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latenighttalking00 · 1 year ago

Text

A Work of Art

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a Marchioness from france and your mother is adamant that you wed. She is a very close friend of the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton who has so generously agreed to be your sponsor for the season. Perhaps in doing this, she has unknowingly found her son's perfect match as well.

Warnings: slow-ish burn, friends to lovers, smut, 18+, minors dni, hair pulling, possessive/dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving). This is just porn with a plot.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first time writing, so apologies if it's a bit rough; English isn't my native language. Hopefully, you all absolutely drool over Benedict the same way I do. enjoy!

Once the social season had begun its approach, you and your family make haste on your return from france. Due to your newly given title, you are projected to be quite the diamond this season indeed.

As a close friend of the family, the Dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton kindly offers to sponsor your debut this season, meaning that it is now of the utmost importance to arrive promptly at the Bridgerton home in London before the season is to begin.

As you sit in the drawing room, awaiting the next potential suitors you will inevitably send on their way, the clear and evident dread in your expression does not go unnoticed by your mother. A quick swat to your knee from her fan catches your attention, a visible look of warning on her face as your eyes meet hers.

"I do hope that attitude of yours is quick to dissipate." She sighs, "Men will find you quite inadequate to wed if you are to continue this ridiculous behavior. It is quite unladylike." Your mother's words cut right through you as if she had taken a hot paring knife to both of your ears. Not being able to withstand it any longer, you quickly stand from your seat and interrupt her.

"Mother, this gown and the line of men outside the door are quite suffocating enough; no need for your incessant nagging as well." You take a moment to pause, regaining your composure.

"I believe I am feeling quite faint; perhaps I've seen enough suitors today." You threaten rather than suggest, "I will return to my chambers and perhaps get a bit of rest seeing as the sun has already began it’s departure from the sky."

You bow and quickly excuse yourself before making haste out the door, walking as fast as your feet can take you, right past the men who are practically begging for just a minute of your attention.

You race directly to your bedroom, entering quickly and not even fully shutting the door before you are pulling down the zipper of your gown and letting it fall to the floor. "This retched thing must come off immediately," you mumble to yourself as you pull at the laces of your corset, loosening them just enough to slide off your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you slip off your stays and slip on a beautiful white nightgown you purchased from one of the most talented modiste in france.

Shortly after the maids come to collect your gown, you are quick to wander down the halls in search of a cure to your relentless boredom. you find what appears to be an art studio and you are instantly overjoyed. you quietly sneak in through the door left ajar.

Art was your pride and joy; your sketches and the ability to produce beautiful works on canvas were the only things keeping you from becoming a mad woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Violet's second-eldest son and the owner of said art studio had just returned home from the gentleman's club. As he makes his way down the hall, prepared to return to his studio and peacefully finish up some things he started the night prior, he is met with complete and udder surprise at the sight of a woman flipping through his sketchbooks.

He feels as if the air has been knocked right from his lungs. Never once has a woman looked so real, raw, and simply ethereal to him in nothing but a simple yet elegant night gown, the pages in between your delicate fingers, the way in which you sit, your effortless and beautiful features, and the way they change and turn to show your focus, the true and utter intrigue at the charcoal etched on the paper is more than enough to bring a man directly to his knees.

He watches as you adjust your position, your nightgown sliding up your thighs as you cross a leg over the other. He feels as if he might faint.

“those are from my time traveling.” he points, making his way in to the room.

So lost in thought, you are quickly brought back by the sound of the deep and sultry voice coming from the hallway, it sends chills down your body, you are unable to fight the butterflies in your stomach and are completely unprepared for what you’re eyes are met with the second they dare to leave the pages in front of you. He is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen, the way his features darken in the dim candle light could cause scandal merely on its own.

As he makes his way over to you, you scramble to find any sort of words to not appear as a complete and udder fool. “désolée, my Lord. All this beautiful artwork caught my eye and i could not help myself.” your voice only making his new found attraction grow even stronger.

“Benedict Bridgerton..” he says just loud enough for you to hear. He is quick to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss y/n y/l/n” you respond, a blush creeps over your cheeks as your eyes meet his. Your name and accent are both very quick explanations as to why a very random beautiful woman was wondering in

his family home.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness from France. My mother has done quite a bit of boasting upon your arrival, i can now see why she was so keen on you being the diamond of this social season” he chuckled lightly “merci, Lord Bridgerton.” you offer him a warm smile as you place the sketch book in his hands.

Your hand grazes his and you feel as if your body is set aflame. You quickly fumble to stand, attempting to leave before any further scandal is to happen. he is quick to catch you by the arm, his light grasp more than enough to keep you in place.

“Please, stay as long as you’d like.” He offers, taking a step towards you, but you are quick to shake your head, knowing staying any longer may very well affect your title and rank during this very precious season.

“You are more than kind.” you place a hand over his and squeeze lightly. He leans even closer, your face mere inches from his. his scent fills your nose and you cannot control the heat that consumes your body, the sheer need you have for him in this very moment. “I must- i uh-..” he raises an eyebrow at your words. though his proximity fogs your brain, you attempt to compose yourself. “Perhaps i can show you some of my art in the duration of my stay here.“ he smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he nods “if what you create is half as beautiful as you, my art will never hold a candle to yours.” he compliments.

Your breathe catches in your throat as his words. “..Benedict- Apologies, Lord Bridgerton..” you quickly correct yourself, the use of his first name not going unnoticed by him. “I’m sure both your and my Mother will have quite the earful if i am found in here, i must go.” Before he is even able to protest, you are gone.

As the days pass, You begin to consume his every waking thought, the sound of your voice, the feeling of your skin on his is burned in to his memory and he cannot shake his want for you.

Anthony is quick to notice his admiration, the wandering stares and close proximity immediately become apparent in Anthony’s eyes. As the family settles in the drawing room, Anthony is quick to pull His younger brother aside “You’ve grown quite close with Marchioness” Anthony offers his younger brother a warning glance and Benedict simply smirks in return “Brother, are you suggesting that i’ve compromised Miss y/l/n?” he laughs. Anthony in no way finds this amusing “See to it that your intentions are well thought out and you are thinking with your brain rather than something else. She is a Marchioness, toying with oversea affairs may be more than risky, even for a Bridgerton.” Anthony notes, the clear and evident weariness in his voice wipes the smile right off Benedict’s face

“Brother, do remind me. Did you not ask for one Sharma’s hand in marriage and then proceed to marry the other? You need not inform me on scandal for i am more than well aware of what i am doing.” he place a hand on Anthony shoulder and squeezes light before walking away.

time skip

Benedict does everything in his power to gain every fraction of your attention when it is available. The two of you spending more time together than any of the men attempting to court you. This new grown fondness blossoms quickly and Benedict soon becomes one of your most trusted friends. Spending late nights in his art studio, promenades in the garden, pall mall with his family. You’ve never felt more at home than with your dear Benedict and his lovely family. This fondness grows very quickly to something much stronger. Knowing Benedict’s stance on courting and marriage in general, you shake the thought. Knowing your dear friend will never see you as anything but.

While enjoying another late night in his studio, you can’t help but feel different. You both are well aware your time together is coming to end. Suitors begin growing impatient and proposals begin rolling in faster than the tide.

“I quite like Lord Lumley, he is handsome and he finds interest in poetry.” Benedict is quick to laugh “Lord Lumley is a dimwit after nothing but your title.” you wince at his words “Clearly he’s much more of a gentleman than you.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” he asks, the change in his tone sending heat right between your thighs. He rises from his place on the stool and saunters over to you, his large frame towering over yours.

“Repeat what you said.” he orders

“Ben i was merely kidding i-“ you stutter, his proximity making your skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Do not make me ask you again.” he warns, a smirk on his face

You are a bit taken a back by his demeanor but the insatiable desire in your body fills you with a sudden surge of confidence. “Lord Lumley is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Bridgerton.”

Benedict lets out a low chuckle before leaning down, his mouth right by your ear.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Lord Lumley isn’t plagued by the same un-gentleman like thoughts that fill my head the moment you step into a room.” he sighs, his breath on your skin only making matters worse.

Your hands find his half buttoned shirt and you press your hands lightly to his chest “Benedict.” you warn.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with his own. Your noses practically grazing as he speaks. “Tell me now that you do not desire me.” His hands rest on either side of your face “Simply speak the words and i will respectfully withdraw and allow you to be with whomever you like but first you must tell me you do not desire me and you wish for me to leave you alone.”

“Ben.” You mumble quitely. Every feeling or emotion that the second eldest Bridgerton has ever caused immediately rises to the surface. At a complete loss for words, you do what you feel is right in the very moment and you bring your lips to his.

The kiss quickly fills with passion, weeks of hidden adoration and care comes bubbling over the surface.

“Marry me.” he say breathlessly as he breaks from the kiss. “You have shown me what is it truly like to admire a woman. To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all of her defenses crumble and that you would willingly take on any pain or burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words. You make me feel what only a true poet describes." his works nearly bring you to your knees as tears threaten to escape your eyes. “I would move the heavens down to earth for you if i knew it would make you smile.”

“Benedict.. Je vous aime.” you reassure him “I love you mon chéri, more than the moon loves the night sky. You are my everything, my best-friend. I would give anything to be your wife.” He pulls you back in for another kiss which very quickly becomes heated.

He trails hot kisses all over your jaw, neck and bosom. “My beautiful Fiancée.” he mumbles, his wandering hands sliding their way up your thighs, threatening to breach the hem of your nightgown. You are immediately reminded of your current location and you push the dark haired boy back “Ben.. not here” you breathe out, The second Bridgerton son just smirks before kneeling down in front of you.

Unsure of what he’s planning, you remain silent, eyes trained on his as he begins trailing kisses up from your ankle to your inner thigh. His hands trail up the back of your legs, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he reaches it, causing a gasp to escape from your lips.

The mere sight of him like this sends heat directly between your thighs, all logical thinking thrown out the window as he begins to tug your panties down your thighs. A blush creeps over your cheeks and your hands find his hair, tugging lightly. Benedict continues with no hesitation, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs, leading right up to your aching core. You’re unable to fight back the sounds that leave your lips as you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. “Christ Benedict… you’re going to be the death of me.”

He wastes no time, lapping, kissing and sucking at your soaked heat as strong hands grip on to your thighs, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You lean against his desk to keep yourself upright while quiet moans and whimpers escape your lips, your hands pulling and tugging at his messy black hair, only encouraging him more. He pulls back only for a moment to look up at you “You taste fucking divine, my beautiful work of art.”

He is quick to return to your soaked heat. As his tongue works relentlessly on your clit, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before slowly thrusting them in and out. Shortly after, you feel an unfamiliar knot form in the pit of your stomach and Benedict is aware immediately due to your incoherent mumbles and the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s my girl..” he says breathlessly “just like that..” After hearing his words, you completely unravel, shaky moans escape your lips as one hand grips on to the table and the other with a tight hold on your Fiancées hair.

Once your body has relaxed, he gently pulls your panties back up before standing to face you. You watch as he brings his fingers to your mouth “Open.” he commands and you immediately oblige, opening your mouth as he slides his fingers past your lips. The unfamiliar taste and the sheer sight in front of you causes a blush to fall over your face. He removes his fingers with a groan and offers your a smirk “You, my dear Fiancée are going to be the death of Me.”

A/N: Hi guys! I really hope every likes this :) if you have any request, feel free to send them to me :)

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x fem! reader #benedict #bridgerton #smut #anthony bridgerton #benedict smut #benedict bridgerton smut

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ak319 · 2 months ago

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Yan Socialite brother x Fem G!P reader x Yan?Wife

➺Ezra Headcanon

As soon as Ezra was satisfied that your carriage had left the mansion safely, and after muttering a few prayers, he turned to Rowan, who immediately tensed in anticipation of the command to follow.

"Send invitations to all of my friends for a party. It will be held tomorrow evening at 7."

"But--milord, if I may ask, you've never thrown a party when the Lady of the house is away."

"Oh, Rowan, Rowan," Ezra's voice turned sharp as he stepped closer, his grip tightening on Rowan's face. "How could you even think it’s because my sister left that I’m hosting one, hm?" Rowan’s heart sank, panic rising as he feared he had offended his master. "N-no, no, I didn't mean it like that--"

"Oh, shush. I know exactly what you mean." Ezra's eyes narrowed as his grip loosened, but the cold edge in his voice remained. "But let it be clear, Rowan--this party isn't because my dear sister has gone on a trip. It's to celebrate her divorce."

Rowan’s face stayed tense, heart pounding in disbelief. A lavish party… because of the divorce? Of course, his master would. And it wasn’t as if your divorce had been a simple one, no, it unraveled painfully, each depressing knot pulled loose until it all fell apart. Your wife, Mabel, had suffered through two miscarriages--both of which, of course, were caused by Ezra. The relentless pressure and cruelty he'd put the poor woman through when you weren’t around like making her slip on the stairs--Rowan flinched, unwilling to relive that moment.

Afterward, Mabel had spiraled into such a deep depression that not even you could lift her out of it. Desperate, she finally asked for a divorce, which you granted. All because Ezra, in his twisted mind, deemed her nothing but a cheap whore, seducing his sister for money due to her lower-class background.

Rowan had conspired with his master throughout it all, so he wasn’t blameless. Yet, guilt still weighed heavy on him. Loyalty, after all, could blind a man just as easily as love.

"As you wish, master. I'll get straight to the arrangements."

Ezra sighed, clasping his hands together in front of him, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he basked in the sunlight, the gentle chirping of birds filling the air. Despite missing your presence and quietly worrying about your journey, he knew you needed this time away. You needed it to forget about that witch.

He prayed you wouldn’t return with another one.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time passed, and you slipped back into your usual routine after returning. Ezra, too, had finally found some peace. But, of course, his mother had to ruin things somehow. Out of nowhere, she brought up the topic of your marriage, prattling on about some suitor she had found--a girl from a "good family," Fiona Royce. Who the hell was that?

Ezra wasted no time investigating this supposed "catch." A good family, indeed. The eldest of three sisters, all of whom were well-bred. Fiona was smart, outgoing, and fashionable—qualities that, annoyingly, reminded Ezra of himself. But there was no way he was going to accept her. Not ever. In this estate, there was only room for one like him.

Without hesitation, he began spreading rumors about this so-called Fiona before you even had the chance to meet her. But Grace, sharp as ever, found out about her son's antics and scolded him harshly.

"You will not interfere in this matter, do you hear me?!" she snapped. "How can you spread such vile nonsense about someone’s daughter? The same could happen to yours one day. How would you feel then?!"

"Mother! I am not going to sit through another one of your lectures! (Y/N) just went through a divorce, and now you want to burden her with yet another problem?!"

"And I wonder what caused that."

Ezra folded his arms and scoffed, as if he had done nothing wrong, not a trace of regret on his face. "Gold diggers like her deserve exactly what she got."

"Well, news flash, Ezra--this marriage will happen. I can't stand to see my daughter in the state she's in, all alone. And just because her spoiled brother is too arrogant to accept it doesn’t mean it won’t. After (Y/N) gets married, I'll be finding your suitor too, so you can finally focus on your own life instead of meddling in your sister’s!"

"Mother, you can't do this! How-" Ezra’s voice was cut off as Grace stormed over, grabbing his shoulders firmly.

"Quiet. Enough of your tantrums, Ezra. Grow up. Learn to share--that's what I taught you, and what your father believed in. I swear, if you pull another one of your stunts, I will cut you off entirely. I won’t speak to you, nor will I see you again!"

His own mother, emotionally blackmailing him. Just… wow.

"You know what? Fine. Bring her here as your daughter-in-law. Let’s see what happens." Ezra's voice was laced with venom. "But mark my words--she’ll be just like the others."

With that, he slammed the door on his way out, leaving Grace standing there, wiping her tears. This was exactly why she had chosen Fiona. Only Fiona had the strength to tolerate Ezra, to stand toe-to-toe with him and still be a good wife to her daughter.

Grace composed herself before heading to your room, determined to ease your concerns about Fiona. She kept the truth hidden, though—about how Ezra had been the one to ruin Fiona’s reputation. She didn’t want to stir up unnecessary conflict between her children before the wedding.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

You met Fiona and were immediately drawn to her confident, sharp mind--not to mention her undeniable beauty. Her soft, golden hair seemed to glow in the sunlight as you both strolled through the gardens. Fiona wasted no time in trying to win you over. She needed to--she had wanted this for so long, ever since she first laid eyes on you at a party. Everything about you fascinated her, igniting a quiet obsession.

This was why her mother had subtly spoken to yours about Fiona being a potential suitor. Her parents, too, were impressed by their daughter’s choice and were eager to see it come to fruition.

The wedding soon took place, with Ezra maintaining his polite facade throughout the ceremony. But Fiona wasn’t fooled. She knew he was doing it all to stay in your good graces. Still, she wasn’t afraid. She had prepared for this moment, for the day she would become your wife and slowly capture your heart. She understood it would take time--after all, you were still likely weighed down by thoughts of your first marriage and the painful losses that came with it.

"How do I look?" Fiona asked, twirling slightly to show off her attire as you both prepared to leave for a dinner hosted by your business partner.

"Gorgeous, wife." You smiled, watching as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing your collar as she adjusted it.

"Is this the one Ezra gave you the other day?"

"Oh, no," she replied, smoothing the fabric. "I was going to wear that one, but I noticed the back was a bit torn, so I sent it off to be mended."

"Torn?" Your hands instinctively found her waist, pulling her gently toward you. "But Ezra is meticulous with his handiwork. How could that even happen?"

"No, he did a great job as always, perhaps the maid was too rough while washing it. But it's alright, darling." Fiona's voice was calm, but her resolve was unshakable. She wasn’t going to let Ezra control her life. What did he think? Showering her with gifts in front of you, trying to impress you with his false thoughtfulness, only to turn on her when you weren’t around? Not on her watch. She wasn’t Mabel--she wouldn’t crumble under his manipulation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, since my sister isn't here, you should go back to your parents' house."

"Why is that, Brother Ezra?"

"Because your duty is to my sister, and she’s not here. It’s not like you’re contributing anything around here anyway." Ezra stood abruptly, pushing his chair back, but paused as he heard her voice behind him.

"I am not leaving."

"What did you just say?" Fiona rose gracefully and faced him with a determined look. "I said I am not leaving my wife's home. I am part of this family and this house, it's mine just as much as it is hers, and I will leave when I choose. In fact, I think (Y/N) would be quite upset if she returned to find her beautiful wife absent to welcome her."

She flashed a sharp, disdainful smile at him before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving Ezra dumbfounded. The audacity of this woman was infuriating. He knew he needed to take action before she became even more of a problem. But he had to be more calculated, she was not a meek lamb like Mabel.

So, before you returned, Ezra made an effort to apologize to Fiona, attempting to be as genuine as possible. Fiona remained wary, her suspicion of his motives not easily driven away.

When you returned, Ezra eagerly requested that you allow Fiona to work with him in his Clothing Workshop, praising her fashion sense. Fiona at first didn't want to work under him but this could be handy in way to win your sympathy if Ezra pulls another stunt and she also just wanted to please you , seeing how happy you were when he proposed this.

You agreed without hesitation, pleased to see them getting along. But your satisfaction turned to concern when Ezra erupted in tears and rage over half of his new line being destroyed by fire--on a night when Fiona had been working late.

After managing to calm Ezra and escort him to his room, you returned to your own, where you found Fiona sitting on the loveseat in the balcony.

"Are you here to scold me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "If you are, go ahead. I don’t mind. I don’t even care if you don’t trust me anymore because I’ve disappointed you... and even Ezra. I’ve caused a loss to this family--"

Before she could say more, you gently cupped her chin, guiding her gaze to meet yours. "Shh, don’t say that. I don’t want these beautiful eyes to be clouded with despair, love." You wiped away a tear, and she immediately sought comfort in your embrace.

"Ezra has always been a bit... sensitive and intense about his work," you said softly. "I think it might be best if you focus on managing the household instead."

Fiona looked up at you, her expression anxious. "Do you think I caused the fire?"

"No, no. I don’t think it was your fault. I’ve been informed that the fire started because of a faulty electrical wire," you reassured her. "Why would you put your own life at risk like that?"

Fiona’s relief was palpable. The truth was, she hadn’t caused the fire--Ezra’s sabotage was the real culprit. She could hardly believe she had managed to save herself in time. How low could Ezra sink?

"I just--worry for your safety," you continued softly. "After this, you two obviously can’t work together. So, please stay at home and manage the budget instead."

Fiona nodded, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. At least she had achieved something, despite the cost. 'Take that, Ezra. You won, but at what price?'

As time went on, you found yourself falling in love with Fiona, gradually healing from the trauma of your first marriage.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Where’s your ring, Fiona?"

Fiona looked at her hands in confusion and chuckled nervously. "Oh, it must be in the bathroom. I’ll be right back, love." She gave you a quick peck on the lips before hurrying to the shared room. To her dismay, despite turning the room upside down, she couldn’t find it. Panic set in--what would she say to you and your mother if she lost a family heirloom?

She suspected Ezra’s involvement. If he was behind this, he had made a grave mistake.

You were indeed pissed at her carelessness but eventually joined her in the search. Fiona managed to convince you that she might have left the ring at her parents' house during a recent visit to which you calmed down. It broke her heart as this was the first time she had seen you mad and it was because of her stupid mistake.

The next day, Fiona went to her parents' house first thing in the morning to look for the ring. Her hunch proved correct. She found it in the room of Obelia, her second sister, who had a known crush on Ezra.

"I-I’m sorry, sister," Obelia stammered, looking guilty. "Ezra’s servant brought the ring here and said it was just a harmless prank Ezra wanted to play on his sister-in-law. I didn’t realize it would cause such trouble."

"How many times have I told you to stay away from him? You should have informed me about this! Don’t you understand? HE’S TRYING TO DESTROY MY LIFE, MY RELATIONSHIP! HE EVEN TRIED TO KILL ME!" Fiona's mother stepped in, attempting to placate her daughter and offering apologies on Obelia’s behalf.

"W--why is it that you get to marry the person you choose, and I’m not allowed to have any say in who I like? Shouldn’t you be happy for me and arrange my marriage to him so we can be together? Maybe then he won’t harass you anymore!" Obelia’s own frustration now evident.

"Are you out of your mind? You want to marry that selfish bastard?! What kind of lies did Ezra tell you?"

"He didn’t lie, Fiona!"

"You know what? Fine. I’ll talk to Ms. Grace about Ezra’s marriage and see what happens. But listen to me, Obelia--don’t blame me for what happens to you if you choose to pursue this."

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

To everyone’s surprise, Ezra agreed to the marriage, and preparations swiftly began. Fiona, however, was not taken aback. She saw through Ezra’s schemes--this was merely leverage to manipulate and threaten her using her own sister. 'If only you knew, Ezra, what I have in store for you.'

Almost a week after the wedding, tragedy struck when Obelia suffered a severe accident in her carriage, resulting in paralysis from the waist down. She was confined to bed, leaving everyone devastated. Ezra, however, was less concerned about her condition and more troubled by the prospect of being publicly labeled as having a handicapped wife.

“Something on your mind, Ezra?” Fiona’s voice cut through the silence, interrupting his contemplation in the gardens. Annoyed, Ezra turned to face her with a forced smile. “Just enjoying the scenery.”

“Hm. I’m also enjoying the view, but not here. Inside, watching my sister bedridden and helpless, unable to even manage something as simple as keeping track of a ring--now that’s truly satisfying,” Fiona retorted, her tone dripping with disdain.

“Wow, didn’t expect you to be so ruthless, sister-in-law. Nearly killing your sister over a ring? Tsk, tsk. How pathetic. Just what you'd expect from someone of your low class.”

“Call me whatever you want, Ezra. This is a warning--to show you how far I’m willing to go to stay by (Y/N)’s side. Obelia means nothing to me. I’ll fight anyone who tries to take her away.”

“I still don’t care, because guess what? She’s getting divorced. There’s no way I’m spending my life with... that.”

“Be my guest. But remember, Ezra, I’m just like you--willing to go to great lengths to protect what’s mine. And at the end of the day, there are some things only I can give (Y/N).” Fiona's words were laced with a cold certainty.

Ezra’s face flushed with rage as she leaned in closer, whispering in his ear.

“As in, you know... a child. You’re not that naive, are you? And believe me, (Y/N) really wants one. Really , really does. She tries every day.”

Ezra recoiled in disgust, his anger barely contained.

“Your parents clearly never taught you basic decency,” Ezra sneered, wiping his ear and glaring at Fiona with fierce determination. “I’d like to see you give birth to one first.”

“I’m not Mabel,” Fiona shot back, her voice cold and steady. “I’m not clumsy enough to fall or... reveal what happened on that ferry.” Ezra’s heart skipped a beat. Though he tried to mask his panic, Fiona saw through his facade.

“Oh, I’m aware of that incident. Anyone with a brain would be. But don’t worry, I won’t mention your name in connection with it. After all, you’re my wife’s brother, and I wouldn’t want her to face any humiliation or business losses because of you. So, let’s set aside this animosity and try to be... civil.”

“I won’t let you get away with this,” Ezra spat, swatting Fiona’s arm before storming off. To Fiona, now well-acquainted with Ezra’s manipulative tactics, it was clear he had assented in his own way, though he remained defiant. This was going to be an intriguing game from now on.

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naomikozura · 4 months ago

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Love of My Life: Part 1

Heian Era! Sukuna Ryomen x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: Although the first part of this story only mentions the ending of the story, this will be a MULTIPLE part story. The first part does not contain as heavy content but OTHER PARTS WILL. ALL parts are dark themes and have heavy topics. The second part of this story will contain more DARK THEMES and is a work of FICTION. I will post the exact warnings and details when the second part gets published but this is your warning for what to expect. Again it is a DARK THEME story so 18+ ONLY MDNI

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, motional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies (slight), corruption of power, dark themes (slight)

WC: 8.6K

Summary: The story of the infamous King of Curses has been around for hundreds of years, proving him to be the most feared sorcerer in the entire jujutsu realm. But the truth of what happened that led to the ultimate annihilation of his humanity has been concealed, almost erased. There was a time back in the Heian era when Ryomen Sukuna did have a shred of humanity left… but the loss of it resulted in the creation of the destructive monster he would later become.

Series Masterlist

Prologue || Part 2

Heian Era, 6 Months Before the Burning of Aurora

“Again”

“Again.”

“Again!”

The deep rumble that came from your father led you to the brink, pushing you further into a pit of exhaustion. You’d already been out here for 8 hours, your father’s relentlessness wearing you down but by bit.

“Y/n! I need you to focus!”, he yelled.

You knew your father was level-headed, smart, but since your birth he’d done nothing but train you to be strong and gifted when it came to your ability. Your clan relied on you just like every heir before you, to bring your family honor and grace. You had spent the better years of your adolescence learning about the history of your bloodline, the history of jujutsu, and learning basic technique but now as an adult there was more room for you to be pushed to the brink to train for your special ability.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today.”, your father walked over to you, your arm swiping the sweat off your forehead. “Get home and into a bath, we have dinner with the Zen’in clan tonight.”

A pang of hurt spread through your chest. Among all the training, all the history lessons, all your talent and power, your life was still forced into the hands of your father. You hadn’t only spent the better years of your adolescence learning about jujutsu and your technique, but also the fundamentals of what it meant to be a bride. You knew it was traditionally passed through generations for two families to join together through marriage but a part of you still felt hurt that your father had lined up 3 suitors for your hand. Never once considering your own feelings on the matter.

The Zen’in clan was just one of the three families who produced male heirs around the time you were born. Almost like it was predetermined, the arrangement for your betrothal to one of the main family’s sons was set in stone for you the day your mother held you for the first time. You hated the idea that your life wouldn’t be your own if you married into any of the Three Families, but you knew your duty deep down even into the marrow of your bones.

Once you’d arrived home you soaked in the bath, the maids helped you wash your body of the dirt and grime and helped wash your hair as they massaged a cleansing type of gel into it. You felt the tension in your muscles dissipate with each pass of the sponge and each massage they did in your hair.

Getting dressed for these types of occasions was tiring, feeling the pull of your hair being done in an elegant manner to showcase the beauty of your natural features, your complexion barely needed any powder to make it more presentable. You were beautiful, every sorcerer within the lands knew you were the most coveted and eligible bride due to your family bloodline, your ability, and your beauty. Unfortunately for many, your life was already selected to be given away within the families, not outside of them.

You pulled on your traditional gown, wearing your family's seal colors as you put on a red headpiece that brought out your features beautifully. Red adorned your family home, your sigil painting in the bright crimson to signify strength, sacrifice, protection, and hope. You always felt proud to wear the seal colors yet you couldn’t help but feel like there was no hope for you.

Your family sat in the common area, the Zen’in members sitting properly around the table while the heads talked amongst themselves. You looked over at the eldest son, his dark hair and deep brown eyes striking as he looked at you. He was handsome no doubt, probably a suitable husband but you couldn’t bring yourself to envision a future with him. Despite your wishes, you’d probably marry into the Zen’in family. It was the most logical, beneficial and strategic marriage that your father would have picked for you.

The dinner was simple, quick, a formality to get you and the Zen’in son, Zetsubou Zen’in, introduced. You knew who he was, but never met him in person until now. He was charming, smart, powerful but there was a darkness to him. Something he hid all too well, you wondered if his family knew about his dark tendencies that he kept hidden from the rest of his clan. You knew a marriage to him would be selling your life away, you’d be a shell of a human being with him. He would only bring you hate and despair.

Once the night had ended and you started to unwind, you fell onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, taking in the moonlight that bled through the cracks before turning and looking out the window at all the stars that illuminated the village. Where could the endless reach of the sky take you? Would you go far enough away that you disappear and never come back?

You didn't let your mind wander too much before you fell into a slumber, your mind numbing from the evening's events.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Another village raid.” you heard your father’s voice ring out of his meeting room. You had a bad habit of eavesdropping on his meetings, but you knew he’d keep you sheltered from the jujutsu world until you mastered your domain. You knew it wasn’t protective but strategic. Keep you out of the way until you are strong enough to master your domain and keep low risk of his heir dying.

“He killed every single person there, tortured them, stole the energy they possessed. He’s getting stronger with each village he destroys.”, a second voice spoke out, a third muttering in agreement and the fourth person silent as he slammed his drink on the table.

The Four Families rarely met unless it was important, though with the jujutsu realm slowly establishing itself, every meeting was important.

“We need to get our men, the strongest to train and immobilize him otherwise he’ll only continue to get stronger and more power hungry.”, you recognized the Zen’in clan’s leader, his voice prominent due to the countless visits him, his wife, and son had made to your home in the past few weeks. You and Zetsubou were both being groomed to be each other's marital partner, regardless of how much you wish you weren’t.

“I have 20 men who have been training, many of them have sons who are also starting to get their cursed energy under control and starting with the warriors in the coming weeks. We can expedite that training and have them ready in a month's time.”

“The Kamo clan also have a number of men that are willing to fight for the cause. This is the fifth raid in a month, it seems they’re getting more frequent. How much longer until he targets our territories and steals our energies?”, the Kamo clan leader spoke up, his voice much softer than the rest but held his resolve. “We must act as soon as we can”

“Agreed. Until then, we must keep the heirs focused and trained, we can’t have any loose ends”.

He meant you.

You always knew they meant you. From the beginning theyd always second guessed your ability, you were the first woman to inherit your family’s special technique so they had obvious doubts. You’d grown powerful in your ability over the past few years but the one thing you still couldn’t do was create a domain, something the other three heirs had already mastered a year ago.

You left then, heading to the stables in order to prepare for your training this morning. You slid the door open, making your way down to the final stall and seeing your white, brown eyed mare. She was beautiful, a gift from the Zen’in clan as an interest for your hand in marriage.

You tan a hand over her soft coat, the shine illuminated under the morning sun. It wasn’t too late, only an hour or two before midday so you knew she was well fed and hydrated thanks to the stable hands.

Strapping in the saddle on your mare, you ensured you had everything you needed to go into the open fields. They were several miles away and consisted of open fields perfect for training. You really wanted to indulge in your ability, bring yourself to the fullest potential so you went out to the fields to train often. Your father often hated when you would go alone but you’ve managed to convince him that solo practice was important in order to gain control of your ability. Eventually after much consideration and eagerness, he agreed to let you go on your own. You finished packing your food and water for the day, knowing that most of your sessions often lasted the entire morning and led into the evening, and set out early in order to start your training.

You rode through the forest in silence, letting the sound of the animals in the birds around you fill in the empty space, giving you a sense of serenity, knowing that everything was at peace. We often wondered how much it would take to be as free as the birds who flew the skies or the deer grazed in the fields. You thought much of what it would be like to leave, but your path would never allow you to get away from what was set in stone.

Once you arrive at the training grounds, you let your horses graze in the woods, off in the shaded area while tied to a tree with a long rope to ensure it wouldn’t wander off.

You focused, closing your eyes and feeling the wind around you, your body using every one of its senses to connect to the earth and energy within you. You let yourself feel the wind and taste the freshness of the air, the humidity and feeling of water still present from the storm a few days ago. You listened to every chirping bird and snapping branch from the small creatures in the woods, the smell of fresh dew on the grass bringing you to a calming place and filling you with ease.

You channeled the energy into your hands, the small iridescent light glowing as it grew bigger and stronger. Your eyes remained closed as you focused on getting the technique just right. You wanted to show you could master your inherited technique, that your potential wasn’t going to be wasted on a stupid marriage.

You were still the daughter of the L/n Clan and the heir to the familial bloodline. You were more than just someone to be married for political gain.

You swirled the energy in your hands, growing it with each passing second before it reached its brim yet you forced it to get bigger to expand your capacity.

The wind moved around you and started to swirl into the ball of cursed energy you manifested, pushing yourself before you released and let the energy target some of the trees, exploding on impact and causing a ripple effect that made the birds fly out of the trees and some of the animals run away.

You let out a shaky breath before repeating the steps, this time trying to focus on using your technique on the cursed dummy you had in front of you. You’d often get other sorcerers to cast cursed energy into props in order to help practice your Aurora, each time more precise than the last.

You closed your eyes, blinking them slowly as they glowed in a bright, iridescent green color, focusing all your energy on the prop. You raised a hand to manipulate the individual building blocks, watching as the prop contorted and turning into a deformed figure before a screech released from the inside. It was a cursed spirit inside the prop screaming for mercy. You narrowed your eyes and continued to rip apart the existence of the cursed spirit, pulling its atoms apart piece by piece as the screams intensified before they stopped completely due to the implosion of its figure.

You let out a breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead before starting from square one. You continued for hours, using more of the cursed objects and using them to strengthen your ability.

Once evening arrived, you packed everything, walking to the mare and swinging your leg over her back and shifted to get comfortable. As you were getting ready to leave you heard a crack in the woods, but this time the energy felt different. Your head turned to look at the opposing side of the woods, narrowing your eyes and trying to feel if there were any cursed spirits out. Confused, you turned, nudging your mare towards the direction of L/n House.

The unknown energy slowly growing after you’d left the field.

You had spent the next few days training out in the field, slowly growing in your strength and technique as each session passed. Your father was still weary of your being alone in the fields but with everyday passing and you coming home safely, he began to trust your routine. You still followed a training regiment with him every other day and did your history studies on the weekends. You were all around intelligent, strong, gifted, and resilient.

You pushed yourself back, dodging the hit from the cursed dummy you had made to pose as a fighter with you. It wasn’t strong but it wasn’t weak. A good mid tier practice dummy to help build your endurance. The dummy charged at you as you jumped over it, spinning your body in a flawless way that made you seem like the village dancers during any major celebration.

In the final blow, you swung your foot around, kicking it perfectly in the head before pushing your hand forward, knocking it down before using your ability to disfigure the dumb thing and make it implode in itself, the shrill of pain ringing out before it fell silent. It felt no real pain. Your father said listening to their cries often helped take away their effect. it was the way your enemies guilt tripped sorcerers into submitting to empathy. You knew when you needed to be empathetic and needed to be heartless, even if you didn’t like it.

The sound of snapping made you turn, your hair sticking to your forehead as you met the dark gaze of crimson eyes. You felt your chest jump slightly in surprise but quickly relaxed once you’d let yourself calm with the wind.

Your hair was tied in a high ponytail, your skin glossy from the evening sun as you trained in the field in the outskirts of your home. You looked him over, taking in his menacing appearance which, for you, had no effect in the way you saw him. His skin was tan with dark marks embedded into his skin, the tattoos moving in a swirl of different directions but added to his edge. He wore a robe that showed his muscular chest, his hair messy and weighed down by his sweat. There was no question that the strongest sorcerer would be huge in comparison to the daughter of one of the Four Clan’s leaders, yet the size difference still gave him a swirl of emotion.

You looked at him in a way he hadn’t been looked at before. Your eyes staring at him, almost like calculating his every move as he slowly walked towards you. Ryomen hid the shock in his body when he reached you, pushing down his need to physically express his taken aback reaction. Many people in the world would be in shock, fear, buckle under the weight of his possessive hold over any room or space he occupied. Many people bowed at his feet, begged for mercy from his ruthlessness, he was feared. The story people told their children to keep them well mannered.

And yet, you stood a foot away from him and met his gaze in relaxed confidence. Your eyes held curiosity, not fear. Your body was laid back, not shaking or trembling at his presence. You didn’t buckle at the overwhelming pull of his presence instead you embraced it and met him with your own confidence. You were secure in yourself enough that you held no fear towards him.

His eyes scanned your features, taking in every inch of you in your mutual silence. Your eyes were bright, with the sun making them dark, he could see how they lit up with curiosity and wonder. Your lips and nose were perfectly fitted to your face, making the balance of your features appear more heavenly than anything. It made you attractive, beautiful to everyone who came in contact with you. Your (h/c) hair complemented the tone of your skin and left him wanting to run his fingers through it. He recoiled internally at the thought. When would he ever think such a way towards someone lesser than him?

Were you lesser than him?

He stared at you in observation, an overwhelming sense consuming him. He could kill you easily, snap your neck and make your death seem like one of the families did it and start an all out war. You were so fragile despite your toned body from the obvious years of training. He could just reach over and make you implode from just one touch.

So why didn’t he?

In this moment, against all his beliefs, he considered you his equal. He never considered anyone even remotely close to his realm of power and yet you existed. You showed no fear, you felt secure in yourself, and even being face to face with a morally flawed man, you looked at him with gentle eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, the silence falling over the both of you in a comforting blanket.

In that moment he knew you held power over him, especially when you broke the silence first.

“Is there something you need?”, your voice was soft, relaxed. Had you been anyone else, someone questioning his being in any location would have annoyed him but you asked in such a way that left him soaking in the echoes of your words.

“I’m just passing by.”, he replied, wondering when did he ever answer anyone else’s questions when they’d ask?

“Oh, I hope my training doesn’t stop you from getting where you need to be.”

His curiosity overcame him, making him wonder more about your family. He knew about the L/n clan's heir, young and beautiful, strong and intelligent, soft and gentle. It made her the perfect face for their house and a suitable bride. He’d heard of the Gojo, Zenin, and Kamo clans grooming their first sons to be suitable men to ask for her hand in marriage.

A piece of him churned with an irritation at the thought of you being primed and groomed into marrying someone in an arranged marriage.

“Not at all.”, he replied, his deep voice ringing in your ears. You've heard a lot of Ryomen Sukuna. Your clan elders mention his lack of empathy, his overwhelming power and how he easily could reach an unbeatable level of cursed energy that would make anyone think twice about crossing his path. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of him as scary or evil. There was curiosity in the way he held himself and how he had yet to retaliate against your question when everyone knew he hated being questioned.

“You’re far from your clan lands”, he said flatly, his eyes focused on your form.

“I can use my full potential here.”, you blinked. “It’s hard to push myself to the brink if I don’t have open space. At least here I can unleash everything and learn from my mistakes”, you clenched your hand, looking at the small burst of energy in your hand.

The silence filled the air, once again leaving you in a strange tension you couldn’t quite place. His eyes stayed focused on you before he began to walk past you. His silence leaving you confused, unsure of why stop to talk to you then leave without another word. Then again, he wasn’t going to extend himself to something so minuscule, so mundane.

He was far above that.

Far above you.

“Help me.”, you spoke, watching as he stopped in his tracks.

What were you doing? Requesting someone like him to help someone as insignificant as you.

You’d heard the stories, been told the horrors of his actions and wrath. Ryomen Sukuna was a selfish, greedy, immoral and sadistic man, he brought any competent sorcerer to their knees by simply occupying the space. He believed himself above absolutely everyone in every way and you knew that undeniable truth. You were risking your life speaking to him like he owed you something, asking for help from the devil was brainless even for you.

He stared at you in indifference, taken by your confidence yet he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. A part of him was intrigued by you, even though he hated helping others, he wasn’t necessarily a charitable man. No, he was far from it. The complete opposite of it in fact. He should blow your head off, snap your neck, make you kneel and beg for your life.

Yet, he indulged.

Just this once.

You watched as he removed his robe, leaving him in a loose fitting shirt that showed his arms perfectly. They were muscular and defined, wielding such power that could easily kill someone in one touch. You wondered if he’d killed anyone with his bare hands without his abilities or cursed energy before.

The small flicker of energy that manifested in his hand caught your attention, the manifestation growing in size at an alarming rate but took no toll on his psyche. The years of being gifted with such power and training laid off for him, though you knew he’d always been powerful in his own right.

You watched intently, observing the cursed energy in his hand as you tried to copy the leisure in which he created his. The creation of energy was easy, it was making it compact with force that was difficult for you. You had great mental resilience and capacity for difficult challenges, yet when it came to finding the switch that could make your power compact you struggled slightly.

In every other sense of your ability and cursed energy, you were gifted, it was creating a domain where you lacked. The long days and tumultuous nights of training and reading through scribed records only helped you make sense of a partial reason why you couldn’t manifest a domain, you just needed to actually focus on executing it flawlessly.

“Domain Expansions aren’t easy to manifest.”, you narrowed your eyes slightly at his comment. Why was he trying to dumb it down for you when you knew he was known for manifesting energy at record breaking levels.

“They’re easy enough for you.”, you muttered as his eyes slowly moved to look at you.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Right”, you focused on his words, listening to the instruction he gave, slowly manifesting the energy into your palms.

He watched as you focused, eyes closed as you concentrated on his voice. It was interesting. Seeing as your energy formed in your hands, wondering how you had inherited such a powerful technique and you still struggled with your domain. He couldn’t help wondering why. It was difficult for most sorcerers to manifest a complete domain, but someone with an inherited ability like Eye of Aurora should have some level of giftedness that would allow you to start creating one. He watched your jaw clench as the energy dispersed in your hand, evaporating into nothing.

You released a defeated sigh, letting your shoulders droop as you opened your eyes and staring at the ground in a defeated glare.

“I don’t get it.”, you breathed. “I have this… special ability, a technique that so many sorcerers wish they could use and I can’t even create a damned domain.”

“You’re holding back”, his voice rumbled in his throat, the deep tone sending chills down your spine. Not of fear but of something unknown to you, a sensation that left your heart beating a bit faster than normal.

“Okay”, you muttered. “So show me how to not hold back”

The temperature around you slowly grew, watching as he released an immense amount of energy, causing the trees in front of him to fall from the attack. Your eyes widened at the gaping emptiness he had just created.

Woah.

You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him in a way you could only describe as a mix of shock and awe. The adrenaline burst through you as you channeled your energy, creating a mass in your hands before releasing it, causing a number of trees to fall from the impact. It wasn’t near the caliber of his release but it was still a good conjuring of cursed energy. You knew you’d never reach his level of power, but you felt proud that you could release something at that caliber.

“Let go of that fear of being too unhinged. It’s what holds you back from mastering your domain.”, his voice was deep, your eyes glowing with pride as you felt the after effects of his release. “You can’t master your domain if you care too much about being perfect.”

“I’m not you.”, you answered.

“No one will ever be me.”, you rolled your eyes. You knew that, but you still wanted his help anyway.

A small part of him grew irritated with your slight attitude at his words, but another part found it humorous. It wasn’t very often that a sorcerer at your level could make him find anything humorous. He cared very little, not at all actually, about something as irrelevant as humor or wittiness but coming from you, it made him think he could possibly entertain you for the time being.

He wondered where you got such confidence to not only speak to him freely, but to assume he’d be willing to help you despite his power that was worlds above yours. It wasn’t often there were many humans or sorcerers who didn’t bow to his feet immediately after he became present. He was used to seeing people beg for mercy, used to the people who cried hysterically for him to spare them. He enjoyed the mental torture of never giving away if someone would be spared or not.

So, when you called after him so boldly, against all logic, it intrigued him. He hasn’t been intrigued in a long time, not by a sorcerer in any way especially because he knew he was far above them in every regard. Though he still indulged in your boldness, your lack of fear, by the motivation in your eyes and the drive in your stance.

Before he could even stop himself, he made contact to engage and he believed it to be his biggest mistake. He should have never let you reel him in, never should have let you make him give his time when it was valuable, never should have found you worth the effort.

Then when he didn’t think he could find anything more appealing about you, you smiled at him. It was a warm, full smile. How could you give him a warm welcome when he’s done nothing deserving of it?

“Thanks for the help.”, you laughed, almost in disbelief. “I have to go.”

He watched as you walked over to the mare grazing in the woods, removing the rope from the tree and petting her nose gently. He wondered then how you showed him the same gentleness as the creatures you cared for. His eyes darted away from you, letting himself sit with the realization that you didn’t see him as some godforsaken being.

“Come back tomorrow.”, he called as your head swiveled towards him, your bright eyes meeting his dark ones. “Before the sun reaches its peak.”

With that he turned, leaving you in shock at his demand.

The next day, you did as he had asked, you showed back up to the field ready to train with him. You sat in the grass watching your mare eat while you waited for him. It wasn’t too hot yet but again, it was too early for it to even be warm.

The sound of cracking branches sounded behind you, making you turn slowly as you watched Sukuna’s form emerge from the trees. He stood tall in all his glory, wearing clothes that hung off his body in a way that almost made your face heat up. Even in his dark aura and the intensity of his energy, you couldn’t deny that Ryomen Sukuna was also an attractive man. If your father could hear the thoughts you were having, he’d surely punish you with more physical training.

“Good morning.”, you said softly, his deep red eyes meeting yours but not saying anything as he walked closer to you. You either were too naive for your own good, or you genuinely didn’t realize just how out of turn you were being. Sukuna was known for not liking when people spoke to him out of turn, he hated small talk. He believed it to be useless, a waste of time, and of no benefit. You didn’t need to start with pleasantries but you did so anyway.

“Show me your energy.”, he spoke deeply, his eyes boring into yours as you snapped to attention. You needed to focus, needed to take the most of this time while you could. Sukuna never offered any time of his to a regular person, let alone sorcerers beneath him, this was the only chance you had to gain real insight on how to create strong energy and create your domain.

You manifested a ball of energy into your hands, its vibrant glow pulsing with your heartbeat. The energy crackled and shifted, reflecting your concentration and intent. Sukuna's gaze remained intense, unblinking, as he observed your creation with a mixture of interest and impatience.

"Is this all you can muster?" His voice was a low growl, almost mocking. "You think that will impress me?"

You felt a surge of determination, pushing deeper into your focus. The ball of energy began to expand, growing larger and more intense. You could feel the strain as you struggled to maintain control, your palms growing warm as the energy surged.

"Energy is more than just a display," Sukuna said, his tone suddenly softer, almost contemplative. "It’s about precision, purpose. Show me not just what you can create, but how well you can wield it."

You tightened your grip, trying to focus. The energy swirled and shifted, forming intricate patterns that mirrored your intent. The ball began to take shape, its structure becoming more complex, more refined. You could almost feel the boundaries of your energy beginning to take form, the energy coalescing into a stronger, more cohesive entity.

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something akin to approval, though his expression remained impassive. "Better. But don’t think for a moment that you’ve reached the limit of what you can achieve. This is merely the beginning."

He moved towards you, his energy radiating off of him as you felt him consume yours, his body close as he looked at you. The obvious height difference made it seem like he was pitying you, but he seemed more interested in helping than anything else. His head lowered, meeting your eye line as he looked straight ahead, looking at the trees ahead of you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of Sukuna’s proximity. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath, mingling with the charged air around you. The energy you had summoned pulsed violently in response to the tension, making you sweat and your heart race.

Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity. “Let the energy reflect your resolve,” he demanded, his voice a commanding rumble.

You focused on the ball of energy, feeling its weight and power. The intensity of Sukuna’s presence only made it harder to concentrate, as if the very air around you was charged with his overwhelming aura. You grit your teeth as you tried to calm your heart rate down, focusing on keeping the energy stable as you manifested it into something bigger.

“Are you letting your concentration waver?” Sukuna’s voice was almost a whisper now, his breath hot against your cheek. “You think you can achieve mastery with such weakness?”

Your fingers ached as you fought to maintain control. The ball of energy fluctuated, its glow flickering with your wavering focus. Sukuna’s proximity made it even harder to maintain your composure; the heat radiating from his presence was almost unbearable.

“Feel the energy,” he instructed, his tone full of challenge. “Channel your emotions, your fear, your determination. Let it all flow into your control.”

The heat from the energy was now almost unbearable, merging with the heat of Sukuna’s presence. Your hands were on fire, and the energy sphere seemed to pulse with a life of its own. With every breath you took, the tension grew, making your entire body quiver.

“You can do better,” Sukuna said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But you must push through the discomfort. It’s not just about controlling the energy—it’s about mastering your own limits.”

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, but you forced yourself to focus. The energy within your hands began to stabilize, the chaotic flickers giving way to a steady, powerful glow. The sphere grew larger, its form more defined, as you channeled every ounce of your willpower into it.

Sukuna’s face remained close, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re almost there,” he said deeply. “Show me that you’re more than just a fleeting display of power.”

The strain was immense, but you felt a surge of determination. With one final push, you stabilized the energy, making it surge with newfound strength and clarity. The heat from both the energy and Sukuna’s presence reached a peak before slowly subsiding, leaving you gasping but triumphant.

Sukuna stepped back, his gaze finally breaking from yours. “Not bad,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you with a cool, detached scrutiny. The intensity of his presence remained, but his demeanor was notably indifferent. The air between you was charged, the energy still crackling faintly as it dissipated, but Sukuna’s expression betrayed little of the effort you’d put forth.

“It’s enough for tonight,” Sukuna said flatly, his voice carrying an authoritative finality. He took a step back and broke the close proximity though his presence still loomed large. His tone was almost dismissive, as if your efforts were merely a minor inconvenience to him. “You’ve put in your time. Come back tomorrow if you think you can do better.”

You exhaled slowly, your body trembling slightly from the exertion and the intense atmosphere. The heat that had enveloped you gradually cooled, leaving a satisfying ache in its wake. The weight of his indifference stung more than any overt criticism. You felt a pang of frustration mixed with weariness. Despite the effort you’d expended, Sukuna’s gaze remained aloof, as if your struggle was inconsequential.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. “I’ll be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the exhaustion.

Sukuna merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, his face expressionless. “Good,” he replied. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing with a finality that left little room for interpretation. As he walked away, his imposing figure gradually disappearing into the shadows, you remained in place for a moment longer, your thoughts racing.

You stood there for a moment, the weight of his detached dismissal settling over you. The path ahead was clear, but it felt colder and more daunting in the face of Sukuna’s lack of concern. Still, you gathered your resolve and made your way out, determined to return and prove yourself despite his apparent lack of interest.With a final glance at the space where Sukuna had been, you turned and made your way out of the training grounds, the weight of his words and the promise of future trials hanging heavily in the air.

Tomorrow, you would return, ready to push your limits once again.

Two weeks later

You went out into the woods, riding your mare as you tried to reach the field for your training with Sukuna. He’d helped you the past few weeks, showing you how to manifest your energy and create your domain. You’d been close to creating a full domain several times, he said you just needed to not hold back. You both figured out the reason you couldn’t create a domain was because a subconscious part of you made you hesitate, you wouldn’t allow yourself to reach your full potential. He’d slowly been showing you to let go and embrace your cursed energy fully.

You hummed as you made your way down the small hill on the embedded path that led to the other side of the woods. Almost like a shot to the chest, you felt a chill run down your spine, an immense amount of cursed energy being aimed at you. Before you could react, you felt the sheer force collide into you and your mare, the loud groan escaping her as she collided with a tree. You were thrown completely off, your body slamming into the boulders on the ground, the feeling of blood running down the side of your head making you queasy. Your vision blurred slightly, you were disoriented.

What the hell?

You saw the grueling sight of a disfigured wolf, its body three times the size of a normal one and it had six eyes, its mouth jagged and its teeth rotten as it laughed as it ate your mare. Your eyes widened at the sight, but you couldn’t focus on your now dead companion. You needed to exorcize it and get back home. You were still a mile from the fields, but you couldn’t get there in time, you needed to end this now.

You forced yourself to your feet, the blood running over your eye as you tried to focus on the cursed spirit. You let yourself manifest your cursed energy quickly, focusing on the cursed wolf before aiming at its head, a loud cry escaping its monstrous mouth. The snarl escaped its throat as it ran at you, your body releasing more cursed energy at it and watching as you blew a hole into its shoulder.

There needed to be a way to do this quickly, your body faltering at the dizziness in your head. You were losing too much blood but if you passed out you were as good as dead. You tried to focus, you couldn’t die here. You couldn’t die at the jaws of some mid grade curse. You were a L/n. You were above these types of curses. You were the gifted one, the heir of the L/n clan. The disgrace you’d bring onto your family if you were to die at this moment.

Just then, the cursed wolf ran at you, channeling your energy and sending it full force, watching as it jumped over your attack and lunged at you. Your eyes widened as you jumped off to the side, your body rolling down the hill as it hit the bushes and shrubbery, surely gaining cuts and bruises from the foliage.

Fuck!

You tried getting to your feet, pushing yourself up only to be tackled by the damned thing, your body collapsing and continuing to roll down the drop of the hill, reaching for some sort of branch to keep you from falling further down.

The pain in your body overcame you, letting you slip into unconsciousness for a split second as you tried to regain your thoughts. The blurriness wouldn’t allow you to see your surroundings until the jaws of death snapped in your face, the momentum pushing you back.

“Get off!”, you forced the creature off of you with a surge of energy, struggling to get to your feet as you sucked in a deep breath. You were in fight or flight, and right now flight did not seem like a viable option.

The wicked snarl rang out again as the cursed wolf seemed to radiate unbelievable negative energy. It lunged at you, its teeth ready to rip you apart but before it could you felt a surge of power overwhelm the space, a loud high pitched cry escaping the throat of the creature. You let out a breath of air, turning to look at the blurry figure next to you, your breath uneven as another light manifested in a white, blinding power before completely evaporating into nothing.

Your breath was uneven, trying to calm yourself, but just as the spirit disappeared, your body collapsed to the ground as you slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~

The warm blankets around your body helped with the soreness that overcame you, your eyes still hazy from the slumber you were in. You moved your head slightly, your hair splayed around you in a halo as you tried to move your arms. You felt a presence next to you, trying to focus your sight as you blinked, taking in the comfort you felt from the figure.

Sukuna…

“Don’t get up.”, his voice was deep, careful yet with command in its tone.

“W..what happened?”, you whispered, your head turned in his direction as you met his gaze, the feeling of his fingers brushing your hair back bringing a warmth into your chest. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home.”, he turned, motioning for a white haired woman to bring more water. “You lost some blood trying to fight that cursed spirit. I killed it.”

“Oh..”, the white haired woman came back with a small bowl and towel, bowing before leaving. You relaxed in his touch as he placed the wet towel on your head, helping clean the remains of the blood on your skin.

“You need to rest.”, he said firmly.

“I need to get back home”, you looked at him with pleading eyes, not wanting your family to have a reason not to trust you being out on your own. You needed to get home soon, and fast.

“You’ll pass out before you even reach your territory.”, Sukuna’s red eyes had a darkness to them, but you chose to ignore it, your mind everywhere and without a care of the extent of your injuries. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, gentle to not burn your skin with the energy he had conjured up due to his irritation with your injuries.

“Sukuna, my father will send scouts looking for me.”

“Fuck them.”, his tone was sharp, his energy slowly growing in size. Your pleading e/c eyes looking deep into his, a sharp sting of sympathy flooded his veins before he released the negative cursed energy. The crack in his armor miniscule yet it created waves of confusion in him. How could you make him slip in his position with just one look?

He ignored the thought, narrowing his eyes before standing and walking to the small wooden dresser, picking up your clothes and placing them on the table next to his bed. You watched as he turned towards the door to give you privacy, his body dressed in his usual robe but you could still see the outline of his muscles and the massive power his body held. You couldn’t help but take a moment and admire his body. Your mind took in every inch of his being, allowing yourself to forget about his crimes and cruelty in order to study him. Were you fucked in the head?

You snapped out of the hold his presence had on you, reaching for your clothes only to realize he’d had them cleaned. Was it that woman who cleaned them for you?

You changed, carefully and stood out of the bed, touching your head as you felt the fresh bandages wrapped around your forehead and temples. Pushing the sliding door open, you revealed him waiting for you, his tall statue leaning against the wall as his eyes skimmed over your body before pushing the glint in his eyes away. You both didn’t say a word, you just followed him as he walked out of his home.

He led you through the woods, ensuring you’d arrive to L/n House in one piece and conscious. When you were within range you turned to him, looking up to meet his gaze due to the obvious height difference.

“Thank you.”, was all you said before turning, walking the last half mile home, feeling his eyes on your back as you followed the path. It was only when you reached the entrance of your home did you feel his energy disappear and your shoulders slumped in disappointment.

You slowly pushed the door open, closing it softly behind you when the echo of your father’s voice rang through the room.

“Y/n, it’s late, where have you been?”, your father called from the other room, your mother rushing towards you before a loud gasp escaped her mouth.

“Y/n! What happened to your head?”, her question made your father rush into the room, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

“Where have you been? How did this happen?!”, his tone was heavy, it wasn’t worry but anger and you knew he was more annoyed by your injury than worried about it. “You can’t possibly be getting this from your special ability?”

You could read in between the lines of his words. He wasn’t worried you were hurt, he was annoyed by you being injured at the effects of your domain and special technique. He was annoyed that he would have to face scrutiny for not being able to master your ability and domain, thus leaving him with a weaker claim to the family honor than he originally thought. He already hated that you were what the gods had given him to carry the family name, you being weak was just another hit at his pride. Regardless of how the realm saw you, regardless of how you were loved and respected, to him you’d always be the reason he didn’t have a high claim like the other families of the Four did.

“Do you really believe I’m so weak I can’t control my own technique?”, you stared at him in disbelief, in hurt. “Do you think so little of me?”

“You are the heir to our family name! If you can’t control your technique then what have I spent the past 20 years of my life doing?!”, his voice was filled with conviction, the anger bursting through each word. “We already have a weaker claim to our position in the realm because you were born as a daughter instead of a son and now you show up like this? We need you to be strong, intelligent, and better than those other boys, and you still show me more reasons why you should have never inherited the Eye of Aurora.”

You felt your lips quiver slightly, the lump in your throat growing as you tried to stop yourself from cursing your father. You knew he’d always hated that you weren’t born his son, but you believed if you proved him wrong he’d have no choice but to find pride in you and your power to succeed the L/n name. You couldn’t take his unrealistic standard of you anymore, you just couldn’t.

“I am not here to fix your broken ego or make your insecurities better.”, you growled at him. “I am your only heir, I am the inheritor of the Eye of Aurora, and I am the reason our family has a place in the Four families! Me! I’m the one who’s loved and adored by the other families and villages. I am the one they seek to protect, the one they seek to continue in this time of peace without war. When I was born, so was our legacy. You have done nothing to solidify our claim to the realm but I have!”

The anger boiling inside your father was overwhelming, your frustration with him was a disgrace but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of being seen as some weak woman by him, as some sort of disappointment when you were the greatest thing that had happened to the realm in decades. The Eye of Aurora was seen as one of the highest of abilities, that of nobility. Your insolent father was too obsessed with power and reputation to care that you were the successor of a noble jujutsu bloodline.

“You are nothing without our family name. You need to get your technique under control or so help me. I'll have the old sorcerers from the Zen’in clan exorcize it out of you and let your body rot without your ancestors to guide you!!”, his voice echoed through the halls.

You sensed an overwhelming power, sucking in a breath before releasing your own. A pang of shock at its sudden appearance before relaxing. The energy had disappeared.

“It wasn’t even my ability that did this! I got attacked by a cursed wolf in the woods!”, you spat back at him.

“And you didn’t think to send a signal for help or try to use your technique?!”

“I was getting attacked from every blind spot I had! It killed my mare, it jumped me from behind, I didn't even sense the energy before it was too late!”

“Great so now you can’t sense cursed energy. You really are just a sorry excuse of an heir, a defective worthless waste of potential!”

The dagger twisted deeper into your chest at his words. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he so selfish, insolent, and greedy?

“You’re the heir to our family bloodline and you almost get killed. It would be better off that way.”, he turned to walk out of the room, with your mother closely behind him. You pitied her lack of backbone, lack of support towards you.

“I was fine!”, you snapped. “Sukuna helped me exorcize it, I didn’t need help from anyone else!”

A cold sensation filled the room, realizing your words as you said them. Your eyes meeting your father’s as he turned towards you. His eyes filled with a shock and disgust that left you feeling sick to your stomach.

“What…. Did you just say?” his voice sent a chill down your spine. “Did you say… Ryomen Sukuna… helped you?”

“I-“, a loud slap echoed through the air, your head snapping to the side from the impact. Your eyes wide in disbelief as the burning in your cheek exploded through your face. It felt like time stopped, the whiplash of the hit burning a hole in your chest.

“You were with that monster?!”, his booming voice filled the house, his cursed energy radiating off of him in waves. “What do you think you’re doing with that thing? He could have killed you! He’s a sadistic monster!”

You remained silent as you felt the anger fill the room, hearing your mothers gasp at your father’s words. The trembling of your lip almost broke you, your chest burning in anger, hurt, and sadness.

“You are not to go out to the fields again. You stay within L/n house and your training will be overseen by the elders.”, your face stayed angled down to the ground, your heart racing in your chest as your father made the final blow.

“Now you sympathize with a monster. You really are a defective disgrace.”

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hyperactively-me · 6 months ago

Text

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 4)

The ballroom was a whirlwind of activity, the air alive with a large bustling crowd and an orchestra. Candlelight flickered off the gilded walls, casting a warm glow over the assembly of guests as they twirled and sashayed across the polished marble floor.

You stand at the edge of the ballroom, the soft rustle of your gown mingling with the hum of the music. Despite your best efforts to put your little incident in the park with the Duke out of your mind, his words still echo in your thoughts, leaving you feeling unsettled and off balance.

But tonight was not the time to dwell on such matters. Tonight was about revelry and celebration, as well as matching up with potential suitors. Your parents wanted you to go in on your best foot forward after noticing you’ve been off the past few days. And so, with a determined smile, you set out to enjoy the evening to its fullest.

You mingle amongst the guests, making conversation with old friends and new acquaintances. You were introduced to many eligible bachelors, all with some title or another. Some were quite good company, while others were less than enjoyable. Each vied for your attention, eager to claim a spot on your dance card. Every so often, you looked over your shoulder in hopes of not seeing Duke Riley tonight.

Soon enough, you found yourself twirling from partner to partner, each dance becoming more lively than the next. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of small talk and witty remarks, there was one face that stood out.

Lord Phillip Graves, with his slicked-back hair and predatory grin, was one of the most sought after bachelors of the season. He made his way towards you with all the subtlety of a prowling lion. You felt a shiver of annoyance run down your spine as he approached, his eyes alight with a hunger that made your skin crawl.

This was not the first time he had tried to court you. Despite his persistence, you had made it abundantly clear to Lord Graves that you had absolutely no interest in his advances. His sleazy demeanor and reputation as a notorious womanizer made you wary of his intentions. Yet, undeterred by your disinterest, he continues to pursue you with a relentless determination that bordered on pitiful desperation.

As he drew near, you plastered on a polite smile, steeling yourself for yet another encounter with the insufferable nobleman.

“Ah, there she is,” he purred, his voice dripping with charm. “The belle of the ball herself. Would you do me the honor of a dance, my lady?”

You resist the urge to smack him in response to his saccharine words, instead offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Mister Graves, but I’m afraid my dance card is already quite full for the evening,” you reply, hoping to dissuade him from pressing the issue further.

But Lord Graves was not so easily deterred. With a predatory look in his eye, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. “Surely you can spare just one dance for me?” he whispers, his words sending bile up your throat.

Before you could respond, a familiar, and not entirely unwelcome, voice rings in your ears.

“The lady’s dance card is indeed full for the rest of the evening.”

You turn to see the Duke standing right behind you, his expression as unreadable as ever. His intervention was completely unexpected, and you nearly raised your eyebrow in confusion.

Lord Graves’ eyes narrow, his irritation evident. “And who are you to speak for the lady?” he demands, his voice dripping with contempt.

Simon’s jaw clenches with barely contained patience, his gaze locked with Lord Graves in a battle of wills.

“I’m the Duke,” he states firmly, his voice authoritarian. “And I can claim the lady’s dance card for the remainder of the evening if I so desire.”

You watch in stunned silence as Simon reaches out and plucks the dance card from your hand, his movements deliberate and possessive. You hold your breath as he scrawls his name across the remaining slots, his actions leaving no room for argument.

Your eyes flit up to see Graves’ face twist with barely concealed annoyance, but he manages a tight, mocking smile. “Very well, Your Grace. Enjoy your evening.” With that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

“Come,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.

Simon offers his arm, and you eye him wearily, yet nod politely anyway. As you settle your hand around his large bicep, your mind races with questions. He guides you away from the crowd and into a secluded area of the hall.

Once out of earshot of the other guests, you pull your hand away from his arm and turn to face him, your eyes now ablaze with anger. “What on earth were you thinking?” you demand, your voice low but fierce. “You have no right to act so high-handed, and in front of everyone, no less!”

Simon raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I was merely trying to protect you from—“

“Protect me?” you cut him off, your frustration boiling over, all manners thrown out the window. “From what? From a man who, insufferable as he is, poses no real threat? You used me to take a jab at Lord Graves. How dare you!”

Simon’s expression hardens, his own temper flaring up. “Graves is a scoundrel, and I will not stand by and watch him attempt to manipulate you or take advantage of you.”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you retort, stepping closer. “Do you think your actions tonight were any less manipulative? You commandeered my entire evening without so much as asking if I agreed to it! You’ve treated me as if I were your property, and it’s unacceptable!”

Simon’s eyes darken, a flicker of something like regret passing through them. “I did not intend for you to feel like property. My intentions were to keep you safe—”

“Safe?” you echo incredulously. “And yet, on top of that, you’ve compromised my reputation. A single woman alone with a bachelor in a secluded corner— do you realize how inappropriate this is as well?”

His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“Well, your ‘necessity’ has only created more problems,” you snap, pointing a gloved finger into his chest. “If you truly wanted to help me, you should have asked what I wanted. Instead, you acted according to your own whims, completely disregarding my feelings and my autonomy!”

Simon’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the intensity of your words. He had never seen you this brutally honesty before, and it stirred something within him. He stands there, shoulders rigid, struggling to maintain his stern facade; something akin to shame crosses his face. He was a man used to command and control, not to be questioned, especially by someone of your stature. But here you were, staring him down with a blaze in your eyes that he found oddly captivating. For a moment, he seems at a loss for words, his usually sharp tongue rendered mute by your reprimand.

“I… I apologize,” he finally admits, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I acted without considering your wellbeing, and for that, I’m sorry. It was not my place to decide for you.”

Your anger still simmered, but his apology, unexpected as it was, gave you pause. You sigh, folding your arms across your chest. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself. If I need your help, I will ask for it. Until then, please, respect my independence.”

His eyes search yours, and for the first time, you saw something beyond the cold, unyielding exterior— a hint of vulnerability, perhaps. It was something you hadn’t anticipated.

“I will respect your wishes,” Simon says quietly, his voice sincere. “But know that my intentions were never to undermine you. I merely wanted to—“

“To what?” you interrupt, but this time your voice is soft. “To ‘protect me’? From what, exactly? Yes, Mister Graves is intolerable, but I can handle men like him.”

Simon’s jaw tightens. “I merely wanted to protect you from anything that might harm you. The world is full of dangers, seen and unseen. And despite my faults, and no matter how you regard me, I do not wish to see you hurt.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at that admission. “Why do you care, Mister Riley? You hardly know me, and ever since we’ve met, you’ve treated me with disdain.”

A muscle twitches in Simon’s cheek. “Perhaps I do not know you, my lady, but you deserve to be honored and protected. Forgive me for my abhorrent behavior. There is no excuse for it. I am not accustomed to this… world of balls and social niceties. I am a soldier, and in war, we act swiftly to protect.”

You blink, swallowing thickly. There was a raw honesty in his words that left you momentarily speechless. Slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your anger cooling. His sincerity shows you a different side of him, painting a different picture of the man you thought he was.

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, your voice soft and slow. “But I am not a soldier on your battlefield. I am a woman who is capable of fending for myself. And, if it ever so happens that I do need your help, I will make it known to you."

Simon’s gaze meets yours again, and this time there’s a depth of emotion there that you haven’t seen before. “You’re capable, and I admire that. But that doesn’t mean you should have to fend off predators alone.”

The words hang between you, and for a moment, the tension eases. You study his face, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you find is earnestness. It’s disarming.

“Thank you,” you say after a pause, “Next time, if you would like to help, ask me first.”

“You have my word.”

You let out a small sigh, nodding your head. “Good.” After another moment, you look at him. "I forgive you."

The tension between you eases slightly, though the air remains charged with unspoken sentiments and unresolved emotions. You turn to leave, but Simon gently takes your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You look down, his thick fingers closing around your hand. You stare at them for a moment too long, a stray thought crossing your mind.

“I would like to make it up to you,” he says, his voice hard, yet earnest.

You remove your attention from his fingers, looking up to meet his eyes. His thumb rubs over the satin that covers your knuckles.

“Allow me to dance with you.”

Humming, you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll respect your decision.” He pauses, tilting his head. “But I hope you won’t.”

You feel as though the wind has been knocked from your lungs. The uncharacteristic sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you find yourself at a loss for words.

You consider his offer, the tension between you still palpable. Yet, there’s a part of you that’s curious, intrigued by this side of Simon you haven’t seen before; you decide to take it slow, to not reveal too much to him.

With a tiny, hesitant smile, you nod your head in agreement. “Well, since you’ve already commandeered my dance card, we might as well make the most of it,” you state simply.

A flash of something like relief briefly crosses his features, though he quickly masks it with his usual stoicism. “Thank you, my lady.”

With that, he offers you his arm. His bicep bulges under his dress jacket, and an unexpected heat creeps up your neck. The satin of your glove allows your arm to glide through his with ease, fabrics pressing into one another. You never really noticed how firm his muscle is, causing electricity to shoot down your spine. The heat of his body radiates into you as he unexpectedly pulls you closer into his side, leading you to the dance floor in time for an English country dance. (y’all stay with me here, I’m envisioning the dance Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth have together in P&P 2005)

As you and Simon step onto the marble floor, the orchestra transitions into a lively melody, infusing the air with excitement.

Simon’s hand rests confidently yet gently on your waist as he leads you through the movements of the dance, his touch sending a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. At first, you were skeptical of this man's dancing skills, certain he would make a fool out of you on the dance floor, yet, to your surprise, he takes the lead confidently.

For a man as lumbering and large as he is, he is uncharacteristically light-footed when it comes to dancing. You would’ve never thought he possessed the skill.

He never let you mis-step, keeping his gaze locked on your face the whole time. With every meeting in the middle, you swore his face inched closer and closer to yours. With each turn and twirl, you find yourself inching closer to Simon, the space between you narrowing until there's nothing left but the heat of his body pressed against yours. His hand slides lower on your waist, toying with the sash thats wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the room falls away, leaving only the two of you locked in a rather sensual embrace.

And in that moment, as the music reaches its end and the world fades into oblivion, a terrifying realization dawns upon you: there's no place you'd rather be than in the Duke's arms.

part 3 < > part 5

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley

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ghostykapi · 7 months ago

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i know you don't wanna leave [stay here after hours]

son chaeyoung & fem!reader // tw: an attempt of s.a., drinking, arguments, like one slap and that’s it

surprise! i’m alive? here have a fic

it starts with an acquaintance. it always does.

not this time, this time it starts with one of your best friends, myoui mina

when mina says she wants you to meet her members after so long, you freeze and start panicking in your discord voice call. despite the long time knowing each other, twice has yet to meet one of mina's close friends, a fellow introvert that bumped into each other one too many times that it was inevitable to start a bond.

"it's going to fine y/n" you can still hear mina's voice in your head, her hands holding yours as you both walk up to a secluded restaurant "they are going to love you"

despite the reassurances, you couldn't shake off the anxiety off you, nervous to make the best first impression of you.

despite your worries, the girls immediately take a liking to you. a romantic liking to you, as you would recall half of them already fighting to get your attention

“so y/n” you can still remember jihyo asking you, a small glint present in her eye “are you single?”

ever the protective person your best friend was, the immediate response of “she’s off limits” shoots any questions down. all possible suitors immediately follow mina’s words

almost all possible suitors

son chaeyoung doesn’t follow it

after all, she’s the one who sat beside you, slipping her number well within your palm with a smile after dinner and exchanging jokes. the same number that you chat with a simple hello, and the same number that continuously texts you every morning, afternoon, and night

chaeyoung is even so bold to causally chat you even if she sits right beside mina during practice. she doesn’t get caught at all. not even by the prying eyes of her members, her ever carefree attitude when texting you not raising any suspicion

it goes on for weeks, until an opportunity for her to go on a date with you pops up. so she asks you until you find yourself going to weekly dates with her, sneaking in surprise deliveries to one another, calling more often than texting, clothes sneakily being left on each other’s apartment

she’s been sweet. the way she’s been kissing you? tastes like strawberries. the way she holds your hand on dates? warm and fuzzy. the way she looks at you? like you’re her forever muse

it’s just that the way she holds you everytime, with her arms around you as you settle on the couch, she holds you like you’re about to disappear into air.

it’s not the case

it’s her who has to walk out the door and leave every night. despite her saying the words ‘i love you’, you aren’t even her girlfriend. you aren’t even fully together. not when she’s still in that ‘break’ with her (ex?) boyfriend. you only found out about it after your 7th date with her

if only you knew sooner, maybe you could have stopped yourself from falling for her. maybe you don’t have to let the tears fall again. even when she tries to get up you always grasp her hands, begging with your eyes into her conflicted ones (it happens every time)

"stay" you whisper, she tries to hard to avoid looking at you (it kind of drives you insane) "please stay"

she doesn't stay, but she kisses you. kisses you like she won’t break your heart just a bit again, like she doesn’t pull away and whispers you that she does have to go.

and so you’re left alone. again. left alone to cry.

she comes back though. every morning shift in that hole in the wall cafe you have she shows up, ready to clock in late even if jihyo is about to drag her to practice. even when you have to stay up late, she calls you up, asking if you can buzz her in even at 3 am, even when you have to finish that commission.

she’s relentless with her pursuit for you, but she’s unforgiving for having to pull away when you’re falling deeper and deeper into her spell.

well that’s how you got here.

at a club, definitely somewhere obscure that lets in any person no matter who they are or what they even represent. it doesn’t matter, the lighting is dark, it’s crowded, the music is to loud and the alcohol is swimming around the room.

you don’t even know how much you consumed, everything is starting to spin already. the environment proving to you that this is just a place that you don’t even wanna be in to begin with, and still it’s better because this is the last place where your brain can even think of chaeyoung.

all you can think about is the bodies that are grinding against you, the smell of booze invading your senses, the numerous eyes that look at you and your body on the dance floor, the lady that’s been dancing with you for a while now, her eyes drinking you in

you don’t even notice that she’s manage to lead you away from the dance floor, now in a corner, where you have no where to go. your blurry vision can barely understand the scene in front of you, so you try to go along with it, even if your heart begs for you to stop

before anything happens, you can see her being pulled away by a group of people, all screaming to why she’s targeting a clearly too drunk woman. you can barely make out the group until someone catches you before you stumble, the familiar sent of the perfume instantly calming you down

“let’s get you home yeah?”

it’s motherfucking son chaeyoung. the person who just shoved a person away from kissing you and the one person you were trying to get over.

you can see another figure approaching you, and you can tell it’s your best friend. her worried eyes scanning you from head to toe before releasing a sigh and helping chaeyoung to bring you to the car

the ride was quiet, the only sound the entire ride is the radio playing music. the haziness of it call made it feel short to you, but as soon as you set foot in your apartment and sat down on your couch, you can slightly see things better.

“call me when you’re ok” mina gives you a hug on the couch, her voice softly calming you down before you have to face chaeyoung “it’s ok, your safe now”

she stands up to leave, facing chaeyoung who’s probably no better than you

“you will explain everything to me” mina whispers to her “but make sure y/n is well taken care of tonight”

she hugs chaeyoung before she leaves, having to catch a late night visit to her girlfriend, tzuyu.

that leaves you though with the person you tried to avoid in the first place. you can barely reject her. no. you can’t even push her away and scream ‘leave me alone!’

but you try, you try anyway for the sake of it

“leave”

“excuse me?”

you try to stand up, and despite the absolute shit state you are in, you look at her with all the venom you can show.

“leave”

chaeyoung is flabbergasted, mostly worried, but is flabbergasted by the way you manage to turn around your feelings towards her. yesterday you both were just fine

“y/n” she’s cautious, threading on what to say “you’re drunk. let’s get you to bed”

“leave” despite the glare you’re sending her way, she’s coming closer to help you to bed. “you better leave”

“no stop saying i should leave” she’s trying to keep you calm, but that sentence ticks you off to shout

“YOU SHOULD LEAVE! YOU NEVER STAYED ANYWAY EVEN IF I BEGGED. YOU NEVER STAYED EVEN IF YOU WERE THE ONE WHO PURSUED ME. YOU NEVER STAYED EVEN JUST FOR A NIGHT. DID YOU EVEN CHOOSE ME? AM I NEVER ENOUGH? WHAT DOES HE HAVE OVER ME? WHAT DO I LACK FOR YOU TO LEAVE EVERYTIME FOR THE PAST FUCKING 8 MONTHS?”

a step closer to you to reach out and you’re body does the first thing a rage filled body can do

a loud smack can be heard across the apartment

it’s silent now, the shock and realization hits chaeyoung as she looks at you. you who had smiled at her like she was the sun, you who had kissed every single one of her tattoos to cheer her up, you who had danced in the rain to the music of a faint distant piano, you who had no hesitation of choosing her again and again and again even when you had every right to break things off

endlessly, with devotion and loyalty

you who had always welcome her back even if you knew she always returned to him

“i-i” you’re speechless, your hand suddenly feeling like it doesn’t belong to you “c-chaeyoung i—”

you can can feel the words clog in your throat. the air starting to feel like it’s not enough. you can feel her slipping away

no, she kneels right in front of you. her hands holding yours and her eyes shining with nothing but love, guilt and shame.

“i’m sorry” chaeyoung kisses your hand, despite the slap you just delivered a minute ago “i’ve been nothing but a meanie haven’t i?”

you break, everything crashing down.

“i’m so sorry” she wipes away your tears, heart taking all of the guilt she had tried to run from, as she sees you like this. her mind finally realizing full extent of the pain she has inflicted on the both of you “my love i’m so sorry”

you sob, sob until she’s holding you close, rubbing circles on your back like she always does to calm you down, her apologies and words of affirmation spilling out of her like she’s rapping to one of her songs.

it takes you a while to calm down, and when you do you can barely move. it takes you another couple of minutes for her to move you to bed at least. changing you into your sleeping clothes (the shirt is her’s, she feels her heart pull at that), cleaning up your face and tucking you into bed

“get some sleep my love” chaeyoung whispers, her finger brushing out any hair that’s fallen on your face “i’ll fix this i promise”

your eyes focus on her’s. eyes that are red as yours from crying. you wonder why she still looks so pretty even if she just broke you

“will you stay?” it’s the last thing you say, and the warm kiss on your cheek is the last thing you feel before you fully surrender to slumber.

in the morning, you manage to wake up with a throbbing head. the headache hurts, everything seems to be too bright or too loud. you can’t even figure out who’s body is spooning you from behind, hands gently playing and combing through your hair

wait

body?

“morning my love”

#twice x reader #twice scenarios #twice imagine #twice imagines #twice fluff #twice angst #son chaeyoung #son chaeyoung scenarios #son chaeyoung reaction #son chaeyoung imagine #son chaeyoung x reader

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whitexwolfxx310 · 3 months ago

Text

|| Why Are You Never Real ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Eleanor//Elena)) || Bucky x Loki Summary: In 1943, 24 year old Eleanor gets set up on a blind date with Bucky Barnes. The match is so perfect, it was written in the stars. Yes, they're soulmates. Unfortunately, HYDRA gets in the way- taking the perfect life away from the two. But what if fate was so certain, it gave them another chance to be together?

Warnings: Fluff and angst off the charts (I'm so sorry!). Some cursing- but very little.

Word Count: 5.8k A/Ns: So a few things inspired this fic; First, someone requested something similar to this about a year ago. The idea stuck with me (although it was originally about the love interest being on ice also). I can't find the message of the person who requested, so if you come across this & it was you, please let me know so I can give you credit! Second, I saw a TikTok of Bucky & Loki and I've been obsessed with bringing the two together. Last but not least, I'm one of those that is constantly blasting Sleep Token- so in combination with all of these things, the song: The Apparition was also inspiring. Let me know what you think!

1943

It was Labor Day weekend, and anybody who's anybody knows that's when the carnival came to town. Not only was it the official end to the hot New York summers, but it was an escape from everything having to do with the ongoing War. It was a reprieve for the children, to go out and experience some lighthearted fun. But mostly, the carnival lured the young adult crowd like a gullible captain to a siren in the sea.

Eleanor was twenty-four, still living comfortably at home with her parents and four younger siblings. While she helped take care of her siblings, the passive comments about how she was unmarried and reaching her prime age to start a family never failed to be brought up in daily conversations in their household. It wasn't for a lack of suitors. Plenty of men had asked her on dates, a few even so bold enough to offer marriage without so much as going for a stroll in the park. But for Eleanor, it wasn't just about picking a random man to build a life with. She dreamed of a true romance, just like the ones she would get so lost in while reading her books- and eventually starting a family out of love and not necessity or by society's regards.

While she had already made plans to meet up with her girlfriends on Saturday night at the carnival, her mother had a different idea- A blind date.

Eleanor had intriguingly spent the afternoon with her hair in curlers and ironing her favorite yellow summer dress, the one with white polka dots and matching heels. It would perfectly accent the slight tan she obtained from the few times she snuck to the beach on the outskirts of the city to dig her toes in the sand and lay in the scorching sun. As her typical primping time took a little longer than usual in anticipation for the blind date, Eleanor’s mind kept getting swept up in who the possible mystery man could be. Was it someone she knew? A family friend? What did he look like? Was he short or tall? Does he have a sense of humor? Sure, she of course curious if he was handsome. But that was never her main focus. Eleanor wanted someone who could make her laugh- someone that was playful and knew how to have fun. But a pretty face was definitely a bonus. Opening the front door and stepping out into the Summer’s relentless humidity, she was met with none other than Bucky Barnes- Brooklyn's most notorious flirt and former high school crush. He leaned casually against the railing of the front steps, dressed in an olive-green Class A's uniform wearing a smug smile.

"Ready for our date, Doll?" After initially closing the door in his face in a panic, Eleanor's mother pleaded with her to try and give him a chance. Rumor amongst the women on the block was that he was looking for a wife. She rambled off the typical list of how handsome he was, how he came from a good family, and the cherry on top of the guilt pie: he had just enlisted in the Army and was leaving in just a few short weeks for basic training. Who knows when he will come back home, if at all? Could one date really be so bad?

Eleanor felt nervous walking the few blocks with Bucky, exchanging formal pleasantries about how beautiful the night was and so on. But she was shy- at least, by her standards. She had always worn a big smile and never felt self-conscious about how loud she laughed, regardless of how many times people stated that it was ‘unladylike’. Because of her unapologetic mentality in refusing to conform to make herself small, it labeled her as difficult. Eleanor didn’t have many friends, but she always said: “I’d rather have four quarters than a hundred pennies,” and felt fulfilled. The people in her life that truly knew her, knew of her dreams and ambitions- and that she truly had a heart of gold. Not many others noticed, but Bucky did. He had always noticed how Eleanor could light up a room. She was the sun incarnate. So, when her mother ‘accidentally’ bumped into him on the street that morning and suggested he take her out tonight, he couldn’t refuse the idea. “So aside from enlisting,” Eleanor gestured towards his uniform with her free hand, since her other was interlocked around Bucky’s arm, “what else have you been up to since we graduated, Barnes?” She unconsciously gripped his forearm just a bit tighter, using physical touch to ground her from the unfamiliar nervousness she felt. “Sergeant Barnes,” he corrected with a grin. The pair moved from their sedentary spot in the carnival ticket line, only a few away from the booth. “Okay, Sergeant,” Eleanor reiterates, laughing to herself. “So?” she asks again, tilting her head to the side curiously and looking up at him through her lashes. “Boxed my way through art school. Then with all the boys gettin’ drafted, I just figured I’d sign up before Uncle Sam had the chance to come knockin’ on my door,” he recalled casually, but didn’t seem interested in talking about himself. Bucky’s arm disentangled with Eleanor’s, pressing his palm to the small of her lower back to coax her forward gently as the ticket line moved again. Her breath hitched slightly when he didn’t remove it right away, she eyed him up and down modestly.

His head tilted to the side, “What about you, Ellie?” his sapphire blue eyes holding her gaze, “What keeps you busy these days?”

Ellie. The nickname he uses makes her stomach drop, and they haven’t even gone on any rides yet. It’s a name he’s used off and on through school and over the years in passing. Her cheeks brighten with a new shade of light pink, breaking their fixed look at one another. Bucky takes notice and smiles fondly to himself.

“Um,” Eleanor forces herself to look back up at him, feeling at a loss for words as she tries not to focus so much on his beautiful smile- On how his slightly parted lips show the smallest hint of his white teeth. She didn’t think she’d be on a date tonight, let alone with someone that she’d been smitten with since grade school.

“I um,” her words were failing her for the first time ever, “I teach at the elementary school.” She hesitates a moment, before taking a breath and says, “to be honest, I’ve been waiting to get pulled into one of the factories.” Her voice now has a hint of sadness. Ellie quickly tries to deflect the subject, “Plus my brothers and sisters keep me pretty busy.” “Ah,” Bucky’s smile grows wider as his head tilts back at the recollection, also taking the hint, “and how are the little scoundrels?” Ellie laughs, thankful to have the relief of talking about herself put off. She shakes her head, “Still terrorizing anyone and everyone.” “Next!” Bucky reluctantly pulls his attention away from Ellie to step up to the ticket booth. “Two please,” he answers politely. As the worker counts his change, Bucky’s eyes couldn’t help but admire Ellie from head to toe. How she pointed one foot inward and fiddled with her fingers as she waited patiently with an imminent smile- admiring the sights and sounds of the fair around her. She was truly breathtaking.

There was no short supply of local attractive women. Bucky had dated plenty of them, and even more had shared his bed. They had always flocked to him, like a moth to a flame. It was a great stroke to his ego, but he was never taken with any of them. And none of them would have slammed a door in his face at the mere sight of him. Ellie though? She was something else entirely. He was always interested in what she had to say. The stories she told always captivated him and made him laugh. Being around her was easy and never forced. Even when they were kids, he found himself stealing glances and daydreaming about her. He had to make tonight mean something.

As Bucky had promised himself, he pulled out all the stops to impress Ellie. It wasn’t long before she eased back into her normal self, although she couldn’t ignore the butterflies constantly flittering along the lining of her belly. The two spent hours walking around the carnival, sharing treats like cotton candy and the biggest, most delicious cannoli they had ever had. Bucky learned fast, and kept suggesting riding the bigger rides, because he selfishly loved it when Ellie clung onto him when she got scared. And Ellie, never being one to back down, always said yes. Ellie eventually convinced Bucky to take a break from riding the tilt-a-whirl back-to-back after threatening him with seeing the pink cotton candy to make an appearance again. He reluctantly conceded, knowing that he would be missing her reaching out and holding onto him. He suggested they play some carnival games until she felt better. And from the way Ellie’s eyes lit up with excitement, Bucky knew it was a promising idea.

In the meantime, they threw darts to pop balloons, a few several types of ball toss, and a horse racing game. Bucky even got to show off his marksmanship at a rifle target booth, winning Ellie a brown teddy bear that she proudly carried around with her for the entirety of the evening. But the best part was the way they cheered each other on with every game. Bucky’s heart swelled each time he won, and Ellie would jump up and down in excitement for him. Even with the playful competitive banter back and forth, neither of them felt a bitter loss. It was starting to get late, and the fair would be shutting down soon. The only ride the two hadn’t ridden yet was the Ferris wheel. Saving the best for last. Standing in a decently extensive line, the pair continued on with the tradition of the night: sharing belly laugh filled stories about dates gone horribly wrong and glances that lingered just a little too long.

Bucky felt something being with Ellie that was completely unfamiliar. In a world that was currently plagued with such darkness, this was the first time in he didn’t know how long he didn’t feel it weigh on him. She rejuvenated his very soul. Bucky silently wished out into the universe that she felt the same about him. “Y’know Ellie, I have to admit,” Bucky tucked his hands into his pockets as he stared down at the dirt his shoe kicked up. “tonight’s been…Ellie?” As he looked up from the ground to meet those golden eyes, there was nothing. She was gone. “Ellie?” Bucky repeated, louder this time as he frantically scanned the large crowd. “Ellie!” He shouted through his funneled hands while standing on his toes. Bucky’s head was starting to spin with worst case scenarios when he suddenly caught a glimpse of her bright yellow dress. Off in a quiet corner next to the circus tent, Ellie was crouched down talking to a young boy. The boy wasn’t looking at her, but instead his head hung low as he stared at the ground, and he seemed… upset.

Although he was too far away to hear, Bucky watched the encounter intently. Ellie nodded gently as she spoke to him, gesturing with her free hand- but the boy still seemed unresponsive. A moment of silence passes between them, and then with a bright smile, Ellie holds up the brown teddy bear that Bucky had won her earlier. She makes the stuffed animal dance, wave its arms, and boop the boy on his nose- finally getting his attention and smile. Then she holds the bear out to him. Without hesitation, he snatches it into his arms and pulls it tight against his chest. The boy is now beaming and looks like he was swapped with a completely different child. He hugs Ellie before running off to another group of children, holding up and showing off the bear while they all exclaimed how lucky he was. Ellie smiled and waved as the boy ran off, remaining crouched down on the ground for a moment even after being alone. Standing up as she brushed off her dress and watched the boy, her expression changed to one with a sorrowful undertone as the boy and his friends ran off. Turning to walk back to the Ferris wheel line, her honey brown eyes locked with Bucky’s. Just the sight of him waiting on her, standing online looking tall, broad, and handsome in that uniform watching her made her cheeks blush and a small smile tug on her lips.

From Bucky’s point of view, time seemed to move in slow motion. The bottom of Ellie’s dress flowed out with each sway of her hips. Her curls gently bounced with each graceful step, despite the uneven fairgrounds. He forgot how to breathe the closer she approached.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Sarge.” Ellie says apologetically, joining Bucky back in the line. “It’s alright,” Bucky’s voice is soft from his throat being dry. The feeling is suddenly overwhelming, his hand has laid dormant for too long. Taking the risk of not being on a ride, he wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Everything okay?” Leaning her body into his, Ellie sighs, “that was one of my students. He got the news earlier this week that his father died in the war. Left behind a wife and three kids… I just-” taking in a deep breath to try and calm herself, she shakes her head, “I know we’ve heard this story a hundred times before, Buck. It just never gets any easier. And I’m so sorry about the bear. I just got caught up in wanting to make him feel better that I just, I-” it was obvious that her heart hurt for the boy as her voice started to crack as she rambled.

She was right, it never got easier to hear these stories. And it always hit that much closer to home when it was someone you knew that was affected. Bucky was unsure if it was the story of the boy, or seeing Ellie’s act of compassion, but there was an undeniable gnawing in his chest as well. “Hey…” he cooed gently, cupping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, coaxing her to look at him. Ellie tilted her head, though reluctant to look into Bucky’s eyes. But when she did, she found those cerulean irises filled with an unfeigned understanding as he leaned in close, “just means I get to take you out again for a chance to win another one, doll.” Her breath hitched again, at both the close proximity and the idea of another date with Bucky. Her eyes drifted down to his lips briefly before she met his gaze once again. Instinctively, Ellie started to lean in closer- not caring who was around to witness her kiss Bucky Barnes in public.

Bucky mirrored Ellie’s motions, his tongue gently flicking against his lips as he leaned in also when- “Next!” The carnival worker called. The disappointment was evident on Bucky’s face as his lips clenched into a thin line and his eyes closed tightly. Ellie though, was the opposite. She grabbed Bucky’s hand, “C’mon, Sergeant!” she giggled, dragging him onto the ride. Yet again, her smile was contagious, and he immediately gave in. Settling into their car on the Ferris wheel, it quickly jerked and rocked as it started to spin. Ellie threw her arms straight up into the air, squealing in pure excitement. And Bucky watched- Watched as the wonder sparkled in Ellie’s eyes, how the glow of the fair’s lights accentuated her already mesmerizing features, but mainly, he was dying to know if those lips tasted like the most perfect red delicious apple since they were painted exactly like one.

“Anybody ever tell you that you have a staring problem, Sarge?” Bucky had to blink a couple of times to focus. The Ferris wheel car had stopped at the very top, Ellie had her chin propped on her fist, smiling up at him through her lashes. He shook his head, “I was just thinking,” Bucky moved in a little closer, reaching his arm around Ellie’s shoulders, “that you are the most fascinating woman I have ever met.” “He’s lost in a memory…” Ellie’s cheeks blushed, but she rolled her eyes, “oh stop. I bet that’s something you say to all the girls.” Fireworks started firing off into the sky, mirroring the evident spark between the two. “I don’t care what the hell has to be done! Get him out of it! Scramble him again if you have to!” Bucky’s nose scrunches as he smiles, his head tilted up slightly to look down at her, “no, no. My pickup lines are usually waaay cheesier.” He and Ellie both laugh in unison, muffled by the occasional loud pops of the fireworks. But the pair refused to look away from one another.

“But sir-” Leaning in, Bucky breathes in both the mixed carnival aromas and the beautiful floral scent that is Ellie’s perfume. Her eyes flutter close as her lips purse towards his- “I. Don’t. CARE! Do it! NOW!” [2013] Bucky is met with a swift, vigorous slap to the face. Blinking rapidly, his eyes painfully adjust to the fluorescent lights in the room. Once focused, he finds numerous pairs of hard eyes staring down at him. Bucky sheepishly looks down at his bare chest, flexing painfully against the tight restraints of his chair. The realization that it was in fact not 1943 and not his first date with Ellie was quickly confirmed by the surrounding HYDRA agents, all staring at him like he was some wild animal waiting to snap and tear through a village.

Although in retrospect, he may have done that once or twice. And secretly, he never minded having HYDRA blood on his hands. If that wasn’t confirmation enough, the skin on his left shoulder was taut- the built-up scar tissue irritated from the roughened edges of his metal arm. God, how he hated that fucking thing. Sure, getting used to any kind of prosthetic takes time to accept- if at all. But this was used with the sole purpose of turning Bucky into a weapon, and for that reason, he hated it and everything it stood for. At least, when he could remember. Which is why he was always restrained. Which is why he was brainwashed over and over again until he forgot his name. Which is why he was thrown on ice when he wasn’t of use, so they didn’t have to hear his endless screaming as he tore and ripped at the skin, praying it would be tarnished enough that they couldn’t make him a new arm. But they always made him a new arm.

Alexander Pierce stepped out from between a few of the agents, clad in an expensive gray suit that stood out against the sea of all black military grade HYDRA uniforms. “Where’d you go?” he asked nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. It’s not like he was genuinely curious about anything that didn’t pertain to his own interests. Bucky’s brow furrowed, his eyes glancing briefly in Pierce’s direction before looking down again, “n-nowhere…” he replied apprehensively, always cautious about giving personal details when he remembered them. Pierce huffed sarcastically under his breath. A smirk tugged on his lips as his eyes narrowed on Bucky, “wipe him,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “we’ll start fresh again tomorrow.” He wasn’t even fully done speaking before he spun on the heels of his dress shoes and was out the door.

The mechanical whirring from the machines surrounding Bucky’s now reclined chair grew antagonizingly loud. He could feel his lips uncontrollably twitch- and it took everything within his remaining willpower not to snarl as he reluctantly accepted the mouth guard the agent forced onto his teeth. Bucky’s chest already glistened with sweat as it heaved deeply, anxious for what was to come. His eyes widened at the sight of the all too familiar chrome halo that soon clasped securely around his head. He braced himself for the pain of his mind feeling like it was on literal fire by breathing around the mouthpiece and digging his heels. At least today, he remembered Ellie. Bucky just focused on the pure, rare beauty that she was sitting on top of the Ferris wheel that night- smiling at him like he was the only man in the world. Until it all went black. [Present Day]

He wasn’t sure if it was the sounds of his own screams or flailing around in his sleep that woke him from his nightmare. Or rather, memory. Bucky sat upright from the living room floor, tangled up in his blanket. His eyes traced the room, taking in the primarily dark apartment aside from the faint glow of the television. He felt hot, despite only sleeping in his boxers and his skin shining with a thick layer of sweat. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, even though he desperately took in quick, ragged breaths. Bucky felt so lost, even though he had been found. Even with being free of HYDRA and breaking from the control that anyone could have over him after spending time in Wakanda, he didn’t feel as though anyone truly knew him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure who he was after it all was stripped away. The only people who understood Bucky were Steve and Ellie, and they’re both gone. A small ‘meow’ came from Bucky’s side, making her presence known before gently rubbing her head against his thigh. Well, maybe there was one who understood him.

Letting out the pent-up air in his lungs, Bucky picked up the petite white cat and cradled her against his chest, “Sorry, pretty girl,” he actively softened his voice, “did I wake you?” He gently ran his hand over her head and down her neck, immediately pulling purrs from Alpine. He sighed to himself but continued to concentrate on petting her as his accelerated heart rate started to come back down. Alpine’s purrs grew louder as she started making biscuits against his thighs, making herself nice and comfy before drifting to sleep in his lap. At least one of us will be able to sleep tonight.

As expected, he didn’t fall back asleep. Instead, Bucky replayed the distant clashing memories over and over in his head until the sun started peeking through the windows. At the break of dawn, he jumped into the shower in hopes of washing the night away. As Bucky stood in the shower, letting the tiny streams of water encase around him, he realized just how much he missed his old life. That version of him and how often his mind drifted to a time where he used to belong. In that moment, he decided he was going to use today to go to his old stomping grounds, reminisce and allow himself to truly grieve that part of his life.

Throwing on a pair of dark wash jeans, a grey T-shirt and a black leather jacket, Bucky locked the door to his apartment and made his way through The Compound. Leaning against the wall near the entrance was Loki, seemingly keeping to himself. He noticed Bucky though as soon as he stalked into view. His skin looked pale, his blue eyes dull and lifeless above the prominent dark circles underneath. Bucky’s nightmares and lack of sleep were something that the team was all too familiar with. They each collectively had their own demons that haunted dark rooms and spoke through the walls in the lonely hours late at night. “Isn’t it just a tad early,” Loki stood to his full height, “to seem this aloof already, James?” Bucky regarded Loki as he kept walking. “Yeah,” his earnest tone matching his gloomy mood as the door automatically opened.

The bright, warm sun was a stark contrast to the cold, dark night that Bucky just had.

Standing at the edge of a small, curved road in the park that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge, Bucky took in all the sights and sounds. It was strange to him how much the city had evolved and yet, some things were still the same. People passed, not paying him any mind. Friends gossiped over their morning coffee on a nearby bench, the runners attempted to get that last mile in before the day got too hot, couples walked by holding hands, and families pushed large strollers with smiley babies. It all sounded the same, but nothing was as it used to be. The intrusive thoughts felt heavier today as he continued to watch and take it all in, reminiscing about the times he and Steve used to drink beers at the bottom of that very bridge. Or rather, Bucky would try and convince Steve to drink. But he never did. Bucky and his sister used to play in this very park- though it looks different now. It sometimes was still difficult to differentiate what was a memory or a daydream he had conjured up to disassociate.

"Vader!" If he squinted his eyes just enough, he could see where his family's old town home used to stand in the distance before it was bulldozed down. "No! Don't- You're going to make me-" The sound of a heavy thud made Bucky look over his shoulder. On the ground a few feet behind him was a small cardboard box with the top cut off, lying on its side. Scattered all around and halfway in the box, was an assortment of wildflowers. "Damn it, Vader!" An annoyed voice grumbled before sighing heavily.

Giving the apparent mess a once over, Bucky breathed deeply through his nostrils before turning around and taking a knee- putting the box right side up before starting to subtly pick up the flowers. "Sit!" The sound of nails scratching against the asphalt came to a stop, only to be replaced with heavy panting. Bucky glanced over briefly to see a rather large German Shepherd watching proudly as he picked up the flowers. "God, thank you so much for your help! I'm just having one of those days. No thanks to this one here either." The woman's voice sounded slightly exasperated.

"No problem," Bucky replied, trying to look up but the sun blared straight into his eyes, momentarily blocking the person with whom he was speaking. After picking up the last few flowers, he tossed them into the box as he stood up. His height gave him the advantage of no longer having the sun in his face and he finally was able to see the person he's been interacting with. Bucky stops breathing- eyes widening in disbelief. Eleanor. It was her, and yet it wasn't. Her skin was evenly tanned, her golden hair long with a slight wave to it framing her face, dressed in matching yoga pants and sports tank as she clung tightly to the dog’s leash to keep him in place. "I spent my whole morning picking those," she gestured towards the box, "and this lunatic has been dragging me everywhere in between," she explains, embarrassed. Bucky is still staring, just blinking occasionally, skeptical that this is real.

Clearing her throat softly at what she perceived to be awkwardness, she picks up the box. "Thanks again!" she remarked politely, starting to turn away to leave. "W-what-" Bucky started, causing her to hesitate. He took a small step forward, "are those for?" he pointed to the box. It was the first thing that came to his mind, he had to keep her there for just a little while longer. He needed to know more. Smiling as she turned back to face him, Bucky's stomach twisted. It's the same smile. "I'm a teacher and anytime I'm here I grab some for my students," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I can usually come up with some kind of craft or whatever to make use of them." "You're a teacher?" "Mhm! Elementary." Down to the same damned occupation. "You... come here often? With your dog?" Bucky awkwardly motioned towards the German Shepherd. "Oh, um... Well," She laughed. Oh no. He feared that his question made her uncomfortable. "This is Vader," she runs her hand over the dog's head a few times, "but he's not mine. Just watching him for some friends while they're away."

Bucky looks over Vader, the corner of his lips tugging into a small smile before fixating on the woman again. "I'm sorry, " she starts, her eyes narrowing slightly as her head tilts in inquisition, "but do I know you? You just look so familiar..." He swallowed the large lump in his throat, "Uh, no? Nope, I don't think so." "Huh," she muttered to herself, continually examining his blue eyes. Clearing her throat, she holds out her hand "I'm Elena, but my friends call me Ellie." Taking her petite hand in his gloved one, he carefully shakes her hand. "Ellie," Bucky repeats, incredulously. "James, but my friends call me Bucky." "Bucky." Elena mirrors his tone. Her eyes drift down to his chest momentarily, spotting his dog tags. "And you're military?" A small snort escapes as he grins, "former Sergeant in the 107th." "Interesting," Ellie responded, continuing to search his crystal blue eyes as if it would magically reveal as to why she felt magnetized by this man's presence. Looking down, Bucky realized they were still holding onto one another's hand. His eyebrows raised, an amused smile eclipsing his former expression. The pair chuckled once, letting go. "Well," Ellie said, fidgeting with the dog leash in her hands, "It was nice meeting you. Thanks again," her voice sheepish as she shifted the cardboard box under her arm. "Nice meeting you too, Ellie," Bucky agreed. There was something about the way he said her name, how smoothly it rolled off his tongue that just felt so... intimate. Like he did in fact know her. That there was a secret between them that she was dying to know. Giving him a hopeful smile, she turned to walk away- Vader following at her side, "Hope to see you around, Sergeant!" Ellie called over her shoulder, giving a small wave.

Bucky watched Elena walking away, left utterly astounded by the interaction that had just occurred. Two images from two separate times seemed to overlap- Ellie from today, and Ellie with the tight curls and red lips in the yellow polka dot dress. A form of Deja vu. But one thing was for sure, he made it his mission to see her again.

Later that evening at The Compound, Bucky stood at the counter in the kitchen holding a small drinking glass filled with ice and whiskey. The recent encounter from this morning consumed him and all of his thoughts. Which is why he didn’t notice Loki casually walk into the kitchen as well. Loki found this to be peculiar, since Bucky was the type to at least give an acknowledging scowl. “Penny for your thoughts?” Loki inquired, his voice low. Bucky swirled the ice in the glass before peeking up at him, “I had something… strange happen to me today.” “Oh?” “I uh-” Bucky sighed, putting the glass down a little harder than intended. “I swear I bumped into someone from my past. But it makes no sense. She would have to be, what? Over a hundred years old? It was her but it wasn’t her.” His hands expressed the bafflement he felt through their motions.

“You’re over a hundred, James.” Loki reminded. Bucky’s eyes narrowed, “yeah, I know.” He asserted. “But this was different. I don’t know how to explain it.” “Hmm.” Loki hummed to himself, looking over Bucky. Taking a step forward, extending out his hand out, “show me.” “Show you?” Bucky retorted, disgruntled by the question. “And just how would I do that?” Loki grinned, “I was raised by Witches, boy. There are many things I can see that people don’t understand.” Without waiting for an answer, Loki took Bucky’s flesh hand and pressed it flat between his. “What are you-” “Shh!” Loki planted his feet firmly, looking into Bucky’s eyes- which widened with concern. What would Loki see looking into his mind? His memories? Would he recount the same faces and what he’d done to them that haunt Bucky every single night? He suddenly felt overwhelmed with anxiety. Bucky stared back at Loki- his normal cobalt blue eyes started to glow a bright green. “Ah,” Loki breathed, “found it.” Flashbacks of today as well as the carnival shared between the two as a birds-eye view, like watching Bucky’s memories as if they were a movie. “Tell me, James,” Loki smirked while watching the images, “do you know what reincarnation is?” “What? Like being born again?” Bucky spat, feeling ridiculous. Loki laughed, “I’m afraid it’s much more in depth than people think.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain further. “Rare is it that one is given such an opportunity.” Loki breathed, astounded.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky sighs, “What the fuck are you even trying to say here, Loki?” “I’m saying,” he kept his voice low, trying to maintain patience, “that this universe somehow deemed you worthy of a second chance… with your soulmate.” “Soulmate?!” Bucky’s voice was loud, incredulous. “I haven’t seen this before,” Loki answered, fascinated at the scenes playing before them, “A soul brought back in the same lifetime to make up for time lost. Destiny can be a finicky thing.” “You’re saying that we were meant to be together all those years ago?” Bucky swallowed hard, his stomach twisting inward on itself. “Yes. And decisions made that weren’t your own affected that outcome. You’ve been given the opportunity to actually live out your true fate.” The eerie green glow faded from Bucky’s eyes as Loki pulled his hands away. He saw many things but decided to only show Bucky what pertained to this conversation. The screams already a sound he knew he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. The two always had a mutual understanding of each other. They typically got along, more so than the rest of the team. Their history often left preconceived tension with people, but they never judged one another. Just themselves. “So,” Bucky scratched the back of his head, “what do I do now?” “You, my friend,” Loki gripped Bucky’s shoulder, “go get a happy ending.”

If you enjoyed this, please check out my Masterlist. Requests are open!

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr @skulliecadaver-blog

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writteninlunarlight-years · 6 days ago

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Y/N's Song

This is part 2 of the story Tears To Shead. Sally's Song by Amy Lee TW: Violence, unrequited love, heartbreak, self injury (reader uses her banshee powers against herself), the executions

Years have flown by since you unleashed chaos upon Hell with your Banshee powers, manipulated by Alastor's manipulation. Deep down, you always knew he would disappear the moment he had the chance. While you led infernal wars, he stirred up trouble on Earth. But fate has a twisted sense of humor—Alastor eventually fell too, joining you in the depths of Hell.

Alastor, as if born of this realm, wielded powers that matched the most formidable beings in Hell. Meanwhile, you rose in prominence, becoming the trusted right hand of Lilith and Lucifer. You were their go-to strategist, granted the privilege to navigate the rings of Hell alongside them. Your wardrobe transformed from stark silver and blue to a vibrant tapestry of colors, a whimsical patchwork dress that reflected your new status.

When you heard about Alastor’s demise, you held onto the hope that you’d never see him again. The thought of facing him and revisiting old heartaches was unbearable. Yet, cruelly, fate had other plans. Alastor reentered your life, and a tentative friendship began to blossom amid the chaos of Hell. You, now a key advisor, and he, a resurrected overlord, bonded as you both tried to prove your worth to the community.

Years of solitude turned into years filled with laughter and camaraderie. Alastor found a new place in your heart, a place you were too scared to acknowledge for fear of rejection. You had watched him turn away so many suitors, and the thought of being another disappointment paralyzed you.

As Alastor climbed the ranks, a madness began to envelop him—a stark reminder of the man you first met. You could sense the darkness creeping in, the spark of insanity igniting his ambition. While you earned respect as a natural leader, especially as Lilith grew more despondent, Alastor’s descent into chaos deepened.

In a manic frenzy, he confided in you his grand designs to overthrow Lucifer and Lilith. He envisioned himself as the ruler of Hell, and his laughter echoed with a madness that sent chills down your spine. You recognized that look all too well—the harbinger of an overlord's inevitable fall.

You begged him to reconsider, to take a step back. But your words fell on deaf ears; he saw your concern as a hindrance. As tensions escalated toward a catastrophic clash, you knew that with his shadows and your Banshee wail, Hell would tremble under the weight of your conflict.

New sorrow washed over you. It became painfully clear that you and Alastor were not meant to be. No matter how hard you tried to carve out a future together, his relentless thirst for power overshadowed any chance for love or companionship.

Yet, your feelings for him lingered—a bittersweet ache as you watched him chase his destructive ambitions. You remained a quiet observer, mourning the man he once was while he sought supremacy over Lucifer. Each step he took toward ambition felt like a dagger to your heart, a silent lament echoing in your soul.

As you followed his trail of devastation, you sang a haunting melody that intertwined with your grief: “I sense there’s something in the wind that feels like tragedy’s at hand, and though I’d like to stand by him, I can’t shake this feeling that I have.” Your skin, once vibrant with color, dulled to an ashen gray, reflecting the weight of your sorrow.

When Alastor launched his assault on Lucifer’s castle, you felt a painful tug in your chest. With a single strike, Lucifer thwarted him, sending Alastor reeling back into the shadows. You reached out in vain, your heart breaking as he slipped away, determined to seize power once more. “The worst is just around the bend, and does he notice my feelings for him? And will he see how much he means to me?” The words echoed in your mind as despair consumed you.

In a desperate attempt to reach Alastor, you invited him back into your home, hoping that a touch of care might spark some reason in him. You prepared a feast, doting on him as you once had, trying to recall the warmth of your past camaraderie. “Try as I may, it doesn’t last. Will we ever end up together?” you wondered aloud, offering him a boon: if he would only cease his relentless quest for power, you would provide him with this nurturing life every day.

But instead of gratitude, you faced his fury—not at your affection, but at your opposition to his ambitions fueled him. He scoffed at your bold request and, with a bitter laugh, stormed out, leaving you feeling empty. As he departed, you sensed your essence fading, your song slipping further into despair.

The arrival of the executioners filled you with a chilling dread. Like Lucifer’s family, you found a semblance of safety within your walls, but your heart ached with worry for Alastor. Once the chaos settled, his anguished cries echoed in the distance—yet again thwarted by Lucifer, even amid the brutal executions. “No, I think not, it’s never to become…” you murmured, reaching out for him in vain.

When Alastor finally turned to you, the pain etched on his face cut deep, and he simply looked away. Each rejection felt like a dagger to your soul. As your powers surged within you, the weight of your sorrow transformed you. In that moment, you felt like a mere doll, your essence stripped away, a haunting reflection of love turned to anguish.

“For I am not the one…” you whispered, the truth settling heavily in your heart. You realized you would never be what Alastor truly needed. As the years rolled on, this reality became clearer: no matter how fiercely you cared, he would always seek something beyond your grasp. Seven years passed, and once again, he was lost to the very ambitions that had consumed him.

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balkanparamo · 3 months ago

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‘Der Unerbittliche Freier’ : The Relentless Suitor, 1931

#art #illustration #relentless suitor #death

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protagaster · 30 days ago

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Hi, I don’t know if someone has asked this already but I just wanted to know how everything started in you au?

Why is Penelope the one fighting in war while her husband is at home?

I know is a warrior!penelope au but i would like to know how that works in your story?

I also really like your take in the au it’s so cool!

Hello my friend! Thank you so much for taking the time to ask about the details regarding the AU :)! It makes me very happy to see you interested!

It's recounted with a bit more detail in the prequel (titled 'A King with no Queen') but here is the main gist of it.

Buckle up, it's gonna be quite a ride:

First things first, everything starts off exactly the same as it does in the Iliad. Paris chooses Aphrodite as the most beautiful of the Goddess', leading to Aphrodite taking Helen away from her home and husband (Menelaus) and forcing the mortal woman to be with Paris. From there, just as it goes in Homer's tale, Menelaus and Agamemnon force all of Helen's past suitors to fight with them in the war against Troy; this is because of an oath Odysseus himself proposed in order to keep the peace regardless of who Helen chose to be her husband, quote: "all the suitors should swear a most solemn oath to defend the chosen husband against whoever should quarrel with him".

Everything progresses as it does, with all of our favorite Greek heroes, including Odysseus, fighting in the war. This is where things begin to swerve for the AU.

That first year of war the men actually succeed in sneaking Helen out of Troy's palace thanks to their cunning and spies. They place her on a tiny ship that would sail her back to Sparta as quickly as possible and spend the night celebrating in their hidden camps without a care in the world. Unfortunately, the Trojans were quick to notice Helen's disappearance. While they were unable to keep her from leaving Troy, they decided to settle their seething anger with the next best thing. That night, while the Greek armies were full and drunk with merriment, the Trojans sneak into their camps thanks to the information provided by their [the Trojans] own spies. Right then and there the Trojans attacks.

This leads to the Greek men getting horribly injured, to the point where almost all of them are no longer fit for war. In exchange for Helen, the Trojan armies kidnap most of the Greek heroes (Menelaus, Agamemnon, Diomedes, just to name a few) and keep them alive as a warning and form of ransom against Greece and the Gods who support them. Odysseus, who was speared horribly in his shoulder, was spared from capture only thanks to the relentlessness of his Ithacan men.

Only a small handful of men are both spared from injury and allowed to continue to fight (Achilles and Patroclus to name a couple, that detail is just for you @somereaderinblue). The rest, by order of the Gods themselves, are forced to return home as they are no longer of use for combat.

Odysseus, Eurylochus, and the rest of the Ithacan army that was drafted return to Ithaca. Despite the damage they have received, things look hopeful and the future appears to be bright.

However, Greece still needs an army.

This is a timeline where, by Hera's orders, the Gods slowly work to give the women of Greece more autonomy by allowing them to partake in activities one thought to be only for men. Two of the Gods working hardest to meet this goal are Ares and Artemis, who have collaborated to teach women the art of combat and bearing arms.

Ares, who has never been in his parent's good graces, is in extra trouble now due to agreeing to support the Greeks on Hera's request but then turning around and supporting the Trojans upon Aphrodite's say. Hera declares that the only way to make it up to her is by drafting his eligible female warriors (those of age and with enough skill and experience to survive) to fight in the men's stead.

This includes Penelope, who had passed his trial back when she was still a young Spartan Princess and in turn became Ares' personal pupil (look at Warrior of the Heart if you would like more details). With a combination of Ares' order and Helen's plea, who feels the war is all her fault and wants to learn to fight in order to save her husband, Penelope is forced to leave behind Ody and Tele (a girl in mine and Blue's AU) in order to fulfill her duty.

That's how our version of the Warrior Penelope AU came to be! I'm sure you all know what happens from there ;)

P.S - Here are a few fun facts, not at all relevant to the AU, but still I wanna share em:

Hermione, Helen and Menelaus' daughter, actually snuck herself onto her mother's warship in order to join them in saving her father

The only reason Clytemnestra agrees to save Agamemnon is to kill him herself once they return home, since he still sacrificed their daughter before he and his men headed off for war

Patroclus was surprised when he saw Penelope for the first time. After how much Ody spoke of her, Patroclus had assumed for a time that she was a mere fiction of his imagination, a coping mechanism to keep himself sane (thank Blue for this one!)

On #3's note, Patroclus, Helen, Clytemnestra, and the rest of the Greek army immediately saw the similarities between Penny and Ody when Penny refused to shut up about how amazing her husband is and how much she longed to see him again

#warrior!penelope #asks #send me asks #please #odypen #penelope #odysseus #a bunch of characters from both the Iliad and the odyssey #i'm too lazy to type them all

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ladydigianna · 2 months ago

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secrets out || atsumu miya x reader

|| note: gonna start off my haikyuu fics w the pretty setter squad

|| pairings: atsumu miya x reader

|| from the author: hey !! its been a while, ive just been really busy lately, anyways, requests are open

-fic under the cut-

Being Kageyama Tobio’s younger twin sister came with an extra layer of complications, especially when Karasuno acted as your personal security team. They were relentless in their overprotectiveness, particularly around guys who so much as looked in your direction. If someone even smiled at you, the entire team would close in, their hawk-like glares chasing away any potential suitors.

At first, you found it endearing. But then you met Atsumu Miya at nationals.

It was the first day of the tournament, and you were helping the team prepare when you caught Atsumu staring from across the court. His grin was wide and cocky, clearly confident as he threw you a playful wink.

“Oi, pretty twin!” he shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. You stiffened in place, your cheeks burning, but before you could respond, Karasuno had already reacted.

“What did he just call you?” Nishinoya shot up from his stretching position, his eyes narrowing.

“Pretty what?” Tanaka echoed, cracking his knuckles as he stood next to Noya, his protective energy bubbling to the surface.

You tried to brush it off with a wave of your hand. “It’s nothing. He’s just—”

“Flirting with you,” Tsukishima interrupted, smirking as he adjusted his glasses. “And he’s not even subtle about it.”

Kageyama’s brow furrowed as his head slowly turned to where Atsumu was standing. His eyes darkened, though his expression remained relatively blank. He might not have shown it as outwardly as the others, but you knew your brother. Tobio didn’t like Atsumu from the moment he met him, and this wasn’t helping.

“Let’s not get distracted, guys,” Daichi called out, though even he was giving Atsumu the side-eye. “We’ve got a match to win.”

Still, every time Atsumu caught your eye, he’d flash you a grin, causing the Karasuno members to collectively tense up. It was almost funny seeing the boys get so worked up, but the situation quickly became something you tried to push to the back of your mind as the tournament progressed.

Three months later, you had a secret—and that secret had blonde hair, a cocky smirk, and answered to the name of Atsumu Miya.

It had all started with some casual texting, which turned into late-night phone calls, which somehow turned into a relationship. Keeping it hidden from your brother and the rest of Karasuno had been exhausting, but you and Atsumu enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around.

The challenge? Not letting Karasuno catch on, especially when they seemed to be hyper-aware of everything involving you.

“Y/N! Watch out!”

Hinata’s shout snapped you out of your thoughts just in time to duck a stray volleyball that came hurtling toward your head. You let out a yelp and crouched down, feeling the breeze of the ball as it narrowly missed you. You looked up to see Noya sprinting over with wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Did it hit you?” Noya’s panic was so evident it was almost endearing.

“I’m fine!” you assured him, standing back up with a nervous chuckle. But the second the rest of the team saw the near-miss, they rushed over.

“Seriously, guys, I’m fine,” you repeated, now surrounded by a circle of worried faces. Even Tsukishima raised an eyebrow from the sidelines, though he didn't move from his spot. Kageyama frowned, clearly irritated that he hadn’t seen the ball coming.

“You gotta pay attention, Y/N,” Daichi said, his captain voice kicking in as he patted your shoulder. “We don’t need anyone getting hurt.”

You laughed lightly, brushing it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be more careful.”

Little did they know, your distraction had nothing to do with the ball and everything to do with a certain setter from Inarizaki.

Today, practice was running long, and you were helping gather up volleyballs when the gym doors suddenly burst open with a loud crash.

“Oi, Y/n/n! Yer not gonna believe this!”

Atsumu’s voice rang out, and your heart dropped to your stomach. You whipped around to see him standing in the entrance of the gym, his Inarizaki jacket casually draped over his shoulders. Behind him were some of his teammates, including Osamu, who looked like he was bracing for whatever chaos his brother had just set off.

The entire gym went dead silent.

“What... is he doing here?” Daichi’s voice was the first to break the tension.

You could feel every pair of Karasuno eyes burning into you as you slowly made your way over to Atsumu, desperately trying to push him back out the door. “Tsumu! What are you doing here?!” you hissed under your breath.

He just grinned, completely unbothered by the growing tension in the gym. “Came to surprise ya! Thought you’d be happy to see me.” His tone was teasing, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve got to leave—" you started, but then you heard Tanaka groan.

“Wait a minute…” Nishinoya muttered. “Did he just say ‘surprise’? Why is he here to surprise you?”

Atsumu winked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Guess it’s time to let the cat outta the bag, huh?”

You stood frozen, heart racing as Karasuno’s eyes ping-ponged between you and Atsumu. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

“Let what out of the bag?” Hinata asked, his voice full of confusion.

You sighed deeply, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, um… I was going to tell you guys eventually, but... Atsumu and I are dating.”

The gym erupted.

“WHAT?!” Tanaka and Noya practically screeched.

“How long has this been going on?!” Daichi demanded, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Tsukishima snorted, looking both amused and shocked at the same time.

Kageyama was staring blankly at you, his expression unreadable but his fists clenched. He clearly didn’t know what to do with this information.

“Aww, don’t be mad,” Atsumu called out, stepping further into the gym. “It’s been three months now. Didn’t wanna cause a scene, but I guess I kinda did, huh?” His smug grin only made the situation worse.

Tanaka and Noya were the first to move, charging straight at Atsumu, who dodged them with ease, laughing all the while. “Oi! You guys serious?”

“Get back here, you sly fox!” Noya yelled, determined to catch him.

Atsumu darted around the gym, dodging stray volleyballs and Karasuno’s players like it was some sort of game. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Atsumu, one of the top setters in Japan, being chased by your overprotective team like he was a kid caught stealing candy.

Even Daichi couldn’t help but crack a smile as the chaos unfolded, though he tried to keep things under control. “Alright, alright, that’s enough!”

Finally, Atsumu stopped, catching his breath as he leaned against the wall. “Man, you guys are protective, huh?”

“Obviously,” Tanaka huffed, still looking like he wanted to tackle Atsumu. “But we’ll let it slide—for now.”

Atsumu glanced at you, flashing that familiar grin. “Guess I’ll be visiting more often now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re never going to stop causing trouble, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Later that day...

After the chaos settled a bit, Atsumu found himself cornered by Karasuno’s starting lineup. You watched from a distance, chilling with Inarizaki, who had shown up to see what all the fuss was about.

“You better take care of her,” Daichi said, his voice low and threatening. “Because if you don’t…”

“We’ll beat you up,” Tanaka finished, cracking his knuckles for emphasis.

Nishinoya nodded vigorously. “No mercy.”

Even Kageyama, who hadn’t said much this whole time, was standing with his arms crossed, silently glaring at Atsumu. His intense stare did more than enough talking for him. It was clear: Atsumu was on thin ice.

Atsumu, to his credit, didn’t back down. He just grinned that same cocky grin. “I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ her. But thanks for the heads-up.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes glinted with amusement. “I get it, I get it. Take care of her, or I’m dead.”

Satisfied for the moment, Karasuno finally backed off, though they were still watching Atsumu like hawks.

Meanwhile, you sat on the bleachers with Osamu and Suna, who had been watching the whole thing with mild amusement.

“Can’t believe ya managed to keep it a secret for three months,” Osamu said, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you could pull it off with this idiot as your boyfriend.”

“Oi!” Atsumu called from across the gym, having heard his brother’s comment. “What’s that s’posed to mean?!”

Suna smirked lazily, glancing between you and Osamu. “Dealing with Atsumu must be exhausting. You have my condolences.”

You laughed, along with the rest of the Inarizaki boys. Despite all the drama, it was nice to know that both teams had your back—no matter how much they clashed.

After practice ended, Karasuno wasn’t quite done with you and Atsumu. You found yourself dragged into the clubroom, where Daichi, Suga, Tanaka, and Nishinoya sat you both down like they were about to conduct a police interrogation.

Suga smiled sweetly, but you could feel the tension in the room. “Alright, let’s get some answers. How did this start? And why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

You glanced at Atsumu, who just shrugged like this was no big deal. “We met at nationals. Kinda hit it off, y’know? Textin’ led to more textin’… then calls… and, well, here we are.”

Tanaka leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “But why keep it a secret? You didn’t trust us?”

“No, no! It wasn’t that,” you said quickly. “We just didn’t want it to get... complicated.”

“Complicated?” Noya repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You mean you didn’t want us freaking out and chasing him around the gym?”

You both exchanged a look.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But you guys kinda proved us right.”

There was a beat of silence before Daichi cleared his throat. “We’re not trying to be overbearing. We just want to make sure you’re happy, Y/N. And that you’re with someone who treats you right.”

Atsumu, for once, looked serious as he nodded. “I get it. But trust me—I ain’t gonna mess this up. I’m crazy about her.”

Karasuno’s members exchanged glances, and finally, Suga sighed with a small smile. “Okay. But we’re keeping an eye on you, Miya. One wrong move, and—”

“I know, I know.” Atsumu raised his hands again. “I’ll behave.”

The interrogation ended on a somewhat lighter note, but as you walked out of the room with Atsumu by your side, you could still feel the weight of Karasuno’s watchful eyes.

“They’re never gonna let this go, are they?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nah,” Atsumu chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “But it’s kinda sweet, ain’t it? Means they care about ya.”

You smiled, leaning into him as you both headed out of the gym. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

The secret was out, and while it had been a wild ride, you felt relieved. Despite all the threats and teasing, you knew you were surrounded by people who had your back—whether they were from Karasuno or Inarizaki.

And as for Atsumu? Well, you had a feeling he was going to enjoy riling up Karasuno for a long time to come.

#ladydigianna #fanfiction #xreader #anime #haikyuu #inarizaki #miya twins #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #anime x reader #haikyuu x reader #inarizaki x reader #miya twins x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader

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katerinaaqu · 4 months ago

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Odysseus: Monster or Man? (a small analysis based on a description at 22nd Rhapsody/Book of Odyssey)

The homeric hero, Odysseus definitely has sparked much controversy ever since his first inrtoduction by Hmeric poems in 8th century BC. Many writers after Homer portrayed him a hero others portrayed him as anti-hero and many as a monster; someone who wouldn't stop at anything to achieve his goals, someone who didn't care to be the monster...to perform monsterous acts. However was that the original goal of Homer when he wrote his protagonist? Was it really the relentless killer that we often perceive from post-homeric till modern adaptations?

I believe the answer is partially given to us by a small portion of the poem itself. In the 22nd Rhapsody, the scene that follows after the brutal murder of the suitors, Euryclea is called to the hall and this is how she finds Odysseus:

"And then she found Odysseus among the slain corpses, showered in blood and covered in gore like a lion, who comes after he had easily eaten the oxen that dwell outside at the fields; for his chest and both his cheeks were covered in blood, and he seemed terrifying to look at. Thus was Odysseus covered (here: in blood) even feet and hands above"

(Translation by me)

As one can see his description is absolutely speaking as "monster" as it can, given that even the comparison with a lion seems to be adding to that beastly appearance. Odysseus is standing tall among the dead bodies, covered in blood and gore, terrifying to look at. One can say he feels like home among the slain! He doesn't seel to care. Someone could say that this is the proof that he has no feelings of compassion at all. That he doesn't care he has just slain over 100 men so young and full of life. However, in my opinion the next passage shows exactly how much Odysseus values life despite the violence of the scene before;

"However when she saw the dead and perceived the unspeakable blood, she immediately wished to cry out of joy, once she saw this great deed. However Odysseus held her back, stopping all her eagerness and to her he spoke with winged words: in your heart, old woman, rejoice and hold yourself and do not cry out in joy: because it is unholy to wish to kill/slay people. These here the gods have overpowered for their evil deeds because they didn't care (lit: didn't honor) for any person upon this earth; good or bad that came among them (here: asking for help/mercy). And so because of their wickedness they befell in this dishonorable death"

(Translation by me)

Despite the fact we have had a total mayhem in the hall before (and quite frankly we have even more to come for he yet is to punish the slaves that betrayed him and his family) in here we see his other side; He doesn't take pleasure in killing. Even if he considers this justice (thus he said "the gods have striken here") and even if he doesn't seem to regret his actions per se, he doesn't take pleasure from it and he advises his old nurse not to cry out in joy.

He knows the deed is not happy; it is sad. He has more or less severed an entire generation of charismatic and very young men who had started to live their lives; men that were not much older than his son at that point. He also probably already knows there are consequences for that as well given that all of them have been lords and princes at their own accord. Odysseus had spent his previous days as humble as a beggar; testing their fortidude and heart. He had asked for mercy to see if they would help. He advised them to change their ways he even half-begs Melantho to change her own ways so he wouldn't have to kill them

When they did not heed his advice, mistreating him for his old appearance and ragged clothes; showing no mercy and daresay discriminating against him because he had the form of an old beggar in their eyes, led Odysseus know he had no choice according to the laws of the gods. And these men had conspired to kill his son on his way back as well. He never wished to performed that crime if he could avoid it. But at the end he knew he didn't by Athena's orders.

Conclusions:

Odysseus knew he had performed a mass murder (thus requesting to cleanse himself and the palace from the crime afterwards). Of course that is to be said he was not unwilling to perform the task. We do not mean to think that Odysseus was the classic goodie guy who would be begging the gods not to do the deed. He was above all a survivor of million tragedies and a war veteran (daresay a war criminal at that point). He was not unfamiliar to violence nor someone unwilling to perform it if needed

However it seems to me clear as day that he is not the type to seek violence where he can avoid it and he was always trying to be as just as possible, thus testing the people at his halls, asking them or warning them to leave. The fact that he was not unfamiliar to violence shows exactly why he didn't wish to perform it without thought.

Even after a monstrous act such as the mass murder of 108 people, the afterwards execution of 12 and the mutilation of yet another one, Homer is telling us that Odysseus was never supposed to be a monster that occasionally does human acts but a human that occasionally had to by the circumstances perform monstrous acts and also fully aware that they are wrong. Odysseus didn't claim death and wishing death is honorable. He says the opposite. Exactly because he knows first hand that it isn't.

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winxanity-ii · 5 days ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 10 Chapter 10 | proposed union⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Telemachus wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped back from the training ring, his muscles aching from the relentless sparring session he had just endured.

Despite his father's age, Odysseus still fought with the strength of a warrior in his prime.

Each blow carried the power of years spent on battlefields and journeys across the sea. Every strike, every counter, every feint—all of it left Telemachus reminded that the man before him was still a force to be reckoned with.

His father may have grayed, but there was nothing frail about his frame, nothing slow in his movement. He felt proud, yet also deeply sore, his body protesting as he made his way towards the courtyard.

The bright sunlight greeted him as he stepped into the courtyard, the warmth soaking into his skin, making his sore muscles relax slightly. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness, blinking against the sharp contrast after the dimness of the training ring.

The air was fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers carried by a gentle breeze. The courtyard was quiet, and for the first time in a long while, Telemachus found himself able to simply enjoy the moment.

There were no suitors darkening his home, no cloud of sorrow hanging over Ithaca.

The palace, which once echoed with tension, was now filled with peace, and Telemachus found himself savoring it. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders loosening as he stood there, taking it all in—the sound of birds singing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the feel of sunlight warming his face.

After a while, though, a thought crept into his mind, nudging at him until he could no longer ignore it. He had completed all his duties for the day, and now he found himself with unexpected free time. But what to do with it?

He stood there for a moment, considering, his eyes drifting over the courtyard, searching for something to occupy himself with.

And then, almost instinctively, he thought of you.

A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it, and he felt warmth spread through him, a gentle heat that had nothing to do with the sun above.

He could almost picture where you'd be—your usual spot around this time of day—and without even realizing it, he began walking in that direction. His steps were light, a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him as he moved through the palace grounds.

The sun shone down, bathing everything in golden light, and the air smelled of grass and distant salt from the sea.

Telemachus' heart quickened in his chest, his thoughts filled with images of you—your laughter, the way your eyes seemed to catch the light when you smiled, the calm determination that you carried even in the hardest moments.

You were gentle, but there was a strength in you that had always amazed him.

You were beautiful, inside and out. And your voice—gods, your voice. It could soothe even his worst fears, each word like a melody that stayed with him long after you'd spoken.

Telemachus sighed softly, a lovesick smile spreading across his face as he continued to walk, his thoughts wrapped up at the thought of seeing you.

Most nights, he found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts twisting and turning, always finding their way back to you.

He didn't know when it had started—this feeling that seemed to take over his every waking moment, but he knew it now—he wanted to be yours, and you, his.

He hoped to share something that went beyond mere friendship or affection.

He hoped to give you the kind of love he'd heard stories of, the kind of love his parents shared—deep and unwavering, a love that could withstand anything.

But more than anything else, he hoped that you felt the same.

Soon, the familiar cypress tree came into view, and just as he predicted, you were settled a few feet away, your lyre in your hands.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on you—the way your figure was framed by the soft sunlight filtering through the leaves, your head slightly bowed as you plucked the strings of your instrument.

It made his heart swell just watching you, the simple peace of the moment making him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Telemachus didn't even notice his footsteps speeding up, his stride becoming almost a bounce as he made his way toward you. He was eager, almost too eager, his heart fluttering in his chest at the prospect of hearing your voice, seeing your smile directed at him.

But just as he was about halfway to you, a firm hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, halting his progress. Telemachus stilled immediately, instinctively whipping around, his grip harsh as he grabbed onto the wrist of whoever had stopped him, his face hardening into a cold mask.

But then, he saw who it was.

"Lady Andreia?" He blinked, surprised, his eyes moving over her form. She was wearing a dress in a shade that looked somewhere between turquoise and sea-green, the fabric flowing around her in soft waves. He cleared his throat, his expression softening as he quickly dropped her wrist, giving her a small nod. "My apologies, Lady Andreia. You startled me."

The princess only giggled in response, waving him off as though his reaction hadn't fazed her in the slightest. "Oh, no, it's my fault. I didn't mean to startle you, Prince Telemachus," she said, her voice light, almost teasing.

Telemachus shifted awkwardly, glancing behind him to where you still sat by the cypress tree, oblivious to his presence. He could feel a pang of frustration at the interruption, but he quickly turned his attention back to Andreia, doing his best to remain courteous. "Is there something I can assist you with, Lady Andreia?" he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.

Andreia's eyes seemed to brighten at his question, and she clasped her hands together, her smile widening. "Actually, yes, there is," she said, and before Telemachus could react, she had reached out, grabbing his wrist. "Come, let's chat!"

She tugged at him, her grip surprisingly firm as she began to pull him away, her laughter ringing out in the quiet courtyard.

Telemachus let out a small yelp of surprise, stumbling slightly as he was dragged along. He almost protested, almost telling her that he had somewhere else he needed to be—someone else he wanted to be with.

But then, he remembered his mother's words. Be kind to her, Telemachus. She's a guest in our home, and she has lost much.

So, he bit his tongue, forcing himself to swallow down his frustration as he allowed himself to be led away.

Still, he couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on you, sitting peacefully beneath the cypress tree, unaware of how close he'd been.

His heart sank slightly, a feeling of longing settling deep in his chest. All he wanted was to be near you, to hear your voice, to share even just a small part of his day with you.

But for now, it seemed, he would have to wait.

☆

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of laughter echoing in your ears. You blinked quickly, bringing your focus to the source of the sound.

Your gaze lifted just in time to see Telemachus being pulled away by Lady Andreia, her hand gripping his wrist as she laughed. Your eyes tracked them, watching as the prince's figure grew smaller and smaller, swallowed by the distance between you and the lively courtyard ahead.

When he looked back, you quickly looked down, and after a few seconds, you glanced back up, only to see them disappear from your sight altogether around the bend.

You let out a sigh, looking back down at your lyre, your fingers tracing the familiar strings.

It wasn't the first time you'd watched Andreia intercept him like this. It had happened more than once since her arrival, her presence always lingering close to the prince, her laughter ringing out a little too often for your liking.

You hated how easy it seemed for her, how naturally she took up space in his day.

It made you feel small in comparison, like an afterthought, a shadow on the periphery of his world.

You told yourself it was ridiculous, that you had no claim to him, no right to feel this gnawing ache in your chest. But the feeling remained, stubborn and sharp.

The song that had been on the tip of your tongue faded away, your fingers now motionless against the strings. The mood to play had left, leaving behind an odd sense of emptiness.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the unease settling in your chest. There was no sense in dwelling on it.

Telemachus had his duties, his responsibilities, and you had yours. He was a prince, and you were—well, just you.

You forced a small smile, letting your fingers pluck a few lazy notes, but it was half-hearted, even to your own ears.

"Are you the official musician?"

The sudden voice startled you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, the lyre clutched tightly to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise.

You looked up quickly, your gaze landing on a figure squatting just a foot away from you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion—how had he gotten so close without you noticing?

He wore Bronte's colors—green and yellow. His skin was olive-toned, warm under the sunlight, and his dark brown hair fell just past his shoulders. His eyes, equally dark, studied you with a kind of quiet curiosity that made you shift where you sat.

Realizing you hadn't answered his question, you cleared your throat, trying to steady your voice. "U-um, no," you stammered, your fingers fidgeting against the lyre strings. "I'm actually Queen Penelope's personal handmaiden." The words trailed off awkwardly, and you glanced down, picking at a blade of grass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

The young man hummed in response, and, without any hesitation, he plopped himself down directly in front of you, crossing his legs. You blinked at him, startled once again by his forwardness. His eyes were still on you, staring down at you as if he were trying to figure you out, his gaze curious, almost intense.

"I saw you play at the feast last night," he said after a moment, his voice carrying an ease that made you slightly envious. "You were incredible. Honestly, I couldn't look away."

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, no, it wasn't just me," you said quickly, glancing down at the lyre. "I played among others. It was nothing special."

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Doesn't matter," he said, his tone light but sincere. "You were great, regardless."

Before you could think of a reply, he extended his hand out to you, his gaze unwavering. "Callias, at your service. I've come along with Princess Andreia from Bronte."

You blinked, staring for a second at his extended hand, your mind taking a moment to catch up.

A handshake? Here? Between servants?

Your eyes darted to his face, searching for any hint of mockery, but he just kept smiling, waiting patiently as if there was nothing unusual about his gesture.

Hesitantly, you wiped your hands on your dress before tentatively placing your hand in his. His grip was warm, firm, and he shook your hand with an ease that almost made your face heat up.

It was so casual, almost as if you knew each other for years, and the boldness of it threw you off-balance.

"I'm ____," you said softly, feeling the words stumble out of you.

He smiled again, broader this time, as if your awkwardness amused him. "____" he repeated, as if testing your name on his tongue.

You nodded, your hand still tingling from the unexpected contact. The handshake had felt strangely intimate—too bold, too modern for servants, especially in Ithaca.

You weren't quite sure how to react, so you just smiled politely, hoping the flush on your cheeks would die down soon.

"Well, um, welcome, Callias. I hope you find things to your liking here."

Callias gave you a nod, his smile turning almost conspiratorial, as if you shared some private joke. "I think I will," he said lightly, before casually leaning back on his hands, his gaze drifting up to the clear blue sky above.

You shifted slightly where you sat, unsure of what to say or do next. The unease from earlier had yet to fully disappear, replaced now by an odd mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Callias seemed comfortable—far more comfortable than you felt—and you couldn't help but wonder why he was here, sitting with you, instead of mingling with the other guests or tending to his duties.

"So, the Queen Penelope's personal handmaiden," he mused after a moment, his eyes flicking back down to you, his gaze soft but inquisitive. "That must be... interesting. Busy, I imagine."

You nodded, your fingers still fiddling with the strings of your lyre. "It is," you admitted. "The Queen is kind, though. She makes it worthwhile."

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to piece something together. "And playing music—is that something you do often?"

You gave a small shrug, your gaze shifting to the lyre resting in your lap. "Whenever I have the time. It's more of a hobby than anything else."

"A hobby," he repeated, his tone light, almost teasing. "Well, it's a good one. You're talented—clearly."

You felt your cheeks flush again, and you ducked your head, letting out a soft laugh. "Thank you," you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Callias watched you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering before he finally looked away, his eyes once again drifting to the sky. "I think Ithaca's lucky to have someone like you," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Someone who brings music and warmth to a place that's been through so much."

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, you weren't quite sure how to respond. "Thank you," you said again, the words barely a whisper, your heart giving a small, unexpected flutter.

Callias' eyes then trailed down to the lyre sitting comfortably in your lap. His eyes brightened, a spark of excitement lighting them up as he leaned forward slightly. "What else can you play?" he asked.

You shifted a bit, unused to talking so openly with someone new—especially someone from another kingdom. After a moment, you answered, "Uh, well... I can play the sistrum, the aulos, and a few others." You trailed off awkwardly, your fingers absently toying with the strings of your lyre, the delicate notes barely audible.

The male let out an excited gasp before rummaging through his tunic. He pulled out a small instrument, a panpipe, holding it up with a cheeky grin on his face. "Can you play this?"

Curiously, you reached forward, and he placed it into your hands. You turned it over in your fingers, examining the little wooden instrument, its simple form somehow feeling significant.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as you studied it. You had seen panpipes before—they were common—but for some reason, you hadn't thought to learn it. Almost as if the idea had simply slipped your mind.

You looked back up at Callias, humming softly as you held it back out to him. "I'm not sure. I don't think I've ever played this."

Callias just grinned, the teasing glint in his eyes growing even brighter. Without warning, he leaned forward, his larger, calloused hand covering yours, gently closing your fingers back around the pipes. "Wanna learn?" he asked, his voice a bit lower, almost conspiratorial. "I could teach you."

You blinked, taken aback by his closeness, the warmth of his hand on yours making your heart stutter. Your mouth opened and closed, no words forming as you tried to process his boldness.

Callias' grin grew even wider before he pouted playfully, his head tilting to the side as if pleading with you. "C'mon, ____. It's a fair trade—you teach me the lyre, I teach you the pipes. Deal?"

You stared at him, your eyes widening slightly at his audacity. But there was something disarming in the way he spoke—something almost childlike in his enthusiasm—that made it hard to say no.

Slowly, you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Alright, deal," you said softly.

The brunet beamed, his entire face lighting up with excitement. "Great! We'll start now then!"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "N-Now?" you stammered, glancing around the courtyard. It wasn't exactly crowded, but the thought of practicing a new instrument, here, in the open, made you nervous.

Callias chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched your apprehension. "Don't worry," he said, his voice gentle. "It's just me. No pressure." He leaned back, giving you some space as he gestured toward the pipes still in your hand. "Give it a try," he urged, his smile encouraging.

You took a deep breath, glancing down at the Panpipes, your fingers brushing over the smooth wood. Slowly, you brought it to your lips, hesitating for a moment before blowing softly, a gentle note escaping the pipes.

Callias clapped his hands together, his eyes shining. "See? You're already a natural!"

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. "I doubt that," you said, but there was a warmth in your chest now, the unease from earlier finally beginning to fade away.

"Here, lemme show you a simple song," Callias said, grabbing the pipes from your hand. He positioned them against his lips and began playing a soft, lilting melody. The notes flowed smoothly, the sound filling the air with a gentle charm.

You watched, entranced, as he played, his mouth moving deftly over the pipes.

After a few moments, he paused, looking at you with a grin. "See? Just follow along with the rhythm—nothing too fancy. It's simple enough. Here." He handed the pipes back to you, his smile encouraging.

You hesitated, feeling a bit of nervousness returning, but there was something so genuinely encouraging about Callias that made it hard to refuse. You took the pipes and held them to your lips, trying to mimic the way he had played.

The notes that came out were shaky, uneven, and you winced at the sound.

It felt... off. Not quite right.

You tried again, huffing slightly when the sound didn't come out as smoothly as it had for Callias.

With a pout, you pulled the pipes away from your lips, glaring down at the instrument. "Here," you muttered, holding it back out to him. "I can't seem to get it right."

Callias just laughed, his eyes twinkling as he took the pipes from you. "Aw, don't be too hard on yourself," he said teasingly. "Looks like there's finally an instrument you can't master."

You gave him a playful scowl, rolling your eyes. "Very funny," you mumbled, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement.

Callias placed the pipes back into his tunic, patting them gently as if they were some treasured item. He leaned back further on his hands, his eyes closing as he let the sunlight warm his face. "It's okay, though. We can practice more another time," he said casually, as if he were already planning on spending more time with you.

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? How can you be so sure there'll be a next time?" you teased, your voice light.

Callias grinned without missing a beat, his eyes still closed. He gave a lazy shrug, the corners of his lips quirking up. "I don't know... just a gut feeling," he hummed, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

☆

The two young royals walked slowly through the palace gardens, their feet crunching over the pebbled pathway.

The sun was bright, its golden rays filtering through the leaves of olive and laurel trees, the air filled with the scent of thyme and blooming myrtle. The gentle hum of bees and the occasional chirp of birds added a pleasant background, giving the illusion of perfect serenity.

Telemachus cleared his throat, trying to shift the awkwardness away. He turned to Andreia, offering her a small, polite smile. "So, Lady Andreia, what is it you'd like to talk about?"

Andreia sighed softly, her gaze drifting as they passed by a bush of narcissus flowers. She paused, reaching out to gently touch the soft petals, her fingers lingering there.

Telemachus couldn't help but think back to when you'd called them daffodils—what a silly name, he'd thought then, but now the thought made him smile.

"I must say," Andreia began, her voice almost wistful, "Ithaca is even more beautiful than I'd imagined. The people here are so kind, and everything is so... peaceful." She turned to look at Telemachus, her lips curving into a bright grin. "Despite the unfortunate reason for my visit, I find myself grateful for the chance to experience your homeland."

Telemachus blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Andreia had already begun walking again, her gaze fixed forward. As she moved, she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes twinkling with a teasing light.

"I hear the prince of Ithaca is known for his hospitality," she said, her tone playfully challenging. "Does that extend to entertaining lonely guests as well?"

Telemachus found himself chuckling, the sound escaping him before he could even register it. It was strange—he hadn't expected to laugh, not in this moment, and definitely not with Andreia.

With a soft sigh, he followed after her, shaking his head slightly as he tried to push away the lingering thoughts of you beneath the cypress tree.

As they continued walking through the garden, Andreia engaged Telemachus in conversation, her voice warm and charismatic. She asked about the palace grounds, about his duties as the prince, and even about the people of Ithaca.

Her interest seemed genuine, her laughter light and easy as she responded to his answers.

Telemachus answered her questions politely, describing the routines he carried out to support his father and the responsibilities he had to the people of Ithaca. Andreia listened intently, her eyes never wavering from his face, and she nodded along, occasionally humming thoughtfully in response.

"I must say, my prince, for someone to be the son of a legend, you must be plenty prepared if trouble to arise, no?" Her eyes flickered back to Telemachus, her expression smoothing into one of respect. "The way he reclaimed his throne with such strength, such... resolve. It's rare to see a man so certain of his purpose, so willing to do whatever it takes for those he loves. It's admirable."

Telemachus blinked, watching her as she spoke.He cleared his throat, unsure how to respond. "My father has always been... determined," he said cautiously, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her face.

Andreia turned back to him, her expression brightening once more, her smile easy and warm. "Indeed. And that determination is something that runs in the family, I'm sure." She reached out, lightly brushing her fingers against his arm in a gesture that seemed casual yet deliberate. "After all, Ithaca is in capable hands with you, isn't it?"

Telemachus forced another smile, nodding. "Thank you, Lady Andreia. I... appreciate your confidence."

She gave him a final, lingering look, her lips curving into a smile that held just a hint of mystery. "Confidence is easy when one knows what to look for, my prince."

After a while, the conversation took a more serious turn.

Andreia turned to face him fully, her steps slowing as they neared another flowerbed. "Prince Telemachus," she said, her voice softer now, "I know that there has been tension between Ithaca and Bronte in the past. It's unfortunate that we meet under such grim circumstances, but I cannot help but think that perhaps this is an opportunity."

Telemachus' brow furrowed slightly, and he tilted his head. "What do you mean, Lady Andreia?"

She smiled, her eyes glimmering with something that seemed both hopeful and calculating. "Well, your mother, Queen Penelope, spoke of the importance of peace between our kingdoms. She spoke so warmly of a future where Ithaca and Bronte could coexist without distrust or resentment. And I agree with her." Andreia stepped closer, her gaze never wavering from Telemachus' eyes. "Peace can be achieved, and strengthened, through alliances." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing, her tone almost coy. "Perhaps even through marriage."

Telemachus blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. For a moment, he was unsure if he had heard her correctly. "Marriage?" he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief.

Andreia giggled, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't look so surprised, my prince. It's only a thought, after all." She leaned in slightly, her smile widening as she added, "A very practical thought, wouldn't you say? A formal alliance would ensure that our kingdoms remain on good terms."

Telemachus could feel the weight of her words settling on his shoulders. It was as if, in that single moment, everything had changed between them.

Lady Andreia was no longer just a guest in their home—no longer just a mourning sister seeking refuge. She had become a player on the board of politics, and suddenly, he too felt like a piece being maneuvered.

His role as her host, her supporter in a time of grief, had shifted—now, he was the prize, the potential bridge between two kingdoms.

The realization left him uneasy, an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He forced a smile, though it felt a bit strained. "It is... certainly something to consider," he said, his voice careful, diplomatic.

Andreia's eyes sparkled, as if pleased by his response. "That's all I ask," she said, her tone light once more. She turned and continued walking, her fingers brushing against the leaves of a nearby shrub as they moved along the path. "I only wish for what is best for both our homes, Prince Telemachus." She glanced back at him with a teasing grin. "Besides, who wouldn't want to secure peace in such a charming place as Ithaca?"

Telemachus found himself chuckling again, though this time the laughter felt more like a reflex than genuine amusement; Andreia's suggestion had taken him off guard.

He hesitated, looking at her with a hint of curiosity. "Why are you so certain of this, Lady Andreia? We've only just met, after all," he said, his voice tinged with both hesitance and genuine curiosity.

Andreia paused, a playful hum escaping her lips as she tilted her head thoughtfully. She stepped closer to the flowerbed, her eyes catching sight of a cluster of blooms.

Without another word, she reached toward a bushel of vibrant flowers and plucked a stem delicately.

It was aconite, with its hooded, deep blue petals—though Telemachus couldn't recall its name. He watched as she approached him, the faint scent of the flower wafting through the warm air.

Andreia moved in close, her red tresses tumbling over her shoulder as she stood on her toes. Her perfume, light and sweet, mingled with the fragrance of the garden. She reached up, tucking the stem of the aconite behind Telemachus' ear, her fingers brushing against his skin.

The touch was gentle, almost intimate, and Telemachus found himself momentarily frozen.

A soft smile rested on her lips as she gazed into his eyes, her head tilting to the side in an endearing manner. "You could say... just a gut feeling," she murmured, her voice playful yet soft. And with that, she twirled away, her laughter echoing lightly as she continued along the garden path. "Now, I wonder if the anemones are in bloom," she mused aloud, as if her previous words hadn't left a strange tension in the air.

Telemachus watched her go, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest—confusion and perhaps a touch of unease. He reached up, touching the flower she had tucked behind his ear.

The gesture, the closeness, her words... they all left him with more questions than answers.

The prince wasn't sure what to do next—he knew he would have to tell his parents about this conversation, and the thought made him uneasy.

For now, though, he simply kept his thoughts to himself before following the young royal, unsure of what direction this unexpected turn would lead.

A/N: ahhh, i had so much fun with the lil hints thrown in here blahhhh, y'all i literally researched so many meaning and stuff cuz im a nerd and wanted to see if i can try my hand at suspense/tension building, anywho ignore my rambling, hope you enjoy the new OC Callias... [A/N: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐂 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 "𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬" 𝐈 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦~]

callias:

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