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viloxity · 4 months

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Fluctuating Skies (Part 1 of 2) — Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: The scenario where the Monarchs rule Earth and the Shadow Monarch finds you in the New World.

A/N: this is one of two parts (he’ll get more unhinged, don’t worry). additionally, this is cross posted on quotev under the same name (viloxity). Any and all feedback or comments are greatly appreciated!!!

You loved the sky.

The sky was beautiful, and perfect. It was never-ending; even when you stared until your eyes burned, you could never find the ending—or the beginning. You would stare, and stare, until you noticed the clouds. The way the clouds explored the skies’ vastness, steadily drifting towards their next unknown journey, gave you hope in this fickle world—a world where you were not sure if a tomorrow was guaranteed.

Each distortion that filled the skies—the skies you have started to despise—spelled an inevitable demise as humanity endured even worse losses. As you took exams at college, there were lines outside of hospitals. The day of your graduation, as you walked the confetti covered balcony, there were bodies lining graves—the A-rank dungeon break nearly flushed out a small city an hour away from you. That day, your supposed ‘celebration’ encompassed hesitant smiles and reluctant whispers that congratulated you on your success.

“At least we are still here.” You recalled a woman saying, scolding the looks on her family’s faces.

You looked at the sky, your tassel gently flowing with the motion of your head. Eventually, the monsters will take over this land. They will overwhelm humanity’s strongest fighters and wipe out the population in clusters. You could feel the anger pooling, then, at your helplessness. Average civilians were so weak, so useless. It hurt that you couldn’t even protect anyone, let alone yourself. Why, why were you born so weak—

Your emotions stilled at a cloud that slowly passed over the sun. Your heart was calm, beating slower.

Even when the world ends, the sky will remain unchanged—unchanged, vast, and still beautiful.

Then, the world ended.

You still remembered the day as if it were just yesterday, when the gates appeared—the roaring sounds oscillating across the entire country and its diameter devouring the peaceful summer sky. The action of itself was unjust—not because it triggered the apocalypse, but because it tied in a pacifist to the unyielding destruction of the entire world. There was a brief intermission between the gate openings and the flow of monsters; realization of the situation propelled Darwin’s theory of natural selection into motion. You were lucky to have broken out of your stupor, yelling out that everyone should run—maybe you saved some lives that day.

The screams were just as loud as the tremors that shook the earth once the rampage began. You could not focus on anything else but the shrieks, and the vile sounds of slicing of innocent faces you would now never get to meet in this lifetime. Once again, you were helpless to the world around you. No awakening, no power, no ability to do anything. The best you could do was silence your whimpers and hope it all stops.

Was your family okay? You thought as another scream fell silent. Where were they?

You looked at the sky for a miracle, but all you could see was that damned gate.

“Thank you.” The stranger’s trembling hands folded over the small bread bun, his eyes full of shame and gratitude.

You nodded, then smiled. “You can pick up water from the well just North of here.”

The man nodded his head, repeatedly murmuring ‘thank you’s’ with his voice growing hoarse as tears dripped down his eyes. He had not moved to start eating yet; you could feel his hesitance even after you gave him the bun. You nodded once more before making a swift exit. From a few meters away, you could distantly make out the sounds of biting and chewing.

Your heart felt content. It was warm, sometimes, but it was hard for the heat to linger long. It was hard to fan the flames in the first place; humanity had dispersed into fragments, with remnants of a sound society lost long ago. You also had not heard of a single word regarding your family, no matter how many villages you crossed or people you asked—you assumed them dead on the day of the Parade.

Yes, the day of the Parade. The day of the nightmare you wished to forget, the crossing of endless monstrosities, and the mark of the end of humanity. By some miracle, despite the constant onslaught of dragons and beasts crossing the gates, you lived. Back then, people agreed how fortunate you and others were to be able to hide—after all, if you didn’t hide, you ran. Yet, all you could feel was turmoil brewing within you.

Was it really something fortunate?

The people you loved; your family, friends, they were all gone. Your accomplishments, career, vanished the moment the gates flooded open. Back then, you were playing a game of ‘pretend’—those serene smiles and unsaid thoughts renounced the oncoming catastrophe as a tale of make-believe. You wanted to shout at the survivors that nothing was ‘fortunate’ anymore, that you all were apart of scrapped pages ripped from a fable that deemed your lives forfeit after its story reached the end. You were dirt on the ground, now; organic matter that existed as sustenance for better life forms.

Then, there was the sky. The sky you had loved and cherished deeply, was an entity that you blamed. It was the sky’s fault; something that symbolized tranquility and freedom was replaced as a symbol of the beginning of the end. Beautiful, were the bright explosions that blinded and wrecked cities. Vast, the lines of gates that it held. Limitless, the rows and rows of monsters it brought from within. No longer a constant variable in your life, it was something that reminded you of the day you lost everything.

At least, that’s what you thought back then.

There was more to life than you realized when you found the first village. You had trekked far from the city, and far from your home. You did not know where you were walking, and it looked fruitless based on the lack of your supplies. By a stroke of luck, a group came across you while you were slumped on the floor. They pitied you, offering to take you to their sanctuary—the last of humanity’s efforts to survive.

Upon arrival, you noticed the structure itself looked flimsy, with a handful of people walking through rubble and around deep holes in the ground. It also looked poorly built; houses were built from logs and leaves, with some looking as if they could fall over any moment. But, that didn’t matter—what mattered were the people. A person stood in the middle of the village; you could only make out his shouts and pointing in different directions to assume he was the leader of the village. You watched as men moved to build another house, the same poorly structured house, as others ran away to seemingly get supplies. The women occupied their time by cooking and playing with the children, and you nearly cried at how carefree the children looked.

Despite everyone’s losses, they still moved on. You all were specks of dirt in the ground, but together—as soil—you could erode even the hardest of rocks.

You stopped momentarily, turning behind a piece of wooden wall that was left from a now-destroyed-shed. You peeked around the corner, seeing the man feast on the tiny bun. Good, he was eating. You originally volunteered to assist outsiders, thus had been handing out bread buns the entire day to lone scavengers roaming the outskirts. Although you could no longer take care of your family like you used to, at least you can try to ensure the nourishment of others.

You sighed, relief sifting down your body. You shifted through your bag, feeling the weight of a singular item. You had one more piece left, meaning your work wasn’t over, but you had exhausted nearly the entire outskirts. Perhaps you should take another lap around again—

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw what looked to be a dark, blackened figure. It reminded you of the black spots you would get when you were dizzy or fatigued, so you turned your head for a better view.

There was… nothing. Everything was dark, covered by a half-broken roof and the rapid growth of moss and vines. You felt as if… something was staring at you. It was like a sharp pinch, as if there was a pair of eyes piercing like a needle into your soul. At the same time, you felt tired; enough so that if you were to close your eyes right now, you were sure the abyss would greet you in response.

Your eyes swept the shed, noticing a faintly drawn outline that was swaying within the void of darkness. You made contact with a pair of dimmed gray hues, its stare so bold and cold that a shiver quaked through your body. It was tempting to conclude that it was just some illusion, some petty trick on your mind so that the pill was easier to swallow. The longer you stared into the gray depths, the more you couldn’t look away.

What was this feeling?

It was not only that you felt your heart pump strenuously, but the surreality of your condition. You felt and heard your heart pump simultaneously with the feeling of adrenaline hitting your bloodstream. Your arms and legs tensed out of instinct, causing you to wince as your muscle fibers moved and pulled across your bones. The several cracks under the soles of your feet trembled slightly, as if matching your fear.

You wanted to look away so badly. You are too entranced now; a rabbit trapped under sharp claws as the wolf stared down its prey.

Please, please, please, look away.

No, this feeling—

You are remembering that day again. God, why even remember now?

It must be a coincidence—but it couldn’t be. It feels so much like…

Like…

Like those beasts.

Those beasts that walked where the sun did not follow.

They appeared in shaky and inky black forms. They would appear, and whatever they would do, would always result in a calamity. You heard the most screams from them, always.

“I’m paralyzed.” You thought, realization sinking in.

Is this the end?

Then, a sigh.

A deep, long, aired out sigh.

In an instant, all the pressure building within your frame vanished. The tension on your sarcomeres lessened, like a weight slowly floating off your shoulders. As the rush dissipated, you are left with trembling hands and shaky legs. Your senses came back to you, one by one.

Your head shot up, fearful eyes meeting wary ones. You see a figure, now—which looked to be a man—but it was odd. His frame was fluctuating between reality and obscurity, like he was struggling to pick the right balance of tenebrosity or to succumb entirely to the veil of night. His stare engraved holes into you; it was lucky that you hadn’t deflated into a balloon, most likely due to the restraint on his aura.

Aura… his sheer presence is powerful enough to knock you unconscious, that much you could tell.

To be truthful, you were clueless as to his actual thoughts. Initially, his presence was concealed—only emitting essence that you now thought was a warning. Maybe you pushed a button or two, seeing as he actually appeared in front of you. If anything, you were slightly grateful to know that you weren’t entirely crazy and that there was an actual person in the shed. However, you couldn’t read his expression at all; firstly because he wasn’t conveying anything, and secondly because you were too scared to try.

Neither of you moved; the shock having knocked the breath out of you and the stranger seemingly studying you.

Then,

“Go home.”

His voice was deep, so low in octave you imagined the sound waves still bouncing around your ear drums. In any other situation, it would’ve soothed you, as you envisioned singing lullabies or the humming of baritone tunes.

But, you also weren’t stupid. The man’s wording was specific—a demand. In a sense, he was a king; a ruler who offers you mercy after finding you in contempt of the sovereign because you tried stepping on his land. Unconsciously, your legs moved, recognizing that the lord gave you permission to leave—words your being waited on with bated breath to live another day.

So, you ran, not realizing that you dropped your bag of items, nor the growing smile on the stranger’s face.

That man, he never left your mind.

Somber gray eyes, and a complexion that rivaled Greek gods. His hair was as dark as the shadows devoured under his silhouette. He was more than ordinary, representative of a being that practices and deals in absolute power. There were only a handful of people who were gifted with abilities like that, back when the very first gates opened.

Right, now you remembered—they were called hunters. Hunters were classified into different rankings, all the way to S-rank and even national level hunters. To be a hunter, you were granted a certain seed of power.

If he were to be like anything else back then, could he have been a hunter? An S-class, even?

It was rare to come across ‘hunters’ anymore, the label long disbanding alongside the association that coined the term. When they appeared, it was considered a bad omen. Either they were chased by the Monarchs of the New World (for the risk they held) or isolated by the unawakened out of fear. Perhaps, the man was the last of the hunters—of the humans who could fight back at all.

Either way, you wanted to see him again. The more reflecting you did, the more you registered his seclusion; he is far, far from the remnants of civilization.

Regardless of the fear you felt, or the possibility of death, he was still human. He was someone who lost everything, just like you and everyone else.

The destination was a long and grueling walk from the current village you stayed at. Passing by outlanders, you gave out food and supplies as normal, while steadily making your way towards the shed.

Would he still be there? It was hard to say. Most remaining hunters were known to be nomads; staying in one place for longer than a day was like shooting fish in a barrel for their next enemy. You were not sure if he was a hunter in the first place, too—it was your latest profound superstition to be proven by whatever little luck you had left. As you treaded further, the familiarity of your surroundings fill you with perpetual dread. You began to second-guess your courage to embark on this trip in the first place, thoughts clouded and eventually drowned out by faint whispers inside decaying wooden walls. The moment your final step reached the broken shelter a hush filled the air, the shed girdling the edge of the forest encompassed by a heavy silence.

“Hello?” You called out to no one in particular.

You nearly surprised yourself with the surge of bravery to make out your greeting. You peeked into the shed, hands waving through vines. There was no one around the entrance, despite you hearing multiple voices.

Odd.

You weaved through a few cracks in the floorboard before being greeted by gray eyes. You jumped, obviously, because you did not expect him to be in such close proximity to you. He was a till a few feet away, but you could have never spotted him if he chose to sit closer to the wall. He was indeed discernible now, sitting under a small stream of light gifted by the sun. His shadow dragged along the box he sat atop of, sinking behind its crevices before pushing itself onto the wall and absorbing its shade. In any other universe, you would’ve described it as strange. In this case, you thought it supported how outlandish—and isolated—he must be.

“You’re back, what a surprise,” The man said, expression clearly detached. “I thought I scared you off.”

This was going to be difficult.

“Right. I was, but I thought it would be better to introduce myself since we got off on the wrong foot—“

A half truth, but you were also cautious.

“—my name is Y/N.”

He was burning holes into you again—the stare wasn’t any less discomforting than the previous time. His silence, too, was deafening. A sudden urge to scream to at least get a reaction out of him rose within you, but you quickly simmered it out.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed slightly as he let out a faint hum.

You winced. “I wanted to give you something that I couldn’t last time.”

You quickly plucked out a wrapped item, hastily tearing through the covering to reveal a bread bun. You weren’t able to catch a glimpse of his face, opting to shift the bread onto an elevated surface so he wouldn’t be incentivized to lunge at you.

“I hope that this helps you, even if it isn’t a whole lot.” You said, nervously picking your cuticles.

The silence was very, VERY heavy, and—can he please say something?

You looked up and caught the man’s wide eyed, dazed state as his eyes lingered on the bread. It reminded you of a skeptical stray cat at a crossroads when offered an open-hand. The man’s eyes met yours, then, and all you could think was how much better he looked without baring his teeth at you.

“You’re funny.” He dryly chuckled, faint smile betraying his nonchalance.

You offered a small smile, blissfully unaware of his next few words.

“I’m Jinwoo.”

And,

“See you tomorrow?”

“Are you a hunter, Jinwoo?” You asked after placing down the wrapped bread.

You wanted to use his name in some way, lest you forget it or say it wrong. It was ironic you carried over some of your social habits after the end of the world, like a puppy you once fed.

“You could say that,” Jinwoo replied simply.

“Could?” You echoed.

He must’ve noticed your frown, adding, “Not like it matters now.”

He had a point; the name lost its meaning awhile ago. Still, you were ruffled by his restrained disposition. Surely, the label still had meaning to him.

…No, that was an unfair presumption. Jinwoo knows his own memories and emotions better than everyone, especially you. Besides, it wasn’t worth arguing the semantics on the basis of mere suspicion.

Thus, you decided to let it go.

Ah, that reminded you—he never told you his last name.

“You don’t have family?”

“I did.”

You perked up. “…You lost them, too?”

Jinwoo closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Because of the Tragedy, yes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Then, he squinted his eyes curiously. “I’m more interested in your story.”

You coughed suddenly, shocked by his gravitation towards you. Maybe it was because all you had to offer was bread and stories, or because you never took the chance to settle with your memories, but you felt compelled to talk.

And talk, you did.

Jinwoo was an excellent listener; he was levelheaded and passive, allowing you to just… talk, and talk, and talk (with a tendency to sigh or huff as remarks). You were spilling your family’s entire life story, grasping this fact in the middle of talking about your sister’s fiancé’s secret affair, but you found that you didn’t care. If you weren’t able to come to terms with your family’s passing before this, perhaps someone else can remember in your stead.

Did he care to remember every single detail, anyway? Probably not.

“Hold on—I lost track of the time. Crap, it’s getting dark.” You said, rushing to readjust your cloak. If you started the walk now, you might make it before it’s fully dark.

“It’s rather late, it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave.” Jinwoo said, rough voice clipping louder than your hurried shuffling.

“Did you like my stories that much?” You joked.

You waited a few beats of silence. “Sorry, bad joke; I wouldn’t have any place to sleep if I stayed, anyway.”

The shed violently shook at the end of your sentence, causing your heart to lurch in your chest. You latched onto the metal pole next to you, clutching tightly as you waited for the shaking to cease. Within seconds, Jinwoo was next to you, gently but firmly holding your arm; in moments, the quaking stopped.

“Must’ve been an earthquake.” Jinwoo noted, tone and expression laced with unconventional serenity.

Your quivering hadn’t stopped after the vibrations ceased. In fact, it increased exponentially because you were still trying to comprehend the glimpse of Jinwoo’s vibrant, deep purple eyes etched with absolute unadulterated fury.

You were deluded, you thought quickly as your breathing hastened. You were tired, surely.

“I should go home.”

His breathing stilled.

“Don’t forget about me tomorrow,” Jinwoo said, sounding strangely hollow as his iron grip slowly released you.

Once again, you ran away from his grasp.

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin-woo x reader #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo x reader #Yandere sung Jin-woo x reader #Yandere solo leveling #Yandere solo leveling x reader #yandere #yandere sung Jin woo x reader #yandere x reader #Jinwoo sung x reader #yandere jinwoo sung x reader #Yandere jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #sung jin-woo

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ask-mortarion-the-death-lord · 22 days

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watching a space marine 2 play through with no commentary. mostly to see what they're doing with the story. but i thought i might just write down my general thoughts on that particular story for fun.

the deathwatch tutorial segment where they do a "ooooh, whoooo could you pooosibly be playing as? its a mystery wink emoji wink emoji wink emoji" isn't particularly special but its functional. the squad dies leaving deathwatch titus to finish the mission alone, he does and nearly gets overrun by tyranids.

yet another pretty interesting piece of "the imperiums pretty fucked" is that only 100 years later titus is an effective unknown to everyone but high ranking members of the chapter or those who were alive when he was. that'd be one thing for normal humans but astartes can potentially live past 1,000 years of age placing it well within a marines potential lifetime. and not only that, but titus was captain of the 2nd company and considered to have quite an impressive resume. that is all to say that damn son, the imperium is really freakin good at unpersoning a person if the general reaction to titus only a 100 years later is "who is this guy?" either that or astartes casualties are so prolific that even just 100 years later most people that would have known titus are already dead. or a mixture of both.

the dynamic so far is shaping up to be a fun one for tituses new squad. 3 of the 5 are generics wearing helmets so they're definitely going to die horrible and avoidable deaths. the remaining two are gadriel whos clearly resentful that he didn't get the promotion to lieutenant and chairon gadriels sassy black friend because of course hes the sassy black friend.

the fun part of all that is the big "upper management brought in their own people to take control, and we all resent them for it" energy. hope that boils into something interesting.

#warhammer40k #warhammer 40k #space marine II #space marine II spoilers #spoilers

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qsphyxias · 7 months

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Nightwing x Male! Thief! Reader

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; nightwing and ur dynamic, as a small, not super skilled, thief that nightwing likes

warnings ; male! reader, cussing, mention of oral sex (no actual sex at all), banter,

note ; wish i wrote smth abt nightwing's GYATTT

words ; 1.3k+

Your teeth chattered in your jaw as you continued to shovel stacks of cash from the busted vault into your gym bag. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you could feel your fingers going numb from the adrenaline rushing through your hands — Faster, damn it, faster!

The emergency lights flashed a red hue on everything you saw, and you couldn't hear anything but a pulsing in your head, and quiet and light steps behind you. Knowing who it was, you only sighed and remained tense, refusing to look your assailant in the eye.

"Really, s/o?" You winced at his disappointed tone of voice, already pissed at his audacity to talk as if — "As if you have the right to judge me, Boy Wonder." You spat out, frowning as you swivelled around to see Dick Grayson, a mere inch away from you. Your gym bag rotated around you on impact and caught itself on your shoulder. The impact and the shock alone were enough to make you take a step back — but not before Dick had slipped one of his batons behind the groove of your back, pulling you towards his chest by pulling on both ends of the baton.

"It's Nightwing now, actually." He corrected, seemingly unfazed by your resentful attitude. Your dynamic usually went this way; a small fight amongst rivals and old friends, with a mutual understanding that the other is off-limits. Looking down at your irritated face, Dick only grinned wittingly and nodded towards your bag full of cash over your shoulder, "I assume... money's tight?"

You could only laugh, feigning shock, "Oh, right, I forgot you don't know what it's like to be poor because your daddy's filthy rich." With a quick shove away from his suit-bound chest, you backed away from him and started immediately looking for exits.

Dick noticed and shook his head. "Hey man, he may be a billionaire, but he doesn't give me a single penny!" Dick stepped closer to you as you stepped back, cornering you. "Can you believe that?" He muttered, his perfect hair looking like a bright shade of red from your close-up point of view underneath the hue of the emergency lights.

You looked up at him, then looked down as you considered punching him in the stomach to get away. The vigilante began eyeing your bag, taking the chance and reaching for it when you were distracted looking for his weak points.

Acting quickly, you rip the bag away from him, bolting for a closed window jumping out of it and into another rooftop of a building. Glass had flown everywhere, some of it cutting you, and some of it landing inside your shoes. Dick laughed in slight annoyance as he saw you take off, not wasting another second and going right after you. "You can't run forever! I know this bank personally, s/o, they're getting their money back!"

You don't waste time looking behind you and flip him the bird over your shoulder, leaping onto another building with a running start. Midair, you feel a strong arm wrap grab your waist and fling you around in an unknown direction — just until you reach solid ground on top of a 24/7 diner. Not used to being in the fucking air you found yourself holding onto the superhero's shoulder's in a vice grip until you let go, finding the whole situation mortifying.

"Breakfast?" Dick looked at the bright Neon sign that was below eye level from his spot on the rooftop, grinning at you so coyly; he was serious.

"It's 4 AM, Dick." You say his name like an insult, rather than a title.

Dick, however, was unfazed, having heard that joke over a thousand times in his lifetime. "Well, yeah it's midnight, but I'm hungry and— Oh shoot! I'm short on cash... S/o? Do you happen to have cash?" Nightwing crossed his arms and hummed in thought looking around like a sailor looking for land.

You could only roll your eyes at his behaviour, knowing he was serious about using the money you stole to buy himself a chicken-fried steak and a stack of pancakes.

A normal person who was to look at this man's behaviour would have instantly known he was joking; you, however, were no ordinary man. For you have known Grayson for longer than you wanted to have known him, and a couple of years' worth of time spent with the acrobat was enough information for you to know; he fucked around, but man, did he love finding out.

You felt your shoulders drop in a "why-not" attitude, and you let out a long sigh, shrugging and gesturing to jump down from the rooftop of the diner.

With a pursed lip smile, Dick hopped down and opened the diner's front door, beckoning you inside eagerly. After you got down, you rolled your eyes at him but laughed anyway, finding the situation unbelievable. "Did you want a blowjob for your chivalry?" You joked, peeking over your shoulder to catch Grayson checking out your ass from behind you.

"Why; is that an offer?" Grayson ran his tongue over his bottom lip, rapid-firing his side of the banter. The hostess stood before the two of you, watching the exchange occur uncomfortably. Despite your public profanities, she couldn't care less, it was 4 am.

"Table for two?"

——————————————————————————————————

The air was calm in the diner, it smelt of coffee — which made sense, because how else would you stay awake at this ungodly hour? You were lucky that there was no one else here; a swarm of men and women alike would have crowded around the superhero sitting before you, had it not been empty.

As you scanned the menu briefly, you couldn't help but get a little distracted at the sight of the man before you. Stealing glances above the menu, you leaned back in your side of the booth and shrunk, trying to look as if you aren't staring at him just for the sake of staring.

"I know I'm gob-stoppingly gorgeous, but be careful, you might even fall in love with me with that look." Dick snorted, dropping the menu down on the table to reveal his shit-eating grin.

"Oh fuck off," You murmured, looking away for a second only to meet his eyes again. "... So what's the plan, Dick?" Your embarrassment was soon replaced with your focus on the important matter at hand. "Are you planning not to turn me in today? Plan to take me out to dinner like one of your girls?" His attention was now completely on you, his eyes carefully watching you as you got comfortable in your cushioned seat, balancing your head on your hands as you leaned forward.

"What do you want?"

Dick gulped. "Well, I... I want a huge stack of your house buckwheat pancakes and a soda float, if you please." His demeanour shifted completely as he transformed from sexy-man to child-patron when he waved his hand over to the waitress to get her attention and his order in. "And— What, a milkshake? A milkshake for the gentleman please— And fries!" He looked back at you, "can't have a milkshake without fries, am I right?"

You could only stare blankly at him as he conversed with the waitress across the room, "Dick, look at me." getting fed up with his indifference, you reached forward to grab his jaw lightly by the tips of your fingers, angling his face to confront you. You could feel your heart skip a beat as his dark blue eyes focused on you once again.

Your breath hitched, and you nearly forgot what you wanted to say. "... The hell do you want with me now that we're here?" You repeated under your breath, watching as one of his hands reached up to grab your hand on his face.

"Well,"

"Maybe I just wanted to waste some of your time, sweetheart."

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ancientcharm · 1 year

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Roman marble sculpture. About 120 – 140 AD, reused 170-175 AD. Louvre Museum, Paris.

Photos: EGISTO SANI (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Sculpted during the early second century AD, it originally depicted the Emperor Hadrian and his wife Sabina. However, the group was later altered, for reasons that remain unknown. The head of the female figure was changed and replaced by another ancient portrait: the features and hairstyle, essential indicators for the dating of Roman portraits, indicate that this is a late second-century portrait, probably of Lucilla, wife of Emperor Lucius Verus (161-169 AD). If this is indeed the case, Lucilla may have reused this group to the glory of her dead husband. By substituting her own portrait for that of Sabina and making Hadrian's features more anonymous in order to turn him into a generic figure, she would have elevated Lucius Verus to the status of god. It reflects the hellenizing taste and the neoclassical style in fashion during this period. Hadrian (117-138 AD), the first Roman emperor to be portrayed as a god during his own lifetime, is depicted as Mars, god of war. The plinth may be modern.

#ancient Rome #Roman art #sculpture #archaeology #roman empire #history #roman emperors #ancient history

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celestialtarot11 · 6 months

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How to reach your higher self according to Esoteric Astrology 💻💗

Hi friends! Welcome back to another post 🧿🪬 Today we’re looking at your Sun sign to see how you can reach your higher self. Enjoy! Please like comment and reblog to spread the love 🎉

First of all, why the Sun? Contrary to what modern astrology may present, in Esoteric Astrology the sun is meant to be tamed, not necessarily boosted. The sun represents the personality, the 3D self conditioned by opinions, narratives, and constructs created by other people.

Check your sun sign below ⬇️

Aries sun 🍵- Since Aries in esoteric astrology is seen as the rule setter, the creator of conditions, and also breaking that, in order to reach your highest potential you have to transcend the past versions of yourself. Transcending the versions of you that were created out of fear and survival is the utmost important. Aries also represents duality by the horns, the depiction of Aries is a bull or ram. This duality of Aries is spirit and physical matter. Aries can easily find themselves frustrated with the spiritual world and physical world, navigating and struggling to balance the two can cause a separation from the higher self. For example, following what others think vs. the intuition. Doing something different than what the norm thinks. Aries is also a sign of death, even if it’s exalted in traditional astrology. It’s important for Aries to allow themselves to experience ego deaths. The reason being is this: Aries is also described as experiencing a purification process through fire, their personalty (ego) burning to the ashes to see the way ahead of them. The purification signifies the end of narratives, false perceptions, and constraints created by society.

Leo ☕️- The representation and experience of us in a non physical form. To get closer to your higher self, let go of the physical world and the burdens attached to your energy. Experience yourself as greater than your physical form, and capable of more than just physicality. The sun plays three roles. Corona (what we see of the sun physically in the world) the heart of the sun (develops heart and soul) and lastly the Core which sustains our higher development. When Leos look away from inner work is when they can struggle to get closer to their higher selves. It’s important they continue shadow work to actually shine, as no light can exist without shadow. Leos have a vast life experience as well, and their heart and soul are meant to transcend in this lifetime. They are much more than their fears and anxieties, and past. Shadow work is Leos key to their higher self. As deeply as Leos can get attached to their ego, they can go very deep into connecting with consciousness. Leos have to maintain their individuality aside the masses. Its important to their connection with their higher selves, maintaining boundaries, self worth & value. Leos are represented by the Lion-essentially an Empress. Lastly, Leo reached The Child state. The free, individualistic, and pure soul. Pure regardless of others, regardless of their past, regardless of their fears. They remain true to themselves everytime.

Sagittarius ⌛️- What is important to Sagittarius is connecting with their intuition. A lot of us know the bow and arrow is famous for representing this sign, but sometimes there is a Doe at the side of the warrior. That Doe represents the seed of intuition, the subconscious, and the receiver. To get closer to your higher self get comfortable with receiving messages from your intuition, trusting your inner compass, and the path even if there are unknowns. Sagittarius can block out intuition to remain focused on the physical realm, and this leads to a blockage within themselves. So it’s important in this lifetime they allow themselves to feel safe enough to listen to themselves. Sagittarius benefits from having clear goals on what they want to focus on spiritually to grow, for example, meditation to help access their inner child once a week. Once they have their eyes set on what they need to heal, Sagittarius opens the doorway for greater awareness. Its also important they keep seeing opportunities for healing within the dark. Circumstances or situations may not be what they expected, but there is a lesson gained, a milestone gained, awareness gained, or self love gained. There is always abundance no matter what. A chance to grow again.

Libra 🌹- Balance. Inner harmony and ease. Shadow work to reach the light, and experiencing the light. Balance with spirituality and practicality. Seeing the facts and embracing intuition. Libra is represented by a flower, when the flower is shut it can’t receive, light and proper nutrients. When the flower opens and eases, Libra can receive intuitive downloads and embrace the spotlight. Contemplation is also another way to connect with your higher self. Avoidance of sitting down with yourself can cause separation with the higher self. The mind shouldn’t be neglected here entirely, rather, working with the mind in balance can help the journey. Overthinking suggests intuition needs to be present. Release the need to dominate, win, compete, and have a sense of control. To get to your higher self is to realize there is no competition required to meet yourself. Your mind can take you back to the familiar old ways, but the intuition will hold you and guide you. There is a need to follow a slow evolution and to slowly reach a point of equilibrium. Libras growth is not meant to be a fast paced, fiery journey. Rather a slow and steady process.

Aquarius 🌺- As seen, Aquarius is the water bearer usually balancing water and a cup. This represents constant duality and the transmutation of the subconscious. To get closer to your higher self, transmute and alchemize your wounds, fears into self love and acceptance. Work with the ego and soul to create mutual tolerance to benefit from healing. Allowing yourself to find your community is important to connect to your higher self. Recognize what you want to see around you, internally and externally, and what isn’t creating that currently. Remove what isn’t changing for the better. Jupiter is the esoteric ruler of Aquarius, so expanding awareness of oneself is important to Aquarius’s journey. Selfless and unconditional acceptance is important to creating and sustaining a connection with one’s higher self. Jupiter in Aquarius even in traditional astrology can represent this. It can also signify spiritual development and intuitive downloads, so letting oneself experience this can help the native feel guided and inspired. In esoteric astrology, the moon is also seen as the hierarchical ruler of Aquarius. The subconscious, the wounding, and the things that keep us safe. When those sides of us control us and want our attention, and we are incapable of meeting it, it can be detrimental. Look to the subconscious parts to see what is still controlling you or taking the drivers seat in your life.

Gemini 🌟- It is important to actually allow your higher self to speak to you and make itself known. Listening to its divine knowledge over constructive narratives that have kept others safe is important. It’s important to surround yourself with those who are in touch with their spirituality and live in their truth. Allowing yourself to speak your truth and divinely be guided in that is going to help your connection to your higher self. In greek mythology, Paracelsus says, “making commitment with determined resolution is difficult.” For Air signs what will help is consistency in truth, practicing truth and staying disciplined can help a lot. This helps the acceleration of getting closer to one’s soul, and therefore creating a connection with their higher self. Releasing resistance towards internal truth will help the native move forward in their life and connection with the higher self. Once we are open to the truth and practice what we preach, we fully let go of our own judgement and resistance. Letting go of fears related to your higher self is also important. Your higher self will not abandon nor create abandonment. Whatever falls apart is a natural consequence of inner healing.

Taurus 🌴- Attachment to desires can cause a separation with the higher self. It’s easy to think physical factors can fix whats going on internally, but the higher self encourages that we need only our soul. Taureans need to build stability and strength within themselves. They may look externally for relationships, friendships, community which is absolutely a necessity. But when they rely on it is where Taurus limits themselves. Their best relationships is with themselves. Take the time to pursue yourself and focus on a healthy relationship internally, especially with your higher self. In esoteric astrology, when Taurus does the inner work and transmutes their ego, they activate Vulcan as a planet. Vulcan helps illuminate shadows, brings healing and clarity. In fact, Taureans have immense will power and strength and they tap into that when they work on themselves. To get closer to your higher self, remember only you can set yourself free and limit yourself.

Capricorn 🌹- This sign is symbolized by a half goat/fish. This sign is not completely earthy, its watery intuition helps bring balance to its strict, structured and disciplined nature. Building trust and inner respect for your intuition will help you foster a better connection to your higher self. Part of the connection with your higher self isn’t fully meant to be logically understood. It’s an intuitive feeling your body produces that brings a level of balance. In esoteric astrology, the sign of Capricorn represents the full balance of heart and head, although the two may disagree, part of reaching your higher self is to balance these qualities. Accept the unknowns your mind may create, and your higher self will still guide you regardless of those unknowns. Build inner structure within yourself. It’s important to release the confines of your own mind and dive into the spiritual unknown, and practice an open mind. There is no structure when it comes to intuition, and no limit. It has no physicality, but it does communicate through your body and senses.

Virgo 💗- Release the idea of self perfection and mastery. In order to get closer to your higher self, it’s important to accept that this is not necessarily a destination but a journey, and there are no means to an end. You cannot master something that is still unfolding continuously. Release the grip of the physical, although it presents facts in front of you, its not all there is. To get closer to your higher self, its important to recognize that both shadow and light play a role in your healing. Virgo in esoteric astrology is all about blending duality, oneness, and creation. Creating light from understanding the shadow. Virgo in esoteric astrology is associated with motherly love and care, it’s important to heal mother wounds and allow yourself to receive guidance from the spirit realms, even if we don’t understand it fully. Know it is there for you and still accepts you. Work on the wounds relating to the mother, and nurture your inner child. The time needed to heal your relationship with yourself, and to create a relationship with your higher self will take the time it needs. Allow it to bloom. Make room for your soul to be born. Virgo is also represented as knowledge being put into synthesis or action, spreading and sharing. Share to yourself this vast spiritual healing and you’ll reap the benefits. Let healing be your mission, liberation your reward.

Scorpio 🌟- The relationship you have to your higher self is almost always near, throughout your trails and tribulations in life. Accepting the reorientation of your soul (lessons, truths, healing wounds and releasing the ego) can help you foster a better relationship with your higher self. In esoteric astrology scorpio is the sign of initiation, the souls opening, the beginning and ending. Work on opening to your higher self, and allowing your higher self to reveal to you all that has been hidden through pain and suffering. Working with your higher self can actually being harmony through conflict, as in esoteric astrology Scorpio’s 4th ray passes through harmony. This allows for consciousness, awareness and mindfulness in newer relationships. Even in oneself. Once you tap into the devotion you have for yourself, being with your higher self will begin to make a lot of sense as your higher self has the same for you. It wants simply the best and better for you all of the time. See the passion in standing up for the past parts of you, see the passion in choosing you over and over. Go back to your higher self for guidance on how to give yourself a better experience by being a better you.

Pisces ✨- Rejuvenation and rest is the way to meet your higher self. Find a way to tune out all the noise (ego, distraction, constructs made by others) and listen to yourself. Get to know yourself behind the filter and projections placed by others. Hold yourself in the most rawest and vulnerable states. As depicted by the two fish, one is life, the other is death. Subconscious and conscious. Forever the two dance together, so its important to realize having your higher self is the balance to your life. You spend so much time in the subconscious of others, absorbing wounds. Your higher self is the consciousness waiting to bring balance. Pisces in esoteric astrology is about letting the ego go, all of its attachments, personas, facades, dependencies. Finding true and real meaning in yourself. Fall back and trust your higher self (your other half) to guide you. The ego cannot survive in the healing of the soul. Know this and continue the journey. By finding the balance internally, your external will shift gradually. Give back to yourself.

Cancer 💫- Your higher self holds a ton of old age knowledge, so it’s important to be open minded to this information. Tradition may be important to you, it isn’t for no reason. In a way, when you pay homage to those traditions/knowledge, you give to your higher self. To your ancestors essentially. Cancers ray in esoteric astrology passes through intelligence. With your emotional and spiritual intelligence, your higher self is channeled through you. Let yourself learn about the deep nature of your feelings, the expression of it all. Turn it into psychological knowledge for yourself and others. Your higher self is apart of your family, it is part of your foundation and self support. Receive its guidance. The more you heal and discover yourself, your planetary ruler in esoteric astrology Neptune will heighten your consciousness. Your depth, awareness and magnitude makes you resilient and intelligent. Neptune also dissolves issues in the solar plexus the more you heal. You self confidence and trust within yourself heightens when you follow your gut, and build a healthy relationship with your higher self. Meditation, journaling, mindfulness, will help a lot in connecting to your higher self.

Thank ya’ll for reading! Its very much appreciated. Please comment, like and reblog for support 🌹✨ your feedback is appreciated!

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winterarmyy · 1 year

Text

Promise Me | Part III

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 4.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst but happy ending. The anticipation, the hesitation, yup it was real in this one. Not enough dialogue in my opinion but meh my brain was not braining. Bucky's scene before their official reunion.

P/S: Yeay, it's a wrap. Sorry for the delay guys. I'm still sick but feeling better, so that's a good news! This is the final part if the mini series, I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Louisiana, 2024 – New beginning

War after war, from one fight into another, Bucky finally had the chance to catch a breath for himself. With the flagsmashers gone and Sam being the new Captain America just as Steve envisioned, there was a moment of peace for Bucky's tortured soul to finally rest.

He sat at the deck area of Sam's ship, watching the sun meets the ocean over the horizon, occasionally sipping on his probably fifth bottle of beer.

When he drowned himself in the memories of the events that happened these past few months, suddenly the tranquil of the sunset ahead of him doesn't interest him the least; not when a certain person had been occupying his mind.

Replaying all the twists and turns of his journey fighting those rogue group of super soldiers, one person had been but remained a mystery to him.

The Deathstalker.

It was the one puzzle piece that didn't seemed fit in the picture. As if she was plucked out entirely from a different story, a riddle that would lead him into another adventure beyond the unknown.

He still remembered the way her hands trembled against his face, tears pooling in her eyes that then fell into her mask as she muttered his name again and again.

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

The Deathstalker seemed to be taken aback by his question. Her mutterings stopped and her eyes locked on his blue ones; there was hesitation in her gaze, or a contemplation of an answer that Bucky was dying to know.

"I-- i'm--" her words stumbled as her feet dragged backwards, putting some space between herself and Bucky.

Bucky's heart stammered in anticipation, he had a gut feeling that she wasn't just someone that he had crossed path with once or twice. He could tell they had some kind of a long history, a deeper connection; Where? When? He wasn't sure. He just knew it that there was something special between them, especially when she looked at him with such eyes.

But before she could give a definite answer, multiple groups of bounty hunters started to re-gather in their area. Zemo came in clutch with a car, picking up the injured Sam with the help of Sharon.

Bucky can hear Sharon's voice yelling out his name yet he didn't move an inch and within minutes they were surrounded by the hunters.

What was it that gave him such courage to court death just to hear her answer? Was it just purely out of curiosity or was it some kind of delusional hope that intrigued his soul?

Y/N looked around to assess their dire situation before gazing up at the taller. She knew this wasn't the best time for the truth and her hesitation only makes it worst.

But when, Bucky held out his hand towards her, "Come with me." there was a strong pull that made her wanted to just give in and take his hand.

And Bucky didn't know why he reached out for her, but it felt right. She glanced in between his hand and his pleading eyes, her own hand twitching, almost submitting to her desire but the last minute she decided to stand on her ground.

Y/N ended up turning her back and fled away, leaving her lover's hand hanging and his question unanswered.

Through the time that Bucky was deep in his memories, he may or may not have unintentionally bored his gaze towards Sarah's direction, which only triggered Sam into a protective brother that he is, "Don't flirt with my sister." He warned.

Bucky briefly scoffed and denied his accusations, "I'm not." He sipped on his bottle as he averted his gaze away.

The look on Sam's face seemed like he was trying to glare into Bucky's soul; he was sceptical with the his deflection. But the brunette only rolled his eyes in response as he spoke, "Seriously. I'm not interested." He continued before Sam couldn't interject, "Not that there's anything wrong with her.. it's just..."

Seeing Bucky's struggles to find an excuse, Sam curiously quirked, "It's just that you already have a girl in mind?" He suggested.

There was a hint of softness in Bucky's smile when he ran his thumb across the glossy sticker of the bottle, "I had a girl." He spoke dearly as his eyes diluted into another spiral of scattered memories of his past lover, "I had the best girl."

Since the truth that was unfolded in Madripoor, Y/N had been keeping tabs on Bucky. At first, she couldn't believe it. She had to put everything about the super soldier serum on hold, to uncover more of Bucky's survival.

As it turn out, he managed to survive the fall from the train back in 1945 and had been brainwashed into a lethal weapon for Hydra for years after that.

His identity had been a secret for decades but since the fall of Hydra a few years back, the whole world knew who the Winter Soldier was. However, the people in the underground world was much fond of his villain's name, rather than the name of a war hero when it comes to addressing him.

Therefore, the lack of use of his real name had been one of the reason why Y/N was not aware of his existence. Not to mention, when he made his first public appearance when the bombing at Washington D.C. happened, she was determined to leave anything related to her past life behind and was trying to live a new life away in Singapore.

Then, a few years after that, when she came back to New York during the first year of the blip, Bucky was unfortunately, one of the people who vanished.

But, those things doesn't matter anymore now that she knew he was alive. Her Bucky. Her James. He's alive. Y/N couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, this overjoyed. That night, she couldn't sleep very well; not when her heart was working overtime all through the night.

Ever since then, she had been lurking around Bucky and Sam most of the time. Besides, her own mission of making sure the super soldier serum doesn't fall into the wrong hands and to put an end to the flagsmasher, Y/N was also there just to see Bucky.

She couldn't help it.

Imagine living a somewhat immortal life without a piece of your heart for decades. Withering to the fact that you can never see your lover, not in life nor in death; Or spending days and nights, missing and longing for his soul to be one with yours again.

And then suddenly discovering he was still alive.

Of course, she would use any excuse to see him every single day without fail. But at the same time, she didn't want to make things more complicated than it already was. With the crisis of the vigilante super soldiers, she didn't think it would be wise to reveal herself to Bucky anytime soon.

So, she stayed in the shadows instead, refuse to make herself known to Bucky. Whether as the Deathstalker or as Y/N.

Except for that one time that she decided to help him.

Bucky looked around the parking lot, trying to make a decision on which vehicle would be easiest for him to hijack. That was when he heard her signature robotic voice, "Hey, sarge!" She yelled.

He followed her voice upwards to see her feet dangling in the air, as she sat on the edge of the metal of the fire escape stairs. He hadn't seen her since their first encounter at Madripoor, "You..." Bucky whispered quietly.

Now that he thought about it, did she just call him by his title?

She titled her head to the side, "Do you require any assistance, sargent?" She asked nonchalantly as if they have been buddies for years.

Yup, she did used his title.

Bucky's signature frown only deepened when she insinuated a jest-like tone. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to appear friendly in order to help him or slow him down. So be safe, his defence went up when he straighten his back into a stance.

When Y/N saw how his guard changed, she decided to get straight to the point, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James" she leaned as if it'll close the distance between them.

She wondered if her words trigger a memory in him; after all, she did use the similar sentence in 1943 when Steve rescued him from Hydra's captivity. But the lack of response from Bucky told her otherwise. Perhaps, it was too long of past for him to remember, or it wasn't significant enough for him.

Bucky's brows quirked when she yelled, "Heads up." and his hand rose up to catch whatever it was she threw down at him.

Y/N briefly titled her head forward as she spoke, "Far left. The black bike." In which Bucky briefly followed her directions, to indeed see a black bike parked at the spot.

Bucky wordlessly turned his head back and gaze up at her with a questioning look on his face. He couldn't see her behind that mask she was wearing but if he could, he would've see her smiling, "You need it more than I do."

It has been a few months since that night. And she was still lurking somewhere in the dark. Everywhere he goes, she will be right around the corner; watching, observing.

Even now, when she found herself standing on one of the boardwalk in Louisiana, near where Sam's boat resides. There was no denying that she was sort of being a creep, basically stalking Bucky from where she was standing.

From this distance, she could see that Bucky was having the time of his life entertaining the kids with his left arm; or maybe the kids were, when they compete each other on how long they can last hanging from the vibranium metal.

Y/N just had to smile seeing him happy like this. Her heart bloomed with warmth that she never thought she would ever had the chance feel again. Bucky looked as if he was finally at peace, and that made her doubt if it was a good idea to insert herself in his life now.

She believed that he derserve a happy ending. After all he had gone through all those years, he should be able to have the luxury of having a completely new life, a new beginning. Away from the past that are just filled with painful memories and dreadful suffering. To find love again and live a long happy life where she is nothing but a distant memory.

He deserve that.

But is that what she truly wanted?

Brooklyn, 2024 – Truth Untold

"That'll be $25, sir." The red-haired smiled as she handed Bucky his usual order. He paid accordingly as he took it off her hands and walked out of the cozy little shop at the corner of the busy city street.

His gloved hand gripped onto the stem of the bouquet, as his dark and tall silhouette slithered through the crowd. Everybody seemed to be entranced with whatever it was on the screen of their phones, while Bucky felt like he was out of place and time with arrangement of primroses in his hands.

The hustle bustle of the city slowly transitioned into a much calmer and quieter scenary. He walked passed the rusty, almost deteriorating entrance gate, nodding to the old ground keeper as he passed by. He knew he could get lost if he doesn't keep his focus, yet his eyes remained on the petals of the flowers, gambling his trust in his feet to bring him to the only spot they recognized.

"Hey, doll." Bucky greeted, gripping on the stem a little tighter as he read the name of his lover on the worn-looking headstone. Months of cleaning and tending her grave, it still looked grey and sombre compared to when he first visited; but that tends to happen to a grave is been left out since the 70's.

He lowered into a crouching position and placed the flowers in front of the headstone, "I'm sorry I've been missing some weeks on ya. Duty calls." Bucky knew that wasn't a good excuse to miss their dates but the flagsmashers events had caused him to skip this little Tuesday routine of his.

As depressing it might sound, he missed coming here.

Besides going to therapy, this has been the only place where Bucky talks the most about his feelings. Though it might be completely a one-sided conversation, but he could spend hours talking to her. Telling her anything and everything that's been going on in that pretty head of his. No matter how scrambled and messy it was up there.

Bucky traced his fingers to the words engraved in the stone; it read 'Beloved daughter, sister, aunt, and friend.' Each title were delightful as they were but then again, she could've been 'a lovely wife' and 'a great mother', but she didn't.

"Why didn't you?" Bucky whispered quietly. "I just know that men must've been thrilled chasing after you, begging on their knees for your hand." He chuckled as he remembered all those times when his friends would ogle over her whenever he brought her out for a dance, "And you'd be a wonderful mother too." Knowing her gentle nature and how the kids in the hospital adored her, he just knew she would be.

His heart pierced painfully to think that she might have grown old alone, and died without family of her own. "You should've live a happy life, y/n. Marry a good man, build a family." Tears that pooled started to drip from the corner of his eyes, each tore an aching sob from his throat, "And I wished I could've be there with you."

It wasn't rare for Bucky to cry during his visits to Y/N's grave. He is the most vulnerable when he's with her; even in death, being around her has been comforting for his soul.

Y/N could clearly hear the sound of his sniffles when she stood closer to him like this. She spend day after day, gathering the courage and figuring out what to say if she ever confronted Bucky.

But in the end, the fact that Bucky was just within her reach, living, breathing; it broke whatever plan she had in her mind.

It still felt like a dream. A lucid one.

Bucky knew that was someone standing behind him; but he felt no sorts of vendetta from the person and if they mean him any harm, they would've done it sooner. He roughly stroke his palm across his face in effort to hide the tears streaks away and took a deep breath as he stood on his feet.

Whoever he had in mind, well it was definitely not that person who was standing behind him right now. It totally caught him off guard when he saw the Deathstalker standing in front of him instead of any other familiar faces.

Though her identity was still hidden, but instead of her combat attire, she was in a much comfortable clothes. Casual sneakers, basic jeans, an oversize sweater, its hood pulled over her head and a soft cloth mask covering her lower face.

Despite the change of style, her eyes were still the same. Big, brown and Bucky could only describe them to be filled with curiosity and concern as they looked up at him. He could feel the burn from the drag of her gaze on each part of his features; the softness of his lips, the red of his nose and especially the puffiness of his eyes.

He broke the silence when he started the conversation, "I assume that you're not going to fight me." He said, "At least you don't look like you're equipped for it..." Bucky pointed out the obvious.

Y/N took a few seconds of silent blinking before she responded with a shook of her head.

The lack of verbal response somehow caused him to feel slightly awkward. Rubbing the back on his neck, Bucky titled his head to the side, "So... you're here for your bike?" He asked. He still hold on to the bike that she lend to him, though it was back at his place, if that's what she wanted.

Her eyes curved into a pair of cresent moons, a side effect of a smile that Bucky couldn't see. She shook her head again to deny his speculation.

Bucky pointed out at the graveyard around them when he asked, "Uhh...are you here for a visit too?" He doubt it but it was worth to try.

Y/N looked over his shoulder, reading the familiar name engraved on the headstone behind him, before locking her eyes back to his. She shook her head yet again.

Bucky was starting to get why Sam felt annoyed with his staring problem now that he had first hand experience. Though she wasn't glaring at him like he would at Sam, but still, she was staring at him most of the time. And the lack of words made it more noticeable. "You don't talk much do you?" He asked, there was a hint of passive-aggressive in his tone.

And Y/N recognized that tone anywhere. She was surprised that that part of him hasn't change since the 40's. She remembered how Bucky would use this tone whenever he was irritated but he didn't want to be a jerk and yell out his frustration.

The fact that she still managed to notice this little quirks of his after all these years made her chuckle amusingly. There wasn't a voice changer now, it was just her voice; raw and unfiltered. And even if it was muffled behind the cloth of her mask, her laugh sounded awfully familiar to Bucky.

It sounded pretty and soft, that it tickled something in deep within his chest but not enough to trigger any memory from his subconcious, "Then, what are you doing here?" He asked curiously.

It took a moment of blinking silence before Y/N grabbed onto the fabric of her hood; she pulled it back and it revealed her slightly wavy hair dipped in raven. Bucky watched intently as her index finger slipped into the tiny slot at the side of her nose, hooking it on the fabric of her mask.

And those mere seconds of hesitation triggered the tears to form in her eyes. Her heart beating fast, tiredlessly pumping blood through the veins of her body yet her fingers still runs cold with fear.

Between the thumping sound of her own heartbeat, she might have second guessed her own decision of revealing her identity. Thinking that maybe it was best to leave the truth untold. Because what if Bucky refused to believe her?

It would truly destroy her; this time, beyond repair.

Y/N briefly closed her eyes as she breathed in, she then pulled the mask down to reveal her face. The crack in her voice betrayed the smile that curved on her trembling lips, "I'm here for you." She finally spoke.

The upward movement of muscle around her cheeks pushed her tears out, letting it flow from the corner of her eyes. She didn't dare to look at him in the face for too long, so her eyes casted downwards to where her feet dug the ground.

Decades passed and it might have been several lifetimes for Y/N since the 40's but it only felt like it was yesterday for Bucky. Especially when he had lived many years of his life to either be awake for the Winter Soldier or asleep in the freezing chambers.

All of which were just scattered of loose memories to him now. It haunted him, yes. But sometimes he couldn't tell if it was just a series of nightmares or actual reality. Thus, he tends to feel as if he had lost his sense of time. That is why he always felt out of place in the modern society.

Inside, he felt like he was still the man he was in the 40's; just thrusted forward in time. And since he started to tap into the memories of himself in those olden times, it made him felt like it hasn't been that long for Bucky since he last saw her.

Yes, he felt like it was just short distance of time but his soul certainly didn't feel the same. It had been deprived of its other half for far too long.

All the images of their time together flashed rapidly through his mind; every touch, every kiss, every laughter and even every tears they ever shared, all came rushing in like untamed waves crashing to the shore.

The beautiful strings of chaos in his head hadn't calm the slightest, in fact it pushed Bucky to move forward; to catch her silhouette before it could disappear on him like the way it always does in his dreams.

Y/N's vision was blocked when Bucky smushed her face to his chest, trapping her in an unbreakable embrace as he whispered her name, "y/n?"

Was he talking to her or was he talking to himself? Because he didn't stop muttering her name as if it was some sort of a ritual chanting.

Bucky's hand briefly roamed her body from the back of her head, barely passing her shoulders, across the spine and then folded around her waist, drawing her in; impossibly closer.

That was when she felt his body shake; much like herself, Bucky was crying for the lost time that they will never make back, for the pieces of hearts broken in those decades that they lived without one another.

Bucky had witness some unbelievable things throughout his long life on this earth; lots of mind-boggling creation of man-made technology, actual magic and sorcerers, aliens and literal Gods.

He should know that nothing is impossible. Yet, holding Y/N in his arms felt unbelievably surreal to him.

Before she managed to draw in the air, her body felt the need to melt into his form. She can feel his firm grasp around her frame, and feel how rapid his heart beating on her cheek.

At that moment, she couldn't help but to find resemblance of him to his past habits; he way he holds her, how his fingers would occasionally dance across her body, or how his nose would nudge into her hair.

Even his scent remained the same. At least the essence of it were unchanged.

Being in his arms reminded her of the whispers of promises Bucky made to her, "You promised to come home." Y/N tried to steady her breath, "You promised to come back to me."

Bucky pulled her head back, cradling her face in the contrast of his hands; one was once warm and another that felt familiar. He desperately wiped her tears away with his thumbs, almost too rough of a caress but surprisingly it brought more relief than pain to her.

Even in the sorrow and grief, anger managed to slipped through when she growled, "You dickhead, you left me behind." Though it was weak, her punches still hits the target perfectly.

Repeatedly slamming her tiny fists on his sturdy chest. The chest that were caged with heavy remorse and regret. And there wasn't really anything he could say to sooth the pain that she felt when he died.

Bucky knew that, but he had to say something, anything, "I-doll, I'm so sorry..." He was drowning her with his eyes, flooding her heart with his tears as his hand ran through her hair. Soft as he remembered it to be; at least compared from the lucid dreams she was starring in.

"Shhh!" Y/N hushed him quickly, "Just please..." her breath shuddered when she inhaled.

She didn't spend most of her lifetimes to hear an apology, not from him. If anything, he should swear on his life to never leave again, to stay this time around and always. She tugged him closer, lips hovering over each other's, just one nudge away to finally get the sweet taste of it, "...never again."

And when he kissed her, it tastes of her tears. But it was beyond fulfilling. Like their lost soul were finally being able to touch again. The gentle need, the tender crave of his kiss was enough to forge her trust back into its former glory.

And all of the sudden Bucky felt like he was drowning again; like he was desperate to breathe and she was the air. He kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he needed the taste of her lips to survive the waves; like she was his lighthouse in dark.

When they finally set apart, she wanted to speak but all she can do was croak, "Don't leave me, not again." Bucky's lips curved into a loving smile and he nods once. He folded her frame in his arms, tightly and closely; his whisper was ever-so-soft when he promised, "Never."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Did you notice two dialogue throwback from when Bucky was rescued in 1943? "I didnt come all the way here to fight with you, James" and "I'm here for you" Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading and maybe tell you what you think?

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky

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stanurines1mp · 26 days

Text

Summer Nights

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Zenin!Reader (she/her)

type: angst.

an: based on this post of mine. this was long asf 17k words but i separated it into 2 parts. uhh sm thoughts about gojo. also oml desperate gojo is so hot. gojo is so hot. i want him so bad. also i need gege to bring him back but also not but also yes. anyways, bear with me on this fic okayy

warnings: enemies to lovers-esque, forbidden love, one bed trope, angst, zenin!reader, DESPERATION HEAVY ON DESPERATION. i think that's it for part 1.

tags: @kalopsia-flaneur @bloopsstuff

Part two

~~~

Being the strongest is everyone's dream but in Satoru Gojo's experience, almost nothing good ever came of it. He would know, of course. The strongest sorcerer, the bearer of the Six Eyes, lived with a mountain of regrets.

What did it mean to be the strongest if he couldn't save everyone? What did it mean to be the strongest if he ended up alone? What did it mean to be the strongest if, in his lifetime of darkness, he had to leave the only light in his life that stood in the shape of you?

Satoru Gojo was not just a victim of the title of being the strongest. He was also a victim of his ancestral rivalry with another one of the three great clans in Jujutsu society.

The Zenin clan was known for its strength, even surpassing the strength of the Gojo clan as a whole. But there is not a single person, sorcerer or not, that could surpass Satoru Gojo just yet.

You were the closest one to it.

When Satoru enrolled in the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu High, you were brought to study in the Kyoto branch. The only time you had ever had to interact with him was during the Goodwill Events that had taken place over the course of both your high school years.

Even then, neither one of you had gotten any closer past simple acquaintances. But, you had always held a deep dislike towards the bearer of the Six Eyes.

The Zenin clan may be known to the entire Jujutsu World but the workings of the clan were hidden beneath words of their strength. You experienced it first-hand.

Having been born a woman in the Zenin clan, you were doomed to a certain type of future from the start. Much like your mother and many other women in the clan, you were forced to succumb to a childhood of serving the men of the clan.

Falling victim to their selfish needs and desires, you were submitted to their way of life. Always having to listen to their constant rambles and complaints, you were trained to heed their orders like servants.

And since many in the clan held dislike and hatred towards Satoru, you couldn't help but share their sentiment, having embedded in you that you should hate the heir to the man who once killed your ancestor.

After high school had ended, Satoru became a teacher. Your own classmates had pursued their dreams and aspirations to become sorcerers.

You, however, were stuck with the system of your clan.

You were truly a strong sorcerer, bearing an extremely powerful cursed technique but you weren't a full-time sorcerer. Or rather, you weren't allowed to.

However, there were special cases in which a mission was much too difficult or complicated that the higher-ups would request a partnership from you. Oftentimes, you were partnered up with Satoru.

Satoru Gojo was a man of too many words. His laidback personality and carelessness often swirled your blood with anger.

His never-ending rambles about nothing often had you wishing your ears were torn off. His routine of disrespecting the higher-ups was truly insufferable, leaving you as collateral damage in certain missions.

But the one thing about Satoru Gojo that truly had you crashed out with an unknown mix of emotions was the fact that above all of that, Satoru Gojo remained a caring man.

Even to you, his supposed enemy.

The girl from the Zenin clan, yet another one of them that fell nimbly to the words of the sadistic men in power. He hated weaklings and you were one of them, in that sense. But he never seemed to hate you.

No one outside the clan knew how the women of Zenin were treated. But Satoru Gojo could have guessed. And his guesses turned to knowledge.

Since Satoru Gojo knew that, it would have meant that he knew you.

So despite your glares and hurtful jabs at him, he never took any of them seriously. If anything, he made sure you could always feel comfortable to act that way around him.

Even more than that, you've witnessed him in action countless times over the missions you were both partnered up on. Without even realizing it, you somehow grew a fondness in your heart in the color of his eyes, respect taking place somewhere in there.

But he was a Gojo.

And you were a Zenin.

You were both fated to be enemies, to hate one another.

You had to always remind yourself that.

Every single ti-

"Hi," his honey-trailed voice appeared in front of you, his lips wearing a cheeky smile while his hand splayed out in a wave.

"Where the hell were you? We were supposed to leave 20 minutes ago," you seethed, eyes sending him a glare.

"Relax," he dismissed with a wave of his hand before entering the car.

"Relax? We were waiting for 20 minutes!" you nagged, your words falling right into deaf ears.

You followed after him and took a seat, closing the door with slight aggression and annoyance to the man next to you who seemed to disregard anyone else's sense of time and urgency. You leaned your head on your fist, resting neatly by the door of the car.

Your eyes followed the blurred images of the road outside, pops of colors merely to you. In a few hours, the car halted to a stop, the sky already a deep shade of blue with brightened stars illuminating the night sky.

The door of the car clicked open as you pushed it away and took a step out of the vehicle, Satoru doing the same thing on the other side. You walked to the back of the car, meeting him there while your driver opened up the boot.

Reaching out, you took your bag and waited by the sidewalk. You sent a friendly wave to the driver, watching as he drove the dark-colored car away. Turning around, your gaze lifted to the modern building that was the hotel that had been booked for you and Satoru to stay the night.

"Oh, and just so you know, they only booked us one room," Satoru grinned, sparing you a glance with his covered eyes.

Your own pair of eyes widened upon hearing his words, scrambling to follow behind him as he walked first into the hotel. Part of you were skeptical, unsure whether or not you should believe Satoru's words.

But his words were proven to be the truth when you both reached the receptionist. Satoru handled the technicalities and you watched as the man handed the sorcerer two keycards.

The white-haired shaman turned to you and handed you one which you then took and kept in your pocket. Following the receptionist's words, you both turned the corner to get to the elevators, clicking on the 20th-floor button.

Silence crept upon you both as the elevator took its sweet time to reach the 20th floor but you were the first to break the silence.

"Honestly, why didn't they book us two rooms like usual?" You frowned, toying with the keycard in your pocket.

"Budget cuts," Satoru simply replied but you only met his eyes with a deadpanned look.

"Yeah, right," you let out a scoff, returning your eyes to the small monitor that showcased the current level of the elevator.

"It's the only room available," he chuckled lightly at your reaction. "It's a pretty famous hotel," he added to strengthen his words.

You hummed lowly in acceptance, eyes only focusing on the monitor. The elevator was cold and dimly lit with warm-colored lights and borders of carved wood.

Satoru's gaze fell to the floor temporarily before following your own pair of eyes to witness the white-colored numbers changing from one number to the next. A sharp release of air escaped your lips once the digital numbers displayed a precise picture of 20.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Satoru stayed behind to give you the way to get out first. He followed behind you as you led him down the cozy corridor, stopping in front of a wooden door that had a small plate on it with the number of your room.

You fished out the keycard from your pocket and held it gently against the metallic scanner by the handle. Instantaneously, the light on the scanner flashed a bright green color, sending a slight buzzing sensation against your fingers.

You turned down the handle and pushed it open, with Satoru immediately behind you. He placed his right palm against the wooden door, pushing it against the wall to ease you to enter the room.

A slight thud emitted from the door closing and you and Satoru took off your shoes before moving deeper into the room. The minute you did and noticed the arrangement of the room, you heard your bag meet the floor in a light thump as your jaw dropped in absolute horror.

"What in the actual fuck?" You twitched with disgust, your emotions emphasized with each passing word that slipped past your tongue.

You heard Satoru laugh from next to you, undeniably grinning like a smug little shit at your expression but it only made you angrier. One queen-sized bed was staring you right in the face, its neatness almost mocking you indirectly.

"It's just a bed, princess," he teased, walking past you and setting himself on the edge of the bed, only fueling your displeasure with that nickname he loved to use for you.

The first time he had called you by it, you were frowning at him like he was a creepy pervert inching to touch you. But he justified his choice of nickname by saying that in the Jujutsu World, you were the closest thing they would have as a princess.

It made no sense to you but apparently, it did to him. Though a lot of things were like that, you thought. Regardless, you were stuck with it.

"It's one bed, Satoru. One," you pressured, your eyes thinly glaring at him.

Like the concept of him calling you princess, this was yet another situation where you and Satoru did not make sense of things in the same way. He seemed unbothered whereas you were extremely bothered.

Shaking your head, you walked past the bed and towards the couch, placing your bag on the floor next to it. "Guess I'll take the couch, then," you mumbled with a shake of your head.

"Wait, what?" Satoru laughed, the sound a kind of harmony that washed over with familiarity but in the moment, it only added to your internal torment. "Don't be ridiculous, the bed is big enough for us both."

"As if I would ever sleep with you," you huffed, unzipping your bag to take out your toiletries and clothes for the night.

Curse the moon and the sky for having you live through this while bringing a short-sleeved t-shirt to pair with short shorts as your choice of nightwear to battle the heat of the summer night.

But you had no choice seeing as that was the only piece of clothing you brought for your sleepwear.

"Aww, you've thought about sleeping with me?" Satoru smirked with apparent humor.

You looked at him over your shoulder and scrunched your face in distress. "As if," you rolled your eyes, only earning a soft laugh from the man.

"But seriously, just share the bed," he persuaded gently, following your unpacking actions.

"I would rather step into Unlimited Void," you spat.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged though you couldn't see since your back was facing him but you could hear it in his words.

You hummed to yourself in approval and turned around, shock coursing through you upon noticing Satoru's fingers moving to unbutton his shirt.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" You almost shout at him.

"What?" He froze, taken by absolute surprise and clearly, oblivious to your discomfort. "I'm just tryna change," he shrugged mindlessly, not seeming to give a care.

"Go change in the bathroom, pervert!"

It was like Satoru's brain finally clicked to understand what you meant. Wearing his infamously annoying shit-eating grin, he provoked you.

"Don't tell me you're not the least bit curious, hmm?" His words buzzed through the room, taking a note lower than usual, his head slightly tilted in a suggestive manner.

You could feel your heart skipping a simple beat, suddenly finding it hard to breathe but you maintained your composure.

"Not. A. Single. Bit," you assured him with a pause in between words, arms crossed tightly against your chest and eyes challenging.

"Sure, princess," he clicked his tongue and looked away, somehow finally allowing you to breathe normally again but only for a moment since next, he took off his blindfold, revealing to you his familiar icy blue eyes.

It wasn't the first time you'd seen them but somehow each time, you couldn't help but grow a little feeling of jealousy at how beautiful his eyes were. But you would never admit that, especially to him.

Not in a million years.

You watched as Satoru spared you a quick glance with his angelic eyes before heading towards the bathroom. You stared forward, body frozen until you heard the bathroom door close and click with a lock.

Another sharp exhale escaped you as you turned around to sit on the couch, praying that the little thing could give you a good night's sleep. You began reading up the file for the mission tomorrow, hearing the water begin to run in the bathroom.

Once you had done your reading and research, you decided to scroll on your phone while waiting for Satoru to finish taking his shower.

Soon enough, the running water stopped and moments later, Satoru left the toilet, taking a step into the bedroom with his hair still damp, droplets of water falling onto the carpeted ground.

His towel hugged his waist almost loosely and just low enough for you to notice certain details that you should not be noticing. especially on him. You looked away quickly with hopes that he hadn't caught your staring but unfortunately, he did notice you.

As he always had.

Thankfully, he hadn't decided to torture you and remained quiet but his lips were pulled up in a toying smirk, proud of himself for being able to catch even the slightest bit of your attention.

You walked past him to enter the shower, leaving once you had finished refreshing yourself.

Satoru was laid on one side of the bed, his back upright against the headboard while his legs were stretched out in front of him, dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants. His hair was undone, a few strands falling over his eyes that were focused on his phone.

Next to him was the case file for the mission, leaving you to make the correct assumption that he had been reading up on it to prepare for tomorrow. You walked over to the couch and took a seat, ready to go to sleep.

"Are you actually going to sleep there tonight?" Satoru spoke, his voice sounding a little annoyed.

"What's it to you?" You raised a brow, eyes unamused.

"We've got a long day tomorrow and that thing looks about as comfortable as a shoebox," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I'll be fine," you shook your head and lowered your body into a lying position.

"You do not look fine," he stated, eyes unashamedly staring as you fidgeted to find comfort on the cramped furniture. You remained silent in spite but after a while of tossing and turning, Satoru couldn't take it anymore. "For goodness sake, just share the bed."

His voice was raised slightly in annoyance, causing you to sit upright with just the same amount of frustration. Your eyes glared at him, mind contemplating your decisions. But eventually, your eyes glinted in the form of defeat.

"Fine," you huffed. "Only because I'm tired," you added, walking over to the bed and placing your phone on the nightstand.

"Sure, princess," Satoru grinned in victory.

"Just make sure you stay on your side," you emphasized.

"Sure, princess," he repeated his words, a softer tone taking place as he watched you get under the blanket.

Satoru took the files that were in between the two of you and placed them on the bedside table on his side. You made yourself cozy and turned to lie on your right side, back facing Satoru.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were stuck on your back, the way your hair fell against the soft sheets of the pillow, revealing the nape of your neck.

Your skin showed all signs of softness, mending and warming Satoru's heart with the urge to reach over and grace it against the tips of his fingers.

His lips were parted as if ready to say something, anything, just to get everything out in the open. But his head shook slightly to remind himself of the situation that lies beneath his strictly professional relationship with you.

Because he was a Gojo.

And you were a Zenin.

He had to always remind himself that.

His mind troubled and clouded with hints of you, he got under the blanket, careful to heed your wishes of having him stay only on his side of the bed. He sent you a glance, noticing that you had already turned off the lamp on your side.

Leaning forward, he turned off the light and whispered softly against the summer air, "Goodnight."

Your heart fluttered in silence at the sound of his voice so quiet in the night, feeling so distant when he was barely a meter away from you.

"Goodnight," you responded with just as heavy of a voice as he held.

Perhaps the burden that colored your wish was the same kind that he had. But you couldn't think that.

You forbid yourself to think that.

Satoru remained lying on his back, occasionally taking side glances to your back that faced him. You were quiet, softly breathing in an attempt to sleep.

He had no idea how long it was that he stayed awake in the quiet night. It was really silent that it felt loud and wrong. He wondered if you ever lived any moment in silence.

"Hey, are you sleeping?" His voice was barely a whisper but you were barely a hand-reach away from him.

"I'm trying to," you persisted, a hint of annoyance taking place.

Satoru felt a small pang of guilt for disturbing you. He let himself forget about you for the moment, and it took so much to do that when you were just there, lying next to him.

But he settled soon, falling into slumber with peace.

Having slept alone for most of your life, you were a light sleeper, easily waking up with any hints of movement that did not belong to you. And you were asleep, you were sure of it.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Your eyes jolted open in horror at the weight on your arm. Satoru's hands gripped your arm harshly but there was a sense of gentleness underlying his skin that met yours.

You were about to turn around and wake him up to give him an earful for not staying on his side of the bed when you heard the rustling sound of him tossing and turning.

His breathing was erratic as his lips emitted mumbled words of gibberish. You turned slightly, noticing how his closed eyes were in panic, lips quivering in fear and his skin was glistened with sweat.

He was having a nightmare.

Worried, you turned, pushing away his hand that held onto you like a lifeline. You leaned over the gap that lay in between you both, your own fingers reaching over to his arm to try and hold him in place but failed since his Infinity was on.

You could only watch as your hand struggled to reach him.

"Satoru," you called softly at first but he showed no response, too entwined by the horrific pictures his mind conjured. "Satoru!" You called again, louder this time.

His eyes tore open with a desperate gasp, his body erratic before settling down. His brows were furrowed, his eyes glassy, blue color boring right into yours. He was in a state of confusion, reeling back his mind and body to calmness.

"Are you okay?" You asked, voice soft and gentle.

His eyes searched yours.

All he could find was safety in the eyes of his supposed enemy. He swallowed the lump that stuck to the back of his throat, his head slowly nodding but lacking any sign of assurance.

"I-I'm sorry," he cleared his throat, fixing his position to remain on his side of the bed, much like your previous request to him earlier in the night.

"It's fine," you shook your head, your eyes hazy as you returned back to lying on the bed.

This time, you stayed on your left side, your hands resting under your head on the pillow. You were facing him, watching him carefully as he turned to meet you in the quiet of the night. His eyes were hazy, fluttering to maintain his breathing.

You could sleep.

Forget it happened, turn around, and just go to sleep.

But instead, you stayed, examining his features with concern, almost refusing to look away until he showed even a shred of normalcy.

You could sleep.

But instead, you chose to ask him in hopes of getting his mind to return to safe comfort. "Are you okay?"

Your voice was soft and intimate, traits Satoru rarely received from you in a more normal circumstance.

But he was receiving that care now and he almost wanted to be grateful for having to relive a painful memory since it meant that he could be with you in this moment.

"Just a nightmare," he answered almost consumed by pain, his eyes blue in more ways than one.

"I didn't know the strongest sorcerer gets nightmares," you chuckle softly with a hum, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

His lips quivered slightly in a grateful beam but his eyes darkened almost immediately at the reminder of the visions he saw in his dreams.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You were hesitant, feeling your words slip out against the warnings in your mind.

You noticed the way Satoru's eyes widened with uncertainty, clearly taken aback by your question. His mind was wandering to find the words while his eyes searched yours for the familiar feeling of comfort.

"It was just something that happened when I was younger," he answered with a lingering doubt.

"If you don't want to tell me, it's okay. But if you do, I'm here to listen," you said, nodding a little as if to show your sincerity. "I promise not to be a dick about it," you joked.

Satoru let out a small laugh, it was laced with bitterness and relief at the same time. "When I was younger, there was this girl," he began, eyes looking everywhere but in yours. "She was a few years younger than me and she served for my family but really, she was more like a younger sister to me."

Your lips stayed shut, allowing him to further his story.

"One day, we were out and a Curse User was targeting me and ended up killing her," he finished with choked words.

"Oh my God," your lips emitted a soft gasp, your forehead frowning. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he shook his head, playing it off but it was clearly lingering heavily on his soul. "It's just- I should have saved her, you know? I should have been able to. I'm the strongest."

"You were just a kid," you said gently.

Your words had acted as an anchor, taking him away from his thoughts of self-loathing. It was enough for him to meet your eyes again.

"You are so much more and so much less than the strongest," you whispered. Your feelings for him that you had been trying to ignore and suppress poured out with just a single call of his name, "Satoru."

Satoru Gojo was the strongest sorcerer, the bearer of Six Eyes.

But even he fell victim to your words.

His eyes leaked tears, surprising himself. But what could he do?

He should be the strongest sorcerer. But you said that he was more and less than that.

Satoru couldn't take away his eyes from you even if he tried but in what world would he ever try to do that?

But you thought that his eyes were the ones that were alluring, pulling you deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of your feelings for him, clinging onto some sort of comfort in this world.

Your hand shifted from underneath your head, slowly stretching out to him, hoping to reach him but you were stuck. Like earlier, barely inches away from his skin, your palm was stuck in the infinite way time moved around him.

With your eyes longingly staring into his, you begged, "Your Infinity. Please, turn it off."

Who was he to deny you of your wish?

A smile graces your lips momentarily, your heart skipping a beat when you no longer feel the buzz of Infinity against your skin. Just a second further, your hand ghosted the skin of his cheek.

The tips of your fingers gently traced his skin while you shifted closer to him, feeling him stiffen under your touch before relaxing.

"I'm sorry, I've never cried in front of anyone like this," he stammered out his words, his breathing shaky as he felt closer to you.

"I know," you nodded. "You're always such a pain in the ass," you added with a soft laugh.

Satoru's lips were tugged in a small smile as he sniffled. "Shut up," he said, nuzzling into your hand that rested against his cheek.

"Satoru," his name slipped out your tongue in such an effortless manner, that he thought he was named Satoru specifically for you to say it.

"Hmm?" His hum took a tone higher, desperation entangled in his breathing as his eyes fluttered.

He couldn't help the urge he felt, the need to do more than just feel your touch.

His own hand traveled to yours, holding onto your wrist. His head turned slightly, placing a soft kiss on your palm next to his cheek while his eyes held contact with yours.

"What is it?"

Your breath hitched, feeling the gentleness beneath his kiss on your palm. It was reeling you in towards him in all the ways it shouldn't.

"We both hate each other," you repeated into the air between you two.

But it was useless.

That air that you breathed into was filled with longing desperation and need for each other. Your words were meant to convince yourself more than it was meant for him.

But it wasn't working, right?

Still, Satoru only smiled, his voice low and gentle as if anything louder could ruin the undisclosed passion held tightly in a string between both your souls.

"Yeah, we do," he nodded, pulling your hand away only to lift it slightly while he turned to place yet another kiss but on your wrist this time. "But, you're still here, with me. And that- That means something to me," he confessed.

"Satoru," you whispered sweetly.

Your mind was hazy with the feel of his lips on your skin, leaving you almost desperate with want. He was feeling the same way, if not more.

He swore he could never get tired of hearing the way you said his name, so sweet and gentle. It was truly meant for you.

Satoru looked at you expectantly, eyes filled with vulnerability. He gently guided your hand to rest on his chest, pressing it against his heart.

"Can you feel me?"

His heart was beating against your hand, the pace taking a quicker one as the frequency shifted into emotions. You nodded, realizing and understanding everything that he felt, mirroring your very own.

You could hear your own heart beating in a synchronized rhythm.

"Say something," he pleaded, adding, "Please."

Your brows furrowed as you allowed yourself to stare into his eyes. "We- We shouldn't be this way," you slurred.

His forehead creased, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly. "What way?" He asked with his voice unsteady and feigning ignorance just to keep this moment alive. "We're just talking."

You feel a sliver of courage consuming you as your eyes flickered momentarily to his lips. Using your hand on his chest, you pushed yourself further above the bed to meet him.

You felt just slightly the way the tip of your nose brushed against his, creating warmth as your lips only merely ghosted over his.

"This way," you murmured, your lips moving on his but not kissing him just yet.

Satoru froze, his eyes fluttering shut as he instinctively leaned into your touch. "It's- It's bad, right?" His voice trembled, hopeless in his need for you.

"Y-yeah," you nodded, remaining where you were against him. "But," you trailed, your heart growing louder in your own ears.

His eyes opened to meet yours, confused yet longing endlessly, a hand of his reaching to tuck your hair into the back of your ear before resting it on your cheek, fighting his selfish desires to pull you straight into his lips.

"But what?"

You closed your eyes, your voice choked as if about to cry. "But I want to kiss you so bad right now," you begged, letting your gaze fall on his lips.

His heart began to race, faster than anything he's ever felt in his entire life. His resolve was already crumbling and you weren't making it any easier on him.

There was nothing but a burning ache in the way you held yourself against him.

"I- I want to kiss you, too," he confessed, shaking as he did so. A moment passed and he worded, "But we can't."

You shook your head, knowing that he was right. "We shouldn't," you said.

But you wanted to.

He wanted it, too.

But he was a Gojo.

And you were a Zenin.

You had to always remind yourself that.

And you were reminding yourself at the moment.

Still, nothing seemed to matter to you in the heat of the night when you were on the bed, only a lean away from Satoru's lips that seemed so inviting.

You knew it was wrong.

More than the fact that neither one of you had the capacity for such a connection in life, you were meant to be enemies.

Be that as it may, you still wanted more.

You wanted him.

And you wanted Satoru to kiss you anyways, damn the world.

You wanted him to tell you that he didn't care, that he wanted you more than he cared about your family.

But he didn't say that.

Instead, he nodded and pulled away, placing your hand on the bed, in the growing gap between you both.

"You're right," his voice was quiet and defeated. "I'm sorry."

You wanted to cry, but you didn't. You only nodded and turned around, letting your back face him. "It's okay," you uttered silently.

He watched with his heart aching, his own mind screaming at him. His hand instinctively reached out to you, as though he wanted to pull you back.

To have you meet his eyes.

But he refrained.

"Goodnight," he let out softly, his voice was heavily laced with defeat and self-loathing.

"Yeah, goodnight," you replied half-heartedly, feeling your eyes start to rain tears that fell onto the pillow sheet.

Satoru was fixed on your back, noticing the way your shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. He could hear faint sounds of your sniffling that you tried your hardest to hide from him.

And it broke his heart.

He was overwhelmed with guilt but he knew things wouldn't end well for you if he had done what he truly wanted to do. But he wanted to comfort you, to hold you close and never let you go.

But he was a Gojo.

And you were a Zenin.

He had to always remind himself that.

Every single ti-

"Satoru," you whispered, frozen in your position, fearful to face him in such a vulnerable state.

He hesitated, his heart racing whenever you would say his name in such a whisper. It drove him crazy.

And he should probably ignore your call, but he couldn't.

He gave in to the devil on his shoulder, almost giving in to all his selfish needs. His arms slowly snaked around you, wrapping them around your waist.

He pulled you closer against his chest.

"What is it?" He asked softly, his voice hoarse with a mix of emotions that were too jumbled up for him to even comprehend.

"Nothing," you sighed, body stiffening under his hold as you attempted to push his arms away.

But Satoru refused, selfishly tightening his hold on you.

"Don't," he murmured, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck as he pulled you flush against him. "Just- Stay like this, please," he pleaded, his words almost muffled by your own skin.

You relaxed against him, nodding as tears escaped you. "Just don't get another nightmare," you uttered softly, feeling him nod in the crook of your neck.

Satoru let himself rest, continuing to hold you tight, never intending to let you go if he could have it his way. His eyes fluttered shut, tickling the skin of your neck as he did so.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo, lavender, and rosemary heavy in his nose. There was peace resonating around your being and he felt content just being there, holding you like this, even if it was only tonight.

He had never felt anything like that before. As you drifted off to sleep, he held you closer, his heart settling happily in his chest. Listening to your soft breathing and little snores, Satoru could feel exhaustion catching up with him and soon, he fell asleep, his arms loosely around you.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you woke up and escaped his arms. So you lay down on your side as you faced him, watching him sleep.

He was peaceful in his slumber, clearly unaware of your gaze. He seemed relaxed, lips parted as he breathed softly and you were glad.

You studied his features, noting how many freckles graced his skin and committing every detail to memory, afraid to never be able to see him this closely again. His white strands fell so beautifully across his forehead, his chest gently rising and falling as he breathed.

Your eyes of admiration adored him truly, your hand hesitantly reaching out to him. A moment of fear washed over you, fearful that his Infinity would get in the way like how it had earlier in the night.

But a grateful sigh was elicited from your lips once your soft fingers felt him, tracing them over his cheek while you prayed that he wouldn't wake up.

He stirred slightly, eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids, causing you to freeze, your breath caught in your airway and your fingers stopped in place.

After a moment, he settled again and you breathed a sigh of relief as you pulled your hand to rest it under your head. There was a small smile tugging at your lips as you relished the sight of his beauty.

Soon, you fell victim to slumber just as he had.

Within a few hours, Satoru woke up, finding himself under your hold. You were curled up against him, your arms wrapped around his waist and your head resting on his chest. You were still asleep, not at all noticing that he had woken up despite his body stirring slightly.

It was weird, he thought.

You had mentioned before that you were a light sleeper yet here you were, oblivious and asleep. Not to mention, you had easily woken up earlier that night when Satoru had a nightmare.

But you were still against him, your head nuzzling further into the warmth of his chest, the blanket entangled between both of your bodies.

Satoru used this opportunity to wrap his arms around you, almost protective as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your lavender and rosemary shampoo, scents that now had become a familiarity to him.

He had no idea how long he stayed like that but he did not care.

If life would for once be kind to him, he could live in this moment forever but life was not that generous.

Because eventually, you woke up, your eyes being met with the color of Satoru's shirt. He allowed your body to shift slightly, his heart skipping a beat when you didn't push him away immediately. His gaze lowered, meeting yours that were tilted up.

"Hi," he greeted softly with a smile so beautiful and genuine that for once reached his eyes.

It was the first time you'd ever seen him this happy.

Your eyes blinked a few times, your mind still foggy and confused. "Hi," you said. "What are you doing?"

His grip on you tightened but it was still so gentle like he was afraid to let you go but also afraid to hurt you. "I should ask you the same thing," he said, his lips grinning with a glint of teasing in his eyes. "Why are you wrapped around me like a little vine?"

"Hmm?" You shook your head, not really understanding him. "What are you talking about?"

His lips parted as he let out a small chuckle, finding your cluelessness and fogginess from having just woken up cute. He looked down to where your arms were wrapped around his waist.

"You're hugging me," he pointed out, causing you to follow his gaze. "I guess you did it in your sleep. When I woke up, you were already like this," he explained softly. "And I'm not pushing you away," he admitted, his face flushed.

"Oh," you muttered, nuzzling your head against his chest as you closed your eyes. "Can we stay like this a bit longer?" Your voice was soft, almost as if you were afraid of doing such a thing.

And maybe you were.

Because you knew you shouldn't.

But there he was, so gentle with you and so warm in all the right ways, you couldn't help but allow yourself to be a little selfish. And Satoru was shocked that you hadn't pulled away.

If anything, you only pulled him closer to you.

"Just a little longer, okay?" He whispered above your head, nodding gently as he placed a kiss on your hair.

You took in the warmth that Satoru could provide you, the kind of warmth you lacked over all your years alive. A shaky breath escaped him, his fingers gently carding through your hair as he got lost in thought only to pull himself back to reality.

Because his thoughts were depressing, reminding him over and over again that neither of you should be doing this way.

Whereas in reality, he was holding you and you were holding him.

Even if it would end soon and never happen again, he didn't care.

At least he got to hold you, to feel you against him.

But that ended, not long after, when you finally pulled away from him and he had no choice but to let you go, arms dropping to his sides as he sat up.

Avoiding your gaze, he reminded, "That can't happen again."

You mimicked his actions, sitting upright against the headboard. Your knees were folded, brought up against your chest tightly as your arms hugged around them.

You looked down but nodded in agreement. "It won't."

He nodded, his jaw clenched with regrets but he knew this was for the best.

There was not a universe where the two of you could actually be together.

He got off the bed and walked over to his bag, creating even more distance between the two of you. It was a distance that he hated.

He wished to just turn back and kiss you deeply until neither of you could breathe. But doing that would only hurt you in the end.

You were the one trapped under the claws of the Zenin clan.

"I'm going to take a shower," he informed, his tone plain and blunt.

"Okay," you mumbled quietly, waiting until he entered the bathroom before letting your head fall to the valley between your folded knees, tears slowly escaping as you cursed at yourself for having lost your composure and allowing yourself to care for him.

Satoru let the water run through his body, wishing it was your hands instead. His body fell limp, leaning his back against the bathroom wall, his head tilted back to rest as well.

His eyes were closed shut, his emotions overwhelming him. Hidden by the loud sound of the shower, he hit the back of his head against the wall, his lips emitting a curse of both pain and frustration.

He knew he had to pretend it never happened. He had to return to his usual self whenever he was with you, in a professional manner. And you knew it, too.

You had to go back to hating him.

Satoru soon emerged from the bathroom and you immediately walked past him to shower. You didn't even spare a glance at the man, worried you wouldn't be able to control yourself when seeing him in such a suggestive state.

"Hurry up," he reminded you just before you could close the door.

"I will," you replied with a hint of annoyance in your attempt to return to your Satoru Gojo-hating self.

At your tone, Satoru couldn't help but let a bitter smile adorn his lips. You were trying to return things back to normal, too. This was all for the best, right?

But if it was for the best, then why didn't it feel right at all?

Once he got dressed, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone to check if there were any updates about the case.

Once you got out of the shower, already wearing your uniform, you took a seat next to him but there was some distance, both of you careful not to recreate the scene from the night.

"Any updates?" You asked casually.

"No," he shook his head and kept his phone in his pocket.

"Shall we go? We could grab breakfast on the way to the location," you suggested, finally turning to meet him.

And for once, you were glad that he was wearing his blindfold, obstructing your view of his eyes. He looked at you with an unreadable expression before nodding in agreement.

"Sounds good," he shrugged with his lips pursed.

The both of you stood up and he let you walk first, following behind you right after as you put on your shoes and opened the door.

The elevator ride was just as slow as it was last night, the numbers staring back at you mockingly as if to remind you just how silent and still everything was and how big the confinement was yet you felt too cramped, stuck with Satoru.

You bit your inner cheek, your fingers fumbling with the hem of your uniform nervously. Your eyes fluttered in relief when the elevator stopped somewhere on the 11th floor, the doors opening up for a family of 4 to enter.

The woman flashed you a bright smile as she led her daughter in by the hand, her husband and their other daughter following suit. But that relief you felt was truly just a momentary occasion when Satoru neared you, making room for the family.

Satoru's hand was slender as his fingers wrapped around his phone, his left hand buried deep within his pocket while his right foot pressed up against the elevator wall to rest. He was the definition of casual, you thought.

But when the family of 4 was settling and the doors of the elevators were closing, Satoru's head turned and his gaze fell on you. Behind the fabric of his blindfold, his eyes had widened to see that you were staring up blankly at him already.

His lips relaxed into a soft smile but it faltered once he realized that, unlike his eyes, there was nothing to cover his lips.

Your eyes blinked a few times before letting your gaze fall forward, hints of disappointment on the tip of your tongue when you felt his Infinity acting as the barrier between you.

The elevator let out a ding to announce that you had arrived on the ground floor. You and Satoru waited until the family got out first before taking your own steps.

Walking past the lobby doors, you and Satoru were silent. The air felt fresh but the summer heat did make itself known as you walked past shops, eyes peeled for a cafe.

"What about this?" Satoru stopped, gesturing to the cafe.

"Sure," you shrugged mindlessly, following behind him as he opened the door for you to enter. "I'll go find a seat, just get me whatever," you murmured lowly, earning a nod from the man.

You found a table that had two empty chairs and took a seat. After some time of scrolling meaninglessly on your phone, your head perked up, looking around as you realized that Satoru was taking too long.

Concern colored your eyes that scanned the front of the cafe and you noticed him, standing in all his tall beauty, his white hair poking out as his back faced your direction. Tilting your head a little, you could watch the scene unfolding from the distance.

His right palm was leaning on the counter, holding his weight above it. His lips were tugged in a friendly grin, gaze towards the cashier.

The woman behind the counter wore pink cheeks, her lips cheeky and excited. You lowered your gaze slightly, noticing the way the woman's hands were atop Satoru's.

His lips were moving, telling the woman something that caused her to blush even harder and laugh louder in a squeaky giggle. You couldn't help the way your eyes rolled obnoxiously as you watched the scene from your seat.

Bubbling up under your skin, jealousy took place and spread itself all throughout your body. If only your cursed technique could do more than just manipulate frequencies, like maybe allowing you to have some sort of super hearing so you could listen to their conversation.

But you couldn't do that so instead, you only returned your gaze to your phone when Satoru was beginning to leave the counter. You pretended to be surprised by his arrival at the table, sitting across you as if you weren't literally watching the way he was unashamedly flirting with the cashier.

"What the fuck are these?" You blurted, deadpanned as you looked at the pastries to the man sitting in front.

"Breakfast," he quipped happily, taking a peach strudel happily.

"Satoru, this is not breakfast," you blinked, watching the way his lips fell like a sad puppy, the sight cute as it caused your heart to flutter warmly.

"What do you mean?"

"They're all sweet," you frowned with raised brows.

"Yeah. I eat stuff like this every day."

"For breakfast?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"That cannot be healthy," you exhaled, shaking your head slightly before reaching for the plain butter croissant to start with.

He enjoyed his 'breakfast' happily and silently just as you did, your eyes wandering the cafe to watch other customers. You thanked the waitress when she came over to place both your drinks and you smiled softly upon tasting the bitter taste of the hot cappuccino with vanilla syrup.

"How'd you know this was my favorite?" You hummed while taking another sip of the hot beverage.

"You told me once", he said casually, leaving you dumbfounded but appreciating his gesture.

Silence took place as you both finished your breakfast and left the cafe and you definitely couldn't ignore the cashier's overly excited voice as she thanked you both for coming.

The walk to the location was silent, too, which was uncharacteristically Satoru.

You had always known him to talk your ear off but his lips were pursed in a thin line. And surely, you knew why.

But you definitely didn't know that he was fighting the urge to just press his lips against yours. You were always complaining to him that he talks too much, surely you wouldn't mind shutting him up that way?

He shook his head, regaining his senses of reality. Thankfully, the both of you had arrived at the abandoned warehouse that was said to be the headquarters for the cult you were investigating.

"I'll go in first while you put up a Veil," Satoru instructed, earning a nod and an eye roll from you due to his spatting of orders. "Follow up after me."

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure," you uttered before watching the sky and the surroundings take a darker color to resemble night.

You left your spot to go and find Satoru, soon finding him hiding behind a wall. "I think those are the followers," he informed, allowing you to glance inside and see many people standing in white cloth.

Both of you watched the followers of the cult begin to ascend the stairwell in a line, much like predicted.

"I'll check to find out how many guards there are." You closed your eyes, letting your ears trace the trails of cursed energy by listening to the frequency. "There's about 3 guards in each wing," you pointed.

The plan went smoothly and the mission ended successfully though it was nearing night, not a shocker to anyone considering that it was you and Satoru who handled the case.

You both headed back to the hotel, ready to pack your things and go home but your tracks were frozen in place as your hands flew to cover your ears, a ringing pain appearing.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x zenin reader #satoru gojo x reader angst #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader fluff #satoru gojo x reader oneshot #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 month

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Monsterhunt: Lixivioth, that which Bleeds from Beyond

Artsource

It starts as a ripple in the air, a churning beneath the skin of reality, then a silvery limb breaks the boundary before melting back into unexistance. Like a drowning soul thrashing in the sea, a body breaches the 'surface' full of a wild and desperate impulse to survive, a willingness to drag anything down if it meant keeping their head above water a little longer.

This is Lixivioth, a celestial who's time in the outer void has so deeply warped it that nothing remains but a cataclysmic desire to return no matter the cost. Once an explorer and collector of knowledge, Lixivioth's curiosity tragically drew it not just to the unknown but past the boundary of what could be known, beyond which laid nothing but dissolution.

Adventure Hooks:

Seeking forbidden knowledge, a devotee of Vecna has summoned and bound Lixivioth to a magic mirror, tormenting the spirit with glimpses of a reality it cannot touch. While infiltrating the villain's lair, the party come across the mirror and have the opportunity to ask it questions that might give them an edge against their foe. There is a magical procedure they must follow though, as every question that does not ascribe to the proper magical formalities puts a hairline crack in the glass, weakening the celestial bindings and giving it a chance to break free.

Days before needing to perform an important spell for the safety/prosperity of the realm, a great wizard was found dead in his study bleeding mercury form every hole in his skull, a tome of celestial learning in his hands. His body cannot be moved and the flow has yet to cease, slowly flooding his tower as his apprentices (and local authorities) scramble for answers. Lixivioth is using the wizard's body and magic to manifest in the material plane, and by the time the party are called to help it will be a matter of hours before the eldritch angel crawls it's way up his throat. To win the day they'll need to piece together the components of a binding spell from the mage's libraries while fending off quicksilver elementals and the tower's malfunctioning defences.

Beyond the borders of the party's homeland, an order of elven oracles were once rumored to seek wisdom of the distant future and past in the ripples of a silver spring, at least until a marauding band of centaurs overran their glade acting on their mystic's visions. Generations of ensuing seers, all mad as haters through imbibing magical mercury, have led the herd to become stronger and more violent all while unwittingly doing Lixivioth's bidding. A renegade has broken free, seeking aid from the people her herd has spent lifetimes raiding in the hopes of stopping an upcoming ritual.

#monster hunt #celestial #vimagotri #vecna #cultists #wizard #arcane #arcane dungeon #centaur #dungeon encounter #villain #villain outsider #outsider #bandits #villain bandit

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peggyao3 · 2 months

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Relic - Pt. 6 "Hungry, all the Years"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

A/N: I've always wanted to yell fuck you at the Bene Gesserit, so here's to my own dream🥰 Also, me, who's been in awkward long distance relationships throughout all her teenage years: "Aahh, I knew this knowledge would come in handy someday! 🥹"

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Wallach IX, one week later

"Kneel."

"Excuse me?" Incredulously, the relic stares into the Reverend Mother's eyes.

The anticipation of this day has left her sick to her stomach, her mind hysterical since she was made aware that Feyd remembers her and wants her. By noon, she will be on a heighliner. (A heighliner! She remembers Feyd's inquiry from their last dream.) And after two days of travel, she will be with him. For the first time ever, she will be truly with him, kiss his sweet lips and be held by him and bawl her eyes out.

This is not how she imagined the hours before her indefinite departure. The reverend mother sits unmoving like a pillar of obsidian in a slant of sunlight, her face hidden beneath black mesh.

"Kneel. This is your final test."

"I'm not part of this order anymore, I won't partake in any tests."

"That is not up for you to decide."

"I will not kneel."

"Do as I say!"

Without a power of will, she falls on her knees, ears ringing, jaws slackening. No hatred has ever burned colder than the rancor she holds in the pit of her stomach right now. From the corner of her eye, she perceives a flash of metal slipping from the reverend mother's robes.

"I hold at your neck the Gom Jabbar. A poisoned needle. The slightest prick, and you will die."

The wayward woman holds the violence of a lifetime on war-riddled Old Earth in her eyes when she inhales, the rise of her shoulders bringing her neck dangerously close to the poison tip.

"Why?"

"That needn't interest you." She has not been and will not be informed about the breeding program, or else, they fear, she might abandon her precious Feyd-Rautha rather quickly. Their union must be under the dangerous premise of love. And yet, the test must be conducted. Most likely it will even make her desire Feyd-Rautha more and let Giedi Prime be more bearable. That and the fact that the sisterhood has purposely been withholding the yearning transmissions from the na-Baron. The relic is ready to do just about anything to get to the man of her delusions.

"Put your right hand in the box. If you pull it out, you die."

"What's in there?" She grates out, peering into the black maw of the unremarkable metal box.

"Pain," Mohiam replies monotonously, having grown almost bored of the ever same test throughout the decades. Of course, the woman will pass. Patiently, the Reverend Mother waits for her to relent, because of course she will. It is a tiresome game. The needle at her neck remains unwavering.

She is thinking, of course, she could risk death out of spite, but she refuses to die before taking Feyd in her arms. So, she places her hand in the box and earns her place on the chess board as a fully carved figurine.

The box is empty. She moves her fingers around and is soon plagued by a phantom sting which swiftly develops into pricking needles. She lets out a grunt and the sensation becomes a slow cutting, like knives probing into her palms and fingers. Her face twitches, brows furrowing, sweat beading on her upper lip as her body goes rigid, fighting against the urge to pull back. A thousand knives now cut into her palm, ravaging the soft flesh and tearing it to shreds. She screams.

"Quiet."

"Fuck you!" She spits, having already concluded that not the box causes the pain, but an unspoken presence of the Reverend Mother's voice does, explicitly addressing her pain receptors in an increasing onslaught. To know that nothing is in the box doesn't make the pain any less real, nor the nauseating truth that she is being tortured at the whim of a person.

So, she sobs like an animal while enduring the cruel test, scorched, flesh-stripped fingers quivering against the cool metal. She will live to hold Feyd in her arms and she will live to burn down this universe with its thinly veiled slavery and misogyny. On Earth, at least everyone had been equally miserable.

The Reverend Mother conceals her dislike of the unpleasant sounds under her veil, noting how petty it is of the woman to torture her ears in revenge. She is a clever thing.

"You may remove your hand."

She does at an instant, hurtling backwards and standing tall, nostrils flaring as she regards the seated reverend mother. The neurobiologists from Magellan II would have had the time of their lives, dissecting the old woman's brain to decipher the voice. To imagine Mohiam without her ominous headgear on a dissecting table brings the relic an indecent burst of glee through her tormented nerves.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" She spits.

"Not at all. I'd prefer if you used your voice in a different, more useful way. But at least now we know that you are human." The reverend mother pats the box once.

"Oh." She speaks with pure disdain. "A generous conclusion."

"And you may board the heighliner to Giedi Prime. Feyd-Rautha will await you."

"Yes, I will. And yes, he will!" To think that she's had more agency in a dream than in this new world is revolting.

"Pack your things."

"I want my necklace and I want my Sarcophagus. Don't you even think about denying me that wish," she bristles. "I am a human and I've been one even before your inhuman test. These things are of sentimental value and they belong to me. Give them to me!"

"This attitude won't get you far on Giedi Prime," Mohiam drones monotonously, hands folded in her lap with annoying calmness. Under other circumstances, she would have never let a pupil of hers enter a battlefield as harsh as Giedi Prime so unprepared, but if one can believe the fierce messages from Feyd-Rautha to Wallach IX, she will be protected enough.

"I'm human," the relic rages on. "But you and your pseudo-religious cult, you are not human. You are even worse."

Everything will be better once she is on Giedi Prime.

Giedi Prime, Day 1

For the past few days, Feyd has done nothing but counting down the seconds to this precise moment. But as soon as the shuttle from the heighliner comes sweeping down through the blanket of clouds, hammering anxiety punches against his insides so hard, he feels sick to his stomach. His pulse races against the high neck of his uniform and dizziness forces him to fight for every breath.

He has been walking through a nightmare for two years and the past week has been the awakening. Like a sleeper aware of his own dream, he had screamed, kicked, killed to free himself from the shackles of his nightmare.

When he first heard the rumors, he had cried for three hours in the solitude of his quarters, then plunged his blade into his own thigh to snap himself out of it. There had been real fear in his uncle's eyes when Feyd confronted him, declaring that the relic is his and he will kill every servant, every guard, until he has her, and himself if he cannot have her.

Luckily, the Baron and the Bene Gesserit have been unexpectedly forthcoming.

So, after waking up, here comes reality. Sweet and frightening and lurid.

Feyd's heart clamors so loudly, he thinks he's going to die.

Wind whips around the landing pad and through his clothes when the shuttle touches down 200 meters away and hot exhaust gasses are released from the valves with a hiss. He almost jumps but forces his posture into a rigid lock, feet set shoulder-width apart.

The ramp drops with a mechanical buzzing and Feyd's stomach drops with it. Suddenly, he viscerally wishes he had more time and could prolong the anticipation, the preparation, the hiding. He hasn't prepared himself at all for her arrival, he now realizes, hasn't even considered what to say, how to greet her in front of three battalions of soldiers and generals. What will she think of him when she sees him for the first time in the flesh? Will she be disappoin- Oh God, there she is.

That must be her. Is that her? It's her!

After half a dozen staff, a figure exits the ship, clutching her little coffer so tightly in front of her hips, like it's the only thing of identity she has in the entire universe.

As she slowly walks, her gaze swivels across the mass of bald heads, identical like an army of clones, unmoving, devoid of color and every sense of individuality. She jumps fiercely when the black and white mass suddenly bellows and a thousand pairs of arms fly up, hands clutched over bald heads.

Seeing the troops (all men) lined up in formation, saluting fiercely, a glacial shiver rolls down her spine, reminding her viciously of one of the darkest chapters of Earth.

She swallows her fear. The first impression isn't that important. This world will have its good sides and Feyd will show them to her. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. She believes now that he could have rescued her off every planet in this world.

Yearningly, her gaze bounces from head to head. She had thought she would recognize him immediately and is terribly ashamed when she doesn't. At least, her frantic overwhelm distracts her from the roiling of her stomach. She thought she was going to throw up from anxiety on the shuttle, and she would have, had they not ushered her down the ramp immediately after landing.

Cool metal brushes comfortingly against the space between her breasts. Around her neck she wears a slender cord of silver links with a slim cuboid for a pendant, about the size of the first phalanx of a thumb.

She is being led down a corridor of saluting men, all grim faces, and wind whips around the long gown she was advised to wear. If only she had decided to wear something she feels more confident in. She's meticulously prepared what to say to him for the past days, arranging every word in her head to perfection, but now she can't remember a single word of Galach for the life of her– There he is!

There he is. There he is. There he is!

At the end of the corridor stands Feyd-Rautha in formal military livery, blocky shapes hiding all the softness of his body, only his face betrays him, full lips exactly how she remembers them, soft cheeks dented by the hollow below his cheek bones, gently curved jaws and blue eyes hidden beneath the shadows cast by thick brow bones. He looks like a frightened animal to her, throat bobbing repeatedly with dry swallows.

The deafening roar of salutes dies down to a distant buzzing as she walks through a tunnel towards him, steps quickening, vision blurring. She tries to smile and her cheeks feel awkward doing it, she doesn't know where to look. Feyd doesn't smile back, but his head tilts backwards, jaws flexing as if he's holding back either tears or words.

She cannot hug him in front of all the generals, Feyd thinks. I will break down if she does.

Without thinking, she runs the final meters and hugs him in front of all the generals, arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, sobbing into the collar of his suit. "Hello." Her accent is thick and lovely.

"Hello."

Feyd knew he would break down. His chin quivers uncontrollably, jaws so tight that he thinks the tendons in his neck might snap any second. He exhales a harsh breath, arms wrapping around her waist, leeching the warmth of her body that sinks through the layers of dress and suit.

Feyd holds her, holds her so tight and her flesh, skin and bones are actually real, her beating heart is real, her soft voice is real. She is real.

"You're here," he whispers almost inaudibly into her ear, face lowered to press against the side of her head, chin hidden in her shoulder.

She cries like she's not ashamed of crying, nodding fiercely, and each nod is an apology and a promise to never leave him again.

Feyd wants to tell her how much he's missed her, how much his soul has craved hers every waking and sleeping hour of every day, how he's been split apart and nothing in the world could soothe him. But he cannot, not now, because they are not dreaming and he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

"Not now-" he pleads and tries to stop her when her face slips in front of his, her cheeks painted with glittering tears, but her mouth is on his before he can finish, kissing him with salt-wet lips, hands clinging to the nape of his neck.

Of course, he kisses her back. Luckily, his longing is so all-consuming that he kisses her like he wants to crawl into her flesh, so he will never be alone again. With both hands splayed across her cheeks and ears, claiming his woman, none of his people will perceive him as weak.

The soldiers and generals don't know the pair's story, but they salute for their na-Baron, because they know the relic from Old Earth is now property of House Harkonnen.

In a world devoid of color, she would have expected the interior to be vibrant and bright to make up for the lack of it under the sun, but every hallway they have traversed has been even bleaker than the outside, like being swallowed by the underworld, if the underworld was made of concrete and plastic.

The throne room is no different. Curved pillars curl up to the tall ceiling, black within black illuminated by bluish glow provided by floating lights (glowglobes!) Feyd and her and a small entourage of guards and servants are gathered here and she stands in the very front, having refused to let go of her coffer when a servant had demurely offered their hand. She hopes her Sarcophagus is being handled with care.

Feyd is one step behind her and from her peripheral vision, she sees him rigid as a board.

Like instructed, she bows before the Baron Harkonnen, determined not to show any judgment for his harrowing appearance, like gluttony personified with sly, glittering eyes nearly hidden behind folds of fat.

"The relic from Old Earth…" The Baron rumbles and she sees that as her signal to straighten herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she says and Feyd's jaw twitches.

"A pleasure?" The Baron chuckles. "Old earth must have been terrible then."

What is she supposed to say to that? Sweaty palms clutch the handle of her coffer and her gaze is momentarily drawn to a movement in the corner of the room behind the Baron's floating chair.

Nebulous eyes blink at her from the shadows, hidden in darkness, but she can tell it is a thing with too many legs. (Or are they arms?) Eight of them, and they unfurl grotesquely, glossy skin shimmering like jet black rubber. The pair of white eyes seems to be looking directly at her and this thing will haunt her nightmares, although it appears almost tame next to the faceless legions that had welcomed her at the landing pad.

The Baron speaks again, forcing her attention back to him. "I've only allowed this union because my dear Feyd has been in such a somber mood as of late, he has been such unpleasant company."

The thing in the back stirs and wildly scuttles and she realizes they're not arms or legs, they are arm-legs with hand-feet attached to them. Feyd inhales sharply behind her, just loud enough for her to hear. The arachnid creature halts and blinks and then decides to abandon its advance and return to the shadows.

"I understand," she says, determined to hide the fact that she doesn't.

The Baron takes a slow drag from his hookah and reclines, looking at her like she is nothing more than a pesky, necessary evil.

Feyd walks at the side of his woman, feeling lighter the further they get away from the Baron, though his breathing is still that of an animal in distress. He walks stiffly (actually, he prowls), overseeing the entire entourage. His right hand hovers over the blade he carries at the hip under his suit jacket, ready to slay anyone who dares to come near her.

Something terrible has been irking him but he refuses to think about it.

Meanwhile his woman's eyes are all over the bulky, coffin shaped container that is being carried to her new chambers by ten servants, following every step with anxious concentration. She wants to jump forward and help carry it, if only to place a protective hand on her sarcophagus, but she remains at Feyd's side, intimidated by the ten men who kindly do her heavy lifting.

"This is my wing," Feyd quietly explains as they step out of the third elevator. They must be quite at the top of the pyramid shaped building by now. She nods, quite relieved that she will be living close to Feyd. "My suite is right next door."

The corridor is black and austere, walls made of bulky, thick plastic panels, intersected every now and then by slender windows that give way to the view of grey citiscape and factories as far as the eye can see. 'It's not that different from home', she tries to keep the creeping, crawling dread at bay.

The ten helpers turn into a room which opens to Feyd's hand tapping a panel on the wall.

"Over there, right in the sun is perfect, please. Thank you! Oh- Careful please!"

With a loud clang the cryo pod is set on the ground in a patch of color-stealing sunlight that slants through the window. The helpers say nothing, merely salute and scurry away in a tight line when Feyd jerks his head. "Thank you!" She calls after them again.

That is one less worry. Exhaling loudly, she sits down right on top of the sarcophagus, unbothered for now by the monochromatic light. Under the confines of her gown, she has been shaking the entire time. The door whirrs shut and they are alone. Finally alone. Feyd stands in front of her, hands clutched in front of his pelvis.

"You don't need to say thank you to the slaves."

"The…? Oh." The corners of her mouth twitch downwards and she draws up her shoulders, pulling her little coffer in her lap.

What a horrible place to be. The only women she has seen so far haven't even looked at her, standing behind the Baron with their faces turned to the ground.

What a horrible place to be a woman.

"Do you know who that man was, in the audience chamber?" Feyd cannot keep himself from asking any longer. She saw his uncle. Knows what he did to him. Somehow, his own shame weighs a millionfold now and Feyd wants to crawl out of his own skin, so she won't have to touch the same body his uncle has touched.

Her attention snaps back to Feyd. "What?" She is briefly perplexed. "You mean… The Baron?"

"Yes. You know that's my uncle I've told you about, right? My uncle is the Baron."

She sits dumbstruck on her cryo pod, frozen before heat fills her face and bile gathers in her throat. She has never been so ashamed in her entire life.

"Oh shit, I-, I assumed the Baron is your father, because of the last name." Feyd had never mentioned his uncle's rank, nor had the Bene Gesserit deemed it necessary to inform her about their family relations. And why would they, assuming the relic is well-informed about the man from her dreams. "I'm so sorry, oh God- Feyd…"

Feyd is so stupidly relieved, he could cry. Looking to the side, he blinks the tears away, fighting the urge to sink his blade into his own flesh to stop the onslaught on his eyes.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," she mumbles again and abandons her coffer and sarcophagus to wrap her arms around Feyd's middle without thinking about it too long. "Please forgive me."

Perhaps the reverend mother was right. Perhaps she is of lesser intelligence for favoring science over politics. After learning that her Feyd lives now, she had meant to study House Harkonnen until her departure, but had gotten lost in the physics of the three-dimensional incarnation of the Holtzman Effect which allows to fold space at the quantum level and enables faster-than-light travel with the aid of human computers.

Feyd's arms curl tightly around her back, nose buried in her shoulder, pressing her against his earthly prison so she can deliver him from evil.. How stupid he was to bring her here into the devil's den, where she is the easiest target one could possibly make.

"Nothing to forgive…" He wants to call her his darling, his beloved, and even more importantly finally verbally declare his love for her that's been like a wild, scared animal sitting in a cage all the years, but a heavy shyness ties his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Without the protection of the cage, what if this animal will be slain? What if it will slay itself?

I had been hungry, all the Years – My Noon had Come – to dine – I trembling drew the Table near – And touched the Curious Wine … - I had been hungry, all the Years by Emily Dickinson, 1891

A/N: Feyd: I've literally never had a loving interaction irl in my entire life and I'm terrified, but this is my woman🥺

FMC: I'm literally on a black and white planet full of space Nazis, my man is one of them and I'm terrified, but this is my man🥺

TAG LIST: @welliah, @nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon, @sebastianswallows, @minedofmoria, @flower-frog (I'm so sowwy, the tags are broken and I don't know how to fix them ;-;)

Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈

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princessjojo-x · 10 months

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South & North Node Synastry

sn represents our karmic past, early life or where we often fall back to bc we’re comfortable there. when we try to fall back into our sn habits, we often find difficulties, blockages & frustrations.

sn conjunctions in synastry can manifest in a number of ways depending on the (nature of) planet. these rxships start off with a strong sense of family & comfort bc partners have a past life connection. they’ll feel like they’ve known each other for awhile even if they’ve just met. it's hard to leave each other alone bc they subconsciously remember the love the had from their past lifetime. sn feels like planet understands them the best but also feels like planet is holding them back. planet makes sn remember the "old" version of themselves which they thought they’d grown from.

partners may have a tendency to repeat certain patterns or themes in the rxship. these patterns may be rooted in past-life experiences & may require conscious effort to break free from. this can cause a sense of stagnancy or lack of growth in the rxship aka difficult to move forward.

partners have unresolved karma or unpaid debt with one another, which they work through in this lifetime. this may activate challenging & painful experiences but it elevates them as individuals. however, this doesn’t indicate the rxship is completely negative or doomed. the nature of the rxship will depend on the willingness of partners to work through their karma & debt. however, once it has been worked out, the intense connection completely fizzles out, followed by no-contact & possibly heart break.

nn conjunctions in synastry are powerful & fated. this is a green flag aspect & marriage indicator. rxship can be hard to sustain initially but can grow into intense passion over time. partners will always find each other no matter what.

planet will teach, push, lead or support nn in a particular area that nn needs development & depending on the nature of planet. planet has certain traits that nn can benefit or learn from. therefore, planet will teach nn who their meant to become in this lifetime. planet will help nn move forward, help nn each their potential & push nn out of their comfort zone.

however, rxship may make nn feel uncomfortable bc it’s causing nn growth. nn will be going into the “unknown” & feeling a sense of “new” in this rxship. planet is new terrain/experiences for nn. rxship may not work in this lifetime unless partners have other binding placements bc it feels very intense but uncomfortable, almost as if it’s setting you up to meet in another lifetime.

💝 nn conjunct moon - it’s difficult for rxship to take off but if it’s able to do so you will remain very attached to one another & have a very binding connection, the love will grow stronger & stronger overtime. initially, rxship will feel “wrong” bc it’s out of your comfort zone.

💝 nn conjunct venus - venus will find themselves being kind, sweet & affectionate with nn even without wanting to; venus will show their best face & will want to spend time with nn. nn will be fascinated by the presence & personality of venus. & a rxship that never fizzles.

💝 nn conj jupiter - soulmate indicator (gemini jupiter or cancer nn)

💝 nn conj juno - marriage indicator; nn represents our souls karmic destiny/future/goals & where we will be pushed by circumstance. juno represents our marriage & long-term rxships. their love puts you on your life path. (gemini juno or leo nn)

💝 nn opposite rising - you can’t get rid of each other & you’ll stay in each others life forever in some capacity. this is a very important rxship for house that’s going to teach many life lessons. (sag asc or cap nn)

💝 nn conj sn - difficulty sustaining longevity but you will learn from eachother.

💝 sn conjunct sun - sun is a male figure from the past life of sn, ranging from a superior, father, authority, employer, brother, cousin but likely a man south node looked up to.

💝 sn conjunct moon - moon is a mother, wife, sister, or woman in your life in which sn perhaps needed healing from in a past life. if you this synastry with a partner, he way start treating you like his mum, becoming bitter & rebellious for no reason.

💝 mars conjunct sn - indicator of violence in a past life (sag mars or taurus sn)

💝 sn opposite rising - a rxship that will teach house lessons. an indicator of being past life lovers. (gemini asc or cancer nn)

#astro notes #astrology #astrology synastry #north node #south node

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deliciousangelfestival · 9 months

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Silent Heir, Hidden Dangers - 2

Character: Lawyer!Bucky x Female Character

Summary: She suddenly inherits a fortune from an unknown father, navigating dark secrets with lawyer Bucky Barnes in a suspenseful journey of deception.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , -

Main Masterlist

Y/N couldn't shake the unease settling in her stomach as she looked at Bucky, her eyes reflecting the uncertainty bubbling within her. "Where are we headed?" she finally ventured to ask.

Bucky's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead as he replied, "To a safe house."

The word "safe" didn't offer the comfort Y/N desperately craved. Her mind raced with unanswered questions, and the shadows outside the car seemed to morph into menacing shapes. Bucky, sensing her fear, turned to her, a faint glimmer of sympathy in his eyes.

"I guess you haven't read the whole will?" Bucky remarked, his tone measured.

Perplexed, Y/N took another glance at the document. As she skimmed through the legal jargon, Bucky began to recite, "After you received the letter, the day has counted. The notary will give you all the access from your father next Thursday."

"5 more days?" Y/N echoed, a mix of anxiety and anticipation clouding her voice.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "I'll try my best to help you stay alive for 5 days.”

The car sped through the night, each passing moment thick with suspense. Y/N's mind raced with the implications of the countdown, and the realization that her life hung in the balance heightened the tension in the confined space.

As they arrived at the designated location, Y/N expected a typical safe house, but the reality surpassed her expectations. The so-called "safe house" revealed itself as a luxurious penthouse, perched high above the city lights.

Y/N couldn't hide her surprise. "This is a safe house?" she asked incredulously.

Bucky, with a faint smirk, began to shed his suit, revealing a concealed gun holster underneath. The transformation was both subtle and startling, hinting at a side of Bucky that transcended the image of a simple lawyer.

Y/N's eyes widened with realization. "You're not just a lawyer, are you?"

Bucky, now more casually attired, met her gaze with a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Let's just say I wear different hats depending on the situation.”

As Bucky sensed Y/N's unease, he assured her, "You can rest." Observing her discomfort, he then casually mentioned, "I'll be on the second floor."

Y/N's shoulders visibly relaxed at the prospect of having the space to herself. Grateful, she entered the empty room, its pristine condition suggesting it hadn't seen much use.

She threw herself onto the inviting bed, finding it far more comfortable than what she was accustomed to. The softness embraced her, and she closed her eyes, yearning for a few hours of respite from the tumultuous events of the night.

As Y/N grappled with the chaos unfolding in the penthouse, a distant memory surfaced—a recollection of her mother's hardened expression.

She vividly remembered her mother's face, the lines etched with regret as she squeezed Y/N's shoulder and uttered, "Your father is a bad man. I regret every second that I've spent with him."

Y/N, burdened by the weight of her mother's words, had refrained from probing further into the mystery of her father. Yet, in the quiet moments, she harbored a silent wish that this elusive man would someday step in to ease her mother's hardships.

Her mother, a single parent juggling three jobs, had toiled relentlessly to put food on the table. Life was a constant struggle, and Y/N witnessed her mother's unwavering determination to provide despite the challenges.

Now, faced with a sudden windfall of wealth from the father she never knew, Y/N grappled with a dilemma.

Did she deserve this money after a lifetime of neglect?

The unanswered questions about her father lingered, and the allure of the fortune conflicted with the years of hardship she and her mother had endured.

Should she accept the inheritance, a seemingly deserved respite, or reject it as a tainted gift from a man who had been absent throughout her entire life, even in death?

Whispering to the quiet room, Y/N admitted, "It's exhausting."

****

On the second floor, Bucky found solace in the embrace of a cigarette, the city sprawled out before him like a glittering canvas. With each exhale, tendrils of smoke dissipated into the night, carrying away the echoes of the day's adrenaline-fueled events.

As a mafia lawyer, Bucky was no stranger to danger. Guarding Y/N is risky, but Bucky isn't doing it for nothing. There's something in it for him too.

Y/N's father is Max Wolfe, a hidden powerhouse in the mafia realm—an esteemed figure and a silent executioner. Bucky's association with him traces back to a grim alley where Max rescued him from the desperation of begging for food. Max, a father figure to Bucky, became the anchor in the tumult of his life.

As Max's health deteriorated, he lay on his deathbed, revealing a deeper connection between them. "My daughter, my first-born, Y/N, protect her," Max pleaded with a tremble in his voice.

Bucky, holding Max's fragile hands, vowed, "I promise."

In his final moments, Max made a chilling revelation. "If you could save my daughter, you could have some of my fortune." He added with a knowing smirk, "I knew you love money.”

Bucky smirked; Max was spot-on. Money was Bucky's love, his anchor in a world without it. Life felt worthless. He knew that feeling well—being unseen, dehumanized—before Max took him in.

As Bucky contemplated the promise he made on Max's deathbed, the amount of money he'd receive remained a mystery.

Now, as he faced the unknown bounty tied to protecting Y/N, Bucky couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast his life had taken.

The prospect of wealth was a double-edged sword, promising a way out of the shadows but also veiled in the uncertainty of how much he would gain.

******

The quiet night shattered as the sound of a helicopter sliced through the air, jolting Bucky from his thoughts. "That's weird," he muttered to himself.

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed from downstairs, shattering the uneasy calm. "Aarghh!"

Bucky's instincts kicked in. He grabbed his gun and raced downstairs, his mind racing to comprehend the unfolding chaos.

As Bucky stormed into Y/N's room, a gust of chilling wind greeted him. The shattered glass window revealed the audacious point of entry for the uninvited guests who now held Y/N captive.

Two figures in black suits held her captive, each connected by a belt that dangled from a rope.

Bucky couldn't help but be impressed by the audacity of these kidnappers, daring to descend from the towering building with a helicopter as their escape route.

"Impressive," he mused under his breath.

Y/N's eyes widened with both fear and accusation as she screamed at Bucky, "You said this place is safe!"

Bucky, unfazed, retorted, "I did."

The tension escalated when one of the kidnappers pointed a gun at Y/N's head, issuing a grim warning. "Know your place. Don't accept the money.”

Defiance burned in Y/N's eyes as she shot back, "I didn't even know I had a father until today!!!"

"SHUT UP!!!"

Bucky, assessing the situation, tsked. "Is that how you talk to your eldest sister, Mark?"

The man who had threatened Y/N fell silent, a tension hanging in the air.

Y/N, bewildered, exclaimed, "Huh?"

Bucky, with a wry smile, revealed the chilling truth. "Y/N, let me introduce you to Mark Wolfe. Your 3rd brother."

Y/N's incredulous response cut through the chaos, "This is the wrong time and the wrong place for family introductions!”

She can't fathom that her savior is a madman!

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , -

Author Note :

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

I'm now offering faster release and bonus chapters for Ko-fi members. If you enjoy my content and want early access, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

Join the taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@ozwriterchick

@honeywiththemoney

@scott-loki-barnes

@10ava01

@abbyyourlocalmilf

@identity2212

@ordelixx

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@ylva-syverson

Author Note: Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #sebastian x y/n

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tianasficrecs168 · 3 months

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Sasunaru fic recs

Fair warning, right off the bat: some of these are really fuckin old. Like fanfiction.net old. But I can't not include them, bc the me from way back then really liked them.

The quality gets better and better the further down you go, so. Take it or leave it I guess lol

Anyway, the drill (you know it):

A black dot • means it’s a one-shot, if it doesn't have one, it's got more than one chapter

WolfieNLazuli: - "Avoidance" (Naruto/Sasuke) • In which Sasuke dances around the issue of his feelings as Sakura and Naruto watch on in perplexity.

Attanih88: - “Pyretos” (Naruto/Sasuke) • Sasuke came to stand closer. Naruto watched him, taking in the easy strides and the way Sasuke’s face remained devoid of expression as he took in Naruto’s wounds.

Dawnstruck: - “Cultivate your hunger” (Naruto/Sasuke) • After six days, Sasuke wakes up. Naruto doesn't.

Michelerene: - “The Divine Glitch” (Naruto/Sasuke) There are reasons why two people can't be together. Separated by oceans, by wars, by family feuds. Try being the Angel of Death. Romeo and Juliet were lucky.

Blackkat: - “Stormborn” (Naruto/Sasuke) Flashes of an unknown past haunt Naruto, entwining his steps with those of a former life no longer content to stay forgotten. There's a voice on the wind and another lifetime in his head, and it’s time for Uzushio’s Storm God to rise once more. (The soul of a city is a hard thing to kill. Uzushio is still aware, still waiting. And now, with the rebirth of her greatest Kage, it’s time to call her people home.)

Applecrumbledore: “Prairie Town” (Naruto/Sasuke) • The auto shop mechanic knocked the kickstand of his motorcycle down with the heel of his sneaker. He had pale blond eyelashes and a full mouth, wrinkled white t-shirt tight around his arms, jeans over big thighs. No edges. Loud in both volume and presence. Sasuke fidgeted with his hands inside his pockets.

Winterdesu: - “40m2” (Naruto/Sasuke) • Naruto and Sasuke cohabitate. "What happens now?" Sasuke wondered aloud. Naruto laughed - the sound clear and warm like sun-drenched crystals. He gestured widely at the unfurnished flat with a flourish. “We move in,” and pointed at the pile of furniture and boxes still unmoved from their place at the door. "Let's fill this place up, Sasuke."

Sieges: - “Beyond Grating Bones” (Sasuke/Naruto) Sasuke doesn't emerge from his fight with Itachi unscathed, or even alive. Revived as an Edo Tensei, he finds the second chance he never wanted, the answers he never got, and the peace he didn't know he needed.

Frogsterz: - “Coming home” (Naruto/Sasuke) • “Do you not have a fridge?” Sasuke asks, bewildered. And it didn’t have a fridge. Or a bedframe. Or a mirror in the bathroom. Or— “Naruto, how do you live like this?” (Sasuke makes it his mission to find Naruto a proper home. Naruto already has one; it just tends to come and go.)

#surprisingly #despite how old this fandom is #i only have 9 sasunaru fics that i liked #not gonna lie im shook #ao3 #fanfic #fanfic recs #fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #fic #ao3 fanfic #fanfics #fic rec #naruto #sasunaru #sasuke uchiha #naruto x sasuke #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction

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srbachchan · 6 months

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DAY 5879

Jalsa, Mumbai Mar 23/24, 2024 Sat/Sun 10:23 AM

🪔 ,

March 24 .. birthday greetings to Ef AMIT Trivedi .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

March 24 .. World TB Day .. prayers .. 🙏🏻

Spending the time with the words of Babuji is not just an education but a revelation of a poet's mind and soul .. a mind that wanders in the visionary hemisphere unknown and unseen in a relative World, but yet possessing the intelligence of the probability of a higher philosophy ..

For it all to come to me now , is a shame .. a shame of lost opportunity and time to have been spent in the research and his presence to be able to understand the deeper meanings in his thought ..

I did on the odd occasion give intent of his interpretation and reason for many of his thoughts .. and they were most revealing .. but then .. time passed away .. as did his presence ..

It is a known and accepted fact that genius of creative art, writing, painting, music or whatever form, has always been overlooked and never given its due during the lifetime of the artist .. and it has been recognised fact of this phenomena that coerces me to, yet again , mention here for consumption of the mass ..

A pity ..

But the efforts of time , or whatever is left in it for me , shall endeavour to give some exposure to Babuji's works and his incredible genius ..

The World has very seldom seen or experienced the greatness of such ..

Last night I spent time on one such random thought of his from a published work :

नई से नई, पुरानी से पुरानी

it contains works of his in short verses, or abstract from , blank verse - short and expressive , but of immense value for us all to think and wonder of how certain thoughts and the express of them , do get created ..

The title of the Poem :

KAVI KA RAKT .. A POETS’ BLOOD

meri band mutthiyaan dekhkar .. seeing my closed fists jis-jis ne mujhse poocha, .. all those that asked me “ismein kya hai” ? .. ‘what is inside them’ ? maine imaandaari se bataya , .. i told them with all honesty “ismein kya hai ? .. ‘what is in them ismein kadamb ka phool hai “ .. in them is the kadamb flower ? "(Neolamarckia cadamba, with English common names burflower-tree, laran, and Leichhardt pine,[2] and called kadam or cadamba[2]) aur logon ne is par .. and the people on this sahaj vishwaas kar liya .. did keep their instinctive believe

vo to jab .. that is, when meri mutthiyaan se .. from my clenched fists rakt ki boondein choone lagein .. drops of blood did start to drop tab logon ne mujhe avishwaas ki nazaron se ghoora, .. then, did the people did stare at me in disbelief mujhse kaha .. and they told me “mutthiyaan to kholo ।” "at least open your fists" aur jab maine mutthiyaan kholein .. and when I did open my clenched fists to unmein .. in them kantkeela dhature ka pahal nikala । .. did come out the thorn laden datura fruit !

(Datura is a genus of nine species of highly poisonous, vespertine-flowering plants belonging to the nightshade family. They are commonly known as thornapples or jimsonweeds, but are also known as devil's trumpets. Other English common names include moonflower, devil's weed, and hell's bells.)

main sharmaya, .. I was ashamed mera jhoot pakda gaya ,.. my lie was caught mujhe apne par aashcharya hua, .. I was filled with wonder , kyunki maine apni ankhein kholkar .. because I had with my open eyes kadamb ka phool apni mutthiyon mein liya tha । .. taken the kadamb flower in my clenched fists !

shayad mai apni bhavatishayata mein ।.. perhaps in the belief of my aatma , the self , the soul kante ko phool samjha, .. I thought the thorns to be a flower par kaanta , kaanta hi kaise reh gaya , .. but how did the thorn , remain a thorn phool kyun nahin bana , .. why did it not become a flower usnein toh ek kavi ka rakt piya tha । .. it had consumed the blood of a poet !!

the word भावा ति शय यता , bhavatishayyata seems to have been taken from a form of the mention in the scriptures of Hindu philosophy, saints and religion , which is why i believe it refers to his aatma, his soul , his inner .. perhaps a more 'cultured way' 😁 of expressing his thoughts ..

DATURA

KADAMB .. CADAMBA 👆🏼

My love and more ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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cheollipop · 2 years

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love you goodbye

navi | taglist

pairing: park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 2.7k

tags: smut, angst, lots of angst, and even more angst

when seonghwa received a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he all but threw himself at it—except, he had to leave you behind. with his plane ticket sitting idly on his bedside, he bids you one final goodbye.

warnings: breakup sex, unprotected sex (boooo 👎🏼), creampie, lots of crying (a LOT of crying), lots of L bombs too bc they're still very much in love and life SUCKS, nicknames (hwa, pretty girl, sweet girl, darling, love, sweetheart)

A/N: I feel the need to issue a formal apology for this one. once I started it, I just couldn't stop —I originally planned it to be around 1k words... but, well. ehem. anyway. this was kind of inspired by 2521 too, soo... enjoy? haha.. ha.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew from the start that Seonghwa was hiding something from you, but you decided not to address it, not until he was ready to approach you on his own. He was never good at keeping secrets—a rush of nervous energy taking over him at the mere thought of it. He'd stutter when you'd question him, struggle to meet your eyes, fiddle with his thumbs—all telltale signs that he was a crumbling mess on the inside, guilt and anxiety eating at his very soul.

The signs started early this time, and yet, you pretended not to notice. How his mind would wander into unknown territory while you spoke about your day, his attentive eyes and curious nods replaced by a blank stare while he feigned engrossment. How he closed his laptop as soon as you stepped foot into the room, claiming he was suddenly tired and wanted to go to sleep when you questioned him. How he lied awake in bed hours after turning the lights off and kissing you goodnight, tossing and turning and exhaling deep sighs while he wrestled with his thoughts.

You remained patient, still set on waiting for him to take the first step. But when Seonghwa got into bed just before dawn reeking of cigarettes, the stench so strong you had to wash your sheets the next day, you couldn't sit still anymore. Especially so after seeing the ashtray on your balcony filled to the brim with the squashed buds—despite having emptied it two days ago—with two empty cigarette packets thrown haphazardly beside it on the small table.

"They offered me a job in Paris, and it's… it's a really good job," he'd answered when you finally confronted him. Once in a lifetime, he had described it. His dream job; something he had been working towards since before he'd met you. And so, who were you to ask him to stay? To ask him to let this opportunity go, simply to keep him for a little while longer? Before he began to hate you for it, before he realized that he shouldn't have listened to you—that he should have let you go when he had the chance.

So you told him to take it, pushing back the tears stinging at your eyes and plastering a smile onto your face—you could only hope it looked convincing. And yet, Seonghwa didn't look pleased. Quite the opposite, he began to cry, hot tears streaming down his face while he yelled and screamed at how unbelievable you were—letting him go so easily.

In spite of that, Seonghwa listened to you, accepting the offer. You knew you had to be supportive of his decision despite the burning in your chest when he stopped fighting against the idea of leaving you. Part of you hoped he would stay for you and still love you all the same, but it seemed like those two statements could never exist together.

You felt cruel for the satisfaction you felt at his hesitance while you sat down to book his plane ticket, locking in the decision the both of you dreaded. But still, you had to be supportive, even if that meant booking the ticket yourself because Seonghwa's hands wouldn't stop shaking. The breath of relief he exhaled after the confirmation screen loaded made your stomach stir, your dinner mixed with bile and pure despair inching their way up your system and collecting at the back of your throat. You swallowed them down and threw on your best smile, blinking away the tears threatening to fall.

"We should set a time to call. By the time I wake up, you would be at work, but if we-"

"Seonghwa," you interrupted, the lump in your throat growing bigger the more you heard him speak about the future.

You knew the second he told you about the job that you wouldn't be able to handle a long-distance relationship. You had been living together for over a year, dating for several more; having him more than ten meters away from you for longer than a day would be too absurd to comprehend. Seeing him less than three times a year? You'd be more convinced with a UFO outside your window.

"What? I promise I'll find the time, I just need to adjust my schedule and-" he continued and the throbbing in your chest almost made you double over in pain.

"Let's just end it all."

–

The slow ticking of the clock on the wall across from you, the suitcases packed full of Seonghwa's belongings, the insistent shuffling of bodies against the sheets—they all wrote themselves into the memory of his last day with you.

Seonghwa stilled above you, the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the moonlight where it peeked through the window. His eyes took in your expression, your features, and everything about you; all the while, his hands ran over the curves of your body, stopping momentarily to tweak at your nipples before wrapping around your waist.

"Hwa, please move," you whined and rolled your hips against him, his cock sheathed inside you.

Seonghwa slid a hand down to your hips, stilling their movements before leaning closer to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. He trailed kisses down to your jaw, then back up across your cheeks to your temple. His hips ground against yours, pressing against the gummy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"H-hwa, more," you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your nails digging into his biceps.

"Shh, there's no rush," he whispered against your skin, still placing kisses wherever he could.

You knew there was no rush. The way he made you fall apart on his tongue and fingers over and over again for what felt like hours was enough proof of that; but perhaps part of you was in a hurry to get this over with, this final goodbye that you'd been dreading for weeks. Seonghwa had looked at you with those big eyes, wet and glimmering as he spoke, "Can I have you? One last time. Please, let this be the last thing I ever ask of you." You had to pretend that his words did not shatter your heart, the pieces piercing through your insides every time he looked at you with anguish staining his features.

He's had you in every way possible, but this felt different. The slow grinding of his hips against yours, his cock heavy between your walls—still, he moved slowly, as if chasing his orgasm was the last of his concerns—his feathery touch raising goosebumps all over your skin. It was intimate in ways you never wished it to be, in ways that tore your heart out of your chest and left you bleeding out.

"How am I supposed to just let you go?" He breathed out against your neck while his hips continued their grinding, his pelvis brushing against your clit.

Your hands eased around his biceps, wrapping around him instead and pressing into his back. A bitter smile curled the corners of your lips. "I'm sure you'll find a pretty French lady as soon as you land-"

"But I want you," he pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, his own heavy with tears. "I need you, (Y/n)."

Your eyes burned as hot tears gathered along your waterline. "You need to let me go, Hwa," your voice shook, barely over a whisper.

He wasn't oblivious to the facade you had been hiding behind, concealing your hurt to support his decision so he wouldn't beat himself up for leaving you. Perhaps he willingly chose to ignore it, finding it easier to believe that he was the only one bearing an aching heart. It was only now that he became conscious of his selfishness—leaving you to deal with your sorrow and grief alone rather than being there for you. Rather than being there for each other.

Seonghwa knew he couldn't go back to fix his mistakes, so he resorted to focusing on making you feel good, watching as pleasure overtook your features with every roll of his hips. His hand cupped your jaw, and his lips slotted against yours. You reciprocated, pressing your lips against his, and at that, Seonghwa almost let out a sigh of relief. The kiss was soft, gentle, paired with the easy twist of tongues.

In the few hours he had left with you, he wanted to have you in every way he could think of. Seonghwa wanted everything about you to forever be engraved into his mind—from your features and how they reacted everytime his cock pressed against your favourite spot, to the blush on your cheeks when he told you he loved you.

Seonghwa drew his length halfway out of you, sinking it back into your clenching heat, feeling your legs twitch against his hips as you took him inch by inch between your pulsing walls.

"Hwa, h-hwa, please just- ah," your nails dug into the soft skin of his back and you rolled your hips to meet his slow thrusts.

He reveled in the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him, sucking him in down to the base and refusing to let him go. He sucked a bruise under your jaw—something to remember him by; as if you could ever forget.

"Sweet girl," he kissed you, a gentle brush over your lips. "I love you so much."

His words sent a jolt of pain through your chest, tears pooling in your eyes once again. "Seonghwa…"

He ignored the strain in your voice. "Let me take care of you." He kissed away the trail of tears running down your temple. "Will you let me love you one last time?"

You brought your hands to Seonghwa's face, wiping away the wetness staining his precious skin. You nodded, a broken sob escaping you while you spoke, "one last time."

You held each other, bodies flush while Seonghwa pounded his cock into you, grinding his hips into yours before going back to fucking you at a relentless pace.

His eyes never wavered off your face, and he denied every request to change positions—he wanted to see you, to take you in fully, to write you so accurately into his mind he could draw you with his eyes closed.

"Nghhh, Hwa. Fuck- I'm so close," you moaned against his mouth before he muffled your sweet melodies with his lips.

He pressed his hand onto the underside of your thigh, spreading you open and allowing him to stuff you full of his cock with every thrust. Your legs trembled under his touch, a breath away from coming undone.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so well, my love. Oh, my pretty girl, I'm going to miss you so much," he nuzzled his nose against yours while he molded your lips together, swallowing all your moans.

The look in his eyes—so full of love and grief—was the last thing you remembered before you tipped over the edge, your body seizing up under Seonghwa as pleasure rushed through you like a shockwave. His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles around it while he continued to pump his cock into you.

"Hah, J-just a little more, a-ahh," he blew heavy breaths into your open mouth, his tongue slipping out to lick over your top lip. "Where do you want me, sweetheart?"

"I-Inside, please. Fill me up, Hwa," you clawed at his back, eyes shut tightly as the pain from overstimulation mixed with pleasure, Seonghwa's cock punching against the spot that made your back arch.

His hips stuttered, managing a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling his seed inside you, warmth spreading through your abdomen as ribbons of white decorated your walls. A series of I love you's streaming from the both of you as you rode out your highs.

Something hot dropped onto your cheek. Opening your eyes, you were met with Seonghwa's own, bloodshot and glassy with overflowing tears dripping onto your skin. His broken sobs pierced through the stillness in the room, shaking his whole body as they ripped through his chest, and the pain squeezed at your heart so tightly you thought it might arrest.

You held him against your chest while he cried, his softening cock still stuffed inside you. Rubbing slow circles into his back, you waited until his breathing steadied before you spoke.

"It's the right thing to do, leaving," you muttered, afraid to speak any higher.

He sniffled, burying his face further into your chest. "I know," he whispered, voice nasally and hoarse.

A few seconds of silence passed before you spoke again, your bottom lip wobbling as you tried to get the words out.

"Hwa, please be happy-"

"(Y/n), don't."

"Just let me- p-please, I need to-" your voice broke, tears falling into his hair and wetting the soft strands.

Seonghwa remained quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue.

"T-take care of yourself, and make sure you're not s-skipping meals," you sniffled, pressing your lips to his temple as you spoke. "Make friends so you're not alone there, and go out with your coworkers, but don't get t-too drunk because I won't be there to take care of you-" You felt his shoulders shake against you, wetness dripping down your collarbones. "I won't ask you to forget about me, I don't want that either. But at least try to find love, Hwa. I-I want you to be happy," you placed kiss after kiss against the side of his face, carding your fingers through his hair. "Are you even listening?"

You smiled against his temple when he nodded, his voice rough from crying, broken with sobs.

"I'm going to m-miss you so much."

–

Seonghwa lied awake for hours after you had tucked yourself into his chest, breathing out a final I love you before succumbing to the grip of sleep.

He heard the early birds singing outside your window, and yet the joyful melody did nothing to ease the harrowing ache in his chest. He stayed there long enough for them to leave their nest, soaring across the sky in celebration of the new day. But Seonghwa stayed there, lying on his side with his arms secured around your figure, storing every last detail about you—every last blemish scattered across your skin—into his mind. For hours, he studied the angle at which your nose sloped, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers squeezed at his skin in your sleep, how the first rays of sunlight peeked through the open blinds to cast shadows over your features. He wondered how long it would be before he'd begin to forget certain things about you—the scent of your perfume, the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled, your favourite songs, your usual café order. He also wondered whether moving across the globe would even matter, if it made a difference, or would everything that made you so uniquely you be etched into his mind forever?

"Wake me up before you go," you'd told him before you fell asleep, but he couldn't bear having to say goodbye again. So he turned your alarms off, watching your peaceful expression and wondering what you were dreaming about. He hoped it was something nice, something other than him.

Quietly rolling his suitcases outside, Seonghwa walked back into your once shared bedroom, memories dripping off the painted walls. He crouched by your bedside, his eyes finding your face, resting calm and placid on your pillow. He pressed his lips against your forehead, keeping them there for a few seconds and inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

"I hope you get everything you've ever wanted, my love," he whispered against your skin, eyes prickling with tears. But I hope I never hear a thing about it, he added silently.

As Seonghwa closed the door behind him, his keys left behind on your kitchen island, he finally allowed reality to seep into his mind. He was leaving, and you were letting him go. He walked down the hallway while he tried to process the emotions rushing through him, his plane ticket sitting idly in his coat pocket.

There was no place for you and him in this world, not if the both of you wanted to be happy. But perhaps in another life, you would finally get your happy ending.

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