#power pose through the pain.

[animatedtext]

requested by saltydivinity 

#fake it till you make it #lie until you die #power pose through the pain. #gif #animatedtext #saltydivinity

[queenpiranhadon]

𖤓⎸⎸ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⎸⎸𖤓

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. 

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you. 

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed. 

He could take you down in seconds. 

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor. 

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that. 

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye. 

And yet you didn’t back down.  

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.  

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.  

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.  

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control. 

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.  

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.  

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.  

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you. 

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. 

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds. 

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin. “I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words. 

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.” 

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.  

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.  

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.  

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up. 

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain. 

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.  

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.  

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step. 

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.  

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace. 

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy. 

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.  

*** 

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.  

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #zuko #avatar of the last airbender #atla #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x y/n #water bender reader #help 'power should flow not force itself'?? #I have mixed thoughts about this #zuko x y/n #avatar the last airbender #zuko avatar #zuko avatar the last airbender

[tikkunolamresistance]

27th January marks Holocaust Remembrance Day. When we think of the millions of lives taken by the Nazi regime. A regime that spurred a systemic white supremacist, ethnonationalist manifesto. A sepratist ideology of a supreme ethnicity, a supreme race, that had been festering across Europe for centuries. Millions of sacred lives, Jewish lives, taken in the name of supremacy. Of hatred and violence.

Millions of Jewish people, Soviet and Polish Citizens, communists, Rromani people, disabled people, Soviet prisoners of War and Queer people were murdered during the Nazi regime. Millions of lives were brutally taken whilst the Nazi regime convinced Germany, through a copious force of propaganda, that those lives were the real threat. That it were those lives who were inhumanely violent, were not just, they were deemed a threat to Nazi society.

Hitler and the Nazis promoted the idea of a master race— an Aryan, German race that needed to be protected as they thought that was the product of “racial purity”. And to Nazism, the Jewish people were the biggest threat to their sepratist, extremist ideology of racial purity. Initially, the Nazi leadership tried to force Jews out of Germany completely, with propaganda encouraging the dehumanisation of Jews to facilitate exile and the subsequent Holocaust of Jewish people in Europe.

“Rats, lice, cockroaches, foxes, vultures – these are just some of the animals the Nazis used to deride and dehumanize Jews. They used words too. In a new linguistic analysis of dozens of Nazi speeches, articles, pamphlets and posters, researchers show how this process of anti-Semetic dehumanization, which began before the Nazis took power and helped fuel the party’s popularity, was modulated to justify atrocity: in the years before the Holocaust.”

These lives, for purely existing, posed as a threat to the Nazis violently sepratist ideology. Propaganda subjugated German citizens with the power of deception; indoctrinating a people with the belief of superiority, purity and organic virtue. Simplifying the regimes ideological complexities to be palatable, unquestionable and targeting individualism. The ideological sepratism had indoctrinated millions into following the belief that Jewish people were sub-human— an undoubted threat to German people, values and society— and this was only achievable through the already pre-established rampant antisemitism that festered through out Medieval Europe, from Christian accusations of “killing Jesus”, to blood libel, the accusation of poisoned wells, and forcing Jews to chose either baptism or death.

“The mood changed markedly in around the year 1100, at the time of the First Crusade. Hordes of religious fanatics from all social classes, driven by a longing for redemption, set forth to kill infidels in the Middle East and to liberate holy Jerusalem. It stood to reason that they should also combat perceived enemies of Christ at home. Jews were hounded and forced to choose between baptism or death.”

The Holocaust happened because for generations, Europe failed to crack down on antisemitism. Christianisation spread through colonialism and with it, they carried antisemitism to new lands. The Holocaust happened because the Nazi party could convince millions of people of racial supremacy and purity. Far-Right ideology holds onto sepratist endorsement when they enforce anti-immigration laws, Islamophobic policies in France and the desperation of English nationalism. The Holocaust happened because Western superpowers only saw the Nazi imperial expansion as a threat to the Western hegemony.

The Holocaust of millions of Jewish people happened, and the effects of which are felt to this day. Every single day. The pain is carried through generations, for now there is a hole in every Jewish soul. We still feel the anguish, the pain. The frustration that this feels so never-ending.

And it is that pain, that fear, that drives us to say that with every last fighting breath, like the Maccabees who faught for our liberation, like King David who defeated a giant with a slingshot and stone and unbridled courage — Never again, for anybody. We will fight with all that we have. For such a magnitude of slaughter and pain should never touch this Earth for as long as we stand. We cannot carry forth our pain like a baton, we must hold it, a sword, to the enemy and ensure liberation of all feet that touch this Earth. They will not make our people, the Jewish people, into a proxy for their imperial expansion and sepratist Western values.

Never again, for anybody, for all life is sacred.

Never again, for anybody, and certainly not in our name.

Never again, for anybody, and that means Palestine.

#holocaust #history #statement #free palestine #palestine #anti capitalism #anti imperialism #jumblr #judaism #jewish thought #jewish #jewish socialism #jewish communists #anti zionist jews for palestine #anti zionism

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“  Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself  for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

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I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #reader insert #imagine #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron

[mooncleaver]

My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He had just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan. Or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the children; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

#me when i write about anything other than percy jackson #very nervous tbh #making this when i couldn't find fics with similar tropes was lowkey a cunty move #namor x reader #namor x y/n #namor of talokan #namor the sub mariner #namor mckenzie #namor imagine #black panther wakanda forever #black panther #mcu shuri #shuri #namor fluff #tenoch huerta #talokan #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu #NEED TO STOP LISTENING TO JUDAS TO THIS MAN LIKE #marvel x reader #namor angst #namor x queen reader

[rose-lunaire]

Hi!! How you think Hannibal and Will (separate) in a situation where the reader is a nurse and for some reason she finds with them and both falls madly in love with her? Like they follow her, admired her and simply adore her??

brace yourselves, ‘cause it’s gonna be a long one! thank you so much for this idea, i had a great time writing this, enjoy <3

pairing: wiill graham x reader, hannibal lecter x reader

warnings: stalking themes, a lot of blood and inaccurate medical descriptions

(Y/B/T - your blood type)

hannibal lecter

it was a really nasty case, bodies carelessly abandoned in a forest, like a beast haven’t finished feasting on them

by the time hannibal and will arrived, it had already turned into a bloodbath

the culprit, ambushed in his agony, shot at the fbis weakest link: the two consultants

the older man suffered a concussion and wills leg was repeatedly pierced by bullets

it was jack who rushed the to the hospital, knowing damn well it would take hours for any ambulance to arrive

hannibal kept insisting he’s fine, but the policeman was having none of it

he collapsed on the hospital floor

the man woke up to the rhythmic sounds of the operational room: monotone beeping, a clock idly signaling its presence

“you gave us quite the scare, doctor lecter”

a soft timbre brought his closer to consciousness, but an excruciating headache soon followed

torn between slumber and awareness, he groaned quietly

“doctor lecter? can you hear me, doctor lecter?”

the voice soothed his aching body, poured life and yearning into his soul

he squinted his eyes, as from a blur of white light came to life an angel

hair of raphael’s venus, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes worthy of rubens’s paintbrush, steady and powerful pose of velasquez’s infants

they were perfect like doryphoros or artemis of versailles, sculpted by apollonius himself

the stoic warmth radiating from their eyes couldn’t compare to debussy’s finest works

hannibal felt the sudden urge to take this light with him and never let go

to protect and worship it like gods of ancient times

his killings are not in vain, they are a token of adoration, a promise for a better world

for them

for so the angel wouldn’t have to suffer existing in between such impure souls

he’s always on the lookout for any people in their environment who might have foul intentions

he’s eternally great full to have met them and shows his feelings in subtle ways, like leaving home-cooked meals for them, a note full of gratitude always attached to the gift

he once used his connections to move them to a different department, so that they wouldn’t have to work so hard

they’re his muse, his god(ddes) and he’s just a lowly apostle

he wouldn’t dare bring them into his world, it was too cruel, too dangerous for such a radiant creature

but believe me, he’s always there, a loyal knight guarding their safety and happiness

will graham

he was losing a lot of blood

one of the bullets came through his leg, cutting through his aorta and no amount of pressure could stop the bleeding

his mind was getting fuzzy, but still stuck in painful awareness

he remembered having been sat on a bed, the sting of a needle and helplessness in the voice of a surgeon

“we don’t have enough type y/b/t blood for the operation”

as the anesthesia was wearing out, will felt an unfamiliar presence next to him

calm and unsuspecting, a nurse was sleeping in the corner of the operation room

he finds himself attached to a blood transfusion set

will rested his head in his hands, tired and almost ashamed

the nurse had their sleeve harshly tugged on the forearm with a welt straining their delicate skin

he perceives himself as repulsive and unworthy, yet they gave up their own blood without any hesitation

he’s deeply moved by their dedication

he can’t seem to draw his eyes away

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to stare” - he panicked

“don’t worry about it”

they were graceful even in exhaustion, it send chills down wills spine

maybe it was a crease they a smile painted on their face or the eyes scrunched in kindness and warmth, he didn’t know but in that moment he fell in love

he would ask a million questions about the equipment and the surgery, then their daily life and work

it brought him peace and reassurance and the conversation seemed to flow naturally for hours

after he left the hospital, he often called them

a confusing wound? he calls. a drug found on the scene? he calls. hannibal is hosting a dinner party? he calls every time

his heart is desperate for closure and they provided it, never asking questions, just being there for him

there was one time when a dog got severe diarrhea and vomited a lot, and will was scared it may be parvo or other dangerous dog disease

he called almost immediately, for help and comfort of his favorite person

after this incident he became paranoid when they weren’t around, so he does everything in his power to keep them at arms length

will means no harm, but he simply can’t imagine his life without them

#hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #nbc hannibal #will graham #will graham x reader #murder husbands #yandere hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal reactions #bedelia du maurier #hannibal preferences #hannibal headcanons #hannibal fluff #hannibal #mads mikkelsen

[monrageo]

Saw a lot of Spider-Steve art so I had to jump in. Most art modernised him but I want my 80s, mallrat, neon lights Spider-Man + I wrote his origin story. *POSES FOUND ON PINTEREST*

Also Steve looks great in the classic red and blue but I wanted him to have his own costume so yellow he shall be. Now onto my headcanons.

In a world where Hawkins is a megapolis a teen boy gets bitten by a radioactive spider in 83’ while visiting Hawkins Lab (Think less abandoned more Oscorp/Alchemax) and so it begins. He starts doing small good things around the city, experimenting with his powers.

But he isn’t thinking about being a superhero or anything close to that (I imagine the drawing with the sweats and goggles is his first “costume”). Then he gets with this amazing girl-Nancy Wheeler.

Life is looking up for Steve he’s got these weird powers that get him to be the basketball and swim team captain. He’s popular, he’s got this amazing girl that inspires him to be better and better.

He looses his popular crowd friends, he wants to be better. He starts thinking about the superhero thing and actually goes through with it. He isn’t shouting it from the rooftops but news is getting around that a guy in spandex is busting criminals- Spider-man/King Spider.

Steve gets cocky, thinks he’s on top of the world, untouchable. Then Will Byers goes missing-that’s a whole separate story. Nancy and John start their investigation. Steve gets jealous etc.

In the end a battle breaks out and Steve is unable to save one person-Barbara Holland. His girlfriend’s best friend. That of course destroys Nancy. She doesn’t know Steve is Spider-man, she seeks comfort in him but things are not the same.

There’s this whole thing with Jonathan, the obvious attraction, the compatibility. But also Steve’s guilt, his self hatred. He realises he was too blindsided by his cockiness. Barb’s death is on his hands. He breaks up with Nancy and solely focuses on being the best Spider-man he can be.

That of course costs him friends etc. but when you’ve been through what he has high school drama just seems pointless… and so King Steve falls from the throne.

I imagine the Nancy story line parallels the Gwen Stacy one in the original comics (without the death and clones), maybe Nancy even blames and hates Spider-man the way Gwen did… that also contributes to the Stancy break-up.

Perhaps Nancy becomes hyper focused on catching this Spider-man so he can be held accountable for Barb’s death.

Anyways now Steddie, I think Eddie would love Spider-man / King Spider he’s some guy with spider powers and bright spandex that helps people, super camp, Eddie would love him.

I think Steve starts noticing Eddie in a new light when his lunch table tirades now also include how awesome spider-man is. This unapologetic support makes the now loser Steve feel like it is all worth it-the stress, the pain, the loneliness-

Tough he of course knows Eddie isn’t talking about him, he’s talking about Spider-man, the hero. Not the former popular guy Steve Harrington.

I have many ideas regarding a Stranger things!Spider-verse and which characters could be what. Maybe Barb’s death was something Lizard-like, but upside down version. Like something from the lap infected her? I like the idea of Steve’s father being involved in the labs, perhaps as a Norman Osborn parallel, without becoming the Goblin though.

The goblin/Norman/Harry Osborn storyline could be reimagined with Tommy perhaps??? Then Venom with Eddie (so perfect) or Billy (a tragic end)??

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #spiderman #spidersona #digital art #monrageo art

[avelera]

Let's Play: What's Wrong with this Sculpture?

Following in the theme of sharing astonishing moments of ancient sculpture pedantry here on Tumblr, based on my brief undergraduate stint as a T.A of ancient art history, I thought I'd share one of my other proudest moments of being an absolutely insufferable know-it-all about ancient sculptures.

In the process, I hope I can also share some of the sort of largely useless (from a practical perspective) information that Tumblr tends to glory in, so buckle up buttercups.

This question was posed to me on a walking tour of the Capitoline Museum in my ancient art history class while I was living abroad. Our professor, a delightfully curmudgeonly Belgian, stopped in front and asked us to figure out why this sculpture is just plain wrong.

I intend to walk you through the process of how I got the right answer and, after gaining my teacher's rare approval, glowed with enough serotonin to power a small nuclear reactor.

So, let's return to the original question: what is wrong with this sculpture?

Because if you are truly eagle-eyed you should be able to spot what very famous sculpture this actually is, before an overly imaginative Frenchman brought it back wrong.

Hint #1: It was incorrectly restored.

Look closely at the the difference of the patina, or color of the stone. It's a bit hard to tell in this photo, but the head was added later. It's a paler white than the core of the torso, which is what we have of the original sculpture.

Hint #2: It was incorrectly restored in the 18th century by a Frenchman (Pierre-Étienne Monnot) who made some, shall we say, creative interpretations of what's going on here.

You can tell it's by an 18th c. Frenchman because the facial features are so delicate. Ancient statues tend to have less narrow and delicate chins and noses. In general, that is a dead giveaway when something is 18th century French vs. Ancient Greek or Roman.

Here's a good example. The first sculpture is 18th c. French, the second is the famous Venus de Milo. Note her blockier chin and less delicate features. So in the future, you can tell these sort of later additions to Greek or Roman sculptures if they added a new head because 17-19th century sculptors in Europe had tools (like finer drill tips) and tastes (beauty standards that favored more delicate men and women) that led to a pronounced difference in the faces.

Hint #3: Check out the anatomy of his lower shoulder. That's another addition, that arm should not be coming straight out of a torso where the muscle, if you look closely, is turned inward.

Seriously, that looks painful.

Hint #4: The sword he's holding up is just total nonsense for the Roman era. I mean, the restoration makes no secret of the fact that this sword is a later addition, but it's also just an absolute nonsense sword with its silly little curved cross guard. This Frenchman literally just made it up.

Here's an ancient sculpture with a sword in it that actually looks right:

From the Ludovisi Gaul, a famous Hellenistic Baroque work of Greek sculpture. Note the much blockier sword though I will admit, it could be a later addition, I don't know for 100% certain, but I'm pretty sure it's the original. Regardless, it fits the sculpture much better and let me add that sword I'm criticizing is completely made up for the sculpture we're talking about and is not there in the original sculpture that was incorrectly restored.

Ok, so those are all the hints.

Look closely at the body of the first sculpture. Cut away the arms that are not connected to the body correctly, the sword that shouldn't be there, the face that was far too delicate. When you separate those later additions out, can you tell me what sculpture that actually is?

Because here is the reveal!

The Discus Thrower, aka, the Discobolus by Myron.

The French restorationist got carried away by his own imagination, saw a twisted torso and thought it could only possibly be a warrior in the midst of twisting around to fend off a blow, not an athlete in the midst of a demonstration of skill. It's a martial, fanciful read that completely misinterpreted the subject.

This is why most restoration today employs a much lighter touch, rather than trying to reattach pieces incorrectly, they tend to just outline where the missing pieces are with a light sketch of an educated guess of what might have actually been there. Faulty restorations like the Capitoline Discobolus is one reason for this modern stylistic principle when it comes to restoration work.

When my professor asked us to identify the correct original sculpture that day on the museum tour, it was the sword that pinged me as wrong first, but zeroing in on the core of the sculpture, the torso, is what revealed the true statue underneath.

This notoriously difficult to please professor was very proud when I blurted out, "It's the Discus Thrower!" and the high-octane serotonin I got from his approval probably could have propelled me into the sun that day, and brought to you Yet Another Moment of Ancient Sculpture Pedantry.

#ancient history #ancient rome #art history #discobolus #there are very few things I'll brag about but naming this sculpture correctly is one of them #in part because there was so little to be gained lol oh well might as well make a tumblr post about it

[lyinginthesnow]

something about childhood in succession.. the way it casts its shadow over the entire narrative, the rotten root of the roy siblings’s pain, all wrapped up in Logan’s power and abuse and love. The opening credits are filled with images of them as kids, beginning every. single. episode. by emphasizing the importance of their childhood: the siblings posing for a photo, playing sports, standing on a manicured lawn, riding an elephant, etc. and then the shots of logan, in which he is always shown from behind, or far away. It is a childhood the viewer never gets to see in any other context, since there are no flashbacks in the show, and therefore as integral as it seems, we know almost nothing about it. What exactly happened? What are the details? We feel its presence, we can tell how it informs their relationships, we can put together the pieces of incomplete and contradictory memories expressed through dialogue, and if we trace their struggles and dysfunction back far enough we know it leads there, to when they were kids. But there is so much empty space we can’t fill in. It’s almost like their childhood is presented in that horror technique where you never get to see the monster clearly straight on. It’s always in darkness, and chopped up into close-ups so that the viewer’s imagination is forced to invent something, however vague, and that is far scarier than it would be if we could actually see it — a monster that is terrifying BECAUSE it’s unknown. The roy siblings’s childhood is a major force behind so much that happens on screen, but what specifically occurred is out of the reach of our understanding. We are shown the monster’s shadow but not the monster, we are shown the frightened faces of the characters as they look at something behind the camera we never get to see, we are shown the running or the fighting or the blood but never the true, bigger-picture, clear details of the horror itself

#sorry succession as horror scratches an itch in my brain and the idea of their childhood makes my brain explode <333 #just!! even showing this shaky blurry footage of mundane childhood moments feels ominous to me— #it’s like. a documentary abt something awful that begins with #a ‘before’ montage of seemingly benign family life #and of course when the videos were taken they seemed meaningless. but now looking back at them we can see they mean so much #like the tragedy was woven into them right from the start #eeeeeeeeeee i need to be sedated i think #roy siblings #connor roy #kendall roy #roman roy #shiv roy #logan roy #succession #ruby (unfortunately) watches succession #succession as horror

[aerahyasashi]

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

“𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐔𝐒”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Gore, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Jjk x Fem! Isekai’d! Goddess Reader.

╰┈➤𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen.

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3. Also posted in Quotev and Wattpad.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6,040 words.

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

╰┈➤𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 & 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

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MYRIAD OF LIGHTS OF multiple colors danced in your eyes as if on orchestra, it was intense, so intense that it seemed like they could blind you.  The overwhelming brightness left you feeling lightheaded and disoriented, while waves of excruciating pain reverberated throughout your entire body. The vertigo you experienced was excruciating and it felt like as if you were going to faint.

It felt as if an immense weight was being forcibly pressed upon you, causing your bones to crack and shatter. The splintered fragments traveled through your veins, intensifying the pain you were already enduring.

In an effort to cope with the pain, your teeth gnawed at your lower lip while your trembling intensified, unable to quell the torment in any way.    

To make matters worse, your regeneration abilities seemed to be failing you in this dire situation, leaving you defenseless against the onslaught of pain.

But Suddenly, as if transported to a parallel dimension, you found yourself immersed in something akin to a vast galaxy. The immense pressure in your lungs threatened to rupture them, and indeed, they gave way—They ruptured, hindering your ability to draw breath.

Although you are a goddses, you were somewhat comparable to a human in certain aspects. Your bodily functions mirrored those of humans, complete with human organs, and other human stuff—Like a demigod, yet you couldn't truly be classified as a demigod. This was due to the fact that demigods, while weaker, lacked the divine powers you possessed. They only had semi-immortality, whereby old age posed no threat, yet this alone was a dreadful fate, as it essentially condemned them to a lifetime of servitude.

Moreover, You are the biological child of Aionarch and Xeranthi, and Aionarch has a strong aversion towards demigods, thus, meaning that If you were a demigod, it is highly likely that aionarch would kill you without any second thought. But funny enough, even though you're not a demigod, he attempted to kill you, which doesn't surprise you at all.

However, it still confuses you why he hadn't killed you yet, though, one possible explanation for this is that aionarch intentionally chose to prolong your suffering, as he derives pleasure from witnessing others in pain, as he is undoubtedly a sadistic motherfucker.

Gradually, you began to feel your internal organs and bones slowly regenerating, although it was a sluggish process compared to before. Previously, you can just get any part of your body get cut off and it will heal instantaneously, as if the act of severing had never occurred. But this time, the regeneration process was markedly longer. Perhaps it lasted around three minutes, and you wondered, did Aionarch tampered your ability to regenerate?

Probably.

Then Suddenly, a realization struck you like a bolt of lightning, causing your mind to shift gears. It was as if a light bulb went off in your head, triggering a series of intense emotions. Your eyes, filled with a mix of fear, anger, and apprehension, snapped wide open, while your heart sank and a shiver tingled down your spine.

Ataraxia.

You were all too aware of the sadistic nature of Aionarch, who took great pleasure in inflicting pain. It dawned on you that he would likely target Ataraxia, , simply because she was your lover and he harbored a deep-seated hatred for anything that deviated from his narrow view of sexuality.

You knew he would not hesitate to subject her to unimaginable torture. However, a slight glimmer of hope emerged as you contemplated Ataraxia's abilities. Being capable of transforming herself into solid ice or hiding discreetly, she might have a chance to evade his clutches. 

Yet, doubts crept in. The unsettling realization dawned on you that Ataraxia might not be aware of the grave situation that you and now her, were entangled in. Was she cognizant of the rebellion you had sparked against Aionarch? Did she even know that your life force was slowly dwindling away? The thought gnawed at you, questioning whether she truly comprehended the excruciating pain you were enduring.

Did she understand that your internal organs were rupturing and your bones were fracturing, even though there were no visible wounds on your battered body?

Did she know how much pain you're experiencing right now because of her?

Ataraxia was definitely a personified peril, a reality you had to confront head-on. You swallowed thickly, feeling your chest tighten at the thought of ataraxia dying by the hands of aionarch playing through your mind like an unwanted nightmare.

Please, be safe, ‘raxia. You sniffled, your teeth gritting together.

You serious vowed to take Aionarch's life if he dared lay a finger on Ataraxia. The thought of your beloved perishing was simply unbearable, leaving you with the resolve that you would rather embrace death yourself than allow her to meet such a fate.

The desire to obliterate aionarch, to snap his neck in two and subject him to brutal torture if he ever dared lay even a single filthy finger of his on your ataraxia, consumed your thoughts, but that would be only on your daydream, as he possessed a superior strength compared to your own, for he was the originator of all existence, while you were only his insignificant and useless daughter that struggled to even  cook a simple soup without burning it, because peculiarly enough, you can set even the water ablaze without any logical explanation.

And all of a sudden, a vibrant streak of skyblue emerged right in front of your eyes. The intense force that had previously immobilized you vanished instantaneously, leaving you free-falling from the heavens.

Unexpectedly and with great velocity, a bird collided directly with your forehead, causing you to emit a sharp hiss and wildly thrash your arms in the air, desperately trying to swat it away in irritation and your pyrokinesis ended up working and it burnt the poor bird down.

And when you finally fell down to the solid ground below, the sheer force generated by your landing left an indelible mark on the land, forming an enormous crater. The impact was so powerful that it caused the very Earth itself to shake uncontrollably, sending shockwaves rippling throughout its surface like a magnitude-intensive earthquake.

Moreover, the intensity of your landing was accompanied by a resounding and thunderous explosion, which echoed through the atmosphere with an almost deafening presence as mist swirled on the place.

Excruciating pain surged relentlessly through every single fiber of your existence. you gritted your teeth with a force that could crack diamonds, whilst your muscles became as taut as tightly wound springs, while, your hands grasped onto the uneven, rough, and jagged terrain beneath you.

Your skin bore the traces of burns, blisters, and cuts adorning your body. Each breath you took through your nose was burdened with the heavy scent of blood and decaying flesh, reminiscent of the odor emanating from a freshly butchered pig, causing waves of nausea to wash over you. 

Although the blood did not carry your personal fragrance, it undeniably belonged to you, beceause it was ichor, and your oxygenated blood was currently trickling down your jawline, leaving a visible trail as it trailed down to your neck, gradually seeping into the delicate necklace adorning your throat while the uneven terrain below you etched bruises onto your already battered skin.

Your brow furrowed in distress as you struggled to catch your breath, feeling the constriction in your chest and the inability of your lungs to fully expand and take air, whilst the pain coursing through your body intensified, relentlessly tormenting you, making each breath a challenging task.

Your eyelids quivered as you tried to focus, but your vision started to fade, gradually becoming hazy and unfocused as a sudden and intense coughing fit took over you.

You instinctively reached up and clutched at your throat, feeling the warmth and stickiness of your vividly ichor blood trickling out. The droplets of your vibrant blood descended towards your body and to the ground, adding to the already stained complexion of your body. The searing sensation in your throat persisted, causing it to constrict even further while you continue to regurgitate blood.

Eventually, as the disturbing episode subsided, you slowly lifted your trembling wrist to your mouth, using it to gently wipe away the remnants of blood that had clung to your lips. In doing so, the vivid sanguine liquid was smudged across your skin.

The combination of smoky, metallic, musty scents, along with the burning aroma of leaves, assaulted your nostrils, which caused you to involuntary cough, although you were relieved to find no blood this time. Slowly, you gingerly lifted your head, taking in your surroundings with a look of cautiousness etched on your face.  

Where were you and what the fuck did just happened?

Utter confusion consumed you, and you couldn't help but question what had just unfolded.

Earlier, you were subjected to an excruciating torment inflicted by unknown forces, likely orchestrated by that bastard aionarch, and then you found yourself hurtling downwards from the celestial realm.

The events that had unfolded left you utterly flabbergasted.

In an attempt to make sense of it all, you furrowed your brows in puzzlement, lifting your head to carefully survey your surroundings, attempting to comprehend your current location.  

As you glanced around, a sense of unfamiliarity struck you, realizing that you were situated within a dense forest. However, a mist encircled your vicinity, reminiscent of a raging sandstorm, and despite the obstructed view, your vision of transparency allowed you to perceive through the swirling haze. 

The scene that unravelled before you was one of destruction and chaos, as fallen trees littered the ground, creating a disarrayed landscape, and Notably, a colossal crater lay beneath you. The forest floor was adorned with a carpet of decaying leaves, some of which were set ablaze, releasing plumes of smoke that engulfed the surroundings, which was probably caused by you.

As you gazed at the trees tumbling down, a feeling of unease washed over you, causing you to wince at the sudden destruction unfolding before your [E/c] eyes. It seemed almost as if the trees were toppling over like bowling pins, crashing to the ground in a chaotic display of you power and the realization dawned on you that perhaps your descent had triggered this chain of events, further deepening the sense of guilt and regret weighing heavy in your stomach. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as you grappled with the consequences of your actions. 

The dryness in your mouth and the lingering metallic sensation of your own blood on your taste buds only added to the discomfort.

Yet, Amidst this pandemonium, there was a sole detail that gripped your attention, and that detail was the fact that you're in the human world.

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𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐉𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐍, 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟎𝟐 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟒

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“Satoru, do you really think you can handle riding the bicycle?” inquired the man with the sleek black hair, his purple eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion as he tightly clutched the plastic bags containing their purchased eggs for breakfast.

Without missing a beat, said latter, Satoru confidently replied, placing a hand on his hip in a sassy manner as he looked at the black haired man cockily,

“Of course I can. Don't you have any faith in me, Suguru?” His ocean blue eyes squinted as he cocked his head to the side inquisitively, a small smirk playing on his succulent lips.

“No, I don't.” Suguru murmured bluntly, his words devoid of any sugarcoating, causing Satoru to whine in disappointment, for this was not the answer he was expecting to get.

Suguru approached the bicycle, asserting himself as the rightful driver instead of Satoru, for he was hesitant to trust Satoru behind the wheel, knowing all too well the recklessness that would ensue if Satoru were given control of the vehicle.

“Don't be like that suguruuuuu”

Satoru whined, sounding like a child who hadn't gotten their desired toy, the desperation was evident in his voice as he grasped the black haired man's wrist and attempting to persuade him to switch roles.

“Please suguru? Just this once,”

Satoru's lips quivered, blue eyes looking at Suguru with desperation, adorning his face with a pitiable expression that tugged at Suguru's heartstrings, prompting a faint sense of pity to stir within him, despite the man’s annoyance.

“I really do know how to ride, I promise!! pretty pleaseeee?” Satoru insisted, employing a childish tone and batting his long lashes while looking up at Suguru with puppy eyes, clasping his hands together in a pleading manner to emphasize his pleading. 

Grudgingly, Suguru let out a frustrated sigh, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he reluctantly gave in. His brows were furrowed, and he couldn't help feeling irritated that he had caved so easily just because of Satoru's pitiful expression.

“Alright,” he grumbled, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he doubted Satoru's driving abilities. 

“..Just this once,” Suguru stated firmly, his lips pressed into a thin line to show that there would be no room for negotiation.

Satoru beamed in delight as he squeezed suguru’s wrist.

“I promise, you won't regret it! You've chosen the right person to trust,” Satoru exclaimed enthusiastically, causing Suguru to let out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the cold air as he observed Satoru's excitement.

“Have I really, though?” Suguru muttered to himself skeptically, before letting out an amused scoff at the whole situation, his lips curling up into a small smile.

Satoru confidently positioned himself on the bike, his eyes sparkling with excitement, a bright beam on his face. Meanwhile, Suguru carefully positioned himself behind Satoru, his grip on the bag of eggs tightening.

And the moment satoru placed his feet on the pedal, suguru knew that this drive is going to be fucked up because satoru was literally driving so fast.

Suguru could feel his heartbeat quicken as Satoru accelerated, their bodies were pressed closely together and Suguru's head was  leaning on Satoru's shoulder as he spoke softly to him in hushed tones.

“You said that you'd be careful,  didn't you?” he murmured, his warm breath tickling the skin of the white-haired man's neck, sending a slight shiver down his spine.  

“No, I didn't, i never said that after all” Satoru countered, feeling a bubble of laughter forming in his throat.

“I simply mentioned that I am capable of handling the bike and this is just a one-time thing,” he added, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. He tightened his grip on the handlebars, urging the bicycle to go faster, prompting Suguru to pull away and let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Please, slow down,” Suguru implored, his grip on the plastic bags tightening.

Passersby gave them strange looks as they navigated through the road and Suguru's eyes widened in alarm when they narrowly missed running over with an elderly woman on the road. He instinctively gripped Satoru's shoulder, urging him to decelerate and suguru almost fell off the bike because of the speed.

“Watch out!” Suguru exclaimed, fearful of harming the innocent pedestrian. 

“Oops! Sorry!”

Satoru laughed and swerved, barely avoiding the elderly woman, causing her to cry out in indignation. Ignoring her protests, Satoru continued pedaling while Suguru hastily apologized for the incident. 

“Satoru! I told you to slow— ah! Slow Down!” 

Suguru felt a sudden jolt in his chest as he saw the lamp post looming dangerously close, almost taking the air out of his lungs. However, Satoru steered them away from the collision just in time.  

“Oh my god, satoru, i told you to be careful!” Suguru moaned in annoyance.

“Lighten up, Suguru, don't be such a buzzkill!” Satoru teased, shaking his head in amusement.

“no, ‘m not. ’m not being a kill joy”

“Yes you are,”

The cool wind rushed through Satoru's hair, adding to the exhilaration he felt as he barely managed to maneuvere through the narrow and winding streets, Suguru regretted that he had let satoru drive, because it was obvious that satoru doesn't have any hesitation or regard for the rules of the road.

Suguru felt the bag slipping from his grip as the force of their speed increased, causing his fingers to tighten around it and his face to contort in annoyance.

“You’re driving too fast, seriously” His heart raced, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

Apprehension painted Suguru's face as his eyes suddenly widened, realizing the danger they were in. However, Satoru remained completely oblivious to his friend's alarm, too consumed by the exhilarating rush of their ride to heed his warnings. 

“Damn it, Satoru, slow down! We're going to crash!”

As the road stretched out before them, a sharp curve emerged in the distance, and Satoru, being the dumbass he is, saw this as an invitation to push the limits of the bike, gripping the handlebars tightly and leaning into the turn, They careened through the bend, their bodies mere inches away from disaster as they narrowly skirted the edge of the road. The bag containing the precious eggs shook violently, teetering dangerously, and for a brief moment, the thought of breakfast seemed inconsequential compared to the imminent peril they faced. 

As they sped along, with satoru ignoring suguru's complaints, the looming figure of the forest ahead seemed to rise up to meet them. However, it was not the familiar sight people would expect.

The forest was an ashen wasteland, littered with fallen trees, charred leaves, and other debris and The serene presence of nature had been replaced by chaos and destruction for some unknown reasons.

Suguru's eyes widened, his jaw clenching slightly. “Satoru... Slow down..” Suguru said for the 500th time, wincing as satoru increased the pace again.

“Damn it, slow down a little would you?” He hissed, because despite the unfolding devastation, Satoru's adrenaline-fueled need for speed hindered his ability to see the danger that lay ahead.

“Slow down! WAIT—” Suguru's eyes widened as he saw that they were going to crash, his Adams apple bobs as his breath hitched in his throat.

“STOP SATORU—!”

And Before they had a chance to react, they found themselves hurtling into the dense foliage, the loud crash of their impact engulfing their surroundings. The bike skidded and twisted, throwing them off with a forceful jolt, causing their bodies to tumble through the underbrush like rag dolls, the bag of eggs swung wildly in the air before ultimately smacking Suguru square on the head, the impact shattering the fragile shells and releasing the yolks in a messy torrent.

Sticky, golden streams of yolk rained down upon Suguru's neat jet-black hair and his bewildered face, causing him to gag and grimace in disgust as the slimy egg white dripped onto his nose and managed to sneak through his tightly pressed lips, leaving an unwelcome taste in his mouth. With furrowed brows and a raised wrist, Suguru attempted to wipe away the offensive yolk and egg white, his frustration palpable in the swift motion.

“I f-fucking told you to slow down, didn't i?”   With a tone filled with bitterness, Suguru directed his words towards Satoru, his voice dripping with venom as he expelled the remaining pieces of the egg from his mouth, clearly displaying his irritation.  

“Remind me never to entrust you with a bike again,” he continued, his tone tinged with irritation directed both at Satoru and himself for allowing the reckless behavior to unfold. He should have known that Satoru's lack of driving knowledge would lead to disaster. And not only had their breakfast plans been ruined, but their current predicament in this peculiar forest had left Suguru feeling thoroughly disgruntled.

Grumbling under his breath, he brushed the dirt off his shirt, only to find that the hair tie he had used to secure his unruly mane had snapped, leaving his once-tamed locks to cascade freely on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Satoru let out an abrupt yelp as he tumbled face-first into the dirt, eliciting a grimace as the taste of earth invaded his mouth.

“EWWWW!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with revulsion, as he stood up and reflexively stuck out his tongue in an attempt to rid himself of the unwelcome earthy flavor.

“Must you always find a way to involve us in mishaps?”  Suguru chided, his voice tight with exasperation as he gingerly plucked the eggshells from his hair and threw it on the ground. His once impeccable appearance was now marred by the yolk that was now slowly dribbling down his neck as he shot an accusing glare at Satoru, who was attempting to extricate a leaf from between his teeth with little success.

“Hey! It's not my fault!”   Satoru protested as he gasped for breath,expelling the leaf from his mouth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he desperately tried to replenish his oxygen supply. He could feel the strain on his lungs from the impact that had taken his breath away.  

“Yes it is,”   Suguru replied with a hint of frustration in his voice, his face contorted in a grimace as he stared closely at the gooey and sticky remains of the broken egg shell.

“Now we're a mess, and our breakfast has gone up in smoke,” Suguru grumbled, his tone heavy with dissatisfaction.

“And on top of that, we're currently in this weird forest.” Suguru harrumphed, his eyes darting around at the scene of destruction that surrounded them.

“Where on earth have you brought us, Satoru?”

His purple hued eyes narrowed as he carefully observed their surroundings, feeling a sense of unease as his throat constricts slightly, his jaw setting tight and his eyebrows drew together with concern, trying to make sense of their current situation. 

“Uhhh...”   Satoru blinked, unsure of how to respond. He gazed around, realizing that the surroundings were completely unfamiliar to him. The latter attempted to recall any information that could explain his current situation yet he found his mind oddly blank.

“I dunno, maybe a Forrest or a desert?”

Satoru said dumbly.

Suguru ignored satoru’s obtuse suggestion of them being in a desert, responding with a disapproving glare and even gesturing with his middle finger to show his frustration. Feeling frustrated, Suguru took a deep breath and centered his attention on examining the unusual environment they were in.

While navigating through the landscape, Suguru observed that it was far from being a typical forest. The terrain reminded him of the desolate and eerie settings often depicted in post-apocalyptic zombie apocalypse movies. Proceeding with caution, he remained vigilant as he surveyed his surroundings, making sure to avoid tripping over the discarded and broken bicycle. 

Despite the annoyance of having an egg cracked over his head, with the yolk and egg white trickling down his face before, Suguru was more focused on knowing their current location. 

“This isn't a normal forrest, not at all,” Suguru mumbled.

“No shit, Sherlock. Who said that this was a normal forest?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

Satoru scoffed at that and scanned the area, acknowledging the strange isolation of the place and doubting the existence of another forest like this on the way to their school. Confident in his knowledge of the route to their dorm, he dismissed the possibility of mistakenly venturing into this peculiar location, because perhaps, this was the same Forrest that had the shortcut to their school.

Just as Satoru was lost in contemplation, Suguru's voice broke his reverie, prompting him to refocus on their current predicament.  

“Satoru,”

“What?” the white haired man replied, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Look at this,”

Suguru's eyes were focused intently on a massive bush engulfed in flames as he gestured towards it. The size of the bush was quite substantial, with what appeared to be feathers decorating its foliage. Satoru, following Suguru's pointed finger, squinted slightly as he too directed his gaze towards the blazing bush before his eyes widened for a split second.

“What the hell is that?” Satoru whispered.

“Why is that bush orange and red?”

“I don't know either,”

Suguru cautiously approached the bush, his mind racing with thoughts of a possible cursed spirit lurking within its depths. His lips were tightly pressed in contemplation, his senses heightened as he tried to discern any signs of cursed energy emanating from the mysterious foliage. Despite his keen perception, Suguru could not detect any cursed presence, only a lingering sense of someone's invisible presence. 

 “Do you think that there’s a cursed spirit there?”

“No,” responded Satoru, his expression growing somber as he joined Suguru near the very huge burning bush. His brows furrowed slightly, betraying the gravity of the situation at hand. 

“I don't sense any cursed energy nor do my six eyes reveal any hidden truths,” Satoru remarked, after all, with his extrasensory perception, he possessed the unique gift of discerning the intricacies of cursed energy flows and reading cursed techniques with unparalleled accuracy, and he couldn’t sense any cursed energy om that ‘bush’.

“Do you?” Satoru asked.

“No,” Suguru admitted, taking a cautious step closer to the imposing burning bush or whatever that stood before them. He was intrigued by the enigma that lay before them, unsure of what secrets it held within its vibrant exterior. 

Before Suguru could walk closer to it, Satoru intervened, seizing his hand and forcibly pulling him away from the bush. His eyes narrowed in focus as he studied the object intently, a sense of unease creeping over him.

“That's not a bush,” Satoru declared the obvious that they failed to notice before.

“Nor is it a cursed spirit lurking in the shadows.” He gestured towards the bush, drawing Suguru's attention to its subtle movements.

Initially, Satoru assumed that the object in question was simply a regular bush that had been surrounded by lava or some other substance, even though logically that would not be possible. However, he had a strong conviction that the entity was actually alive, as he observed subtle movements in its form that resembled the act of breathing.

“Look closely, Suguru. It's breathing,”

“I don't know what the hell that thing is, but it's definitely dangerous.”

Releasing Suguru's hand, satoru folded his arms tightly across his chest, keeping a vigilant watch on the subtle gestures of the unfamiliar being.  

Suguru stood frozen in place, his mind working overtime to decipher Satoru's words. It took a few moments for his comprehension to catch up with his thoughts and he realized that satoru was right, it's not a bush.

Because after all, why on earth would a bush burn and not turn into ashes? Suguru couldn't help but wonder if he's getting just as dumb as satoru.

As he peered closer, he noticed the steady rhythm of the creature's breathing. The enormity of the beast and the intense aura it emitted filled him with an unshakable sense of intrigue.    

Suguru's gaze locked onto it and his breath hitched as he saw something—a stunning display of colorful feathers in shades of crimson, orange, and even cerulean was in it.

It was at that moment he identified the unmistakable shape of wings stretching out. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning—this wasn't just a simple bush. It was a living creature, concealed within the fiery blaze.    

Phoenix.

A fucking phoenix was present in front of them, resting, the same bird that is known for its ability to be reborn from its own ashes after burning itself on a funeral pyre, allowing it to live another life cycle with renewed youth, was Infront of them.

“It's a phoenix,” Suguru whispered, his voice barely audible as his breath caught in his throat. The furrow between his brows deepened, a mix of astonishment and understanding clouding his features. The legendary phoenix, a creature of myth and legend, was materializing right before their eyes. Despite being obscured by the flames.

Its avian form was evident in the way the fire danced along its plumage. The brightly colored feathers in shades of red, orange, and the dazzling cerulean radiated a vivid aura around the creature.

“I thought that they were already extinct and existed only in mythology...” Suguru mumbled to himself, his brows knitting together in confusion, As far as he knew, phoenixes were simply mythical creatures and did not actually exist. So, why in the world was there a phoenix here? 

Realizing the potential danger of the situation, Suguru knew that he needed to inform the higher ups about the presence of the mythical bird. 

“Satoru,” Suguru called out, turning to look at Satoru with a grave expression on his face. 

“We should not disturb it and instead report this to—”  Suguru's words trailed off as he was taken aback by the sight of Satoru picking up a large rock, preparing to hurl it at the slumbering phoenix. 

“Satoru, NO!”

Suguru exclaimed as he made a move to intervene, but it was already too late. The rock was hurtling towards the phoenix, and Suguru winced as it made contact, shattering upon impact on the bird's figure.

His lips slightly parted as he swallowed thickly, the movement of his Adam's apple noticeable. A vein throbbed on his neck as his heart began to race, the pounding sound echoing in his chest.

“...are you attempting to get us incinerated and friend by an angry bird?” Suguru questioned with a poker face despite panicking internally while casting a wary gaze at Satoru, who blinked in response.    

“Well—” Satoru began to explain, but his words were cut short by a sudden feminine voice, tinged with a hint of hoarseness as if the speaker had just woken up.    

“Urgh...was that?”

inquired the voice, causing Satoru's already pale complexion to go even more ghostly, while Suguru froze in place, his mouth hanging open in shock like a fish out of water. 

“...what did I just hear...” Suguru muttered, feeling his heart race in his chest as he realized that the voice belonged to the phoenix, probably.

“Su..su..suguru..” sputtered Satoru, struggling to find the right words as he pointed a trembling finger at the phoenix, which began to awaken.    

Suguru turned towards Satoru, a look of bewilderment clouding his features, his breathing becoming labored as shock set in.

“Satoru,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Suguru! It spoke! It actually spoke! The phoenix fucking talked!” Satoru screamed like a girl in disbelief, his voice reaching a high pitch as he processed the astonishing event, for he was taken aback and bewildered by the unexpected event of a phoenix speaking.

The idea of needing therapy after such a surreal experience seemed like a possibility to him. He had encountered cursed spirits that can speak before, but a phoenix that lacked cursed energy and speaking was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

It made him question if this was how the first person to hear a parrot speak felt.

The series of bizarre events that had led to this moment added to Satoru's sense of disbelief and horror. First, their unexpected crash landing in the strange forest, then accidentally ingesting dirt and having a leaf stuck in his teeth, and now, a phoenix was speaking???

Terrifying.

Mortifying.

Petrifying.

Horrifying.

Suddenly, Satoru felt suguru’s hand firmly encircle his waist, before lifting him effortlessly into the air. Satoru was so flabbergasted by the unexpected turn of events that he couldn't even voice a protest, especially after witnessing the phoenix speaking before his eyes.

Suguru then hoisted Satoru onto his shoulders in a manner reminiscent of carrying a sack of potatoes, swiftly and decisively moving the mortified man away from the unfolding scene.    

“We need to report this to the higher ups,” Suguru murmured urgently. Suguru was aware that he and Satoru had the ability to fight the phoenix easily in battle, because they are the strongest after all. but what he was concerned about was the potential consequences. He didn’t want to attract the attention of the higher-ups and face their stupid scoldings.

The discovery of a phoenix had just been made, and Suguru knew that the higher-ups would be fascinated by such a rare and powerful creature. Thus, this meant that they couldn't simply eliminate the phoenix without facing severe repercussions. 

Raising one hand while holding Satoru with the other, Suguru conjured a portal-like opening, from which his cursed spirits started to emerge.

Satoru on the other hand, Despite his lack of knowledge and mastery of his cursed technique, raised two of his fingers to attempt to use it.

“Cursed Technique Reversal: Red.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏.[Name] has already lost her immortality, thus meaning that after her descent to the jjk world, she's not an immortal anymore, meaning that she can die now.

𝟎𝟎𝟐.It also means that her achilles’ heel is gone too, so she was basically vulnerable. (Also, her high pain tolerance is now gone too cause she's not an immortal anymore teehee)

𝟎𝟎𝟑.[Name] still has some of her powers like her pyrokinesis and shapeshifting, but she definitely doesn't have her regeneration ability now. Also, she decided to shapeshift into a phoenix for a reason!

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏.Satoru and Suguru are still second years in this, meaning that Yu and kento is still on first year!!

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Suguru and Satoru would’ve just assumed that the reader is a weird bush if she didn’t spoke or moved.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. At first, Suguru and Satoru thought it was a ghost since technically, the place where the reader fell in is a suicide Forrest.

𝟎𝟎𝟒. Satoru was fascinated and definitely has an idea on what to do to [Name].

🔪 || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐒atoru wants to kill you, like literally, because he wants to eat you. He thinks that he'll get stronger if he eats you, Though, he's still wondering on how to cook you.

╰┈➤ 𝟐% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐%)

—𝐒uguru is intrigued by you, and he was planning on consuming you, just like satoru (even though you're not a cursed spirit) because he thinks that you're pretty powerful and all. Though, he has a lingering suspicion, that you might be one of yaga's creations for two reasons, one phoenixes only exists in mythologies and they were also said to be extinct too in mythologies, and two, you can speak.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Satoru still doesn't know how to use red, cause yk, he's still a teen in here and hasn't awakened yet, meaning that it might not work, so meaning that [Name] has a chance of being safe. But Suguru is still there, so it's still dangerous.

I used the manga version of suguru's eye color because why not? Purple eyes suits him.

#𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐇’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere geto #yandere suguru geto #yandere anime #yandere #yandere jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere sukuna #yandere toji #yandere choso #yandere shoko #yandere yuki tsukumo #yandere nanami

[fear-is-truth]

LOVING HIM WAS NEVER ENOUGH ༄

─ kai anderson x gn!reader

tags: toxic relationship. codependency. abuse. mention of murder. kai is a warning himself

'𝐶𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼'𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑗𝑎𝑧𝑧 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟…

song: ULTRAVIOLENCE ⨾⁩ masterlist • taglist ࿐

a/n: not proofread very thoroughly due to school stuff.. plus english isn’t my first language sorry if there’s any mistakes!!

❦

ever since his encounter with pastor Charles, Kai saw the world through tainted lenses, his perception coloured by disgust as he regarded its occupants as lesser beings—pawns to be manipulated and discarded.

while Kai reveled in the fear and submission of his followers, you were the one soul he couldn't bring himself to despise. which was strange, considering that his primary emotions consisted of hatred and spite.

not you, though. you were a living paradox in his existence. the moment he laid eyes on you, Kai knew you were special. destined for greatness, just like him. yes, you had your flaws and vulnerabilities just like everyone else, but for once, his first thoughts weren't about how to exploit them to his advantage (he still did, just to a lesser extent).

you were his favorite project to work on— each post-meeting pinky power session serving as an opportunity to slowly chisel away at the layers of your soul. painstakingly, he hollowed you out, creating a space within you to pour himself in. Kai did all of these with such a fervour that bordered on obsession, for he was that desperate to make you his.

even though the act itself was tainted by his own selfish motives, Kai loved you. in his own toxic. fucked-up way, he truly loved you. each manipulation, each lie was a misguided attempt to shape you into the person he believed you should be, the person you deserved to be—

his equal.

and you did not disappoint him in the slightest. when you first crossed paths—orchestrated by Kai’s careful planning after months of observation, you were weak, timid. but now, you emerged from the ashes of your former self, reborn. you could point a gun at someone’s face and pull the trigger without batting an eye, the only thought crossing your mind as blood splattered across your cheek was being how divine ruler would be pleased that you completed the mission.

you were his creation; his magnum opus. and to Kai, there was nothing more beautiful than that.

❦

shy islands of desire began to emerge. morally destitute, Kai was spiritually ravenous, he craved to be drowned in your adoring gaze, voracious for every ounce of attention you were willing to bestow upon him. it wasn't the superficial adulation of his other followers that he sought. no, it was the way your fingers gently carded through his hair, the warmth of your touch searing into his skin, the way your laughter echoed in the shadowy crevices of his heart where light rarely touched.

he was addicted to you like he was to adderall, consuming you greedily, the bitter taste lingering on the tip of his tongue. in his mind, his attachment to you would be his ultimate downfall. you became a liability, a distraction from his path to greatness, and he couldn't afford to be tethered to anything that might pose a threat to his cause. Kai understood all too well the age-old adage— “since love and fear can hardly coexist, it is far safer to be feared than loved.”

Kai didn't need anyone, least of all you.

the tenderness he once bestowed upon you was replaced with a cold aloofness that left you feeling like a kicked puppy, bewildered by his sudden cruelty.

at times he would lash out, the sharp sting of his palm leaving you gasping for breath as you stumbled backward. even as you lay on the ground, the taste of blood on your lips and tears staining your cheeks, there was a perverse desire for more. more pain, more punishment, more of him. in those moments of brutality, it felt as though the violence itself was a form of intimacy, making you feel something, anything, even if it hurt.

panic attacks have become mere flutterings in your chest, mistaken for the butterflies of excitement that accompanied his touch, leaving you trembling with anticipation instead of justified dread.

❦

Kai wasn’t easy to like, much less to love. he was as thorny as a rose, beautiful yet unapproachable. every interaction with him left you bleeding with a million little stab wounds.

his touch was tender but cruel, always leaving you with bruises that bloomed across your skin like dark flowers. you wore them like badges of honour, some sort of sick proof that something existed between you. at times, when Kai was plotting away in the basement and you were left all alone, you traced the outlines of the scars with trembling fingers, pressing your lips against the tender flesh to feel the ghost of his touch. imagining that he was with you, his breath hot against your neck, his hands gentle yet possessive as they roamed your body.

“To live is to suffer, to suffer is to find meaning in that suffering,”

Kai was the cause of your suffering, the architect of your pain. his actions leaving behind an endless trail of tears and heartache in its wake.

but to you, Kai was also your meaning, the driving force behind every breath you took and every beat of your heart.

yet somehow, in some tragic, catastrophically romantic way, the two of you fit together.

as his lips sought yours, hungry and desperate, you surrendered yourself to him completely and knowing that for Kai, you'd ruin yourself a million times over.

for him, you'd be a martyr to his cause, bearing his sins upon your shoulders in the hopes of earning his affection. you’d be the sacrificial lamb at the altar of his ambitions, offering up pieces of yourself in exchange for his love.

❦

Kai resented the hold you have over him, the way you could make his insides go all soft and warm with just a smile. it grated against his pride and his need to be in control at all times.

and yet, he could never bring himself to give you up completely, even when he knew he should. every time he tried to wean you off, the withdrawal symptoms of your absence left him trembling for another hit.

the addiction ran too deep.

each night began with him, standing in front of your bedroom door and cursing himself for his lack of restraint, for allowing his feelings for you to cloud his judgment.

each night ended the same way, the two of you tangled in each other's arms, sweat-dampened skin pressed together as he curled behind you, pinky fingers linked. soft kisses gracing your shoulder.

as morning dawned, you would wake to find yourself alone in bed, the emptiness smothering you like a fog. it didn’t matter, because you knew he’d be back.

you both pretended that Kai was the one in control, the way he'd prefer it to be.

but in truth, it was you who held the reigns.

TAGLIST @acidbrainstorm @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @ellaaaaa44 @newwavesylviaplath @warrenpikasgirlfriend @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @night-prowler666 @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @lak3cityqui3tpills @coentinim @doll3tt33 @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @babydollxxblood @stveharringtn @violet1737 @sukirosiac @slutforgarlogan @90sbr1descake // divider by @/v6que

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

#american horror story #ahs #kai anderson #evan peters #ahs cult #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x y/n #james patrick march #tate langdon #kit walker #tate langdon x y/n #kyle spencer #kit walker x y/n #tate langdon x reader #jimmy darling #kit walker x reader #jpm x reader #ahs kai #ahs fandom #ahs season 7 #kai anderson smut #evan peters x reader

[chibipeachu]

Melancholy Memories | Aleksander. M

wc: 1.4k

pairing: Aleksander morozova X Fem!Reader

navi ¦ part one

It was a new kind of pain to stand there as the servants laid you into a glass coffin, the king had request it, to help healers study your cause of death.

Aleksander stood beside the king and queen, his eyes not moving from your peaceful body, they had placed a white face scarf over your mouth to hide the rose from the public eye.

Genya caught Aleksander’s attention as they all waited for the announcer to tell ravka about your death. She wiped her nose, trying to hold back her tears as fedyor and ivan were apart of the servants who helped carry your coffin to the healers study. 

Aleksander had blanked out most of the announcement, still in shock of your sudden death. 

Hours before you both had been laughing at old memories the next, there he was watching as his closest grisha rest your coffin.

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

Aleksander sighed as he glanced up at the doorway, it still hurt to walk past those doors each day. With a deep sigh he opened the door. Faint whiff of your perfume washed over him as he walked in.

He held his breath as he walked towards the loveseat you had placed in your shared bedroom, he sat down and looked around the room, taking in the last remaining bit of your presence.

Tears fell from his eyes, aleksander quickly placed his head in his head, his mind cruelly reminding him of your past memories together.

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

“Is it too late to tell you that i’ve never properly ridden a horse before?” Aleksander chuckled at your words. 

“Yes, it is a bit late, but luckily for you, the saints favor you today meaning, you have a perfect guide..” He motions towards himself. “I don’t see ivan or fedyor anywhere..” You playfully looked around the palace grounds. 

He let out a playful scoff. “Alright let’s move it!” You both laugh as aleksander quickly helped you get on the horse, getting on behind you. “What would happen if I fell off right now?” You teased as aleksander had the horse start to trot lightly around the grass. 

“Be sent to the healers for weeks.” He quickly tightened his hold on your waist.

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

Aleksander smiled from his side of your bed as you got ready for the day, from brushing your hair to buttoning up your kefta. 

“Zlatan would be shocked if he knew his enemy was really just a lazy man in bed..” You smiled at your husband through your vanity mirror.

“Well i’m sure zlatan doesn’t have this sight every morning..” You smiled and stood up from your vanity chair and walked to your loveseat and gently plopped down and posed for your husband.

“Perhaps I could distract zlatan while you attack?” Aleksander scoffed and got up from the bed and walked over to the loveseat. “Zlatan would freeze at the sight of a lady like yourself..” He gently kissed your hands, looking up at you as he kissed your wedding ring, making you giggle.

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

As aleksander sat, overwhelmed by your memories, he noticed a old journal tossed onto the small table in front of the loveseat. He sighed and scooted to the edge of the seat and grabbed the journal.

He flipped through the journal, he quickly paused as he noticed amongst the hundreds of pages only one page had been folded over to be a bookmark. 

He unfolded the page and read the entry. 

“A “golden guest” is what their calling her. Genya told me she’s a squaller and a powerful one at that, Aleksander had her in my old room for now, said she should have the best for a new guest..” 

Aleksander quickly moved to the next paper. 

“It seems i’ve somehow have developed a illness, it’s weird, being grisha and ill? Is it possible? I guess so, saints know how bad it hurts to breath as of late, aleksander has been busy, his attention is too focused on zoya to noticed. Queen tatiana had requested for me to join her and the other ladies to a lunch, of course i accepted before she threw a fit, hopefully it’s not totally boring this time…my illness seems to have gotten worse these past weeks, i feel very tired and achy? If that’s the right word even..”

“The lunch with the queen and her ladies were lovely, lady clarisse had taken her child with, cute little thing, we were joint at the hip for most of the lunch. Perhaps one day me and aleksander’s children will be as joyful and cute.”

As Aleksander sighed and went to place the journal beside him, too overwhelmed by his emotions a page fell from the journal, earning his attention.

“Hanahaki Disease | Death do you part.”

It’s a disease people suffer from when they experience unrequited love. The name Hanahaki derives from two shu words: ‘Hana’ meaning ‘flower’ and ‘hakimasu’ meaning ‘to throw up.’ So, when you put the two words together, you get the main symptom of Hanahaki disease, that is, coughing up flower petals. 

As of recently there seems to be incurable, may the effected be received peacefully to the saints. 

Aleksander’s throat closed as his eyes scanned over the page over and over again; his love’s death had been his fault, not some random curse but himself..

He shakily grabbed the journal and walked to the healer’s study where the king was observing the healer’s and your case. 

Aleksander quickly stormed in and slammed the journal on the table, making some of the healers tense up.

“I have the answers you’ve been looking for, now you may now peacefully rest my wife’s body.” Aleksander demanded as his eyes held tears welted up.

“What?” King pyotr questioned, opening the journal and read over the entry and sighed before looking up at the healer’s.

“Ignore general kirigan and continue.” The healers quickly got back to examining your body. Aleksander scoffed and looked at the king.

“You wanted to find the source and it’s there now let her rest!” Aleksander pointed to the journal, now in king pyotr’s hand. “It’s the cause yes but we could finally be a step ahead of shu han for a cure! We can’t let this go, just cause you hate seeing your failed marriage attempt!” The king sighed, turning back to the healers, aleksander quickly left the room.

He watched as his feet moved on their own, back to your room.

Feeling numb, he walked to the bed and laid on the side where you had demanded he slept.

The soft smell of you lulled him to a peaceful sleep.

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

Children’s laugher made aleksander open his eyes, he quickly hissed and lifted a hand to hide form the bright sun. 

“Papa’s awake!” A tiny voice squealed, a quick flash of raven hair flew past him and towards the connected bathroom, where a familiar chuckle came from.

“That’s cause you woke him silly girl!” 

Aleksander quickly sat up and rushed to the bathroom and felt his heart freeze at the sight. 

There you were, your hair messy as you placed the little girl into the tub of bubbles. “I’m sorry she woke you up lapushka, told her she had to get in the bath..” You sighed before walking over to aleksander with a soft smile on your face.

“You’re so beautiful.” Aleksander whispered out as he held your face in his palm, your skin slightly warm. 

“As are you!” You quickly kissed him before pulling back and tapping him on his chest. “Now go get the other little ones..” As aleksander went to look behind him, the room doors opened to reveal three younger boys smiling at him.

“I beat ivan today papa!” Aleksander took note of the kid’s kefta, he was a tidemaker. “Good job!” You cheered from the bathroom.

“Only cause he felt bad you fell and hit your head yesterday.” the second boy, an inferni smirked while walking past aleksander and right towards yours and aleksander’s bed.

“Papa? Are you alright?” The oldest of the three questioned, making aleksander look at his kefta and smile, he was a shadow summer as well.

“He was woken up by your sister, so he’s a bit tired from you lot.” You laughed, walking over ot aleksander and raising your hand to cup his face.

“Go back to sleep lapushka, i got it.” You smiled as aleksander melted into your hand

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

Aleksander opened his eyes and looked around the room. He sighed as he stared at the ceiling.

Maybe in a different lifetime, you both would find each other and be happily married with children…

#the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x you #general kirigan x you #aleksander morozova x you #shadow and bone x reader

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Double Lives｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x villain!plus size reader

Batman lets a villain go when she startles him

Warnings: reader’s villain name is Styx, choking, fighting, stolen goods, reader and Bruce don’t know each other’s secret identities, implied smut, nudity, slight smut, fluff, sassy Alfred

WC: 1.2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Oh c’mon Batsy, I thought you could fight better than that.” You teased, yet again dancing away from the vigilante who was getting increasingly aggravated with your fight. He might have been stronger and had far more experience but you were flexible and a hell of a lot faster than him.

“You won’t win this Styx. Those artefacts are not yours to take.” His fist connected to the wall you ducked behind, narrowly missing your jaw. You leg swept out in a powerful kick to his broad chest, forcing the Batman back a few feet. He recovered quickly.

“They did not belong to the museum either.” You snapped back as you leapt onto the ledge of the roof, eyeing the fire escape on the otherwise of the alley. You ducked down and grabbed the bag of ancient art just in time for his huge arm to wind around your thick waist and pull you back down.

You stumbled, dropping the bag as you were forced onto your knees. The white eyes of his cowl were fixated on you, no longer focused on the stolen goods. Your ribs screamed with pain as you rolled away and sprang back up. Your smile was beginning to waver beneath your half mask but you would not let him beat you. 

“Give up now and I won’t turn you over to GCPD.” You tried to feign going to the right but he easily predicted the move.

The breath was knocked from your lungs as his gloved hand wrapped around your throat and shoved you into the wall behind you. He loomed over you, all shadows and sweat. You just couldn’t help it.

“Harder.” You moaned and everything stopped.

“What?” That wasn’t the voice of Batman, it was the voice of a very confused (and slightly turned on) man. You laid your own gloved hand over his own, forcing his fingers to curl against your throat in an even tighter grip.

“I won’t break, B. Harder.” Your other hand grabbed at his utility belt and pulled his slim hips into your thick ones, letting him feel the heat of your body through the thin layer of your suit. His jaw clenched and teasingly tightened his grip on your neck, forcing another sultry moan from your lips.

Batman dipped down and seemed to be going in for a kiss but quickly threw himself back as he returned to his senses. “Just- just go.” He cleared his throat. “But this is the only time.”

“I’m sure it will be.” You teased back with a smirk. You skipped over to him and laid a wet kiss to the strong line of his jaw, relishing in the feel of his stubble against your lips for a brief moment before you twirled away. “Call me, batsy.”

You cooed and with your bag, you disappeared over the edge, vanishing into the dark streets of Gotham, leaving him behind to deal with his suddenly too-tight pants and a deep sense of conflicting feelings.

“You let her go?” Alfred’s voice echoed into his ear, shaking him from the daydreams he was quickly spiralling into. Bruce blushed under his cowl and turned back in the direction of the Batmobile.

“She didn’t pose a threat.” The older man hummed through the ear piece. Bruce’s flush deepened. “She’s just doing what she thought was right.”

“She was certainly doing something, I doubt if it was right.” Alfred quipped. Bruce ignored him, simply taking in a deep breath and willing himself to calm down (his suit did little to hide his issue) as he decided to call it a night. 

“I’m coming back to the cave.”

“Perhaps I can call Miss Y/N, I’m sure she could help with your dilemma.” He could practically hear the butler’s smirk over the radio crackle. At the mention of his almost girlfriend’s name, Bruce tensed.

He let Alfred keep talking as he slipped into the tank-like car and quickly started it up. “Oh would you look at that, she’s at the front door. It seems like she could use your help as well.” 

“Alfred.” He growled but put his foot down anyway, forcing the car to speed up.

“See you soon Master Bruce.” Alfred teased before the line went dead and Bruce was left along with his thoughts and his rapidly returning lust. You and Styx merged together in his mind- he wondered if you would let him control you like he did with her tonight.

It might give him away, considering you thought he was just Bruce Wayne and not the Batman. But was he willing to risk it? He knew his answer as he stepped into the cave, quickly shedding his suit as he ran to the elevator that would bring him up to the manor.

He was just pulling on a tight black t-shirt when he heard your voice in the hallway. “Is he just in the office?” His cocked throbbed in his sweatpants as you drew closer (and if he was in more of a right mind he would’ve noticed that this wasn’t the first time he was hearing your voice tonight despite not calling you today).

“Yes ma’am. Go right on in.” He barely had enough time to open his laptop before the door slammed open and you stood in the threshold, a smug-looking Alfred a few steps behind you.

Bruce looked especially delectable right now, his muscles bulged beneath his shirt and the outline of his cock in the light grey fabric was making your mind go fuzzy. You both toed the line of friendship and a relationship- flirting and touching each other constantly but neither of you were bold enough to make the first move but that was about to change.

Batman had effectively ruined your tight catsuit (like he always did) and tonight was the last straw. You needed two get fucked and if the Dark Knight wouldn’t do it then you would finally conquer Gotham’s playboy.

You stepped into the room, shutting the door behind you as you kept your eyes locked onto the huge man. “Take off your clothes.” Bruce blinked and suddenly your shirt was off and you were pulling your leggings down your plump legs.

He was hypnotised by the large curves of your body, overwhelmed by your beauty. You were Venus and he wanted to worship every inch of you. “Whatever you want.” He purred, pulling off his own shirt as he rounded the desk.

You reclined on the couch in the corner of the room, kicking your panties off. “Just fuck me already.” You snarled and spread your legs, finally letting Bruce see the heaven between your thighs. He groaned under his breath.

“Fuck.” He shucked his sweats down his muscular legs and practically dove on top of you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. Your teeth clacked together as he pulled your legs over his slim hips, letting his cock rest against the curls on your mound.

Your fingers curled around his wrist, tugging it from where his hand was planted by your head, and guided it to your throat. Unconsciously, he gripped your neck loosely, unwilling to hurt you.

“Harder B, I won’t break.” Deja-vu hit him square in the chest but he pushed it away. He squeezed and you moaned. He ignored the part of his brain that told him the truth, he would deal with that when you were thoroughly fucked out and pliable.

“You won’t win against me.” Your breath hitched and you tugged him closer.

“Then don’t let me get away.” You mewled against his lips. And you both knew he had no intention of ever doing that.

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[angelltheninth]

I could ask for a little punishment from vile schoenheit to his disobedient and somewhat playful mc (fem if possible) who normally makes vil laugh with her nonsense but now mc crossed the line and deserves a lesson "( – ⌓ – )

I have the perfect idea for this one actually.

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, power play, facial, breast cumshit, masturbation, denial, cum eating, taking orders, hair-pulling (for Reader), punishment

A/N: This is is such a smug bastard and he's always so extra about it too but I can't help but love him for it.

Denial. That was the punishment he chose for you. You had gone too far this time. Embarrassing him like that. What were you thinking, taking a picture of him early in the morning, so messy and unruly, and showing it off like it was a cute pet?

Had you asked for a morning picture he would gladly pose for one. For a thousand. But you didn't. You denied him the pleasure of being a beautiful model for you. Now he's denying you your pleasure.

Made to sit still and watch him jerk off right in front of you, his cock just a bit out of your reach, his hand holding your head firmly in place so you don't get any ideas of disobeying him.

"You could have had this." He barks at you, his cock throbbing in his grip, "Even me doing this for you is too little of a punishment. You shouldn't even get to look at me right now. I could have just sent a picture after I was done." His hand sped up, hips shaking, but his eyes remained firm, pinning you to your spot.

You were already covered in his cum, your thighs, your stomach, your breasts. Unable to move, unable to taste it. All you were allowed to do was to sit still on your knees and watch and beg.

"Here comes another one. You ready? I'll need a good spot for this cumshot. A perfect target for it." He smirked when he saw your eyes sparkle with hope. "Know what it is?"

"My... my pussy?" It quivered just from the words alone. It was covered with cum from the outside but this whole time it's been empty and neglected. No fingers, no tongue, no toy, no cock to ease the burning pain. Nothing at all. "I want your cock there. Plea-" You let out a hiss when the pain spread through your scalp from Vil's tight hold.

"Your pussy?" He chuckled, "Right now it's not worthy of my cum. But I think your mouth needs some. You've been running it all day, talking about that picture you took. Its about time I teach it a lesson. Open. Up."

You pressed your lips and thighs together at the same time, hoping to entice him, charm him. No chance of that, he was the king of charm.

"My cum is getting in there one way or another sweetheart. Don't make me do it the hard way. Now open up." His growling tone send shivers down your spine, his eyes his eyes dangerously wide. As soon as you opened your mouth you choked from the force at which he shoved his cock into your mouth. "Swallow. You better swallow you hear me."

Loud and clear.

Your soft lips rounded around his cock, accepting the harsh punishment in hopes that your poor cunt might get punished in the same way soon after. It only took a few fast pumps until he had his cock shooting hot, thick, creamy cum into your mouth, your head pinned still until he was done.

"Good girl. That's how I like you. Mm, that wasn't so hard was it?" He pulled out slowly, "Just when I think you can't get any more beautiful." You smiled up at him, your lips and chin covered in his cum, evidence of his punishment, and his love.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit smut #vil x reader #vil x you #vil smut #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland smut #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst smut #twst x you #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x female reader #twst x female reader

[txttletale]

every girl (who is not already paired with at least one positive identical twin) has a distinct antigirl hidden somewhere else in the world, born at the same time from decomposers in the soil; most people do not know anything about this. despite her feral upbringing, the antigirl blends in well enough in a crowd, but being of inverted ordinality, she is incapable of forming strong social bonds and does not need food or air to live. her only goal in life is to hunt down her corresponding girl and touch her, erasing them both from the record of memory in a searing blaze of art and music and nausea. it is disputed whether this interaction is lesbian in nature, as the severe psychic detritus of the annihilation renders direct observation impossible; although competing theories exist, the consensus of the girlologist community is that no sapphic phenomena could survive in the inhospitably pained conditions following girl-antigirl contact, and if any somehow did, they would be hopelessly problematic. whenever a girl outlives her antigirl, the world as a whole gets very slightly tangibly nicer; whenever an antigirl outlives her girl, the world as a whole gets very slightly tangibly worse. it is estimated that about 22% of girls outlive their antigirls, plus or minus 4%. this is ignoring the proportion of girl-antigirl pairs who ultimately annihilate; this number is unknown, but is generally assumed to be so small as to be statistically trivial.

there is no such thing as an antiboy (outside of theoretical lab conditions). the equivalent phenomenon for boys is the universal boy field that suffuses all boys and stores all information about every single thing that every boy has ever done or experienced. this information is very rarely accessible in any useful form, but does literally exist and can be demonstrated through such phenomena as the testogram (a device that allows men to perceive ghosts of one another's emissions) and the multiboy (a phenomenon resulting from sudden cootie transfer in which a man can be duplicated, though the "split" selves are erratic and collapse back to one if they become consciously aware of one another). interpretations of the universal boy field include the serano-kline model which suggests that the field is a shared mythology tapped into by natively genderless humanoids to allow them to function in the world at all without antigirl-like counterparts, the chocolate pudding model in which the universal boy field actually applies in the same way to both boys and girls but girls are simply occluded from it by their powerful cooties, and the uniboy model which posits a single boy existing throughout the entirety of history unwittingly undergoing a multiboy-like phenomenon to reproduce with the universal boy field simply being his resulting aura. none of these models accounts for all known enbies, who collectively pose centuries worth of headaches for any attempt at a grand unifying theory on the matter

the world your mind weaves entrances me.....

#ask #long post #this urles no notes a privilege to recieve in my ask box

[samodivaa]

┊Kills and Kisses┊

WS!Bucky Barnes x Asset!Reader He comes back to save you from Hydra, he can’t leave you behind. You are linked deeply through the wounds of the past you share - hanging by a string, loosely holding each other from collapsing.

Warnings - angst, violence, sexual tension, soft!Soldat Words - 3300

He has a very particular set of skills. Skills that he has acquired over the decades at Hydra. Skills that make him a nightmare for the people who are his mission. Soldat’s heart is bursting with such intense emotions—for the first time since he was entrapped that he doesn’t care about the pain after the fight with Steve anymore. More important than pain is this impulse that's rising within. There is something violent, boiling up from within—he needs to save you, he can’t leave you behind.

As Steve lies unconscious, he wastes no more time—he heads back to the base.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ „Ah, Soldat, you are finally back“ The handler turns to face him calmly. Even with Soldat taking a lot of time to come back, he doubts he should feel particularly concerned. He stars at him as he approaches. He has concluded that generally speaking he is neither permitted nor inclined to hurt his own handler. The Asset stares at the handler as though he is considering something. Then his eyes grow flinty, and he steps back for a moment. He freezes and is silent for a surprisingly long time. An indecipherable expression ripples across his face before he blinks and laughs faintly. It occurs to him that if he is to try to kill him it is probably the perfect moment. Soldat’s lips press into a hard line and the other man sees his jaw clenching. There is so much under his controlled mind. A slumbering rage is stirring, rippling just beneath the surface. The Soldier is on the borderline, caught between the tides of pain and rapture—the idea of killing them all and being free. Soldat finally looks up at him.

“I came back fo-”

He glances over at his handler with a cold expression. He continues to study his face for several moments before a slow smile curls across his lips. The other man wishes he could be so calm without feeling like he is frozen.  Soldat looks around to make sure no one else is nearby, then lowers his voice. „I came back for her“ He is so precisely contained, but his eyes are a storm; they look like they contain the power of the sea as he slides his throat, watching the body drop to the floor. He is trying to calm his now-rapid heartbeat. He knows where they hold her. Soldat walks down a long, dark corridor, knowing the maze of this Hell too well—it Is always dimly-lit, industrial, cold. You two share such a fate—monstrous and empty, a whirling wheel for decades—fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled, plaguing your whole existence.

He is close to the two heavy double doors, sealed shut, and his breath catches in his throat as he crosses them in quick steps, presses the button to open them, and when he sees the doctors touching you, he feels a gut-wrenching anger. You swallow down a lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say, why is he here? Your eyes widen, frozen and staring helplessly—fear and shock flashing through as you keep your eyes on his soulless ones—pupils dilated due to adrenalin. With a little gasp, he blinks slowly before settling on your face as blood dips from the knife on the floor. You shift in your seated pose on the bed, you feel ever-so-slightly off-balance, with a nervous, anticipatory energy for what is going to happen.

The doctors look at him in shock, obviously having never seen an Asset disobey to such an extent. "He killed someone" one of them gasps, somehow managing to keep his outburst to a strained whisper „We will leave, let us leave, please“

Soldat laughs and his eyes finally leave your face to settle on the man talking “No, no one is leaving“ he says in a dismissive voice. Fear bubble up inside the three men. Fear for their life. Tears gather up in their eyes. The fraction of hope vanishes. Soldat waves his hands dismissively, the knife dancing across his fingers. He shifts the weight in his still posture—before they could exhale, the sharp blade strikes one of the men’s necks and they all watch the body drop lifeless, blood sweeping down his neck. The remaining men’s eyes are wide with fear, mouths agape and breathing heavy. Your brows knit together, eyes narrow. Soldat can tell you are doing some form of mental math, edging ever closer to his true intent. Finally, you say, slowly „Как така се освободи?“ (how did you free yourself) Your mind is twisting itself up with rationalisation. Trying to make yourself adapt and think freely. To make you survive in this unexpected denouement. You draw another breath and try to recall anything from the past. A blur of a face is in front of you, staring. You blink a couple of times, trying to make your vision clear up. Your vision slowly starts to gain its focus, blinking until it clears. “Hey” Soldat sighs, touching your face with one hand and raking his fingers up through his tousled and now bloody hair with the other “It is okay, we will be okay.”  His lips try to form a smile and he reaches over to ruffle your hair fondly. “What is wrong?” he says as you swats him away from his touch “Talk to me, please“ You focus your attention right back onto the man in front of you, pushing both the worries and memories to the wayside for the moment. His eyes glint as he smiles, a triumphant tone to his honey-sweet voice. Fear explodes inside, dangerous, fire rushing over your skin. The gleam of metal makes you slide your gaze away. It always looks like an ornamentation, a deadly one. His eyes remind you of the ocean: clear as spring water tumbling over mossy rocks, dark as a cloud shadow. Soldat leans closer, his mouth next to your ear, whispering with a despaired groan trapped between his teeth „Say something, anything…do you remember me?“ Your jaw is between his metal fingertips, griping tightly „I will get you out of here“ Winter swallows the lump in his throat, eyes never leaving yours.

Physically and mentally the dread begins to fade as you force your mind to adapt. You don’t feel nauseated, your heart doesn’t pound painfully anymore.

„I want to kiss you“ The dark glint in his eyes and the wicked curl of his lips shows what he has in mind as he hears you say it. His beautiful features offering themselves to your gaze as you trail though them, you are annoyed at how attractive Winter looks—with his dark, messy locks covering part of his bloody face—putting your mind into a darker cloud of both irritation and lust.

He feels his combat pants get tighter as he feels something growing. It feels weird, almost like his first memory of getting an erection as a child. „Kiss me then“ His own words sends a shiver down his spine along with a lightning bolt to his cock. He looks at you with his big doe eyes and stays silent. For a moment, he'd almost thought he could see the faint light glinting off your eyes as you blink rapidly. Soldat suddenly gives you a tender kiss which quickly grows in passion and intensity. He removes his hand from your chin, tugging at your hair and gaining enjoyment out of it. He is the one to pull away, his face seems to be filled with longing, a yearning of sorts. You sigh, unconsciously pursing your glossy lips together to form an innocent, tempting pout, you want more, but now it’s not the right time. There is a device connected to your thumb, a pulse oximeter. It displays your heartbeat—it starts beeping, the shortness of breath and excitement on full display and he watches you remove it, your eyes full of embarrassment and you blush a furious red so he decides to speak. „Let’s form a plan, let’s get out of here“ His voice is soft, but it hits you with a force of a hammer, resounding within your ears like a bell, ringing clearly. His gaze—sharp and intense, appraising you and making you realize he looks at you with so much concern, with protectiveness. You don’t know what to quite make of it. He always leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, though covered up you may be. Between the certainty of light and darkness there’s a play of shadows, a question. Between the machine and the human-self there’s an encounter called distance. What do we do now? You don’t notice that Soldat slowly moves away for a bit. His large hands spread a map next to you, tilting it left and right, thinking. You know what he’s searching for. You can feel it, like there’s a hook embedded in your chest, tugging towards freedom as well. So many countries and yet, right there—you choose point and say „Bulgaria“ „Hm?“ Soldat stars at you, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. „Let’s go and live there“ „Why Bulgaria exactly?“ He asks groggily. „I can’t remember yet, but it sounds so familiar“ You have forgotten that word a long time ago, in the midst of all the brainwashing.  But that word is the path you take to remember more. Step by step, you will remember, right?

„Yeah, okay. I will find clothes and bags, you can stay here“ His main priority now is survival and your safety. Nothing else. It is his instincts of a trained killer—kill or be killed. It looks like he is about to say something, but then he just drops his gaze and steps through the doorway. The moment you glance at him as he returns to the room, you can’t identify the person you are staring at. The outfit emphasizes every part of his body. His waist, his perfect thick thighs— „I found some for you, too“ You nearly topple out of your seat on the bed at the sound of his voice and swivel to stare at him with your mouth agape. It makes your eyes raise from his thighs, gaze slowly and seamlessly lifting to meet his. He throws the clothes on the bed, his face only inches away from your own once again. Soldat’s metal fingers come in contact with your cheek. The moment they touch your hot skin, you shiver a little, expecting more. „We need to go“ „They will go after us“ you let out a quiet sob, shaking your head from side to side. For several tense moments, you simply blink at one another. He knows what awaits—people will criticize, condemn, and chase them but it takes all his character and self-control to be understanding of the situation, his mission is to keep you safe, to reassure you to a certain extent. There is no escaping this change of life—what is even the meaning of life—you need to try to grasp infinity while being paralyzed by the truth of all that you both still don’t have names. Soldat’s eyebrows knit together, sadness taking over his perfect features „We will be okay, we will be“ And even if the uncertainty of this world becomes too overwhelming, you have each other. You are his only shade of color, a beam of light. Your hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of the past you share - hanging by a string, loosely holding each other from collapsing. As you reach out for the clothes, he turns around to give you privacy, feeling his heat rise to his cheeks. „I am ready“ you say after a minute. His eyes settle on you again, suddenly he is very conscious of his lack of words and he clears his throat „You look-good“ his lips part on a soft gasp. He regains his composure, working that same muscle in his jaw as he looks you up and down. You are simply wearing jeans with a plain shirt, but to his depraved mind is enough to leave him speechless, a strange smile quirks his lips almost involuntarily. You are wearing a small smile of your own, and there are tears in your eyes. You two look so normal. Human. For the first time in decades you have come across this. To experience something so surreal, so close to what you truly are, and still have no way to describe it. You finally meet a dream from eternity. Emotions too wild and organic to be domesticated into words. You can tell he is fighting his emotions, and the fact that he is close to tears threatens your own hold on yourself. You both head to the main exit, the sigh of gore – dead bodies and blood doesn’t scare you. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The absolute delight—of you being well, the absolute horror of what it costs—blood in every corner of the rooms and corridors and still, there is still a garden made for his soul where he can sleep peacefully, far away from solitude. Remorse—it grows and grows and grows, but his loyalty and care are stronger, but it haunts him. Oh, secret cries of a sorrowful heart—you will keep this day a secret forever. And this is what you learn on the first day as a human being: that he was the antidote to your never ending Hell, that standing within his anger—the beauty and the mystery of his mind, you will re-dignify the worst-stung heart no matter the blood marking your freedom. Only his own heart knows a secret your mind can’t grasp.  A poem that’ll always remain unwritten.

Someday you will ask him, ask him why he risked coming back? ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The greenery stretches for miles. Earth and sun are in a dance older than your time. But now that you can see how they kiss each other in all the trees and flowers while clouds hop freely across the blue sky—this is heaven? Strange, how such a heaven on earth could exist while you spend so much time underground. „Hey, come on“ he calls you and you turn your head. Soldat is a few feet away, waiting for you to get in the car. „We will get new documents for the country, there is a guy that will also supply us with plane tickets. I-I made my handler call him befo-“ „There is no need to explain, Winter“ You open the door, the words are no sooner past his lips than you enter, his hands already gripping the wheel. You find your gaze travelling over Soldat’s elegant fingers as they move nervously, his knuckles turning white. The way he leans back in the seat, his long legs stretching out before you, tight black jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. His wide eyes stare into space, at nothing. Soldat is completely unsure how to broach this, if he even should have tried to broach such a tender topic. You already saw enough of what he has done. He feels your gaze, because he finally looks at you. Your eyes meet. Soldat gives a small smile before speaking. „It’s Bucky“ „Bucky? What is a Bucky?“ He laughs genuinely at your comment. The shell of the Asset starts to crack and there begins to be a consciousness of the subliminal and physiological underlying personality, you just catch a glimpse of It. „My real name, before Hydra“ he explains softly and fidgets in his seat, already feeling uncomfortable of needing to mention the word. „You had a life before?“ He feels something stubborn and angry enter your voice. The smile on his face instantly vanishes and his expression becomes distinctly cagey, avoiding you gaze. You press your thighs together and try not to pay any attention to the growing sense of emptiness inside. It is overwhelming—do you even have a name? Can you remember who you were, before Hydra told you who you have to be? ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Everything it is a blur after that conversation. You don’t feel physically, mentally, and emotionally ready for your new life. Your loyalty to the past becomes your most dangerous trait. The programing runs deep in the fabric of your mind, it’s hard to fight, because it is all you know. When you finally board the plane, he finds the courage to finally say something about it. „No, I still don’t want to talk, Bucky“ your voice is dripping acid. It is an act in self-preservation, he understands. He nods begrudgingly, but sits next to you. He knows that you fear to fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation. But Bucky—he is more than ready.

He thinks of Steve, such memories, are long remembered and sealed into his soul—him remembering those memories is what saved you both. Sorrow compresses his heart; he wants to see him again. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As you step out of the airport, Bucky wastes no time, heading to a car which is parked nearby, driving in a direction unknown to you. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The haunted mind catches fire—the dread and evil of his night terrors punishing him almost every night. He is not alone in this—It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. Breakfast is so delicious, but not free erection anymore. Bucky looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, though, with dark circles under his eyes and his face propped on his human hand as he tries to calm both his body and his mind. Is it healthy or is it just familiar to suppress the human side just becomes he is scared of it? It is your fault, too. He admits it freely mentally. Well, if someone is to come across him; he would deny it vociferously. But—to himself—he admits that he is lusting after you.

He pulls his textbook out of his bag on the floor and sets to write to distracts himself for a bit. You have been mysteriously absent this week and even though you have settled in a quiet village for now, he still worries about your safety. There is a conversation he is dreading, but all you do is avoid him like a contagious disease. Bucky hears you enter the house, but doesn’t lift his eyes as you pass him to go to your own room. He wants to tell that hiding your hurt only intensifies it. Problems grow in the dark and only become bigger. You need to take off your mask, to stop pretending you don’t need support and walk into this new chapter together. Then he hears sounds and immediately goes to your room. He follows the continues sobs to your bathroom.

You are huddled in the shower under the cold water, fully clothed—weeping and rocking on the floor and hugging your knees.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, not coming any closer. Speechless.

"Мила?" His voice is rasping, talking in the language he knows you find comfort the most.

Your crying abruptly ceases and your head shots up to look at him, locked on his face. | He immediately moves towards you reaching over and turning off the freezing water. Bucky then kneels down, rubbing your back with his human hand then running his hand through your wet hair.

"Погледни ме,моля те, погледи ме“ he pleas. (Look at me, please, look at me) He gathers you into his arms and pulls you into his lap.

Too many days and nights passed through the body and slowly you started to lose your mind.  Where are your own memories? Where is that life you had before? You drift in the tides of the lost time and lost yourself wave after wave—uncovering nothing, not even an echo of the past.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #asset!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female yn #bucky barnes x y/n #ws!bucky barnes #ws!bucky #bucky x ex!asset reader