorframe an angelic shade of gold.

He looks like he could be your savior. Had he put his knife through your lungs, then perhaps he would have been.

But alas, shadows dash forward and amber eyes assess the shattered crystals spread across the floor.

You see his mouth moving, hear the syllables he is spewing, but fail to interpret any of it.

His steps grow closer and panic overtakes you.

He wouldn’t. Surely, he wouldn't…

Scarred hands meet your shoulder and a scream tears through your already worn out throat. You are saying things, yelling things, but you don’t know what exactly.

You claw at his arms, praying they remove themselves from your entity.

Slowly and unprecedented, he lets his hands fall to his kneeled form. In nothing louder than whispers, he calls to you. To send you further, or bring you back, you don’t quite know.

But his eyes, those damn eyes. The same ones you’d never quite been able to walk away from, have you running right back.

taglist: @tele86 @aetherl0l @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl

#angst #acotar #azriel x reader #fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #feyre #nesta #elain #cassian #feyre archeron #fluff #fanfiction #books #acotar x reader #azriel angst #sad

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deluloo · 1 month

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Just Relax and Dance

✧ Wouldn't a dance with him at the ball make the evening even more fun?

Amid the swirl of music and laughter in the grand hall, you found yourself quietly standing by the buffet table. You swirled the grape juice in your glass absentmindedly, watching students glide across the dance floor.

“You’re not going to dance?” A familiar voice cut through your thoughts. You turned to find Deuce standing beside you.

Shaking your head, you placed your glass on the table. “What about you?” you asked, picking up a macaron and taking a bite.

"I, uh…” Deuce trailed off, glancing at the dancing crowd, then back at you. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

A teasing smirk tugged at your lips. “Can’t dance?”

“Wha—! Of course, I can!” Deuce straightened up quickly, his voice rising a bit too defensively. “Our housewarden taught me how to waltz before!” he added, though his eyes seemed to avoid yours. “I just… don’t feel like dancing right now.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “So, it’s not that you’re shy or anything?”

“N-No! Not at all!” Deuce denied it again, but the pink color on his cheek betrayed him.

“Right, right,. If you say so.” You chuckled, taking another bite of your macaron as your eyes wandered back to the dance floor, watching as couples spun around in elegant masks and outfits. "This has been a fun trip," you said, recalling the earlier events. “Well, minus the whole Rollo Flamme incident.” You chuckled when you caught sight of Rollo and Malleus dancing together across the room.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I thought you said you weren’t in the mood to dance?”

Deuce hummed in agreement, but his attention seemed elsewhere. His hand twitched at his side, and after a moment, he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“Hey, uh…” He hesitated for a moment, before taking a deep breath and turning toward you again. You blinked, catching his nervous tone as he extended a hand toward you, the faint blush on his cheeks deepening. “Would you… like to dance with me?”

Deuce fumbled for words, his hand still outstretched. “I—well, this is a special night, right? It’s not every day we get to attend a ball like this. Shouldn’t we make the most of it before we head back to school tomorrow?”

His earnestness was impossible to ignore, especially with that blush dusting his face. You couldn't help but smile at his awkward yet sweet gesture. "Alright.” You gently placed your hand in his. The way his eyes lit up almost made you laugh, and with a slightly shaky grip, he led you toward the dance floor.

Facing each other, Deuce raised your joined hands while his other hand cautiously slid to your waist. You could feel the slight tremble in his fingers, his red face illuminated by the soft glow of the chandelier.

“You don’t have to be so tense,” you teased, your voice light. “I can lead if you’re too nervous.”

“N-No, I’ve got this!” he insisted, though his voice wavered. “I’m the guy here—I should be the one leading the dance.”

You chuckled but didn’t press the issue. His movements were awkward at first, stiff and careful, as if afraid of accidentally stepping on your toes. His gaze kept darting between your feet and your face, making you stifle a laugh.

“Relax, Deuce,” you urged gently. “It’s just a dance. We’re here to have fun, remember?”

“Right… fun,” Deuce repeated under his breath, glancing up at you. For a brief moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. “Yeah… I can do fun.”

Slowly but surely, his grip on your waist loosened, and his steps became smoother. Soon he was guiding you more naturally across the floor, and as the music picked up, he even managed a clumsy little spin, which caught you off guard and made you laugh.

When the music finally slowed to a stop, Deuce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “That was… actually really fun,” he admitted, scratching his neck.

“See? Told you it wasn’t so bad,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

The next song began to play, and students flooded the dance floor once more. Deuce didn't move from his spot, his hand still loosely holding yours. “Do you, uh… wanna go for one more?” His voice was soft, the blush on his cheeks returning as his hopeful gaze met yours.

You smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’d love to.”

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst x you #deuce spade #twst deuce #deuce spade x reader #twst deuce x reader #twst glorious masquerade #glorious masquerade

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britishchick09 · 8 months

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this is the center dome of palais garnier. today it's used as a rehearsal room, but in the rewrite's time...

it was a chandelier space! it used to be raised up there for cleaning

until the infamous incident that is! ;)

the space is now used for rehearsals and the chandelier has been lowered ever since!

#a little palais garnier history!#and a resource for the big scene i'm writing! ;)#i can't find a high quality pic of the old dome which isn't great for causing chaos #but at least i have an ok idea!#it looks like it might be a cherik situation... ;)

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weskie · 18 days

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Lover, Leader, Liar [Savior, Sinner] - (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

2.4k words | pining, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, the arklay incident, flashbacks, s.t.a.r.s era | Fic Directory

when wesker makes a promise, he keeps it. even if it hurts.

The clock was quite literally ticking. Every second wasted was a second closer to the inevitable blast. But there was a… variable that he hadn’t considered. A scream, a stumble in the room above just barely loud enough to hear over the sharp bang of each discharged round. If it were anyone else…

But it isn’t, so he bolts. Shoves through body after body, practically leaping halfway up the stairs. His boots fall quick and heavy and the door separating him from you is no match. He rams into it and breaks it clean off the hinges, and there he finds a sickening scene.

That lumbering beast is upon you, trapping you in the corner of the room while you tremble and shake, clambering back until you’ve nowhere else to go. The slide of your gun is locked open. You’d spent your entire magazine on her, surely. Poor thing. Of course you wouldn’t know.

Your eyes flicker to him, blown wide with raw terror. You’d been afraid since the moment Alpha Team touched down in the woods, though you'd tried your best to hide it. The last time he saw you, Wesker had to rest a hand on your shoulder and reassure you that everything would be okay. No one else would die. You wouldn’t die. Not under his command. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Such is the promise he’s chosen to keep.

He draws his gun at lightning speed and unloads three rounds into Lisa Trevor’s back. She stumbles toward you but whirls around to face her assailant. Damn thing had been stalking him since he rose from the dead, so what was a little more time to tango? Lisa wails at him, lumbering forward, which gives you enough time to crawl under a desk and run to him. He’s almost resentful that you can’t quite match the pace of his sprint, but, so long as your hand is in his, you will not perish to that creature.

Your frantic breaths and the warmth of your touch are his purpose as he mows down beast after beast. Hunters, dogs, zombies… it makes no difference. The two of you must be out of here before time runs out. There’s no time for your blubbering about the blood splattered all over his body from the wound that no longer exists. There’s no time for your sputtering when he shoves another gun in your hands, nor any for your hesitation when Lisa reappears and blocks your exit.

He fights tooth and nail. When that chandelier comes down, impaling and trapping her, Wesker hoists you onto his back and takes off as fast as he can. It would not do to have you running after him. Even hand in hand, you wouldn’t be able to make it far enough with what little time remains. But now, with his new abilities, you’re no more than a mere feather. Not even the death grip you hold around his shoulders phases him.

You whimper at the deafening boom. He lowers you behind a thick tree and huddles close, pressing you against the trunk, taking cover against the shockwave that pulses through the forest.

“C-Captain…”

He finds you staring, tears rimming your eyes. Could be any number of reasons you were on the brink of crying. He’d wager it was, well… everything. From finding Bravo Team’s bodies to your first encounter with the living dead, to nearly having your skull shattered by Lisa’s devastating strength, all the way to outrunning enough explosives to leave a crater in place of the mansion. Your lower lip trembles.

The sight of you calls him back to the night before this whole debacle began. You’d brought him coffee and dinner from the beat up diner down the road. You mentioned how nervous you were to find out who the perpetrators were of the string of murders plaguing the area. It wasn’t uncommon for you to visit his office. In fact, your relationship had been inching further and further away from purely professional and more toward… well, whatever it was going to be. Part of him always wanted to cave to those feelings brewing in his chest, but he knew better. Or, at least, he thought he did. Truth be told, your odds of surviving the manor had been slim to none and he was going into the situation nearly certain no one would make it out. He’d been incredibly tempted to fire you just to keep you alive… Words could never describe the regret he felt when the day came that it was too late.

But, then again, you could be like this because you knew that he was in on it.

Cold, shaking hands land on his forearms. “Captain… your eyes…” You whisper shakily. Not what he was expecting. A nice right hook would’ve made more sense than the way you pat him down, searching for injuries. He all but fully flinches when your fingertips graze his exposed abdomen.

“That’s not necessary,” Wesker says, pushing your hands away.

He grazes your fingers with his. A big stack of paperwork filled out perfectly, just the way he’d asked. “Thank you,” he hums. Pink tinges your cheeks and a smile settles right in. You feel it too, then?

“W-Were you hurt?”

Softness drapes over his shoulders. He’s barely conscious, far too exhausted from his two-day stint without sleep to open his eyes. There’s a soft clicking noise and the high pitched, barely-there buzz of the computer monitor ceases. He knows it’s you. Only you would do this. Only you would take care of him this way…

“I was.” He says, turning, still hand in hand with you, to walk away. “Best not to waste any more time.” Every three-letter agency in the world would be finding its way to the scene in no time. Moreover, with the rest of Alpha-Team knowing of his involvement, said agencies would be beating down the door to his home within the day. There was little to gather, but he certainly needed to stop there before disappearing. “Come.”

It took many miles on foot before stumbling upon a residence with a perfectly procurable vehicle, and the drive back to Raccoon City had been tense. You were still on edge, obviously. It’s when he leads you to sit on the edge of his bed– he can’t let you out of his sight– as he gathers documents and necessities that you finally lean forward, hand over your eyes, and bite back your weak cries.

“D-Did you really… You knew?” You sputter. “You knew, and you just let us walk in there?”

Wesker holds your gaze as he strips his ruined vest, uniform button-up, and undershirt away. Can’t sport the S.T.A.R.S logo anymore. Not that he even wanted to. “Yes.” He says, tugging a black sweater over his head. He expected you to run. He’s unsure why you haven’t tried. At first he thought it was shock. Perhaps you had been too shaken to consider it an option, but you’d calmed significantly during the drive and now…?

“You don’t have to stay late.” He tells you, standing halfway in the doorway to his office. Everyone else went home hours ago.

“I know,” you say, looking up at him from your screen. “I want to.”

He catches sight of his eyes in the mirror mounted beside his closet door. Ocular mutations weren’t uncommon, but it would be one that he must hide from time to time. Suppose, though, that it was simply solved with a new pair of sunglasses.

Wesker snags the duffel bag he’d prepared before the mission.

“– why did you save me?” He’d been tuning out your sorrowful rantings, but there could be no ignoring the weak sob that preceded such a difficult question. Why indeed…

His doorbell rings, jarring him from his focused writings. He opens it to find you, tupperware container in hand, with your eyes practically sparkling.

“Hi– sorry! I was just coming back from the little birthday lunch we did for Jill and I–” You hold the container out for him. “I dunno, I just thought you’d maybe like some cake?”

He regards you with amusement for a moment. He’s only seen you in normal clothes a handful of times, usually if you were stopping into the precinct on your day off, but it never failed to tickle some small, cold part of his heart. In turn, he knows this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform. He’s dressed down, sporting a sweater and jeans, signature glasses left elsewhere. He quite likes the way you try to hide your wandering eyes.

Wesker takes the container and gives you a soft, grateful smile. Part of him feels that he should invite you in and offer you something– coffee, perhaps. Engage in the rules of reciprocity drilled into his head with every etiquette class required in his schooling years.

“Would you like to come in?” The smile on your face is all he needs. “You’ve brought quite a large piece. I might need some help with it.”

“You could’ve left me there!” You’ve got him by the shirt now, wet eyes boring into his. “You brought us there to die, so why didn’t you leave me!?”

He clamps a palm over your mouth, spins, and presses you to the wall.

The chime to the flower shop signals his arrival. He towers over the old woman tending the plants as he explains to her his need.

“The most elaborate bouquet you can make for a grief-stricken recipient,” he says. “Price is no object.”

The moment he picked up that phone and you explained your need for time off through poorly suppressed sobs, he was already sure of where he’d be headed on his lunch break. Your parents, you’d said. A head on collision with a drunk driver. It was believed they died on impact, but such a mercy didn’t quell your sobs. Frankly, nothing could except for time’s power to numb the pain.

Wesker has no family to mourn. No parents, no siblings. As an orphaned boy in boarding school, he’d done his crying when the others would leave to spend the holidays with their family. He can’t quite fathom the grief you feel at losing your only family, but this? He can do this.

“What would you like the card signature to say?” Asks the old woman as she scribbles her notes.

He contemplates for a moment, weighing his options. But he knows, deep down, the best and worst possible options are one and the same.

“With love,” he recites. “Albert Wesker.”

“You have two choices,” he tells you. Wesker shows extra care to ensure the hand covering your mouth does nothing more than silence you. You need not suffer any more pain. “The first: I leave you behind. You answer questions for every agency under the sun and hole up in your apartment while you wake, alone and afraid, every night when your dreams bring you back there. Just to spend every day adrift in a city that, I assure you, is doomed for worse than the mansion.”

Your eyes widen at his prophecy, but it’s the truth. Birkin would be continuing operations in the area and, frankly, bad things come in threes. Between the manor and the train, more was bound to happen. You could choose to stay, or…

“Or you can come with me, where you need not be alone.”

You hugged him as if your life depended on it when he showed up at your door. The flowers had arrived earlier, delivered by the seller as instructed. The crickets sing their song as he holds you, right hand rubbing between your shoulders while you hide your face against his chest.

“Thank you, Captain.” You murmur into his shirt. You look destroyed. His heart lurches for you, practically desperate to burst from his chest and engulf you in whatever crevice within it craves you so badly.

“Albert is fine. We’re not at work.”

You invited him in. Showed him where you put the extravagant floral arrangement he’d sent. Eventually, minutes of conversation turned to hours, and hours turned to the sun tickling at his eyelids, rousing him from the upright position he’d slumbered in upon your couch. Your head rests on his blanket covered lap while you get your much needed sleep. All because you asked that he stay. You didn’t want to be alone.

“After everything we’ve been through, I won’t simply leave you alone.” Fresh tears brim in your eyes and he removes his palm, letting it trail down and rest against the side of your neck. “Come with me.” Wesker urges. “Let me keep you safe. Don’t go down with the others…”

The conflict in your eyes coupled with your lack of response devastates him more than you’d ever know. He turns, grabs his bag, and makes his way through the humid nighttime air to the car. He grips the wheel tight enough to crush indentations into it. He waits.

And waits.

He should’ve known it was only a pipe dream. After what he’s done, there would be no going back to the old ways. No more cake and coffee in his kitchen, no more sheepish smiles as you hand in your work, no more… no more you.

“You’re afraid?” He asks, doing all he can to keep the remorse from seeping into his voice. He should’ve cut you loose last week like he planned. Now you’ll be walking into hell itself for the sake of data collection and it’s all his fault.

“I just…” You try, pursing your lips as you think of the words. “Bravo Team went missing out there. That’s not– S.T.A.R.S members just up and vanishing? I’m scared something really bad happened up there.”

He reaches across his desk, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No matter what happens, you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He made his choice.

You made yours.

Wesker turns the key in the ignition and the engine sputters to life. He fiddles with the seat once more to make it less uncomfortable than it had been on the ride back from the mountains. In the rearview mirror, he can see the way his eyes glow. Cat-like pupils stare back and accuse him of failure. The tyrant, the restricted data, and–

The passenger door opens slowly. His breath catches in his throat. It’s like the whole world is moving in slow motion while you climb in and he can hardly believe his eyes. In fact, he rubs them just to make sure.

“If we’re doing this,” you say warily, “I need to pick up a few things from home…”

Wesker can’t control the smile that spreads across his face. Though he supposes now there’s no need. Not anymore.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil #dbd #dead by daylight #re wesker

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lieslab · 4 months

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Devil's advocate

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: After being ripped from your picture perfect life of modeling, you're thrown into an unexpected world where you can't help, but feel sympathy for the devil.

Genre: Mafia AU

Word Count: 5.7K

Trigger warning: Implied stockholm syndrome, violence, sedation, murder, and mentions of alcohol.

_ _ _

You didn’t belong here and you certainly didn’t belong with this crowd. You didn’t fit in with the worst of the worst. Men who pulled the trigger without a second thought. Women who seduced men with kisses one moment and slit their throats the next.

Mingling with serpents in the garden of Eden wasn’t your ideal pastime. Then again, it’s not like you had much of a choice anyway. Glued to Felix’s side with your hand clenched tightly in his, once again, not by your choice.

Your vocal chords were practically shredded from all the screaming you did. From Lee Felix’s private doctor, you were on vocal rest for vocal recovery. To Lee Felix, this was a glorious change of plans on his end.

As he tugged you through the swarm of bodies, he introduced you with his usual cold demeanor. Your name and then, to your horror, the announcement that the two of you were married.

Amusement sat on the faces of some and curious eyes swept along you for others. You were a shiny new pearl for them and it didn’t help that the color scheme was black. The color scheme was pitch black; the color of the dead of night, the color of the rotten souls in the room, and yet Felix had dressed you in light pink.

It was soft and lively, he had explained to you before the two of you showed up. You held your breath as he fixed the collar of your outfit. The color of soft pedals, the rosy cheeks of babies, and a color that he could easily find you in. Even if you tried to escape, there was nowhere for you to go due to sticking out like a peacock.

You hated the gala and you hated him. You hated the pristineness and shine of everything. From the decorative and nearly overflowing punch pool to the crystal tear-drop chandeliers hanging above your head.

You had been kidnapped and thrown into a world you didn’t belong in. You used to enjoy being a well-known model. The camera was your best friend. Everything had been perfect in your world until you woke up to the cold eyes of a stranger.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt for long.”

You’d never forget the chill creeping along your spine. That brief moment of silence where your fate hung in the balance. You were sure you were dreaming until your breath was cut off. You shrieked, you screamed, you kicked, and you fought hard, but the sedative was stronger than your sleep-laced muscles.

When you woke up, the nightmare truly began. The announcement that you were going to be married to a powerful mafia leader and there was nothing you could do about it. You fought like hell, but the indomitable human spirit couldn’t last forever.

It was all a blur. The sedation. The talks from people reassuring you that this would be a good thing. People would praise you and you’d be protected. You’d live a good life full of luxury and happiness.

Felix watched every incident you had with that idiotic cold gaze. You refused to believe it. You screamed, you wept, you begged. You went on and on about how much of a terrible person you were. The lies you told, the horrors you committed, but your sins were merely papercuts. Minor, small, and forgettable.

Your white lies weren’t comparable to murder. Your beauty was something you couldn’t escape. Everything you practically broke your back to achieve was now biting you in the ass; the life that you once adored had betrayed you.

Every photoshoot, every image, every interview had ended up in the wrong hands. Passed from person to person until it reached Felix himself. Once he knew about you, his mind was set. You would be his and no amount of begging on your knees would change his mind. Whatever he said went and he wanted you.

So here the two of you were at some gala event or maybe it was a banquet. You couldn’t be too bothered to pay attention to everything. You were upset and your throat hurt. Hindered vocal chords hurt like hell when they were in the slow process of healing. All you had once had was your voice and even now, it was basically gone too.

You had always hated networking events. Sure, they were incredibly important and could help your career, but you loathed them. Nothing had changed at this event.

Felix’s cold expression didn’t falter. He kept tugging you around in different directions. Eyes looked you up and down and you hated it. You hated the way everyone oogled at you like you were a new toy to be played with.

Your own face sat blank as you met different eyes. You were a goldfish in a bowl. People circled and they assumed things. You hated it, all of it. The looks, the whispers, the glares, you just wanted to go back home and wake up from this nightmare.

Felix was absolutely no help as he tugged you through the crowds. How many people were here? A couple hundred or over a thousand? They all started looking the same at some point. The same black dresses and the same black suits. Like walking shadows, it never seemed to end.

At some point, away from people, you gently tugged on Felix’s hand. He glanced over at you, looking almost bored. Your eyes met his and you attempted to speak. Hoarse whispers were the best attempt you could give. “Bathroom.”

“You have to go to the bathroom?” His thick accent responded. His eyes narrowed at you as you nodded. “Are you serious?” After another nod, he sighed, and pulled you through the crowd.

You weren’t sure about Felix or his gang, but you knew people respected him. As the two of you walked, everyone parted like the red sea. People were hesitant about you, but when it came to Felix, it was like everyone tried to purposefully keep their distance. Maybe it was fear?

The heels of your shoes clicked along the floor as you tried to match his pace. Over and over again, you continued to keep your steps even with him. When he finally led you to a handicapped bathroom. He pushed you inside and kicked up the latch at the bottom of the door.

You felt yourself getting annoyed at his careless actions. There was a restroom right across the way that you could have used instead of taking this one. You didn’t need his help and you didn’t like taking this bathroom when it was, specifically, created for people who needed the extra space.

The door slipped shut behind you and you turned to glare at him. Your arms slipped across your chest and your lips pushed together in an angry pout. For the first time this evening, a smirk grew across his face at the observation of your furrowed eyebrows.

“Are you angry at me, doll? You shouldn’t be so angry, it doesn’t look good on you.” His hand reached up and gently ran across your furrowed brow. Your body jerked in response. “Why do you flinch whenever I touch you?”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest and your face fell. You hated how weak he made you feel. Butterflies nose-dived into the barrel of your stomach over and over again. No matter how much you hated him, you couldn’t lie, he was attractive.

Maybe it was the constellation of freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. Maybe it was the deep voice or the sun-kissed golden skin of his. Perhaps, it was the darkened hair that framed his features. You loathed him and something in you also seemed to love him.

“I’m not used to it,” you weakly got out.

His fingers slipped down the side of your face and goosebumps crept along your arms. His hand cupped your cheek and his fingers ran across your cheek.

“Sweetheart, you can be mad at me for the rest of your life, but it doesn’t change that you’re mine. You can weep from dusk to dawn, but you're in my world now. Whether you like it or not, this is my game and these are my rules. You should get used to my touch.”

The warmth of his cinnamon breath crept into your nostrils. He had been sucking on a cinnamon disk for most of the night. The overpowering and burning scent made you want to cry, but it also made your head feel dizzy.

You needed to get a hold of yourself. You couldn’t fall in love with this man. He was a monster and you couldn’t let him win. You needed to stick to what you knew best. This wasn’t someone to fall in love with.

How many people had taken their last breath at his feet? How many children grew up parentless because of him? How much fear had he instilled in one city? In two? In a handful? If he could reach you through your security team and security systems, just how powerful was he?

A chuckle fell from his lips. The warm fingertip brushed against your cheek again. You couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to them. Your embarrassment was humiliating.

“Would you look at that?” He teased. “What a lovely color on you. Maybe I should do things like this more often. The more you shy away from my touch, the more it makes me crave it. You instill a hunger in me that I can’t explain.”

His hand shifted again until his thumb ran directly onto your bottom lip. With wide eyes, you met his own glimmering with a hint of mischief. “Look at you, just like a little mouse.”

“So scared, so timid, so afraid, and yet so submissive. A strange mix of temptation and submission that drives me insane.” His finger lingered on your lip and gently started to trace it.

When you didn’t react, he took it as a challenge. His thumb began to push down and your lips parted slightly. He began to press his thumb further into your mouth and then-

You jerked away, startled by what was happening. The blush on your cheeks darkened to the color of stained wine. Felix’s smirk only grew at your response. “Took you long enough.”

Amusement danced in his eyes as he dropped his hand back to his side. “Your mouth is a temptation that I find hard to resist. I can see that you have some fighting left in you, but I can’t tell if it’s aggravating or more cute.”

When your cheeks continued to darken, he cocked his head to the side. “There it is again, that captivating color, it looks good on you. Is it embarrassment or fear that makes your cheeks darken, hmm?”

His head tipped closer to yours. Almost a little too eager, his breath brushed against your neck. “Perhaps, it’s something else entirely.”

You gulped and that stupid smirk appeared again. “Spoken in a color that only I understand, I’ll unearth your every secret written in that pretty shade of pink.”

Your heart had turned into a wild animal. It beat widely against the enclosed cage of your ribs. Your eyes met his and his hand reached back to your cheek. “Cat got your tongue?”

Snapping back into it, you finally jerked away and he snickered. “Can you leave?” Your whisper came out harsh, but you couldn’t help it. You were annoyed that you were feeling such things for someone so cold and heartless.

“And to think we were finally getting somewhere. You want me to leave after I’ve been so generous with my touch? The fun was just getting started, sweetheart.”

Your hand ripped back and gestured towards the porcelain toilet behind you. A soft sigh escaped Felix’s nose and his shoulders dropped. “I suppose I shall give you some privacy. Just remember to behave yourself and don’t try anything foolish. Remember what can happen to mice.” With that, he spun around and left you alone in the empty room.

With your heartbeat filling your ears and the blood rushing to your head, you swallowed and blinked his actions away. The coolness of the bathroom air hit you. With a quick step, you locked the heavy door in one go.

Outside, Felix leaned against the wall while he waited for you. Guests lingered and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He only came here as a reminder of who he was. It wasn’t often that he left the safety of his shadows, but when he did, he was talk of the city for weeks.

A haunting and startling reminder that the devil had a handsome face. He was strong and stark. With a quick snap of Felix’s fingers, you could be at the end of a barrel of a gun. No amount of pathetic pleading would get you anywhere. Besides, the scene of crimes could be wiped and made anew.

Blood washed and bleach dissolved traces. All he had to do was say the words and his cleaning crew would be in and out in a jiffy. Toying with Lee Felix was like playing with the grim reaper. Once you summoned him, he wouldn’t stop until you were dead.

After finishing in the bathroom, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Nothing was out of place. Felix had hired the best of the best to make you look perfect. The added hues of soft pink along your eyes made your eye color pop. The shiny gloss to your lips made them look hydrated.

The deep purple bags were gone. The light had been snatched from your eyes days ago. You had been dropped into a pit of inky darkness and had yet to resurface and find yourself. All you knew was that this wasn’t what you were meant to be. You were meant for being far more than just the devil’s lover.

Felix glanced up when the bathroom door opened. His eyes lingered over your silhouette before he reached out his hand towards you. “I see that my little firecracker has returned. Did everything go smoothly or did you start to cry because there wasn’t a window you could escape through?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you held your tongue. Getting into an argument with him would only add to his amusement and you didn’t want that. You kept your face blank and nodded.

“You’re choosing to stay quiet? That’s a new one for you.” Maybe you’ve finally begun to understand your place or-” He cocked his head, “maybe you’re just waiting to pull your next act of rebellion? I’d heed with caution if I were you. You never know who or what is waiting for you.”

Defiance flickered in your eyes. As the anger began to rush through your veins, you pulled your eyes away and tightened your lips. Felix caught your movement and another smirk came across his face.

“Every time you try to resist me, it only fuels my desire to test your limits. You really are a little firecracker, aren’t you? You’re quite tougher than you appear to be.”

He stepped closer, his figure slightly towering over you. He soaked in your scent with an inhale. His hand went towards your forehead, but you didn’t flinch this time. Your eyes bore into his as he slowly adjusted a piece of your bangs.

“Do you have any idea what kind of fire you’re playing with? Your defiance does something to me, my love.” His voice lowered as it brushed against your ear. “For once, I might have met my match. Perhaps, you might be the death of me, little mouse.”

Your face falling gave away that something was wrong. Felix began to pull away and that’s when your body reacted first. Your fingers slipped into Felix’s hand and tightened around it. Your back automatically straightened and your chin went up.

Surprised by your actions, he glanced down at the entwined hands with a hint of surprise. When you squeezed his hand, he glanced over his shoulder to find one of his rivals standing with a grin on his face.

The unbothered cold look slipped back onto his face instantly. “Well, this is new. I can’t say I’m surprised to find you here. Planning something big tonight?”

The man chuckled and shook his head. Adorned in black dress pants and a matching dress shirt, he glanced at you. His dark eyes took you in from head-to-toe and you internally cringed.

Something about him reminded you of a serpent. Maybe it was the way his beady eyes sat too far apart or perhaps it was the nose that came to a sharp sudden point. The white and unnaturally sharp teeth that had definitely been worked on by some sort of cosmetic genius.

“For once, the rumors are true. The infamous Lee Felix has found the love of his life and settled down. What comes next? A heir or two to continue on the family tree? Careful now, I hear that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“Something like that,” Felix agreed. When you squeezed his hand again full of anxiety, his thumb brushed against the back of your hand. For whatever reason, you found the gesture to be soothing.

This isn’t you!

Your brain screamed at you, but you ignored it. The aura of this man was lethal. Something about the way he was eyeing you made you want to squirm. It was potent and overwhelming. If it wasn’t for Felix’s grip on your hand, you were sure you’d curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

“What about you?” Felix continued. “Any plans to settle down soon?”

“You should know that there is no time for love in this industry. Let bygones be bygones. Why create issues when there’s bigger fish to fry? I’m sure you understand what people can do to one another, isn’t that right?”

You suddenly wanted to deck him. You wanted to march forward, swing, and hear the satisfying snap of his nose. Something about the way he spoke, it was taunting, almost like a dare.

“You make a good point, but love can be a driving force behind a lot of good things.”

“I suppose you know that best. After all, your father raised you, did he not? What a shame he had to die so young.”

You didn’t look at Felix’s face, but you knew the man hit a nerve. You could feel Felix’s fingers tighten so hard around yours that you could feel your bones creak from the sudden weight.

“And I wonder whose fault that is.”

“I had to do what I had to do. You run this country’s largest gang, so I’m sure you understand. There’s been whispers that this one is a firecracker,” he gestured to you. “Make sure you keep them in line because if you don’t…well…I think you understand the weight of this business.”

“Don’t worry about them.”

“Are the rumors true?” The man took a step closer and your eyes shot daggers at him in defense. He let out a deep belly laugh and shook his head. “You have a long fight ahead of yourself, Felix. I wonder what other traits they possess besides their beauty and spark. I never considered yourself the type to settle down, but it seems you might have your hands full.”

You suddenly cleared your throat and for the first time in days, you found your voice. It was hoarse, but you managed to get out the words through the burn in your throat. “Can we help you with something?”

There was shock on Felix’s face, but it was quickly erased and replaced. The man laughed and rubbed his pointed chin. “I’m surprised to hear you speak. I suppose since your beloved is around, your flames have been tamed.”

“Have you tried the punch?” You managed to get out through clenched teeth. “I hear that it’s some of the best around.”

“You have quite the tongue, but no, I have not.” The man took a few steps back and relaxed. “I tend to prefer stronger concoctions than some measly fruit punch. I bet you wouldn’t be able to han-”

“I’ve heard that it’s been tainted with something that lightens the soul.”

That seemed to get his interest because his eyebrows raised. “Hmm? Interesting. I suppose I’ll have to investigate that claim for myself, firecracker. Try not to burn yourself out in the meantime. Have a wonderful night.”

In a mocking bow, he dipped down with one hand over his stomach. When he stood back up, you slightly nodded and he sauntered away. Once he blended in with the crowd, Felix let out the breath he was holding. “I didn’t think yo-”

“Who is he?”

Felix raised an eyebrow and glanced over at your gaze. You were practically burning holes in the direction the man went. With furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes, you were seething.

“That would be my biggest rival to date. Don’t pay him any attention. He can’t try anything here because there’s too many people involved. If he shakes things up here, gangs would go to war and he-”

“Killed your father?” You got out.

Pain flickered in Felix’s eyes. His gaze dropped onto the floor. You caught the sadness from the corner of your eye. He looked like a lost boy instead of a grown man.

“Yes. It was years ago when I was still a teenager. He killed my father and attempted to take over my father’s gang. Fortunately, my father had devoted men that didn’t let that happen and he taught me a lot. At the age of sixteen, the reins of the gang were handed to me. I’ve built it up brick-by-brick ever since.”

You couldn’t explain why you pitied him so much. Ever since you were dragged from your home, you hadn’t been treated nicely. You were sedated, you were cuffed, and you were gagged, but you couldn’t help, but pity him. Maybe if things wouldn’t have played out the way they did, maybe he would have turned out entirely different.

When Felix glanced back up, your eyes were angrily searching the crowd for any glimpse of the man you could find, but all you could see were seas of bodies. The dim lighting to the place didn’t help.

“Maybe that fire of yours isn’t such a bad thing,” Felix managed to get out. “Perhaps, there’s more of your personality in there than meets the eye.”

“Don’t push it,” you mumbled.

“And you’re back. If you insist, I suppose I’ll keep a respectable distance, my fiery love.” Amusement laced his voice. You weren’t thrilled with the playful banner. “Just remember what I said earlier.”

Your fingers went up to rub your throat. It still ached from speaking, but it felt good to speak for once. Even if it wasn’t your normal voice, you had missed it.

“Does it hurt?” He asked. “You shouldn’t push yourself like that. I can handle myself.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Join the club. If you hadn’t noticed, he thinks the world is his and his alone. He struts around like a peacock and I wish I could say his bark is worse than his bite. He’s ruthless and vicious, don’t let his light-heartedness sway you.”

“Like you?”

“Don’t compare me to him. There’s a purpose behind my ideals and my actions. Just because you hear things, it doesn’t make them true. I don’t act unless I need to, but him.” He shook his head. “Men like him should cease to exist. They do things just because they can get away with it.”

“Then why don’t you defeat him?”

“Despite my dislike, I don’t have time for petty fights. Going after him would lead to a full-blown war. I’m not in the mood to have my people killed off. Haven’t you heard of the term ‘don’t poke the bear?’”

“Why should that stop you?”

He sighed, “did you not hear what I just said?”

Your hand suddenly jerked from his. Your eyes caught something and you weren’t going to miss the opportunity. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hey! Where are you go-” Felix stopped when you began to head towards the punch bowl.

The dark red liquid looked like blood. Dripping down the ladle and dropping back into the bowl. The same man from moments ago filled his clear wine glass nearly to the brim.

He sipped the punch slowly and licked his lips, savoring every bit of the burn on the way down. To his surprise, Felix’s little firecracker had been right. Someone had slipped something into the punch. He shut his eyes and let the alcohol carry him from this gala.

“How is it?” You asked as you approached.

In the distance, Felix kept his eyes on you. He had no idea what you were doing and part of him wanted to stop you, but another part wanted to know what you were planning. His brain said go, but his heart said stay put. What’s the worst thing that you could do?

The man opened up his eyes and smirked when he saw you. “My, my, my, if it isn’t the little firecracker again. I’m shocked that Felix let you out of his sight. Shouldn’t you be by his side or something?”

“I couldn’t help my thirst.” You grabbed an upside down wine glass and tipped it up. “Is it as good as they say?”

“Far better. Sweet and tart. Fruity and yet oh so strong.” He watched you ladle your cup full. “I’d be careful with that if I was you.”

“I can handle my liquor perfectly fine, thank you.”

The man’s eyes shifted into crescent’s when he laughed. You sent him a smile and began to sip your drink. You hated the burn, but forced your face to remain still.

“Such a shame that Felix got his claws in you before I could. You are something else. I bet you’d be a lot of fun.”

“You have no idea.”

“So what did you come over here for?”

“I already told you that I was thirsty.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, you must want something.”

You inhaled and then exhaled. “Alright, you caught me. I came over here because I realized that I could do better than Felix.”

The man’s face perked up and he grinned. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

So you spilled lie after lie. Talking about how Felix wasn’t good enough. How the two of you argued and bickered. On and on you went and Felix watched everything from afar. He had no idea what you were saying, but he kept seeing you fill the man’s glass over and over again.

What are you planning, little mouse?

The truth was that you had started to develop a minor crush on Felix. You hated the way he made you feel and you hated that you had been thrown into this shit show, but you were falling right into his trap.

He knew if he kept you long enough, he’d be able to break you down. You were the one who had said it yourself in an interview for a magazine. You had a soft heart and were able to find the good in everyone. You were too naive for your own good.

It wasn’t his fault that you laid your weakness out for everyone to see. All he had to do was care about you, connect with you, and you were smitten. Head over heels in love, there was nothing you could do to take it back.

“I see,” the man nodded. He kept shifting his weight from leg to leg to keep steady. You have filled his cup about three times now. Tipsy was an understatement. Clearly, he couldn’t handle his liquor.

“I think the answer is…” He paused and shut his eyes. “Simple. Come home with me and we-” His face scrunched up before his eyes opened. “Can go from there.”

“I have to get away from Felix to do that.”

“You can start by getting rid of that god awful outfit. It’s much too bright. In fact, it’s giving me a headache.” He waved his hand at you and waved you away. “Take it off and I’ll distract him.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Even if you wanted to go with him, you had nothing to change into. He truly was an idiot. Nothing to change into, nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to, and yet with a few wine glasses of fruit punched spiked with cheap vodka, he was gone.

You carefully ladeled another scoop into his cup. “Stay right here and I’ll be back.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be waiting.” He licked his lips and greedily guzzled down the juice.

You glanced around until your eyes met Felix’s. He had shifted closer to you in the crowd and when your eyes met his, you wanted to grin. You wanted to give him a thumbs up, but not yet. Too many people were keeping an eye on him and probably you.

Instead, you tipped your head down to the floor and began to look around. Your eyes scanned the crowd in the process. To everyone, it looked like you were looking for something.

You spun around, kicked your leg out, and then-

Crash!

It all happened so fast, people could barely understand what happened. You jerked back to the front with wide eyes. Felix’s rival groaned as he pawed at the floor. You stepped back to keep your shoes from getting sticky with fruit punch.

As if it was blood, the liquid began to seep from beneath him and spread out. That fancy punch bowl shattered the moment it hit the floor. This part of the refreshment table had been stacked with golden platters.

This was the dessert section. Fancy slices of two-tiered cake had been thrown to the floor. Cupcakes were lying upside down. The perfectly pointed swirls had smashed into messy dollops. Cheesecake bites smeared bits of fruit along the white floor.

The entire gala seemed to freeze, but they weren’t focused on you. Their interest had been taken by the man who made a fool of himself. In the heavy silence, you could have heard a pin drop.

When your eyes met Felix’s, you could see him struggling to hold back the corners of his lips. He saw your shoe connect with the back of the man’s knee. Too absorbed and unsteady from the punch, he crumpled instantly.

A loud laugh suddenly fell out of the crowd. Soon, more people joined in. You basked in the glory that came with it as your own chuckle fell from your lips. Maybe you hadn’t taken down Felix’s rival in a big way, but he’d have a hard time living this down.

It’d be talked about for weeks. Remember that one gala when that man fell in the punch bowl? A classic lesson that even the best can fall. Sometimes karma comes in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes it doesn’t happen until years later, but when it does, it still packs a punch.

You doubted the man would even understand what happened. Down on all fours, he was still pawing around in an attempt to get up. His fingers were smeared with chocolate frosting.

A few men had appeared and tried to help him up, but another came crashing down on top of him. Face first, he hit the floor, directly into an unsliced pie. The whip cream smearing his shocked face was enough to send another wave of laughter through the air.

A few nearby women asked if you were okay and pulled you to safety. They watched the man and his men with an uncomfortable look on their faces. One grimaced as another man fell.

“Can’t he understand this is an important gala?” Another grumbled.

“Aw man, I was really hoping to get my fingers on another one of those cookie dough cake pops.”

The rush of waiters caught your eye as the catering team scrambled to help. Your attention parted ways when a hand slipped into yours. Felix’s face was full of worry as he took you in. “Are you alright?”

You nodded and gently squeezed his hand. He thanked the women for helping you and pulled you further away from the crowd. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“He got what he deserved.”

“I think he has an alcohol problem.”

“Speaking of that, can we leave? I was sipping the alcohol to make it seem like I was drinking too. Everything seems too foggy. I don’t drink a ton and I don’t like the way I feel right now.”

“Just hang tight for a few minutes.” He began to pull your hand and head towards the exit. When he looked back, his rival was being tugged towards the bathroom. A trail of punch followed along behind him causing Felix to snort.

You leaned into his shoulder as you walked. His arm went around your waist and tugged you closer. “Don’t worry, we’ll be in the car shortly. Are you going to throw up, sweetheart?”

“I don’t think so. How do people enjoy getting drunk? I feel like I can’t think properly.”

“Oh, you poor thing. I’ll admit, I didn’t think you were this innocent.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled.

After struggling to reach his car, you managed to climb in. He buckled you and began the short ride home. He wanted to get you tucked into bed before you fell asleep, but this would have to do. He’d just have to carry you when he got home.

Despite your fire and your anger, he had a feeling that you’d start to warm up to him soon. If you were willing, he had good use for that fire inside of you. He had been looking for new ways to take down rivals.

If you easily went after his biggest rival to humiliate him in a crowd of a thousand people, he couldn’t wait to see what you’d do with unlimited resources. When money wasn’t a problem and nothing was illegal, where would your ideas take you? He couldn’t wait to find out.

Clearly, you weren’t just a timid little mouse, there was a hint of monster inside you too.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #lee felix #felix skz #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #skz mafia

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midnightcrw · 9 months

Text

Mission

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: On a mission with Simon while the TF141 looks after Daisy (Simon and your daughter)

Warning: Smut, Fingering (though it's not very long)

a/n: Did I just finish writing this in class? Yes, I did. This is probably the longest piece I have written in a while. I'm not entirely satisfied with some aspects of it, but hopefully, you'll all like it. There is also a mention of another piece I wrote on Thursday, in this one

"I can't believe we're doing this," you mumbled under your breath, not thrilled about the situation at hand. It's not that partnering with Simon on a mission bothered you; it's the whole pretending-to-be-someone-else deal. Luckily, being married to Simon was the only genuine part.

Simon's expression mirrored your sentiments; he wasn't thrilled about the mission either. Home with you and Daisy, enjoying a movie, sounded way better than being here. Ever since Price pitched the idea (thanks to Soap planting the seed), Simon's face maintained a constant frown, adding to his already intimidating aura.

"Look at your mom and dad, Daisy," Soap chirped through the earpiece, his cheerful tone cutting through the tension. Clearly, Soap's ulterior motive was getting you two on the mission, leaving him more time with Daisy—especially considering the fact that he, Price, and Gaz burned down most of your house.

After all, you'd decided a week ago that they wouldn't be visiting Daisy after the recent incident. Yet, here they were—Price, Soap, and Gaz—squeezed into the cozy van. You and Simon, on the other hand, were decked out in your finest attire, ready to infiltrate a ball where you had to play the roles of affluent snobs.

The biting cold outside did little to improve the situation, but once inside, the warmth gradually enveloped you. The opulent decorations of some wealthy bastard's 'home' caught your attention, if one could even call it that.

Entering the venue proved surprisingly simple, thanks to Laswell's good work on your fake identities. At least, there was someone reliable to count on while the trio fawned over Daisy.

"I can't believe it either," Simon whispered, his arm securely wrapped around your waist, unwilling to let you out of his sight. Your husband, though impeccably dressed and handsome, exuded an unmistakable discomfort about the entire affair.

Playfully teasing him, you touched the hand wrapped around your waist, gazing at him with affection. "You look good, don't worry."

Simon rolled his eyes, confident in his appearance. His concern lay elsewhere, irritated by the lingering gazes directed at you, as if you weren't already claimed.

Choosing not to engage in your banter, he retaliated with a gentle pinch on your waist, evoking a gasp before you playfully pushed him. Looking down at you, a subtle smirk played on his lips. "Behave," he said, causing your heart rate to quicken.

Despite being accustomed to his antics, it still stirred an emotion within you – an emotion only your Simon could evoke.

Your eyes roamed the polished surroundings, every detail meticulously in place. A grand chandelier adorned the center of the room, its crystals glistening in the radiant light.

The crowd, dressed impeccably, momentarily making you insecure about your own attire, despite knowing it was far from the truth. Lingering eyes turned your way, a subtle awareness settling in.

Simon and you strolled, exploring the opulent venue and stumbling upon a grand staircase. However, the stairs could wait; first, you needed to blend into the ball and find the opportune moment for distraction.

Through the earpiece, multiple voices echoed, dominated by Daisy's delightful coos and giggles. The urge to express your adoration almost escaped you, as Simon's hushing finger pressed to your lips.

"But Simon, she's so cute," you protested as Simon pulled you abruptly flush against his chest. Knowing that he had to shut you up somehow, and making sudden decisions always seemed to work well on you.

"I know, she's cute, but we're on a mission," he exclaimed, leaning down to press a kiss on your temple. You sighed, resting your forehead on his chest.

Daisy, only a year old, had never been far from your side, making it tough to focus without worrying, despite trusting Soap, Gaz and Price.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, feeling a twinge of guilt. Simon, all seriousness, maintained focus while you struggled to compose yourself.

"No need to apologize, love. It won't take long, I promise," he reassured in a soothing tone, his embrace bringing a momentary calm.

Tilting your head, you locked eyes with him. The softening of his gaze revealed a side reserved just for you and you leaned in for a kiss, a sudden interruption made both of you pull away in surprise.

"Is everything alright?" The man, around his forties, in a well-put-together white suit and a black tie, asked. His black hair had a few distinguished white strands, adding to his attractive appearance—a face you found oddly familiar.

Before you could place him, Gaz's voice chimed in through the earpiece, "That's Robert Harris."

Robert Harris, the man whose 'home' you were infiltrating, stood as the alleged cause behind multiple soldier disappearances and stolen weapons, cleverly concealed behind the mask of a successful CEO.

"Everything's alright, Mr. Harris," you replied, offering a smile to downplay any suspicion. "Just call me Robert. And you must be?" he inquired, returning the smile, his gaze focused on you, seemingly oblivious to Simon's presence or deliberately avoiding eye contact.

You slipped your hand into Simon's, drawing him closer as you smoothly introduced yourselves with the fabricated names designed for this mission.

As your fingers intertwined with Simon's, Robert's gaze shifted to your husband, and his expression hinted at displeasure. Sensing the tension, your grip on Simon's hand tightened. Having looked through Robert's file, you knew he wasn't exactly the most loyal husband in his marriage—an aggressive man unburdened by consequences.

Sensing your distress, Simon entered the conversation. "A few guests mentioned your recent endeavors. What's your newest project, if I may ask?" Uncharacteristically wordy for Simon, but for you, he'd go the extra mile.

As Robert engaged in the discussion, you seized the opportunity to ask about the restroom. "Up the stairs, first door to your left, darling," Robert said, letting his eyes linger a little longer on you as if he was mentally undressing you while putting an emphasis on the 'darling'.

Nodding, you made your way upstairs, leaving Simon alone with Harris. The uneasy feeling that settled in when Robert approached lingered, taken by the realization that Simon couldn't watch your back for the moment.

The moment the word 'darling' slipped from Robert's mouth, Simon's jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists. It wasn't the term itself that bothered him, but the deliberate intent behind it, as if Robert aimed to provoke him.

Simon, consumed by a simmering anger, barely registered the details of the project Robert was discussing. "You have a beautiful wife," Harris stated with a smug voice, an infuriating smirk accompanying his words.

Before Simon could retort, Harris continued, "I'm sure having a wife like her never gets boring." That remark struck a nerve, sparking Simon's irritation.

"Damn," Gaz uttered with a shocked tone, earning a smack on the back of his head from Price. "Not in front of Daisy!"

"Simon is probably going to kill him," Soap exclaimed, drawing a giggle from Daisy. "You definitely are Simon's daughter."

Having finished washing your hands, Laswell's voice echoed, "His office is at the end of the corridor, and for now, the way is clear."

With Laswell's guidance, you swiftly headed outside, walking briskly towards the indicated door. Left to your own devices, you might have been lost, grateful for the assistance.

Standing before the door, you braced for it to be locked. To your surprise, the handle turned easily. "He's not only sleazy but also dumb," you mumbled as you entered.

"I agree," Gaz chimed in, offering support for your opinion on Robert, bringing a small smile to your face. The room, akin to the rest of the ball's elegance, was well-organized and pristine.

Moving around the desk, you delved into the drawers, recognizing this task might take a while with numerous files and papers that didn't stand out at first glance.

"Fucking finally," Simon breathed out in relief as Robert disappeared from sight. He was just about to lodge a knife into either Robert's throat or his own, depending on his mood. Fortunately, for Robert, the guests took the man away before Simon could do something he could enjoy regret.

Having monitored your conversations through the earpiece as he ascended the stairs, Simon was visibly pleased to find you unharmed inside the office.

"I would have thrown a knife at you if Laswell hadn't warned me," you quipped, your husband approaching you behind the desk.

"Maybe I would have liked that," Simon whispered, dangerously close to your body, trapping you between himself and the desk.

"Not now," you warned, despite the craving to feel his touch. Ignoring your caution, Simon wrapped his arms around your waist, planting kisses on your neck, prompting a quiet gasp at the sudden contact of his lips.

"Hate the way he looked at you," Simon rasped out, his hand venturing beneath the leg slit of your dress, his intense gaze locking onto yours, awaiting your response—permission or denial hanging in the balance.

Unable to resist any longer, you nodded, granting Simon the freedom to explore your body.

His left hand held your waist possessively, while the right pushed your underwear aside. Gripping the desk tightly, your head tilted forward.

Without warning, Simon cupped you between your legs, eliciting a whimper from you. "Fuck..."

Drenched with desire, the touch left you yearning to be bent over the desk and fucked senselessly, losing yourself in a passion that momentarily eclipsed the lingering mission at hand.

He slowly released his grip, running his middle finger through your slit, prompting a clench of your thighs and earning a spank. "Keep your legs spread for me, darling," Simon urged, a hint of spite lingering in the term Robert had used.

Gulping, you complied, and as you let go, Simon plunged a finger deep inside you, drawing a moan. "Shh, we wouldn't want them to hear you now, would we, darling?" His voice took on an unexpectedly deeper tone, causing you to bite your lip and compliance. "Good girl."

With that, he started fucking his digit in and out of you, not at all being gentle as he usually would be. Your lip was likely bleeding from the force, but Simon reveled in the sight of you unraveling.

"More, please," you quietly pleaded, a desire for another finger inside as he began rubbing your clit, the sensation almost pushing you to cry out.

"Only because you've been good so far," he whispered into your ear, adding another finger, curling both digits, causing you to lean forward, supporting yourself with your arms.

Not long after, you reached your climax, nearly collapsing to your knees if Simon hadn't held you up by your waist. Taking deep breaths, you tried to compose yourself as Simon cleaned his fingers with a handkerchief from his suit pocket.

Allowing you a moment to rest on the chair by the desk, your husband retrieved the files, finding the one you needed. "I'll take care of you once we're out of here, love," Simon promised, giving you a kiss before pulling you up by your hands.

"You're lucky that we were able to turn off the mics and the screen for the office," Price scolded the both of you as you leaned against Simon.

"You shouldn't have forced us on this mission then," Simon replied.

"I hope you feel guilty, Simon."

"I would do it again."

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alice-angel12x · 2 years

Text

Death is always around the corner

Riddle + Death!Reader

This Death is greatly inspired by the wolf death from Puss In Boots, and Jenny-Jinya kind death. (some headcanons for some of the characters) Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Let's set the Scene: Masterlist

Something was off about this Mirror ceremony, Crowley could feel it. But decided to shack it off and continue with the ceremony.

"Ah, my lovely Lord, The noble and beautiful flower of evil, You are the most beautiful, number one in this world. Follow thy heart and take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror. Flames that turn even stars into ashes, Ice that imprisons even time, Great tree that swallows even the sky, Don’t be afraid of the power of darkness, Come now, show your power. Mine, theirs, and yours, There’s only a little time left for us. Do not let go of that hand, at all costs," Crowley chanted as a green flame appeared in the mirror.

As the night continued, all the new students were neatly sorted into dorms. There was just one coffin left, and just as he was about to insert the key to unlock the coffin. The coffin began to thrash and shack, as puffs of blue fire spewed out from the creaks in the coffin. The headmaster quickly stepped away from the coffin when the lid suddenly blasts off its hinges in a blaze of fire.

From the coffin, a grey cat creature with blue fire ears skitted across the ground. The crowd of students stared in confusion till something caught their attention. An eerie whistle could be heard from the smoking coffin. Out from the smoke steeped a mysterious figure. A figure dressed in the school's ceremonial robes stepped out into the chamber. They stood unnaturally still as the hood of their robe completely obscured their face as they continued to eerily whistle.

"U-Um, excuse me young...Um... You could have waited a few seconds longer till I opened the gate. Anyways please present yourself to the dark mirror," Crowley stuttered as he hurried the stranger.

The mirror awakened to look at the figure, and only stared in... fear?

"Ugh, I can smell... a disgusting amount of blot," The figure spat.

💗Riddle Roseheart💗

Riddle didn't really know what to think of this strange student. He never got a good look at them at the ceremony. The only thing they could tell was that they were a wolf beastman of sorts.

And his only other source of info was word of mouth around the school. And hearing that they were a part of the chandelier incident. Riddle already doesn't like them.

luckily he had the fortune to see this mysterious. Upon seeing this student, they looked strange, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was cause of how they just stared unblinkingly at him. With an ominous smile on their face.

When Riddle tried to scold the first-year group for all the trouble they have caused. Yet the student who went by Y/n, simply smiled, unfazed by his words.

This greatly annoyed him and he pulled out his magic pen, but in a blink of an eye, Y/n swiped it out of his grasp. He stood in shock as Y/n chuckled and took a sip of their drink.

Freaked out, Riddle decided to just leave. Yet for a week he felt watched, and whistling followed him no matter where he went. And Y/n's silhouette is always just on the edge of his sight.

One late night, Riddle had to drop off small books at the library, when the whistle filled his ears.

"Are you stalking me?" Riddle glared, as he turned to see Y/n resting against a pillar.

"Just observing. It's been a long while since I got a good look at the Roseheart family. And it's a shame to see how far they have fallen," They growled.

"How Dare You! Off with-'' before riddle could even finish his spell. Y/n swiped the pen from the boy's hand. And then quickly pinned him to the wall.

Riddles's heart started to beat insanely fast as he stared into Y/n's blood-red irises.

"Listen very closely, your life is crashing toward a terrible end if you don't change your tune," Y/n growled softly into Riddle's ear.

Riddle shut his eyes tight waiting for the next attack, but nothing came. As he slowly opened his eyes, he gasped when he found himself in his room.

When morning came, riddle ran to the library to apologize for losing the books. To only learn that Y/n had returned them for him.

Assuming it must have just been a dream, he didn't take Y/n's warning seriously. As blot continued to accumulate. Unaware of Y/n watching from a window across the courtyard, as they polish their sythe, with sad eyes.

They watched as Ace fail to properly apologize to Riddle's liking, and quickly banished the 1st years from the dorm. Which lead to this conflict.

As Y/n stood before Riddle and his overblot as he rampaged across the garden. Reading their weapons, preparing to claim Riddle's life before the blot does.

Suddenly, Aduece, Grim, Cater, and Trey stepped forward wanting to save Riddle. Y/n smiled softly as they dashed toward the blot creature to Find Riddle's soul.

_____________________________________________________

As Riddle slowly came to his dream of memories, he found himself sitting at a party table floating in the darkness. In front of him was a book with his name as the title, and the silhouette of his profile was on the cover.

"Not a good start to life huh," said a voice, causing Riddle to gasp and look up at the source. at the other end of the table was Y/n, dressed in black silk robes. "Strict mother molding you, all the while claiming it is for your own good."

"S-she didn't want me to be a failure like father. He was lazy and couldn't handle the work of a doctor," Riddle said.

"Did your mother tell you that?" Y/n asked as Riddle nodded. '' Then you might want to read this.''

Y/n slid a tray over to Riddle, on it was a book that read Mira Rosehearts, his Mothers name. Riddle looked back to Y/n for an explanation. "Everything your mother had said, done, thought, felt, and heard is documented in this. I recommend reading pages 9131 to 9134."

Riddle quickly read through said pages but slammed it down in anger and disbelief. It read how Riddle's father began to outshine Mira, and when people started to praise him more than her. She divorced and made sure she had full custody of Her son. She vowed to mold him and make him the perfect Roseheart, to outshine everyone else, no matter the cost.

"That is not my mother! You're trying to trick me! Who do you think you are?!" Riddle growled as he stood up from his chair.

"I Have a Beginning, But No End, and I End All Things That Begin. Who Am I?” Y/n asked simply.

"What is this rubbish, the answer is... The answer is," Riddle said slowly as his eyes widened in horror.

"I am Death, straight up," Y/n said as their eyes glowed, causing the boy to fall back into his seat.

"S-so I'm dead?" Riddle asked slowly.

"No, you escape me this time. You are very lucky that some people came to your rescue. Or else you would have died here today," Y/n said as they flipped riddle's book all the way to the back. On the inside of the back cover was a "wanted" Poster.

In bold words on top was Wanted, with Riddle's face printed in the middle. And Dead or Alive is printed at the bottom.

" I would have had you sign, right here,” Y/n said as they tapped over the word Dead. Causing Riddle to gulp nervesly.

"But You attend our school, have I truly escaped you?"Riddle asked nervously.

"Just because I am Death, doesn't mean I enjoy everything it entails. I do not enjoy having to separate families and loved ones. It's just a job that needs to be done," Y/n explained. " And I came here to collect an arrogant little boy, who thinks himself as law and order incarnate. But I can't seem to find him anymore.

Riddle watched as Y/n collected the books and turned to leave, as a door of light appeared.

"You were given a second chance Riddle. Live your life your way for yourself, not how your mother wants you to," Death Y/n said as they stepped through the door.

Riddle finally came too, much to everyone's relief. When everything was set and done. Riddle apologized to everyone and promised to improve on his behavior.

Yet as the days went by, Riddle noticed that Y/n for the most part vanished. He would see them around every once and a while, even Ace, Deuce, and Grim don't seem to hang out with them much.

Grim already spilled the beans on Y/n's identity, and of course, most kept their distance. For who would want death hanging around them.

One day at the reunbirthday party. As All of Riddle's new and old friends gather around his table. Enjoying tea and baked goods, the young dorm leader noticed a lone figure at a table.

Y/n sat alone at one table at the very back of the party, even the tables next to them were empty. As everyone wasn't really comfortable being near them.

Riddle watched sadly as Y/n sat with no snacks, tea, or even company to enjoy. So with a wave of his pen, Riddle levitated a fresh teapot with cups and a large tray of baked goods. As he proceeded to pull out a chair himself at Y/n's table.

Much to everyone's surprise and slight fear. Even Y/n was surprised by Riddle, but they smiled softly as the two began to chat and enjoy the unbirthday party.

But sadly their job here at NRC isn't over yet.

#disney twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle roseheart x reader #riddle x reader #twst riddle #Death!reader

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