#i do not want to deal with death in my lit it sucks enough in real life

[cosmicmagicgirl]

THE UNLIMITED VOID

Chapter 2

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:  Suffering, regret, shame: the negative feelings of humans become curses that plague our daily lives. Satoru Gojo, the powerful jujutsu sorcerer destabilized the scales of power, but nature always finds a way for there to be balance. This is a wild game of survival. Satoru sees that look in her eyes as if she knows his secrets and lies, and he knows there is nowhere to run from all this damage.

𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: Fluff and Angst, Drama & Romance, Witch Curses, Jujutsu Kaisen Manga Spoilers, Pre-Shibuya Incident Arc (Jujutsu Kaisen), Blood and Violence, Crime Scenes, Investigations, Paranormal Investigators, Strong Female Characters, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage, NSFW.

𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕: This fanfic is already available on AO3 if you are interested in reading more chapters while I don’t post them here.

Remember that I created an exclusive playlist for this fanfic and I’m always updating it as I write the chapters. Go there to listen on Spotify.

Enjoy the reading!

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The Powerful One

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲.

— Yes, Hitori — she huffed once again impatiently. — I can identify a jujutsu sorcerer when I see one and he was no ordinary one. I'm pretty sure who he is... — She stopped for a moment as she drank the rest of her coffee. — If I'm right, you shouldn't come to Canterbury.

Hitori grunted on the other side of the phone.

— I know you hate being alone. I don't like it either — she took a deep breath. — But as long as I don't know what he's doing here, I can't take the risk of him seeing you. — I'll be fine, believe me. Please don't be so stubborn and stay at the hotel.

She hung up the phone.

"Great, because I didn't have enough problems to deal with already" — she thought.

She put her hand in her coat pocket and held up the flask to make sure it was still there.

𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲, 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲.

𝐀 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

— So? — Harrison lit a cigarette. — Is that one of the damn things?

Luce showed him the small flask.

— Probably — she sat down on the bench in front of the building. — Sorry, but you'll have to make up a whole story now.

The inspector puffed the smoke and then exhaled it.

— I'm relieved that we don't have a homicidal maniac loose around here cutting people apart... — he bent over and sat down next to her. — But this supernatural stuff is sucks.

Luce let out a muffled laugh and agreed.

— Everything about it is really sucks. — she looked up at the sky. — Those other two cases might be connected to this one too.

— Holy shit... — He scratched his temple. — What answer will I give to the families?

— Sorry, I have nothing this time... — Luce closed her eyes trying to think of something. — I wanted to at least close this case for the families.

The inspector glared at her.

— You can't find a less painful way — He paused for a moment. — The cases have not been reported on major channels, so no one should revisit the subject. At least not yet.

— The families want justice as well as a reason. The grieving will hurt forever, I just hope that sometimes I can give them some relief, even if only momentarily.

Another wave of smoke has been released.

— Find out who or what did this and continue doing your work — He put his hand on the young woman's shoulder. — It's a burden, I know. But this kind of business sometimes makes us lose our empathy and sensitivity. Don't lose that, miss.

Luce smiled.

— I know. I won't lose it. — she looked at him. — And you should quit smoking, it will kill you.

Harrison let out a loud laugh.

— At my age, miss... Anything can kill me.

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲.

She lost all sense of time sitting on the lawn of Westgate Gardens, checking photos and waiting for Harrison's call about the results of the victims' exams. The girl who had been found in a putrefying state was missing part of her spine, so she definitely had not died the same way as the early morning victim.

The fact that a jujutsu sorcerer had appeared in town didn't help either, they definitely wouldn't be sloppy if they wanted to kill someone. Luce didn't trust them, if it were a comparison, she would trust a curse more than a sorcerer.

She had her reasons and they were not a few.

She decided to go for a walk in the High Street, maybe she would meet the sorcerer again.

It had been a few hours since Luce had entered Canterbury Cathedral and she felt that he was following her. She sat down on one of the chairs and waited until the man with the dark glasses sat down next to her.

And so he did.

— Beautiful, don't you think? The Gothic style — she said as she admired the stained glass windows. — Canterbury Cathedral was founded in five hundred and ninety-seven, can you believe it? But it was completely rebuilt in one thousand seventy-seven.

— I've never had much time to visit historical places. — he answered. — But you are right. It is beautiful.

— In one thousand one hundred and seventy Archbishop Thomas Becket was murdered by the knights of King Henry the Second — she said. — This ended up making the cathedral a place of pilgrimage because of Becket's shrine. But after the English reformation King Henry the Eighth ordered the shrine to be destroyed.

— This one I know, the guy from the Church of England — he smiled. — The divorce man.

Luce was silent.

— Good thing the famous Satoru Gojo is not just a pretty face - she said. — You were following me, why?

A smile formed on Satoru's face.

— So, do you think I have a pretty face? — he leaned back slouched in his chair.

— Why are you here? — Luce finally stared at him.

— I'm hearing about the history of the Cathedral — he said with a wry smile. — You're a great guide. And very beautiful.

She kept waiting for an answer. Her expression was as serious as ever and she was trying to remain as calm as possible.

— All right... — he sighed. — But I should at least know your name, you know mine.

— You already know my name — she narrowed her eyes at him. — In the cafeteria.

He laughed.

— Yes, I know — he adjusted his glasses. — But I wanted to hear it from you. — Her expression remained unchanged. — Here —he held out his hand to her. — Satoru Gojo, pleasure.

Luce arched her eyebrows and stared at his hand.

— Come, be polite. We are in the house of the Lord — he pointed to the ambo in front of them and laughed.

She sighed wearily and squeezed his hand.

— Luce Amaryllis...

— That's a lovely name. It suits you.

Her cheeks flushed slightly.

— I'm looking for a cursed object — he said. — Did you see something?

At least he didn't seem to be after her — she thought. And she had nowhere else to run, if she had to face him, so be it.

— I don't know — she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the bottle. — But I found this today.

Satoru looked at the flask and saw the object emitting cursed energy.

— Where did you find this? — he asked.

— It was inside the stomach of a young girl — she explained. — At least what was left of it. The police found the body this morning in one of the canals of the Stour River.

Satoru frowned.

— It doesn't seem to be a cursed object to me... — he seemed to be studying the situation. — You are not a sorceress... No, are you? Should I be suspicious?

Luce gave a cynical laugh.

— I should suspect you — she said seriously. — And you're right, I'm not part of that nasty bastards

Satoru looked surprised and let out an outrageous laugh.

The people in the cathedral looked at him in annoyance.

— You're really interesting — he crossed his arms. — Do you hate us?

— I have my reasons — she answered.

— I don't disagree with you — he became serious for a moment. — Those old people are really nasty bastards.

Luce sighed.

— Well, usually when one of you shows up I leave — she thought for a moment. — But I know you won't leave me alone, so let's get this over with.

Satoru smiled and watched her get up.

— Come on, I have things to show you — she picked up her bag and headed for the exit. — And I'm out of time.

Satoru followed her but not before laughing mischievously.

— What kind of things will you show me? — he put his hands in his pockets. — I deserve at least one date first. I'm a romantic man you know.

She paused for a moment, anger overflowing from her eyes.

— Are you always like this? — she asked.

Satoru gave her an innocent look.

— I'm afraid so. — he shook his shoulders. — It's a charming thing.

— It's pure hateful — she said drily, and continued walking.

She didn't notice, but he was smiling.

𝕋𝕠𝕜𝕪𝕠 𝕄𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟 𝕂𝕠𝕜𝕦𝕤𝕒𝕚 𝕊𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝

Suzume Miyamoto was fifteen years old and a first year high school student in Kokusai. She had a relatively normal life, and I say relatively because she had the ability to see curses. However, she was very good at hiding this fact ever since she began to see them.

Her father was always traveling for work, so she was raised by different people, but as soon as she turned fifteen she started living alone. Her mother had died as soon as she was born, and this made her father focus much more on work, and she couldn't even blame him. She knew he would do anything for her and worked mainly to provide them with a comfortable life. They got along well, not close of course, but whenever he returned to Japan they spent most of their time together.

Suzume was an exceptional student. She got good grades, was responsible and very applied. She participated every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon in the kyudo club, the art of japanese archery. And today was one of those days.

Class was over and she was more than looking forward to her training.

Until everything turned out to be wrong.

She felt an overpowering sensation hit the dojo, giving her goose bumps, and before she could say anything to her classmates — the explosion happened.

A creature full of eyes and immensely large emerged before her. Its feet seemed to have been driven into the ground and Suzume could not move, her classmates screamed desperately for help and some tried to run for the exit. The girl watched as the creature rolled its eyes in the direction of the two boys who were running to the back closet and before she could think of anything — she ran straight into the creature.

— Suzume! — one of the girls yelled after her.

— Go get help! Hurry! — she yelled back. — I'll buy some time.

The girl then ran through the exit - screaming for help.

"Buy some time? What the hell was she thinking, she could get killed." A voice echoed in her mind.

She didn't know why she was doing this, but she couldn't stop her legs. And as if she didn't fear death, she picked up one of the chairs and slammed it into the creature's back. Angered, the curse roared and ran towards the creature so fast that Suzume could barely think before the thing hit her and threw her over the side of the dojô.

Suzume felt as if her head was going to explode and her whole body numb. She was able to open her eyes and see that the two boys had succeeded in hiding in the closet in time, but unfortunately the other two girls were in the corner of the dojô cowering and the curse was running right at them.

Suzume Miyamoto needed to do something and quickly.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.

— It is a grade 2 curse. We moved everyone out with the excuse that the school was leaking gas — explained Ijichi. — But unfortunately there were students inside the dojo in the back lot. An approximate six students.

Nanami Kento sighed tiredly.

— Okay. I'm coming in. — He fixed his glasses and tie.

As he approached the place he could feel the cursed energy. He saw a student running towards him.

— Please... — she spoke breathlessly. — Help me.

— Everything is going to be alright. You need to leave now... — he explained calmly.

The girl agreed, but before she could leave she pulled him by the sleeve of his suit.

— My friends are there," there were tears in her eyes. — Suzume is fighting that thing alone.

He frowned.

Then he ran into the dojô.

𝕋𝕠𝕜𝕪𝕠 𝕄𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟 𝕂𝕠𝕜𝕦𝕤𝕒𝕚 𝕊𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝

𝐃𝐨𝐣𝐨.

She saw one of her fallen arrows beside her and a flash crossed her mind — giving her the only possible idea at that moment. She spotted one of the long bows in the rubble a few feet from where she stood and in an act of desperation she ran as fast as she could and grabbed the weapon.

Suzume clung to the desperation that the creature had reached the two girls and without hesitation she lined up the single arrow on the bow, lengthened the string and determined her target. As soon as she released the string and the arrow flew like a bolt of lightning, a purple lightning flashed around the arrow and as the creature grabbed one of the girls the arrow hit one of her eyes.

The girl fell with a thud to the ground.

Now the purple light was consuming the entire curse and she roared with rage.

Nanami Kento had entered the dojo just as the arrow had been shot. And he was stunned when he saw the girl using cursed energy and even more surprised when in fact the curse had been exorcised.

Suzume was astonished — the creature was gone.

Everyone from inside the dojô had now run outside, leaving only her in the middle of the room and the man.

Nanami walked over to the arrow that had been used and when he touched it he felt an electric shock run through his fingers.

"An innate technique?" — He thought.

— How long have you been able to do that? — he asked her.

Suzume was brought out of her state of shock by the voice of the man in front of her.

— Huh? - she was confused.

— You exorcised the curse — he explained. — Is this the first time?

— Curse? Is that what they call it?

Nanami sighed wearily. He would have a lot to explain.

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕠 ℝ𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕠𝕛𝕚 𝕕𝕖 𝕐𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕚, 𝕁𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕠.

Reiko Ohara, fifteen years old and heiress to the Ohara clan. A family somewhat removed from the larger sorcerers families. The Ohara preserved their Buddhist spiritual doctrine and did not like to participate in the conflicts of the jujutsu world, but inevitably sometimes they had to get involved - even if they had so little influence.

— Do I really have to go? - Reiko lamented. — Can't I go only next year?

Hana Ohara, her mother smiled.

— I'm sorry dear, but it's already done. — she tucked a strand of her daughter's hair behind her ear. — We can no longer remain indifferent.

Reiko agreed sadly.

— I know. But to think that I'll be away from you... — she said in a tearful voice. — What if I'm no good for that kind of thing?

Hana held her daughter's hands and looked into her eyes.

— You are more than capable, dear," her voice was sweet and gentle. — Your father would be proud. You've been working hard on your training and I know you'll be more than fine. — She caressed his daughter's cheeks as he wiped away her tears.

— I'm going to miss our little walks here at the temple. — said the girl.

— I will too. But I will visit you as often as possible, okay?

Reiko smiled.

— That's fine...

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲.

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Violet was looking curiously at the two customers sitting at the table near the window as she tried to prepare their orders. It was a funny thing, was she watching that kind of romance at first sight? The customer from earlier today seemed quite interested about Miss Luce when he saw her come into the coffee shop this afternoon, and now they seemed to be having a date.

The blonde let out a short excited laugh thinking it was adorable.

But the truth was that Luce would rather be sifting through crime scenes and dead bodies than sitting at the table with a jujutsu sorcerer, and especially when that sorcerer was the famous Satoru Gojo.

Luce might be completely nonchalant and would constantly stray from any path where there was a sorcerer, however, she never stopped informing herself about them. Curse users used to talk a lot and information was something she always presided over. It is impossible that once involved in this parallel world where one can see and use cursed energy, you have not heard about the all powerful Satoru Gojo, the man with the six eyes. A sorcerer so powerful that he unsettled the scales of power in the jujutsu world.

In addition to having been given such powers, it seemed that the universe loved him and blessed him with unusual beauty. Obviously even in this broken and dirty jujutsu world people were talking about his appearance and how the Gojo clan had received the greatest gift from heaven. The perfect child — responsible for all the curse users hiding and the absurd growth of curses.

Luce realized on her short walk down the High Street to the Valley Coffee House that even the most ordinary human could be charmed by the appearance of the man next to her. She had experienced a similar situation with Vesper, but it was a natural beauty... There was absolutely nothing natural about Satoru Gojo. She didn't need to use her skills to know that he was on another level, however, something about this particular figure made her disturbed.

She had never really believed in this; from her own experience, she knew that everything could come to an end. However, was this man in front of her really an all powerful being? She could feel the density of his presence and the weight his aura carried, but it made something inside her turn around — wanting to prove that this man could also fall.

Satoru on the other hand, kept wondering how in his entire existence as a sorcerer, he hadn't heard about her. How had something like this been hidden all this time? He was curious, but most of all dazzled for the first time in a long time. Was there really someone of his level?

Ever since he had a simple dazzle with his six eyes on the woman in front of him, he hadn't stopped thinking about it. Was she the threat that intelligence had detected, but they didn't know what it was exactly? It would make sense. But no, Satoru had a very good sense of judgment about people and that woman definitely didn't seem to be the threat of the moment. However, she could really be a threat if she wanted to be.

He put his hand on hir chin and stared at her taking the laptop out of her purse.

— Just ask — she said, breaking the silence — or stop looking at me like that.

He smiled.

— Why do you think I wanna ask you something?

— Because I'm not stupid —she opened the computer screen. — And you're restless.

— I'm restless? - he asked curiously.

She typed something on the keyboards and answered.

— You talk too shamelessly — she began. — You haven't stopped with the stupid jokes along the way and now you're annoyingly quiet while you wrinkle your forehead at me — she explained. — You want to ask something and you are thinking about what you want to ask. Otherwise you wouldn't have followed me as soon as I left the cafeteria earlier.

At no point did she look in his direction.

Satoru Gojo smiled broadly this time.

— You are really good," he clapped his hands together. —But I didn't follow you when you left the café.

She looked into his eyes, and saw her reflection in the dark lenses of his glasses.

— You're right, you didn't follow me — she crossed her hands. — You tracked me. It's certainly different.

He widened his eyes.

— How's that?

— I went to Westgate Garden and you took your time getting out of here. You didn't see which way I went. But coincidentally you waited for me near the Cathedral because you knew exactly where I was going to pass, that side of the Cathedral is not known by tourists. — She explained calmly as if it was obvious.

— Who said I didn't know it? — he had an amused smile on his lips. — And how did you know it took me so long to get out of here?

— The answer is simple, because you ordered a frappé coffee and a berliner ballen. — she flashed a winning smile that could go unnoticed, but obviously would not go unnoticed by Satoru Gojo.

— What? — he hadn't understood, but he was excited.

— You asked for the same thing I did, but you didn't make the request while I was still here. So you did it when I left and Violet can be fast, but not too fast. This suggests that you didn't know half of the candy and didn't want to waste time choosing, because you needed to find me. So you know almost nothing here. Much less shortcuts.

Satoru was impressed.

— How do you know this?

— Because I love berliner ballen and frappé — she answered. — And together they make a very unique scent. I smelled it as soon as you sat down next to me in the Cathedral. And well, the fact that you had, even subtly, berliner ballen cream on the corner of your lip also helped.

Satoru brought his fingers to the corner of his mouth and wiped.

— You let me walk around with that on my face? And you didn't even warn me?

She shrugged.

— You're mean," and let out a laugh.

Just then Violet approached the table with the orders.

— Here it is," she put the drinks on the table — English tea for the young lady and a hazelnut milkshake for you — she smiled. — If you need anything else, please call me.

— Thank you, Violet — Luce replied with a smile on her face.

Satoru nodded slightly in thanks.

— Let me show you the victims," Luce said as she turned the laptop so that the man could see. — The first was Joyce Miller, a twenty year-old girl who disappeared a few days ago. — On the computer screen you could see the unfortunate corpse of a dark-haired girl. — Her mother contacted me, but unfortunately I can't always attend to everyone so I left the police on their own. But I felt that there was something strange in the story, so I wanted to be informed if they found anything...

— And they did," she took another sip of her milkshake. — Her dead body, though.

Luce agreed.

— Joyce's mother reported that she had been acting strange the days before she disappeared. I asked if she might have met someone, since in many cases it could always be a new flirt. A guy she met and in the end, well... It could be nothing more than a murderer. — Luce took a sip of her tea and continued. — But as in most cases, she didn't know.

Satoru listened attentively.

— Her body was found yesterday, it is estimated that she died around ten thirty at night. She was found in an alley in London, exactly as in the photo — She zoomed into the image on the screen. — And as you can see, there is not a single trace of cursed energy.

—- Then why are we looking at a poor girl's dead body?

Luce sighed.

— Because of this... — she indicated a specific spot on the image. — See? Her hand was ripped off.

Satoru moved closer to the screen and frowned.

— Yes, I see..., but what about it?

— If you be patient, I'll get to it. - She informed. — Now, the second victim. Emilia Clark, twenty-five years old, dead three days ago, but her body was found yesterday afternoon by her mother — She clicked one of the keypad buttons and the image changed. — That was her condition.

— This looks closer to the work of a curse," Satoru said. — Shredded bodies are usually quite common. That's in the best case scenarios.

Luce again agreed.

— It turns out that she wasn't exactly shredded and there is no trace of cursed energy — her voice came out in a more serious tone. — Despite the advanced stage of decomposition, if we zoom in — she zoomed in on the image. — You can see the cuts. And once again notice — she moved the mouse arrow to the victim's back. — She is missing a part of her spine.

Satoru looked thoughtful.

— If you compare the two victims — she put the images next to each other. — Can you identify the similarity?

— I really don't like to think too much. — went back to drinking his milkshake.

— You don't take anything seriously, do you? — she said impatiently. — I knew it.

She was about to get up.

— Oi! - Satoru grabbed her hand before she could close the laptop. — I'm just kidding, dear. It's just that analyzing corpses isn't really what I do. Please, continue.

She calmed down.

— Okay - still with a suspicious look on her face. — The similarities are the cuts, they are the same. That is, the same tool; an axe.

— It was a human, so... — Satoru put one of his fingers over his chin.

— And all this brings us to the third victim - she picked up a small flask and put it on the table. — I have no pictures, but the death was not the same. She simply burst from the inside out and there was this inside her stomach.

— How does this last one connect to the others?

— Because when I analyzed the body, I smelled hydrogen peroxide, sodium tetraborate and formaldehyde — She saw Satoru's confused look and tried to explain. — Sodium tetraborate is borax... and formaldehyde you may know as formalin.

— All right, but I still don't understand... — crossed his arms. — What's the point?

— Have you ever heard of maceration? — The man denied it with his head. — It is nothing more than a technique for the physical, chemical or biological cleaning of bones. — He clarified. — What does this have to do with the case? Well, it is the fact that these three products I listed can be used to preserve bones. And as you can see the hand and the backbone of two victims were removed. Which leads us to conclude that whoever killed the two, was also responsible for the death of the third. — Luce explained every line of her thoughts, while Satoru listened attentively. — But why would he kill the third one differently? He made her swallow something, otherwise I wouldn't have found this — she pointed to the flask. — However, whoever did this also took what he gave the girl away. That's where you come in.

— A cursed object...— Satoru smiled.

Luce nodded in agreement.

— Wow, you're really good at this — he complimented. — How do you do that?

— Thank you, Luce. But that's not important right now... — she was silent for a moment. — When did you get here?

— Today, actually. I left Tokyo yesterday, but the flight is quite long, which sucks to be honest. Why?

— Yes, but what time?

Satoru smiled again.

— If I didn't know better I would think you were suspecting me.

— And I am suspecting you. You sorcerers don't make many distinctions when you want to kill someone — her voice lowered a tone, and a shadow of spite flashed across her eyes. — So tell me, what time did you arrive?

— I arrived here in Canterbury at eleven o'clock, I was supposed to arrive at ten, but I got the train an hour late — she laughed. — I arrived in London at eight o'clock in the morning, if that's what you want to know. Do I need to show you my ticket?

— No —she reclined in her seat. — I know you didn't do it. I just don't trust you.

— Ouch! — he simulated pain. —That hurt...

— To be honest, I think whoever did this must have left town by now, especially with you here... Then your trip must have been a waste of time — she informed him. — Your object must be somewhere else.

Satoru was silent for a few seconds.

— And how could I not suspect you? — he asked.

Luce narrowed her eyes and her heart leapt.

— Don't get me wrong, dear, I don't think you could have killed anyone. But you're hiding something from me. — he leaned across the table and came close to her face. — And I'm going to find out what it is. You know, I'm pretty good at this too. — an ironic smile opened his lips. — So, are you going to tell me what it is? Or are you going to play hard?

He adjusted his glasses and continued to stare at the woman.

Luce tried to put his million thoughts in order, what exactly did he suspect? She knew he probably saw everything about her with those damn six eyes, was it about that? Or about Hitori? Could he have known about that? He didn't seem to be lying about the time he arrived, he couldn't have even crossed paths with Hitori. So it could only be about her?

— What do you want to know, Gojo? — he asked.

He smiled.

And before he could ask, her cell phone rang.

— Just a moment —she answered. — Yes, I can talk. I'm fine, inspector. Sure, no problem, I'll meet you there. See you later — and then she hung up.

— Appointment? — Satoru arched his eyebrow.

— Yes, the victim's tests came out. I just want to confirm my theory. — began to pack his things. — See you later, Gojo.

— Wait a minute! We're not done, we still have to solve this... — raised his hands.— And other things, like our conversation.

— I don't have time for that. I already gave you the information I had, do your super sorcerer thing or whatever you usually do. — She picked up her purse and put it on her shoulder.

— I can do a lot of super things if that's what you want to know. — a wily smile formed. — But since we haven't worked anything out yet, I need to keep in touch with you, don't you think? - he held the phone out to her. — Give me your number and we'll meet again.

Luce rolled her eyes.

— If that's what it takes to leave me alone. — she picked up the cell phone and typed. — There you go.

— See you again tomorrow, sweetheart — he took the phone from her hands.

— Okay, whatever you say — she turned the tables and left.

Satoru Gojo was more curious than ever. Of course, it was a rather unusual case given the variations. If was a curse user and it was in the city, he would be able to find it. However, for now he wanted to know more about Luce Amaryllis, if that was really her name.

𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞.

— Dead? — shouted the boy. — What do you mean dead?

— I'm sorry, Haru — wailed Utahime. — When I found you...

Haru Tokugawa was seventeen years old and a second-year student in Kyoto. He was a descendant of the Tokugawa clan, none remaining except for the boy who had been raised by his maternal grandmother. He and his team had been given a simple mission, but in the end it all turned out to be chaos. The curse was much more powerful than they had expected, and there was one of Sukuna's fingers involved.

He couldn't remember much since he had tried to use his technique to buy time and save his friends. One instant he smelled blood, and the next he woke up in the college infirmary. Not much time had passed since he woke up and the news Iori Utahime was giving him.

— I'm sorry, Haru — Iori repeated. — That cursed object wasn't supposed to be there. It was unexpected. Nobody knew that Sukuna's finger was there.

Haru could hardly breathe. It was too much to take in at that moment.

— You need to rest now — said the supervisor. — Let me know if you need anything, okay?

Haru didn't answer.

— Listen — she touched the boy's shoulder. — It wasn't your fault, all right? There was nothing you could do against a special level curse.

And so she left the infirmary.

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝.

It had been two days since Luce had met with Satoru Gojo and she couldn't have been more worried. The person responsible for the crimes had left the city, perhaps the country and she didn't have a single clue as to who it might have been.

Since she had given her number to the sorcerer, she had not expected that he would send so many messages informing her about his day in town. Satoru wanted to have lunch with her the day before, but Luce made up an excuse to get away from any conversation with the man. She knew she couldn't run from it for that long, but maybe, just maybe, she hoped that he would just get tired of it and go back to Japan.

However, deep down she knew that wouldn't happen. Not if it was up to him anyway. Satoru had informed her that he had looked for the person responsible, but he had certainly run away. And she didn't even have to ask how he could be so sure, because she knew it had to involve the famous six eyes.

She tried to keep in touch with Hitori, but he refused to answer her calls. Which made her even more worried.

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

She had already lost all sense of time, all that was left was a few scratches and the smell of blood that refused to leave her nose. Most likely from the dried blood that marked her small hands and face. The eyes, red and sparkling like lava from a volcano, no longer glowed, all there was an immense abyss of an agonizing emptiness. There was nothing left for that child but the confusion of probably never understanding what had happened. What could she do?

She held on to the only thing she could feel at the moment — the large hands that were holding her and guiding her through the dark forest.

She lifted her head a little and looked at the young boy's face, which remained unchanged in a hard serious expression. His eyes focused on the path ahead as he held the girl's small hands firmly.

After walking for what seemed like hours, they finally reached a clearing. The young boy released her hand and left her standing in the middle of the open space.

He left for a few minutes and came back with a handful of wood in his arms, stirred his hands for some sign, and flames appeared burning the wood in front of him.

The girl sat down beside him and watched the flames.

They remained silent for long minutes until the boy spoke.

— My name is Hitori — his voice sounded deep. — I am the curse you created, your brother made a pact with me. I will train you so that one day you will face me and one of us will die.

She nodded.

— Is Vesper there? — she asked, her voice almost inaudible.

— Yes, but he can't talk to you. I own this body now.

And again, silence.

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝.

She was now lying on her hotel bed, trying to calm her mind when her cell phone vibrated.

Satoru Gojo sent a message:

S: Hey, are we having lunch today? pls :((

L: No, I'm busy.

S: That's a lie, if you don't leave I'll come to your Hotel :))

L: You're already here, aren't you?

S: ;)

Luce let out a sigh and got out of bed. She tidied her long red hair and grabbed her purse.

As she left the hotel lobby, she spotted the tall, white-haired man in his blue dress shirt and light pants. Yes, handsome as ever, she thought.

Satoru turned toward the woman and waved with a smile.

— Even more beautiful than last time —he said. — You couldn't hide from me forever, you know.

"I wish I could..." — she thought.

— You couldn't leave me alone, could you? — she sighed in defeat.

He smiled.

— You know I couldn't, dear. — he moved closer to her face. — You and I still have a lot to talk about.

They walked for a few minutes to the entrance of the park, there was a large arch with the words Greyfriars Gardens written on it.

— Weren't we going to have lunch? — Luce asked.

— I'd like to talk first — Satoru smiled. —The open air sounds better, don't you think?

Luce looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

— Okay, whatever you say — she answered.

They sat down on the benches under one of the large trees, and Satoru began to ramble on about the landscape.

— Just ask what you want, Gojo. Spare us the time... — she said impatiently.

Satoru gave a slight smile, and adjusted his glasses.

[aeondeug]

I am uncertain on how I feel about the save system in Fear and Hunger. I've seen that many just use a mod that gives unlimited books of enlightenment or who edit their save files but something about that seems very unsatisfying to me. What is the point then?

I like limited save systems in horror games. I think they're not utilized nearly as often as they perhaps could be. But they're a very love it or hate it thing and there's a fine line between something that adds to the stress in a positive way and something that just makes the game unfun to play.

Fear and Hunger's is...interesting. The coin flip mechanic in general is kind of a bitch. It's the rng of an rpg given a physical form. Instead of the game simply rolling the dice on whether I get hit by an instant kill attack like in most games in the genre, I have to be the one to roll the dice. And I get to see the literal cast and watch in painstaking agony to see what the result is. In battle this is lovely. Especially since many of these can be avoided outright so long as you know when to block.

But with beds it's different. With beds I can't defend at the right time to avoid it. The only thing I can do to mitigate the issue is to use a lucky coin and those are a rare commodity. And even that doesn't guarantee success. I've burned a coin on a failed save attempt and while the thing that attacked me was something I could deal with it still sucked. A lot.

This has changed how I view save points. In rpgs I tend to be very blasé about save points. Why would I give a shit unless it's a NES era dungeon crawler? In 99% of games that still use save points over universal saves it doesn't really matter. Survival is never much of an issue. In survival horror meanwhile save points are generally my favorite fucking thing in the world. They are small areas of respite. I see one and lose my goddamned mind because oh thank fuck I'm safe now. I can save my progress. Now if I die it's ok.

So I don't really think about saving in most survival horror games, with the sole exception being games like Resident Evil 1 where saving is performed with a consumable item. Even then I generally have a decent sense of how much I can push things. I save much more conservatively and I am tense about that, but the tension is bearable. And I generally feel confident enough in my ability to survive early PS1 era survival horror because I am well experienced in the art of running past shit.

Meanwhile in Fear and Hunger I saw a bed the first time and was so happy. Then I laid down and failed a coin toss and got killed by some Pyramid Head looking bitch (this was in the demo, I seemed to need to talk to the statue to avoid the Crow Mauler). This was shocking. And then it happened again. Most of my early deaths in the demo were to this fucking bed.

After getting out of the demo and into the real game I was very excited about the first bed because oh I know how that works. But then I realized something. This is barely anywhere. I have effectively wasted a free save by just rushing it while having made no real progress beyond picking up some food. And then I saw the other beds and felt no joy upon looking at them because I knew they weren't safe. They could be safe but there is heavy emphasis on that could.

I'm still thinking about the beds though. I tuck them away in my memory to a greater degree than I do the random boxes I pass. I have a mental map of where my beds are. Some beds I have lit the sconces near them. This is because I have deemed those beds to be potential strongholds. But for the most part I am just marking them down because I don't want to risk things.

But then that brings up the issue. I eventually got hold of a purified talisman when I knew where the door to the Hexen was and also I had access to an Ancient Book, which I had yet to try out using but figured would be rad as hell given that it warns me before using it. And I was very excited about these things but also it hit me that I could just...Not win the coin flip and die. And then I might not find those things when I load my last save back up. I wanted to save before I popped the book and definitely while I had access to the Hexen but I didn't want to risk the beds. Because what if I die?

But what if I just keep going and then I die anyway? Saving has now become a matter of how much I feel like risking.

Except I then shortly after found a book of enlightenment. Which I had heard what it did but forgot about but popped anyway because I wasn't warned about shit and given a coin flip so I just figured it'd be fine. And then I was presented with the save screen and remembered what this thing is.

And so I now have another complication in my save issue. I can risk it for the biscuit but now the biscuit isn't just how long I feel like going before I lose my shit. Now the biscuit is literally there is a free save option available I just need to be lucky enough to find it. The lucky coins, though still risk filled, offer a similar sort of temptation to keep going.

So there's just a lot of things that are going into encouraging me to keep playing without saving. The coin flips, the fact that lucky coins and books of enlightenment can be found, the fact that the lucky coins have uses other than making saves a bit safer to do... Which is all very neat. One of the things I like a lot about games is how they train you and I find survival horror has some of the coolest forms of conditioning. And this is definitely a very cool form of it. As it has trained me to view the thing I would normally deem safe as dangerous. As something I don't want to try when I've made significant progress, but which I know I have to do if I want to realistically keep that progress.

But this is also incredibly fucking frustrating. I have spent the past few hours of play trying to get past the mines and one of the bumps in the road I come across is the fucking save system. I prepare and get a lucky drop and go oh sick. Then I try and save only to fail the flip and die. Also while wasting a coin but I mean I was dead anyway but like it's extra insult to injury.

At the same time I can't really see myself editing in unlimited books of enlightenment. That would remove something I view as very crucial to the experience. So it's a weird case of there is a system I kind of hate but also which I can't remove because I would like the game less if I did. Which is just incredibly fascinating.

[phanomeheart]

1, 15, 17, 28, 30? sorry there's so many :)

No need to apologize! These were some of my favs

1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

My first thought is Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson, definitely. I love Jeanette Winterson so much, her writing is one of those things that just clicks with my brain and like makes my mind flow in the same rhythm and I’m not good at explaining it, but it makes me wanna think and write and is just such a great experience for me. And little not-quite-realizing-I-was-non-binary-yet me latched on so hard to the idea of a protagonist whose gender you didn’t know throughout the entire book. I spent the whole time trying to guess what gender the author intended the protagonist to really be, and then catching myself and reminding myself that the point is that we don’t know and maybe the point of gender in general can be that you don’t know and there is no ‘real’ answer and I just! I love it! God now I want to read it again.

15. five most influential books over your lifetime. 

Ahh I love this question, but also i hate making decisions about books :(

1. Written on the Body, for the reasons above.

2. The Realm of Possibility by David Levithan. I read an insane amount of queer YA lit when I was coming out in high school, and David Levithan was another one of those authors whose writing just clicks with my brain. He was one of the people who made me feel more comfortable in my queerness, and a big influence on me continuing to write in high school/early college.

3. Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat (and also A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson for similar reasons). The two things I loved about these books were that scientists/nonfiction writers could have a sense of humor, and the curiosity and the wonder I found in the natural world in them. I think Never Cry Wolf especially heavily influenced my decision to study biology/environmental science in undergrad. 

4. A Series of Unfortunate Events. Honestly, I think these books did so much in terms of forming me as a child. There are other series I loved (Harry Potter, His Dark Materials, and anything Tamora Pierce especially), but what these books did for my vocabulary, exposing me to different kinds of storytelling, and getting me interested in playing around with writing was pretty substantial I’m just now realizing. Thanks Lemony Snicket! (Also introduced me to Tim Curry through the audio books, which is very important.)

5. Honestly my brain just keeps telling me At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O’Neill. I don’t know if it was influential so much as I just cannot forget it. I usually hate major character death cuz I just cannot deal and this book has it in a BIG way, which I didn’t know going in. But the love story is just so beautiful and the writing is gorgeous to me and I think in a kind of silly way it helped me understand a bit more the way you have to just handle death. I won’t say the beauty in it, but the inevitability of it (who am I Hank and John?) and the way it doesn’t change the beauty of the story that came before it.

17. would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

answered here, but like kinda but also no

28. on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

Hmm! Depends on my mood probably? I can definitely be a little petty sometimes, but I generally try to remember that we’re all complex individuals and people can have different tastes/opinions/ways of interacting (assuming you’re not being actually racist/homophobic/transphobic/etc.). So like maybe a 2 or 3 if 1 is very hard? 

30. pick one of your favorite quotes.

I don’t remember quotes very well, but that one Mary Oliver quote has been sticking in my mind recently. I was gonna just quote the first couple of lines, but actually the whole poem is so good. I’ve been in such a Mary Oliver mood recently, and trying to practice letting go of things and appreciating the simple things as we move into the never ending winter here, with her as my muse.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.You do not have to walk on your kneesfor a hundred miles through the desert repenting.You only have to let the soft animal of your bodylove what it loves.Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.Meanwhile the world goes on.Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rainare moving across the landscapes,over the prairies and the deep trees,the mountains and the rivers.Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,are heading home again.Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,the world offers itself to your imagination,calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -over and over announcing your placein the family of things.

[moonlitmeeks]

༉‧₊˚. what he doesn't know ; remus lupin (1.3k)

summary: sometimes, your older brother sirius doesn’t need to know every detail about your life, especially your love life.

warnings: implied fem!reader, swearing, slightly suggestive towards the end if you squint, inaccurate black family dynamics (aka. grimmauld place is actually a nice home to be in)

a/n: brother's best friend!remus has my heart, actually. hope you enjoy, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!! i edited this down. so much. as i had way too many ideas, so if you want me to post some other little blurbs/instances of remus' subtle flirting, or of sirius finding out, let me know!

masterlist | taglist

unrequited love was a bitch. the familiar sting that accompanied every interaction, the constant reminder that no matter how hard your heart beat around them, it would never be enough to sway theirs. the bitter acceptance that, okay, you couldn’t have them romantically, but to have them at all was more than enough.

but unrequited love for your brother’s best friend? oh, that was basically a death sentence. 

a part of you had clung to the hope that your feelings for remus were fleeting, just a silly childhood crush produced by teenage hormones and way too many romance films.

it wouldn’t surprise you.

the first time you had met james, you could hardly get a word out, too flustered by the fact that an attractive, older boy was even speaking to you. it made you laugh now, thinking about it. you and james had grown much closer over time, and you considered him to be like another brother to you.

so it was frustrating that, four years later, remus still had a hold on your heart.

maybe it was his tawny hair, and how it always looked perfectly messy, just begging you to reach out and run a hand through the strands.

or, perhaps, you could credit it to his voice, a tone that was laced with sarcasm when speaking to your brother, but softened when directed towards you.

his personality also couldn’t be overlooked. how someone could perfectly balance kindness, humour, intelligence and mischief, you’d never know. 

if you were being honest, it was everything about him. remus lupin had you wrapped around his bloody finger and he didn’t even realise.

though, you couldn’t do anything about it, thanks to him being sirius’ best friend. telling him was out of the question: even if, in some weird universe, he returned your feelings, sirius would never allow it. not that he could stop you, of course, but he’d definitely make his displeasure obvious every time he saw the two of you together.

sucking it up was your only option. you’d dealt with this ache for four years. you could deal with it for four more.

so when sirius announced a movie night with you two and the other marauders, a movie night suggested by remus himself, you struggled to mask your enthusiasm with nonchalance. 

“don’t see why not,” you shrugged with a ghost of a smile. “sounds like it could be fun.”

“you’re sure you don’t mind?” sirius asked. “i’d tell him to piss off, but i think he’s desperate to get his mind off of exams.”

“don’t. it’s only a few films, not like he’s asking for a lung or something.”

“brilliant,” sirius grinned, moving to ruffle your hair in true older brother fashion. “i’ll let him know. cheers, y/n.”

“i’m great, i know,” you jested, holding back an excited expression.

it was only in the secrecy of your own room you let out a squeal into your pillow.

an evening spent with your unrequited crush in a dark, dimly lit room. it would make for an exciting evening, if you could get through it without combusting, of course.

unbeknownst to you, remus was also struggling with cupid’s arrow. it was the only reason he’d persuaded sirius to have this stupid movie night, just for a chance to spend a couple of hours in your company to get his fix of you in an unassuming way. liking your best friend’s sister had to go against multiple rules of friendship, but remus was done berating himself.

sirius would kill him if he knew the truth, so remus was determined to keep his feelings to himself. that, unfortunately, meant keeping them from you, too. 

not that he hadn’t hinted at his attraction. there’d been plenty of times he’d been a little too friendly with you, shot you flirty grins, paid you gratuitous compliments. he’d managed to mask it as an attempt to be welcoming and comforting, and luckily sirius was yet to notice. 

unfortunately, remus’ patience was wearing thin, and subtlety was the farthest thing from his mind tonight, sirius be damned. you were both adults now. if sirius didn’t like it, he’d have to suck it up. 

this time, he didn’t tear his gaze each time it wandered to your face. he treated himself to the sight of your side profile, delighting in each gasp and laugh the film drew from you. a large jumper hugged your upper body, and with your legs tucked up to your chest, you looked like the epitome of comfort. remus would do anything to come home to a sight like that, his only complaint that the jumper you wore wasn’t his. 

remus’ stare burned into the side of your face, and if you hadn’t brought your hand up to cup your heating cheeks, you’d be sure you were melting. whilst your heart whispered that your feelings were reciprocated, your brain struggled to come up with a counter argument for his fixation.

the film was interesting enough, some sort of action-filled drama, so boredom wasn’t a possibility. though, even if he was to zone out, there were plenty of other things to catch his attention. but, remus had chosen to unabashedly stare at you, drinking in every glimpse he could catch of your face.

surely that had to mean something, something that teetered precariously on the edge of friendship and romance. 

you dared a smile, raising an eyebrow in a wordless question. part of you hoped he'd look away, but you secretly delighted in his sudden confidence.

remus quirked a brow back, poking his tongue out from between slightly cracked lips. now your focus had been drawn to his lips, mind racing to wonder how they’d feel against your own.

would his kisses be slow, calculated with every movement? or fast, sloppy and fuelled by pure desire. maybe it was a mixture of the two, gentle caresses paired with sinful noises. it was a thought that, if you were standing, would make you weak in the knees. it was getting to be too much, and you jumped up.

“i’m gonna get a drink. anyone want anything?”

the boys replied with a chorus of different drinks, overlaps of ‘water’, ‘beer’, and ‘lemonade’ coming from every angle. you mentally noted them down, heading for the door.

“i’ll help.”

not giving you time to thank him, remus had already sprung from his seat, making his way towards the kitchen. 

well, fuck. that plan had failed. curse him and his insanely charming kindness. 

you followed the boy, trailing slightly behind him as you tried to compose yourself. the chatter of the others became muted as the door closed, trapping you and remus in your own little bubble.

you were determined to look everywhere but him, putting too much attention towards grabbing five cups from the top shelf of the cupboard.

two large hands grabbed your hips, and you yelped in shock. you were spun around to meet hazel eyes, and inches away from your face was remus, breathing heavily as his eyes roamed across your features. 

it was as if he was in an art gallery and you were the portrait; he wanted to note every last detail of your face, from the curve of pouted your lips to the slight furrow in your brows, down to every last mark or freckle. remus wouldn’t be satisfied until he had discovered everything about you. 

“shit, remus–”

“if you tell me to stop, i will,” he interjected. “but don’t tell me to stop because of sirius. only tell me to stop if you want to.” 

you shook your head, swallowing hard, though you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a protest. desire had taken over your moral conscience with ease, tipping the scales right into lust.

his voice was low, mouth only an inch away from the shell of your ear. if you weren’t so desperate to feel his touch, your close proximity to your brother and friends would have produced more than feigned concern. 

“he’ll go mad.” you observed, leaning into his touch anyways. 

“i reckon what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” he pressed a chaste kiss to your neck, nipping at the skin ever so slightly. “don’t you think?”

and as his lips finally met yours, the two meshing like lock and key, you couldn’t help but agree with him. 

🧸 ; @bluetreecloud20 @milkiangl @tayswiftlovebot @starlit-epiphany @mirclealignr @ladylokilaufeyson5 @bberee @decafcoffew

[metalbuckaroo]

ALRIGHT! YOU WANTED AN AU THAT YOU HAVEN'T DONE YET AND I AM HERE TO PROVIDE! HOW ABOUT A LITTLE HORROR AU WITH BUCKY?!?

Got some prompts for ya, love!

“this is the opposite of what i told you to do.”

“did i ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?” <-thought maybe you could do this one if they're hiding in a small space together 👀🥴

“that was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Don't Listen

Summary// A cry for help has you stopping the car to check it out

Warnings// Usual horror movie warnings, mentions of violence, guns, weapons, injury, nightmares and death, could possibly be considered dark since it's horror movie themed (just in case I did tag it dark) there's a tinge of fluff in there, cursing.

AU// Horror Movie!AU x Cop!Bucky x Reader

Note// this was a lot of fun to write and I'm soooo happy that you had this idea 🥺 as always, requests and asks are open. Though this doesn't include smut, 18+ only

Masterlist

Moodboars by: @commonintrest

Just like every other Friday night after Bucky's shift, he took you with him on a drive on a backroad. The same back road as always, one that wound around and had houses that were a mile or more apart.

Windows down and light music playing to unwind from the long work week both of you dealt with.

"Wait-wait-" You grabbed Bucky's arm to stop him from pulling away from the stop sign. "What?" He sighed, looking over at you. "Did you hear that?"

Bucky nearly stopped breathing to stay quiet enough to hear what you were talking about, the only sound he could hear being the quiet music from the speakers and soft mechanical whirring of his left arm.

You could've swore you heard a woman's voice screaming from the abandoned house you drove by every week. The one that looked to, at one point in time, doubled as a junk yard from the rusted out cars that littered the back and front yard, along with the tree line in the back of the house.

He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "I don't hear anything." He shrugged. You still didn't move your hand, listening intently.

Bucky nearly choked on his own spit when you suddenly got out of the car, making your way up the walkway to the run down house.

"Godda- what the hell are you doing?!" He barked after you, jamming the car in park and opening the glove compartment for his gun.

"How could you not hear that?" You huffed, trying to peak in the cracks of the boarded windows as Bucky secured his gun into the holster on his belt. "You going crazy on me? It's an abandoned house, babygirl." He said, gently gripping your wrist in the metal of his left hand.

"Then you won't mind going in to check it out, Deputy Barnes." You sassed, poking a finger into his chest at his title.

Bucky rolled his eyes, going to the door to twist the handle open; knowing it'd be useless to argue with you.

The house was completely dark, Bucky clicking on his flashlight to peer around the living room at the old, torn up furniture that was covered in dust and dirt.

He exhaled and turned back to you, seeing you chewing on your bottom lip. "See? It's just an old, vacant house." He assured, getting ignored as you pushed pass him. "Yeah, yeah." You dismissed, taking his flashlight to look for yourself.

Bucky followed close behind as you went towards the kitchen, different types of bugs and rats scattering when the light would land on them.

"C'mon, back in the car. Need to get ya home." He went to grab your arm again and you moved away to a door that was cracked open, a dim light peaking through. "Hey-" He let out an aggravated groan and followed you down the stairs that the door led to.

"This is the opposite of what I told you to do." He snapped, looking at your completely froze form at the bottom of the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he looked into the lit room. Everything was completely new, stainless steel tables, glossy, concrete floors and plastic sheets on the walls.

"What the fuck..." Bucky grumbled, walking further into the room. There were different hallways, meaning the bottom of the house stretched much farther than the main part.

He looked over to your wide-eyed face, nudging your arm. "Go back to the car." He said softly, stepping further into the room. "What? No, I'm going with you." You said, furrowinf your eyebrows at him.

"You really are going crazy." He huffed, going to one of the hallways, your footsteps following close behind. "Are you still hearing- whatever it was you were hearing?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at you.

"No, but that doesn't mean that nobody is down here."

Peaking one of the doors halfway down the hall open, there was a dark closet on the other side; Bucky opening the door more to flick on the light. "Nothing." He exhaled, looking behind the door.

A sudden slam of a door made you suck in a sharp breath and grip onto Bucky's sturdy metal arm; both of you standing completely still.

A tall, slender man covered in blood stood by one of the sets of metal drawers, pulling out different sharp instruments and whistling an upbeat tune as Bucky shoved you into the closet with him. Shutting the door as quiet as possible.

"Shit..." He cursed under his breath, pressing the heel of his right palm into his forehead. "What are we gonna do?"

Bucky huffed a breath at your question and shook his head. "I don't know." He mumbled, looking at your scared expression. "You're the one with a metal arm and gun. Fucking do something." You blabbered before his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Shut the hell up, you're gonna get us killed." He hissed, staring down at you for a moment as he listened for any movement. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?" He said, squinting at you.

You swatted at his hand and huffed a breath. "Now is not the time." You mumbled, raking a hand through your hair to help think of how to get out of this situation. "This was, by far, the stupidest thing you've ever done." Bucky snapped in a hushed voice, cracking the door open so he could peak out.

"Do you see him?" Bucky nodded his head at your question, hand on the handle of his gun again, just in case as he shut the door again. "All of these hallways, there has to be another way out." He sighed, rubbing his metallic hand down his face.

"Maybe we can make a break for it down the hallway while he's not looking?" You shrugged, the nervous look on Bucky's face making you worry more and more. "No, that's a terrible idea."

The woman's voice you heard earlier echoed into the room, making you grab for the door handle. "What are you doing?" Bucky said in a whispered yell. "I hear someone, they need help, Buck." You choked out, trying to keep your voice quiet as you pulled at his metal hand that held the door shut.

The cry for help was close to driving you crazy, echoing into your ears as you pulled harder on his arm. How could he not hear it? It was so loud, the woman might as well have been in the room with you.

"Hey, sweetheart. C'mere." Bucky cooed, grabbing both of your hands in his left hand, his right lifting to hold your chin. "Don't listen to it. Okay? Don't listen to it." He muttered, trying to soothe your fidgety form. "Bucky, there's someone else down-"

The grip on your hands tightened when you tried to jerk them away from him. "We'll deal with it when we get outta here. Can't do anything if we're dead." He said through gritted teeth.

You were starting to panic more. Trapped in the basement of some house, no way to get to the phones or the car that was still parked at the side of the road outside.

"This is my fault, I should've never got out of the car. I'm so sorry, Bucky. I'm sorry." Bucky had to think fast to silence your quiet crying and apologies; to find a moment to think.

His lips found yours for a brief moment, making you turn your head to break away. "You idiot, this is not the time for that." You huffed, Bucky's hands going to the sides of your face.

If this was the last bit of time he had he needed you to know. "Sweetheart, listen to me. I love you, I never told you before because I'm a fucking idiot. But, I love you." He said quietly, steel blue eyes dancing back and forth as tears welled in your eyes.

"We're gonna die aren't we?" Your shaky voice broke his heart. He shook his head, looking down at you. "No, no. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you. I swear, I wont."

"What the hell do we do?" You exhaled, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyesockets. "I... I'm going to do something and I need you to run. As fast as you can, up the stairs. Don't worry about me. Okay? Just fucking run until you get to the car, get in and drive. I'll be fine."

It was finally your turn to look at him like he'd lost his mind. "You're fucking stupid if you think I'm leaving y-"

Bucky's hand left hand clamped over your mouth again when heavy footsteps started down the hallway, free hand clicking the light off.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the footsteps got closer, waiting for the moment the door was jerked open and all of it would be over, with so much that was left unsaid.

You let out a breath that had been trapped in your lungs when the footsteps passed the door, Bucky leaning to talk as quiet as he could in your ear. "You have to. Go to the station, a neighbors, anything. Just get out."

You nodded in agreement and he lowered his hand, taking his gun from the holster and opening the door.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he stepped into the hallway cautiously, gesturing for you to come out. "Straight to the car and drive away." He ordered, a loud slam of a door making both of you look back down the hallway.

"Bucky-" You started, going to grab his arm before he aimed at the lanky figured at the end of the hallway.

A single shot was let off, going straight into the man's chest; but he still didn't stop his long strides towards the two of you. "You can't escape." His ominous voice chuckled, echoing against the walls.

Bucky swallowed thickly and aimed again, firing each round into the sinister form before shoving the firearm back into it's designated spot and grabbing your shoulders. "Run."

Your eyes tore away from the menacing saunter the man kept as you darted towards the end of the hall where the large room started; Bucky following.

A loud, heart wrenching scream made your stomach churn, looking behind you to see the man pulling a knife from Bucky's side. You froze, not sure if you should try to help Bucky, or run for help as he grew closer to you.

A shake of Bucky's head as he fumbled back to his feet sent you up the stairs, a hand wrapping around your ankle and jerking your leg from under you; your chin smacking one of the wooden stairs making you whimper.

You blinked away the fuzzy feeling in your vision and gripped onto the splintering wood, pulling your body forward as you brought your knee up and rammed the bottom of your foot into his face; getting out of his grip long enough to climb the last of the stairs.

Jerking the front door open, you stumbled off the porch and down the driveway. The car was right there, nearly in your reach as your legs worked fast to carry you closer to it.

The keys were still in the ignition, but the engine wouldn't turn over; the starter clicking again and again as you sobbed and screamed for it to start.

Pounding on the steering wheel; you cursed and screamed before you gripped it as you took a deep, shaky breath, looking to where the two phones once sat in the cubby hole under the stereo. "Fuck!" You cried, pulling yourself from the car.

The front door was jerked open again, making you stop in your tracks and look to who it was.

"Buck-" you felt a tinge of relief paint over the fear that surged your veins, his once neat, clean uniform shirt now torn on his side and blood soaked. "Go! The woods! Go!" He barked, making his way down the broken down porch steps as fast as he could to follow behind you.

Lungs burning, tears streaking your face in fear for your best friend and legs threatening to give out each time your feet pounded against the dirt, you glanced over your shoulder to see where Bucky went; arms suddenly encasing your mid-section and pulling you to a near by tree.

A scream tried to rip from your chest, the familiar coolness of metal clasping over your lips stopping it. "Shhh!" Bucky hissed, bruises blooming on his face and blood coating his teeth from the cut on his lip.

Breathing heavily through your nose, you let your eyes close. The thundering of your heart making it hard to hear anything. "There's a neighboring house just outside the treeline. You can make it there." He said once he was sure there wasn't anyone close by.

"What about you?" You said once he moved his hand, voice shaky and hoarse from how raw your throat felt. "I'm gonna try. C'mon."

He pulled you along behind him, feet moving fast over logs and vines that littered the ground.

Bucky suddenly stopped, tugging you to go infront of him and urging you faster; the break in the woods getting closer and closer, finally walking into the neighboring yard.

A middle aged man answered your frantic knocking, shock and fear etching across his face at the sight on his front porch. "Deputy James Barnes, we need to use your phone." Bucky said holding his badge up.

A simple nod and he moved aside to let the two of you in; locking all of the locks on his door before going to where his home phone sat. "Honey! Can I get some help down here?! Sit down, my wife is a nurse, let her look at that." The man said, handing Bucky the phone and gesturing to one of the dining chairs.

"Are you okay? Do you need some water?" He asked, reaching a hand towards you. "Yes, please." You croaked out, still on edge that the man could come through the door at any moment.

"Oh, my god." A woman gasped from the bottom of the stairs. "What happened to the two of you?"

"Long story." Bucky groaned, letting her lift his uniform shirt to inspect the gash on his side. "I'm calling it in, we'll be outta here soon. Okay, sugar?" The promising look in Bucky's eyes added hope back into your heart. "Yeah."

Soon, ambulances and patrol cars filled the road, Bucky insisting on going with Steve and Sam to search the perimeter again; no matter how many times you protested. Only getting promises that it'd be fine as the paramedics ushered you to the ambulance.

Every second felt like an hour as you waited for the three men to appear back from the woods, Bucky limping this time as he walked to stand in front of you.

"Are you okay?" You said, lifting your hands to his blood and dirt covered cheeks, seeing him wince slightly. "I'm fine, we're fine." He said, giving a light smile and taking your hands in his, holding them to his chest. "You're staying with me tonight. Alright, babygirl?"

You gave a soft nod, pressing a tender kiss to his busted bottom lip before leaning your forehead against his. "'M so tired." You sighed, Bucky's hands moving to massage the tops of your sore thighs. "Can stay as long as you want and need."

______________

Two weeks passed, you still hadn't left Bucky's apartment to stay in your own. Every time you slept you could hear the woman's voice that hadn't been found; Bucky being right next to you when you'd force yourself awake seemed to help.

He never mentioned the incident after all of the reports and paperwork had been finished, he didn't want to bring back any memories you had managed to lock away.

But, he was worried, it affected you a lot more than it did him and it scared him. He watched you scrub the clothes from that night so many times before just throwing them away.

He didn't want you to leave the safety of his apartment or his bed for your own. It was the only thing to ease the constant uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Bucky saw the pained look on your face everytime you'd see the crooked scar on his side, it was completely different than the loving way you'd look at the one on his shoulder. So, when you'd trace it with your fingertips he'd always make it a point to tell you it wasn't your fault and how much he loved you.

He swore to himself that nothing would be left unspoken again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship

[ot7always]

In the Dead of Night

banner courtesy of the wonderfully talented @dee-ehn​ !

Word Count: 14.5k

Pairing: Vampire!Jin x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, friends to lovers, smut, fluff

Warnings: dom!Jin, sub!Reader, non-gory blood and knife injury (it’s there, but mostly humorous and/or with very little specific description), biting (like actual biting), vampire compulsion (nothing concerning consent-wise), marking, hair pulling, grinding, size kink, spanking (hand), fingering, praise, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare

Rating: 18+

Summary: Courtesy of my roommate, who summarized my story much better than I ever could:

A/N: It’s finally here! I meant for this to be about half the length and be released more than a week or 2 ago, but as you very well know, things don’t exactly go as planned in 2020. Regardless, I enjoyed writing this fic a lot, so please let me know what you think!

--

Saturdays at 3 am were supposed to be peaceful.

Well – at your apartment, that is. You couldn’t account for whoever elected to roam the streets of downtown at night.

But what was definitely not supposed to be happening was being awoken from your deep slumber by furious pounding on your front door.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

When you glanced groggily over at your alarm clock and saw the time, you could have screamed.

Just as you reached for your phone to call the cops on whatever psychopath was probably waking up your entire floor, your screen lit up with a text.

Suckjin [03:19]: plz open ur door

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Sliding out of bed, you hissed as your bare feet hit the cold hardwood.

This had better be fucking worth it.

Plodding out of your bedroom on tiptoes to avoid as much contact with the floor as possible, you made your way to the front door without even bothering to throw on shorts under your oversized t-shirt.

Whatever. You were sure that brat has seen thighs before.

While the knocks had thankfully quieted for a moment, he started up again just as you reached the door.

Before he could even dare bang his fist against the wood again, you were turning the deadbolt and whipping the door open, readying your fiercest glare for the broad man standing before you.

Right as you opened your mouth to start cussing him out, he sprung towards you, hands pushing you further inside your apartment and shutting the door before you could even blink.

When he turned to face you again, hands on his stomach, you prepared for the verbal onslaught you were about to send his way.

“Just what in the absolute hell do you think you’re-”

When your eyes naturally followed the path of his arms down to his stomach, what you saw there shut you up immediately.

Wide-eyed, you took a step back, eyes never leaving the sight before you. He-

As your breath quickened, a (miraculously clean) hand shot out to cover your mouth gently, though you were sure he was ready to clamp down at a moment’s notice.

“Please don’t scream.”

When you were finally able to break your gaze from his abdomen and look at his face instead, pleading eyes locked with yours, his skin paler than usual.

As frightened as you were, you calmed some when you processed the fact that he seemed to be standing before you just fine, albeit the fact that his eyes appeared somewhat unfocused.

You nodded, reaching a shaky hand up to remove his from your face, shivering at how cold and clammy he felt.

When you could speak again, you spent a few moments collecting your thoughts before you opened your mouth again.

“You - you have a knife in you!” you hissed, stepping closer to move his jacket aside to get a better look.

It wasn’t that gruesome a sight, especially not when he was wearing a black t-shirt, but it was no less jarring to have your friend show up in the middle of the night after seemingly being stabbed.

“I know that!” he hissed back, slightly exasperated, muffling a groan when you tried to inch his shirt up to glance at the skin beneath.

“Why the hell do you have a knife in you?” you whispered furiously, pulling him by the arm to settle down onto your couch.

He plopped down with a sigh of relief, his head lolling back momentarily. You hoped he knew that he was paying your cleaning bills if he bled all over your loveseat.

“Now, now, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to remove the knife if you get stabbed?” he said with a pained chuckle, sucking in a breath at the movement it caused.

“Seokjin, now is not the time to joke around,” you said, panic rising in you because you had absolutely no clue what you were supposed to do with a vampire who had a knife embedded in him. “Why did you come here?”

“Well you were the only person I could think of who would answer their door at 3 am-”

“Seokjin!”

“Sorry, sorry.” You didn’t tend to call him that unless you were genuinely annoyed, and he seemed to drop the humorous demeanor immediately.

“Why didn’t you go to a hospital?”

“I can’t go to a hospital.”

“What?! Why not?”

“Okay, correction – I didn’t want to go to a hospital.”

You let out a groan of frustration, fingers rubbing circles into your temples. This man was going to be the death of you. You had no idea why vampires seemed to have such an aversion to hospitals, but you supposed you could never understand. Despite their existence being generally accepted in society so long as they didn’t leave trails of bodies in their wake, there must have been some other reason nobody had ever shared with you.

“Seokjin, I really don’t know what to do here,” you whispered, an ounce of desperation and unease making its way into your tone. His expression softened at the sound, reaching for your hand. As much as he might have been trying to comfort you, the feeling of his hand unusually icy against yours only scared you more.

“I...” he trailed off, trying to figure out a good way to phrase this before settling on being straightforward. “...need blood.”

“Huh?” You furrowed your brow. “You literally have blood at home.”

“No, I, uhh...” he paused. “I need fresh blood to heal something like this.”

You froze. He needed fresh blood? He showed up here because he wanted... your blood?

“Aren’t there places you can go for blood?” you asked, tensing up at the notion of being bitten. It wasn’t that you were so totally opposed – it was no secret that people said it felt good. But you had never been bitten before, and you didn’t know what to think about Seokjin showing up here for that reason.

“I came here because I trust you the most,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Please. I promise I would never do this unless I had to. But please – you can say no, but tell me right now, because this hurts so much.”

Seeing his pained expression and feeling the way his fingers gripped yours like a lifeline, there was absolutely no way you were letting him back outside to roam the streets. You had no idea how this really happened to him, but despite their general acceptance, vampire hunters still existed. Like hell you were going to let easy bait walk right into their hands.

Especially not Seokjin.

“I – okay, I just – I don’t know why I’m nervous.” Biting was a pretty private, intimate thing. Most vampires drank bagged blood, with live donors only in carefully-controlled emergency clinics or heavily guarded clubs.

There was, of course, the cases of vampire-human relationships or hookups, but most people didn’t tend to share the ultra-specific details of their sex life.

Not that you had never attempted research on your own, but anecdotes you found on the internet varied so wildly that you had to wonder whether they were even telling the truth.

“I promise I can control myself. I would never put you in danger.”

“No, I know, it’s not that,” you mumbled. “Just... will it hurt?”

“Oh. No, it shouldn’t.”

“It shouldn’t? I don’t know how reassuring that is,” you chuckled nervously. You weren’t about to back out now, but you had at least hoped that he would have a straight answer for you.

He took a shaky breath, and a pang of guilt went through you for asking so many questions.

“The more attracted a vampire and donor are to each other, emotionally and physically, the better it’ll feel for you.”

“And you?”

He smirked, and curse him for making it look good despite his unfortunate... situation. “Me? I’m a vampire, it always feels good.”

Right. You might have facepalmed at the stupid question that left your own lips, but his voice momentarily distracted you from doing so.

“Anyway, I know my face isn’t a problem, so unless you secretly hate me or something, you’ll be okay,” he grinned.

“I’m so glad you can joke around right now,” you snorted derisively. “If I secretly hated you, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“Fair.”

“Anyway, I’ll do it, just,” you winced. “Don’t call me a donor. It feels weird.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling you closer to him. “Thank you for this. Really, I owe you.”

You sighed. “I can’t just let you bleed out somewhere in the world, can I?” You allowed him to pull you close enough that you were hovering over him with your legs touching his, and you stood awkwardly in silence. “Uhh, what should I do?”

He patted his lap in invitation and your face warmed at the notion, but you straddled his legs before your brain had time to dwell on it.

He raised a hand to nudge the collar of your shirt away from your neck, his icy fingers and the sensation of his nails on your skin sending a shiver down your spine. When his thumb rubbed gently against the warmth of your neck, you had to suppress a gasp at the surprisingly intimate touch.

When you focused your gaze on his face, his eyes were not fixed on your own, but rather on the movements of his own hand, his pupils obscenely dilated. You’d never seen him look so lustful, so hungry.

Heat undeniably flared in your core (much without your consent), and it was wishful thinking to hope that Seokjin didn’t pick up on your quickening breath or rapid heartbeat.

“I...” he whispered, trailing off before he’d even begun.

“Hm?” you answered, already feeling dazed before his fangs had even touched you.

“I need you to pull the knife out.”

Well, that certainly broke you free of your trance.

“What!? Me? You – I – me?” you stuttered in a very flattering display of eloquence.

“I’m... not sure I have the strength right now,” he admitted ruefully, and you could tell that if it were really up to him, he would be doing it himself.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

“Fine,” you murmured, raising both hands to grip firmly at the handle of the blade. “Just – don’t bite me until I put this knife down, okay? We don’t need any more... accidents.”

He failed to hold back a laugh at that, and you managed to crack a grin in response. “Okay, okay.”

To think he had you so utterly flustered and at his whim only moments ago.

“On the count of three,” you breathed, bracing yourself for something you certainly never expected anyone to ask of you. “One... two... three.”

When you reached three, you flinched your eyes shut, pulling as hard as you could in one quick burst, desperate to have this all over before it started.

The sensation was something odd and unspeakable, and you turned to toss the knife on the table behind you before you could register the uncomfortable warmth on your hands.

But the exact moment the sound of metal clattering on glass reached your ears, your head was being wrenched back by large hands, plump lips and hot breath coming into contact with your neck before you realized he’d moved.

You could barely suck in a gasp before a hand moved to grip tightly at your waist, and fangs sunk into your skin.

White-hot pain lanced through your body like electricity, and for a moment you were thinking you were done for. Seokjin was wrong, maybe he lied, and you definitely lacked the strength to push off a dying vampire determined to drink.

But just as you opened your mouth, whether to scream or cry or whatever else, you were immediately silenced, a breathy groan soon pulled from your throat.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure flowing through your limbs had you weak, your body falling limp into sensation immediately.

Clearly prepared for this outcome, Seokjin only pulled you closer to him, the hand on your waist supporting your body, a hand fisted near your scalp keeping your head back. The casual display of strength pulled a whimper from you, your body feeling hot all over.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, and you had to wonder when you had opened them at all, because you couldn’t recall processing a single thing visually since his fangs touched you.

You thought that would be as good as it gets, but the pleasure only kept building and building. It rendered you almost completely immobile, your world reduced to Seokjin at your neck, the broad planes of his body below yours, and the myriad of bliss flooding your veins. Heat was throbbing in your cunt, your nipples hard and almost pained as they rubbed against the roughness of your t-shirt.

You raised your hands that were sitting idle at your sides to fist into Seokjin’s shirt, giving no thought to the fact that he was gravely injured in that spot only minutes ago, fingers feeling almost numb and not registering the wetness that was there either.

“Ah - Jin,” you cried loudly as the bliss only built, tossing your head back to bare more of your neck.

He growled ferally into your skin, the sound going straight to your core. He pulled you closer still, enough that your breasts pressed harshly into his chest, your hips slotted together.

Sighing happily at the pressure right where you needed it most, you ground desperately against whatever you could feel against you. When you felt the undeniable hardness of Seokjin’s cock against your cunt and its delicious friction against your soaked-through panties, you moaned obscenely.

You felt rather than heard his gasp in response, his grip around you tightening even further, enough that you felt out of breath.

You whimpered at the restriction, his strength keeping you from grinding against him no matter how hard you tried.

You cursed him internally, but there was no way you were going to formulate words at this point, your mind completely lost to euphoric delirium.

It felt as though you were floating, head thrown back as sparks flew up your spine relentlessly.

Despite the lack of proper friction against your cunt, you could feel pressure building in your abdomen. You were close, so close, so undeniably close-

Fangs retracted from your neck, and the sudden loss was like ice water being thrown over your head. You shivered.

The tight grip on you loosened, Seokjin leaning into the back of the couch and groaning.

When you opened your eyes you almost fell over at the way the world spun, dizziness and blurry vision almost distracting you from the orgasm that seemed only moments away.

Almost.

Blinking furiously until you managed to fix your gaze onto Seokjin’s face, you sucked in a harsh breath at the sight before you.

Irises swimming with crimson, pupils blown out, chest heaving, dark hair mussed, lips painted red, fangs still visible past his parted lips – he looked the very picture of sin.

Fuck.

Though if you had a mirror, you would see that you looked just as ruined – eyes wanton and desperate, teeth gnawing into your bottom lip, dark bruises colouring your neck. If temptation were a person, it would be you, sitting in Seokjin’s lap with your soaked panties still pressed against the bulge in his pants.

As you stared at each other, it was as though time froze. Neither of you moved an inch, seemingly content to remain in some kind of intense, sensual staredown for the rest of time.

But you’d never claimed to be a patient person, and when you finally felt confident that your body was yours again, you acted.

If he wanted to push you away, he could have. His reflexes always seemed to almost predict the future, and you were positive that if he didn’t want this, he would have stopped you. He was never one to avoid voicing his discontent, even if it was masked as a self-deprecating joke. Some part of you deep down expected him to end this before it had even begun.

He didn’t.

Your lips met his in a depraved frenzy, too far gone to make any attempt at starting slow. It was rough, and it was messy, and it was desperate, and you loved it. His fangs scraped at your bottom lip and you gasped, fisting your hands into his hair as your body remembered how it felt the last time those fangs breached your skin. But as you ground your clit into the sizeable bulge in his pants again, he froze.

Just as you were about to pull away to see what caught his attention, he pushed you away first, hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he gasped, and it very much looked like it took all of his willpower to break away.

“What’s wrong?” you asked weakly, your head still spinning, body absolutely overcome by lust. In fact, he was looking a bit blurry again with how fast he moved you, and it took several moments of rapid blinking before you met his very concerned gaze. Nothing ever escaped him, and you were sure that your semi-weak state was very obvious to him right now.

Not that it affected how much you wanted his touch, his cock.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your brow furrowed. “I do know what I’m doing,” you said firmly – or at least, you tried, but it took far too much effort to wrap your tongue around the syllables, almost as if you were drunk.

“Y/N-”

“Why don’t you believe me?” you whined, this time sounding a bit more coherent. You tried to push toward him, but his hold was too strong. “You want it too, look at your face.”

He sighed, looking to the ceiling as though it held some answer on how to make this easier. “It’s not about whether I want it or not. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jinnie,” you whimpered needily, reaching your hands toward the waistband of his pants. If he didn’t touch you soon, you swore that you would scream. “Please. I want it. I want you. I promise-”

He moved to snatch your hands before you could touch him, and your mouth clamped shut at the grip. His expression was almost pained for a moment before his eyes glazed over with a look that would have had you on your knees immediately.

His hand shot up to grip your chin firmly, ensuring that you couldn’t look away. Though, you didn’t think you could look away if you tried, drawn to the unspeakable darkness you found there, crimson still invading the rich brown.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and sleep for me?”

“Wh-what?” you choked out, but it was as though you’d lost control of your body, feeling as though you’d been awake for days without sleep. Your eyelids fluttered shut, but you forced them back open, groaning weakly when your vision fell upon Seokjin, his expression still dark and hungry.

You were about to open your mouth again, but something about his eyes was so captivating. Something about the red pulled you in, left you unable to think. Were his eyes always this beautiful? You wracked your brain, but came up blank. You wanted to open your mouth and ask him, but you couldn’t move a muscle. Even still, your face drew closer to his as though pulled in by a magnet.

His eyes roved over your face before meeting your gaze once more, and you missed the flash of sympathy that was present for only a moment. You were relieved when he looked at you again, fingers twitching with the urge to cup his face. You were content to look at him for the rest of time – if there was anything Seokjin had, it was time, right?

Attention focused on each other, he parted his lips, and you could have sworn your ears buzzed, desperate to hold on to every word.

“Sleep.”

Your vision went black.

--

You awoke to a hand scratching gently at your scalp, a great contrast to the relentless hammering of your head. You groaned, shoving your face further into your pillow, blocking out the light that was already worsening the ache of your skull, even with your eyes closed.

You were so comfy, so relaxed at the touch that you almost drifted right back to sleep.

Wait.

You lived alone.

Sitting up all in a rush, you gasped as the world spun. It only got worse when you forced your eyes open, a pained whine leaving your lips as even the limited light in the room only introduced more pain behind your eyes.

“Woah! It’s just me, it’s just me.” Seokjin’s voice came out in a rush, sturdy arms lowering you back to your pillow as he pulled the sheets up to shadow your face.

Right. Seokjin.

Your heartbeat calmed, recalling his arrival late last night. Though, what came next was all a blur you couldn’t bother trying to remember right now.

You heard him step away quickly, the sound of your curtains drawing completely closed having you let out a sigh of relief. His footsteps neared you again, his cool touch returning to stroke gently at your face, before moving to massage at the base of your skull.

His touch was so delicate it almost baffled you. You didn’t think he’d touch anyone like this, his displays of affection more inclined to loud compliments and playful roughhousing.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt incredible, your neck arching almost imperceptively as you leaned into his touch. The chill of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you, and you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

“Are you cold?”

Blood rushed to your face at the observation, though you only gave a noncommittal noise in return. He didn’t need to know what was going on in your mind.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled quietly, a pout overtaking your lips. Seokjin had to force himself not to laugh at how cute you looked then.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied softly, lulling you back into a half-asleep state with the gentle motions of his hand on you.

You couldn’t tell how long it was before you opened your eyes again – it could have been 2 minutes or it could have been two hours. You couldn’t even tell whether you’d drifted off or not.

It was fortunately much darker than the first time you opened your eyes, much to the relief of your headache that had faded some, but was still thudding away.

What you didn’t expect, however, was to be greeted by the golden skin of Seokjin’s chest, the shadows of the room only making it look more unreal.

You blearily blinked several times before determining that yes, that was Seokjin half-naked and perched on a kitchen chair. You tried to get words out and failed, clearing your throat before trying again.

“Where are your clothes?”

He grinned. “A bit ruined, if you recall.”

Right.

At least his pants were still on. That was best for your sanity.

“Why does my head hurt so much?” you asked, luckily able to keep your eyes open now to look at him without the pain multiplying tenfold.

He winced, his chest aching at the pained expression on your face. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault.”

“What do you mean? Because you bit me?”

“No, not that.” He raised his free hand to scratch awkwardly at his ear.

“Huh? Why then?” All of this was so confusing. Maybe you should have done more research on vampires in your life, though you never expected to be in this sort of situation.

“I, uhh... compelled you.” He gnawed nervously at his lip, but rather than the lashing out he might have expected, you only looked at him in confusion.

“You what? Why?”

“What do you remember from last night?” he posed to you instead.

As much as you tried to recall, you couldn’t focus on anything with the state your head was in. You remembered him arriving at your house, a bit of stupid banter, getting on the couch, sitting in his lap. Then, he bit you.

Then what?

You honestly didn’t know, and you couldn’t help the fear that crept its way through you at that realization.

“You bit me...” you trailed off, looking away from his face and instead staring into the sheets near where your hands laid.

He hummed in affirmation, clearly urging you to continue.

“And then, I don’t really know,” you whispered, an edge of panic in your voice.

He sighed. “That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, it’ll come back.”

“Did something bad happen?” You tried to wrack your brain for possible scenarios where he would have had to compel you to do something, and you came up blank every time. What could you have done? Attacked him? Or did he go crazy at the taste of your blood and attack you? No, that didn’t make any sense – you were lying in bed feeling perfectly normal besides the headache.

What the hell happened?

“Nothing bad happened. I just... made you sleep before we did something stupid.”

It felt like the more he told you, the less you knew. Before you did something stupid? As in, did something stupid together?

There was something about the way he was choosing his words that led you to only one conclusion – in fact, he sounded an awful lot like Taehyung bemoaning his drunken hookups.

There was no way you almost fucked... right?

You’d have to know, right? There was no way you would have gone along with that... right?

It wasn’t as though you’d never had a spur of the moment one-night stand, but with Seokjin? There was absolutely no way you would’ve let that happen. A person had to protect their heart, after all.

“Stop overthinking right now, you’ll just make the pain worse.”

“I’m not,” you protested, though you didn’t know why you even tried lying. It was a bit hard to trick someone who was both a vampire and your friend.

“I can literally hear you freaking out. Please just try to rest, you’ll remember when the headache goes away.”

You sighed, trying to ease the tension in your body you didn’t even realize you had. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said confidently, his hand trailing away to rub firm circles into your shoulder instead.

“Mm.” You might have said something, but proper words evaded you at his touch. You tried focusing on him rather than the thrum of your skull, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes open.

The expression on Seokjin’s face was one you hadn’t seen before. His eyes looked into yours with a softness that felt unfamiliar, a soft smile overtaking his lips when he saw how exhausted you looked.

“Sleep if you’re tired, princess,” he murmured, pulling the sheets up higher to cover you more. “Do you want another blanket?”

You could feel your heart speed up in your chest at the pet name and his tenderness, and you cursed the fact that there was no way to hide anything from him. At least he was polite enough not to tease you like he did your other friends.

You were so momentarily flustered that you almost forgot to respond, only nodding in response as you curled further into yourself. If you were any braver, maybe you would have asked him to join you instead.

It was only moments before he was tossing the throw from your living room over you, and it almost startled you. Sometimes you forgot how eerily fast he could move, considering he usually slowed himself to your pace whenever you were together.

You let out a contented sigh as you snuggled into the additional warmth, already feeling only half-conscious. You had just enough energy to let out a mumbled ‘thanks’ before you were drifting off again.

--

When you awoke this time, it felt as though you were an entirely new person. For starters, your head felt blissfully quiet. You were sure you would have cried if you woke up to just as much pain. There was only so much you could take in one 24-hour period. Seokjin had really done a number on your weekend, hadn’t he?

Speaking of Seokjin, he was nowhere to be seen in your bedroom. Though you were sure he was still somewhere. It wasn’t quite his style to disappear without saying goodbye, and you were even more doubtful that he would just leave after biting you.

Biting you.

At the thought, images flooded your mind faster than you could process them.

His fangs at your neck.

The relentless pleasure that invaded every fibre of your being.

Your lips on his.

Your brazen grinding against him.

And, your refusal to stop despite his words.

Holy fuck.

Was it possible to go back to when you didn’t remember and you could ignorantly lay in bed with Seokjin stroking your head?

You sat up only to bury your head in your hands, letting out a loud, embarrassed, frustrated groan while you were at it. If Seokjin didn’t know you were awake before, he surely did now. But merciful as ever, he allowed you to wallow in your mortification alone.

Was there anything worse than trying to mindlessly and basically drunkenly make your way into your friend’s pants and get denied? Your friend who you maybe found a little bit (extremely) attractive in every way, shape, and form?

Well, of course there were worse things, but to you in this moment, it certainly felt like a new low.

It took you a moment to find your footing once you’d hopped out of bed, but luckily you felt good as new otherwise. If you stayed in here alone too much longer you would certainly lose the minimal nerve you had and never leave.

In your rush to make use of your bravery, you remembered at the last moment that you were still in just your panties and shirt with no bra.

When you made it to your dresser, you paused at your reflection.

It was almost... startling how normal you looked. Though, what should you have looked like?

Baring your neck and squinting at the image in front of you, you had to scratch at your neck yourself to verify whether you were imagining it.

Aside from bruises that already seemed to be fading, there were no marks on your neck. Did it really heal that fast?

Maybe you should have been a bit embarrassed that you were so clueless on the whole subject. But in your defense, information on the internet didn’t seem to be very reliable, and vampires, for some reason, seemed to love their air of mystery. Based on the few you knew well, you were pretty sure they got a fair amount of amusement out of the misconceptions flying around.

Finally fully dressed for the first time since Seokjin showed up unannounced, you flung your door open with all the confidence you could muster.

Which is to say, you cracked your door open just enough for you to stick your head out. Much to your dismay, your eyes met Seokjin’s on the couch almost immediately, your face ducked toward the floor as you slinked your way over to the living room.

You stopped on the opposite side of the table, the sight of the stained knife there definitely not helping in your hope to distract yourself from what a fool you’d made of yourself the night before.

Out of curiosity, your gaze shot up to examine his abdomen.

You didn’t know why the perfectly smooth and unblemished muscle you found there was of any surprise to you after the night you’ve had, but it was. There wasn’t a single trace of any injury or blood on him – in fact, he looked much cleaner than when he got here. Did he use your shower?

A throat clearing had your eyes instinctively locking with his, an amused smile playing over his features that shot embarrassment through your veins. Of course the one time your ogling was purely scientific, he had to catch you and make fun of you.

You couldn’t stop your sight from drifting back down, the concept of there being absolutely no trace of anything happening to him boggling your mind.

“You really...” you trailed off, eyes darting back and forth across his bare skin one last time just to be sure. “You really healed, just like that?”

He only nodded, tapping the unbroken skin for emphasis. “You can heal me, I can heal you. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You nodded back in response, silence taking over the room quickly. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do to fill it. You’ve never experienced an awkward silence with Seokjin before, his charming nature always keeping everyone around him comfortable. This sort of energy in the room with him... it was unsettling.

“Y/N,” Seokjin called out once the silence went on a moment too long for his liking. “Can you come sit with me?”

He scooted over to make plenty of room for you, but you felt almost frozen in place. Did he really want your company after you’d pretty much jumped him? Was he sitting you down so he could let you down easy, tell you that this has been real, but he refused to associate with someone with so little self-control?

You must have stood there staring for longer than you thought, because an unreadable expression crossed his face before he spoke up again.

“Are you scared of me?”

Huh?

“No!” you blurted out, your volume clearly surprising him. “Well, a little?”

“Oh.” If you weren’t paying such close attention to him, you would have missed the hurt that flashed in his eyes. But you didn’t.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant,” you said hurriedly. You wanted to smack yourself for being such a blatant mess. “I’m just... scared,” you finished weakly.

His gaze softened immediately, and he had to restrain himself from hopping over the table between you to pull you into his arms. You looked like you were trying to shrink into yourself, your shoulders pulled towards your chest, hands wringing nervously in front of you.

“Did you think I would be upset?” he asked softly. He leaned forward, earnest expression on his face.

That was an understatement. You could live with “drunkenly” coming onto someone, but you didn’t know what you would do if it ended up costing you your friendship. Maybe you were being overly dramatic, but you never claimed to be the most rational person.

You nodded slowly, your vision dropping to stare at the floor, hands wrapped around your middle, squeezing as you struggled to maintain composure. You didn’t know why your heart was beating a mile a minute, your palms uncomfortably sweaty. You usually didn’t feel this level of fear when confronting a mistake that, to a normal person, shouldn’t be such an obscenely big deal as you were making it. But Seokjin was certainly not a normal person to you, and any situation that lowered his opinion of you was one you would do anything to avoid.

“Hey.” The sudden gentle hand on your chin made you squeak, and you would have stumbled in your rush to step backward if not for the steadying hand on your shoulder.

You always seemed to forget that he could move so quickly and silently. Your heart might stop at this rate if he wasn’t careful.

His thumb stroked at your jaw as if he hadn’t just seen you nearly fall flat on your ass, softly tapping under your chin until you met his gaze.

“I promise I’m the furthest thing from mad right now. Nothing is even your fault, okay?”

“But-”

“No buts. Let’s talk, but I’m not upset. Okay?” he urged, eyes not leaving yours until you nodded. The smile he gave in return made you feel warm, the tenderness in his gaze doing things to your heart, the hint of a smile ghosting your lips.

The hand on your shoulder nudged you toward him, the other opening wide to welcome you into a hug.

You went easily, your arms wrapping around his bare waist as you tucked your face into his chest. The relief you felt at his reassurance was immense, and you melted into his touch. It was almost strange how well you fit together.

“Let’s sit,” he said, kind yet firm. He led you over to the couch, settling himself down into the spot where he seemed to have spent much of the past day in.

You didn’t know what possessed you to straddle his lap in the way you did last night. Maybe it was the way he looked at you warmly without judgment, or the way your body craved his nearness after getting a taste of his touch. But whatever it was, he didn’t push you away – rather, he reached for your hands, interlacing his fingers with your own.

This position wasn’t the most “innocent” to begin with, but with the memories of last night rushing through your head, of his teeth at your neck and the pleasure you felt, your breath sped up.

With the expression on Seokjin’s face, you were sure he must have been thinking the same thing, hungry eyes flickering from your lips back up to your waiting gaze. Unlike you, however, he didn’t seem at all embarrassed.

“Are you confused?” he asked suddenly.

Caught off guard by the sudden question, your brows furrowed. Though you didn’t know just exactly what he was referring to, what will all that happened, but your answer was still the same regardless.

You nodded hesitantly, but he didn’t speak, your puzzled expression telling him that you were still working things out in your head. The silence stretched on until you finally spoke up again.

“You didn’t tell me it would be like... that.” Euphoric. Dreamlike. Intense. No matter what word you used, it still didn’t feel enough to encompass what you experienced the night before. You’d never experienced white-hot physical and even emotional pleasure like that, not in all your years of life.

You dropped your gaze down to your joined hands, watching the way he fiddled with your fingers as he pondered his next words. It felt unusual to have a conversation with him in this way – you both tended to be people who said what they thought without thinking on it too much, with friends at least. But it was reassuring to see him so serious, to see that he really did care.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was a possibility,” he finally said. He sounded confident in his words, but you found it odd that he was fidgeting so much. He hadn’t stopped moving his hands since taking hold of yours, and even his legs were starting to shift beneath yours. Why did he seem so nervous?

“What does that mean?”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he responded instead, leaving you staring at him, baffled.

“Huh?” you replied, immediately defensive.

You didn’t have the smallest idea of what that question meant, but he fixed his gaze on you inquisitively. Did he think you had some big secret or something? Sure, he didn’t know everything about your life, but there was nothing so exceptional about you that not mentioning it would be some sort of betrayal.

“Uhh, never mind.”

“What do you mean, never mind? You can’t just ask me something like then and then say that,” you huffed, lips forming a thin line.

“Sorry I just thought – do you remember what I told you when you asked if it would hurt?”

You swore he was going to give you whiplash with his questions, but at least this one was easy to answer.

“Sure, you said the closer two people are the better it feels. Something like that, right?”

“Right, so, uhh, it wouldn’t normally feel that intense, you know?”

The fact that he definitely seemed to know exactly what was going on and kept beating around the bush was more than a little bit frustrating. Considering he was normally as straightforward as a person could get, though, you opted to simple stare expectantly at him. But if he didn’t cut to the point in approximately 20 seconds, your annoyance would just about outweigh your concern.

“It shouldn’t feel that way unless you liked me back,” he finally said, all in one breath.

You could only blink blankly as you processed his words, but when it clicked, you went from mildly annoyed to incredibly flustered all in the same second.

“HUH?! Wait, back?” You could almost feel your headache coming back with how many directions this conversation has taken in less than 15 minutes. Your hands were starting to feel disgustingly clammy in his, but neither of you moved to separate them.

“I know this is so sudden, and I didn’t expect to be outed like this either and it doesn’t have to mean anything, like I know I like you a lot, like a lot a lot, but I don’t really know how much you feel about me or if it’s even that significant or just a passing attraction because either is possible and I’m really sorry if this made everything awkward-”

His ridiculously fast words were cut off by your newly-free hand clamping down over his mouth, plump lips tickling your skin as he stared at you, wide-eyed. You were sure if you tried this any other time he would (playfully) smack you, but he only stared.

“Really?” you whispered. To be completely honest, you never realistically considered a relationship, or even just a hook-up with Seokjin. You found him wholly and insanely attractive, but didn’t everyone? And it wasn’t that he was a vampire and you were a human – it was laughable to believe that you’d think that long-term anyway.

No, you just never saw him being that into you. He was almost ethereally beautiful, got along well with everyone, and had one of the most charming personalities you’d ever seen. His physique wasn’t even something that needed to be mentioned. With all that considered, all you ever cared to do was admire him from afar, content to have him as a close friend. It wasn’t as though he’d ever sent you hints that he wanted otherwise, either.

So to hear that your stupid little harmless crush could actually amount to anything?

You thought things couldn’t get any more unexpected.

When he nodded his confirmation, you couldn’t keep the grin from overtaking your face.

The giddiness clear on your face and the adorable sparkle in your eye sent unquantifiable relief through him, and the second you removed your hand, he opened his mouth to speak.

But somehow you were quicker than him, your lips meeting his before a single syllable could be uttered.

Unlike last night, you didn’t kiss him like you wanted to devour him, or like your body would light on fire if you couldn’t get as close as possible. This was calmer, slower, but it didn’t take long for that to change.

His fangs weren’t out this time, but that didn’t change the fact that you gasped as soon as his teeth dug into your bottom lip. Sparks shot up your spine at the sensation, your mind unable to stop thinking about what you felt the last time you were in this same position. How good it felt to be helpless to the pleasure battering down on you, held in place by strong hands and strong arms.

He’d probably ruined teeth for you for the rest of your life.

You let him do whatever he wanted, and he groaned into your mouth when you tangled your hands in his hair. Hands gripped your ass tightly and squeezed, pulling you in closer to him.

His hands didn’t even wander much further than that, but heat flared in your core regardless. When he raised his hips to brush the bulge in his pants against your aching centre, you could only moan and grind down onto him.

The pressure against your clit through the thin material of your shorts cut off every possible train of thought, and you were pretty sure that after all this, these panties would never recover.

You felt goosebumps raise on your flesh when a hand rose, nails scraping against your scalp. You arched your neck back ever-so-slightly, and Seokjin didn’t miss a beat in detaching from your lips to mouth at the skin above your collarbone instead.

He wasn’t gentle in the way he sucked bruises into your skin, a firm hand holding your head in place while the other held your thigh, his confined length rubbing languidly into your core. You whined and tightened your grip in his hair at the brush of teeth against skin, but much to your displeasure, he pulled away from you before clothes even started coming off.

“Wait.”

“Whyyyy?” you whined petulantly. Was he really going to do this to you again? You knew he was definitely in the right to stop things last night, but there was only so much you could take.

He bit back a smirk at your neediness, thumbing gently at your protruding bottom lip as he resisted the urge to tease you for your cuteness. This soft and pouty side of you was new to him, and he swore something fluttered in his chest.

“You should eat something, princess.”

“Huh?” you blinked, confused. You were about to protest when he spoke up again.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh... dinner last night? Maybe 7? 8?”

He leaned in toward you, but rather than kiss you again, he reached for the table behind you. You craned your neck to see what he was doing, and frowned when he grabbed for his phone. Your bewilderment at what he was doing didn’t last long, however, his phone screen displaying the time for you in large, white font.

5:32 pm.

“Holy shit, I slept for that long?” You stared at him wide-eyed. No wonder he took a shower and everything. You were surprised he was sat there waiting for you for all those hours without complaint.

He looked a bit sheepish, tossing his phone to the side and leaning back into the couch, tugging you with him comfortably. At this point the fire you felt had been dimmed, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still a bit irritated at being denied twice in a row.

“Ah, that would be my fault... the compulsion really gave you hell,” he winced, stroking gently at your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“It’s fine, I feel okay. Wasn’t that my fault anyway?” Your face felt hot thinking back to your behaviour and the lack of restraint you showed, hand rubbing nervously at the back of your neck.

“Of course not,” he assured quickly. “It’s not exactly something easy to resist. But if you regret it, I’m really sor-”

“I don’t regret it!” you cut him off, immediately wanting to pinch yourself for being so loud. And hasty. And embarrassing. And horny. “I’m... I’m happy right now.” Your volume seemed to die as confidence left you, but Seokjin only beamed.

“I’m happy too,” he said simply, tone laced with sincerity. “But you need to eat, I can practically hear your intestines screaming from here.”

“What?!” Strange tension successfully killed, your hands covered your abdomen instinctively as though you could shield yourself from his vampire ears. “Can you actually?”

He let you stare at him in alarm for only a few seconds before he couldn’t hold his giggles back anymore.

“Not really, but you should have seen your face. Why are you so worried about it?”

You huffed, shoulders deflating at his teasing. “I don’t know! That has to be a breach of privacy or something. Who gave you the right to listen to my intestines?”

“I can already hear your heart just fine, would it really matter so much?”

The smile dropped from his lips within a second, and the sudden intensity in his gaze had you frozen. The energy in the room shifted in an instant, and you were at a complete loss for words.

You thought he was going in for a kiss when he leaned closer, but instead his nose went to nuzzle at your neck, trailing up into your hairline. The warm air he exhaled into your ear made you shiver, pressing yourself ever so closer to his bare chest. You didn’t know how he managed to work you up within seconds, but you felt so hot despite his cool touch, baring your neck for him.

“I can hear the way your heart speeds up when I get close...” he whispered, mouthing lazily at your soft skin before sucking harshly. Unsure of what to do with yourself, your nails dug into his biceps, breath unsteady.

“I can hear the way the blood rushes through your veins, the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” A hand rose to palm at your breast, bare beneath the worn cotton of your shirt. You arched your back as he harshly rolled a hard nipple between his fingers.

“I can hear the way you lose your breath, your tiny little gasps...” You couldn’t hide the way you twitched when sharp fangs scraped against your skin, a whimper nearly making its way from your throat. “Just like that.”

“And just so you know...” His voice was like honey, warm and smooth and sweet, and you hung onto his every word. “I can hear the way your stomach is growling right now too.”

The noise you let out that moment was inhumane, somewhere between a squeak and a scream of disbelief.

He broke away from you with a blaring laugh, shoulders bouncing beneath your grip.

You moved to slap at his chest, but your hand was caught easily, and his laughter only continued. God, you were going to kill this man. Again.

Your face felt obscenely hot, and you could feel a pout overtaking your lips at the sight of him still giggling away in front of you.

“Jinnie,” you whined, choosing to display your discontent by breaking free of his grip and hopping up out of his lap.

Which was definitely not the correct choice, because you swore you could feel the rush of blood through your ears before a strong sense of vertigo washed over you, groan escaping your lips. You were sure you would have fallen face first into the floor if not for Seokjin’s steadying.

“Woah, do you feel okay? This is why I told you to eat,” he sighed, maneuvering you to lay down comfortably on the couch, sticking pillows under your head. “Just stay here and I’ll make food, okay?”

“No, wait, I can make it-”

As you attempted to push back up off the couch, he only gently pushed down with a quiet ‘tsk’ and shake of his head. As you opened your mouth to further protest, he leaned in close, the softness of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Be a good girl and let me take care of you, hm?”

Your breath hitched at his sudden words, only able to stare wide-eyed when he pulled away from you enough to take in your face. The look in his eyes could only be described as devious – amused yet hardened, and you didn’t know if you were imagining the crimson bleeding into the brown of his irises.

“There goes that heartbeat again,” he murmured as though sharing a secret, the tender motion of his hand on your cheek in stark contrast to the want etched into his expression. “You’re going to be so much fun to ruin.”

--

For someone who didn’t really need to eat food to survive (though you’d been told time and time again that eating was fun), Seokjin made one hell of a good cook. Granted, egg fried rice wasn’t the most difficult nor time-consuming dish to make, but that didn’t make it any less tasty. In fact, you were grateful for such a simple and light dish, because you learned quite quickly that after an entire day without food, rushing to eat only brought nausea and discomfort.

Leaning against the armrest of the couch, the inside of your bowl was all you could see with how close you were holding it to your face. In your defence, though, you were greatly disinterested in the possibility of needing to clean a stain from your cushions.

As you took your time eating, Seokjin opted to tidy up a bit, dishes clanging in the kitchen before you heard him rearranging his shoes at the front door.

Thankfully, his efforts included removing the knife from your table and putting it god-knows-where, but you were just glad it was out of your line of sight. Maybe he thought that it was better for your appetite to remove the thing you’d literally pulled out of him.

You tried not to let your mind linger on just how... strange that felt.

He somehow managed to clean up before you’d even finished eating, the couch dipping beside you as he settled into his spot. Vampire speed truly was startling.

If you didn’t have your entire field of vision blocked, you might have noticed Seokjin’s fond look as you ate your meal at what could only be described as a forced snail’s pace. He had to suppress a chuckle at how antsy you seemed to be, clearly wanting to just shovel food into your mouth, but knowing you would only suffer for it. How did one person manage to be so cute and yet so seductive?

When you were done, you set the bowl down on the table with a satisfied sigh, jumping in surprise when a glass of water was placed into your newly-emptied hands almost immediately.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly, face feeling hot at his attentiveness. You didn’t know how to react at having a man like Kim Seokjin doting on you. It was almost – no, it was – unbelievable, and your poor heart didn’t know how to act. It was one thing to have him kiss you like he was going to devour you, and another to be this sweet and this caring and this soft.

Setting the empty glass next to your empty bowl, you leaned back, unsure of what to do with yourself now that you were entirely unoccupied. Seokjin’s presence beside you made you increasingly aware of the awkward shifting of your hands and your uneasy breathing. He wasn’t that close to you and yet you could smell him – you didn’t know how he managed to make your floral scented shampoo smell sexy.

“Why are you so nervous?” he said lowly, nudging you into his side and tossing an arm around your shoulders. It was a simple move, and yet all you could think was how big he was, how easily he completely enveloped you in his hold.

“I-I’m not nervous,” you stuttered, and you could feel the blood rush to your face. You wondered if he could hear that, too.

A hand lifted your face in his direction, and you were met with an expression that very clearly read ‘are you really going to try lying to a vampire?’

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” you amended, biting into your lower lip. His gaze followed the motion, eyes clouding over.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his thumb raising to release your lip from your teeth, the movement intimate enough to set your stomach aflutter.

“Are we asking that now?” you responded smartly, grinning when Seokjin only huffed a laugh.

“Let me be clearer then,” he said lowly, the abrupt commanding tone having you sit up straighter. “Can I kiss you, strip you, take you to bed, taste that sweet pussy on my tongue, and then fuck you?”

Heat flared in you at the words, your fingernails scratching against his chest before remembering he wasn’t wearing a shirt for you to yank him closer. You settled for making a beeline for his mouth, but a quick movement to grip your hair at the scalp kept you from getting close enough.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted, holding you still as he nuzzled his nose against your neck, humming in content when he brushed right against the spot he bit you yesterday. “Tell me yes or no, princess.”

You nodded with what freedom you had left – not much, with how tight his hold on you was, tiny pricks of pain sending sparks up and down your spine. His other hand pulled you closer to him, your hips halfway straddling him as he mouthed at your neck, acting as though he hadn’t noticed your response. It was clear that he was waiting for you to say something.

“Yes,” you said quietly, nearly forgetting what the question was from the way he was sucking softly at your neck. At the scrape of fangs against your skin, you only pushed back against the hand in your hair, exposing more of your neck with a soft sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about it, can you?” he taunted, pulling you fully on top of him, his hard cock right against your core, and you wished that clothing wasn’t separating you.

He pressed those fangs against the soft skin below your ear, hard enough that the pain had you wincing, but not enough to break skin.

He was teasing you, and you were putty in his hands.

“I can’t stop thinking about it either,” he breathed, tonguing lazily over the stinging marks he left behind. You could only whimper and squirm in his hold, hands tangling in his silken hair. You didn’t know whether you wanted to pull him away or push him closer.

“To have you moaning in rapture right in my lap, so desperate for my cock, the taste of you on my lips...” His voice was so low you could barely hear it, barely process it, but the absolutely lust in his voice only spurred new waves of arousal in you. “Hearing you beg like that, fuck-”

He cut himself off with a sinful moan as he shifted his hips to rub himself right against your cunt, and you shuddered in response.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone so bad,” he sighed, breathing unsteady as he used his grip on you to rock you in time to his movements. “I’ve never had such a test of self-control. Maybe I should punish you.”

This voice was teasing, but your reaction was real, and there was no way to hide the way a moan escaped or the way your nails dug crescents into Seokjin’s smooth skin.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” he chuckled darkly as he leaned his head back into the couch, the grip in your hair tightening even more. A helpless whine left your lips, and you became uncomfortably aware of the way your panties were sticking to your folds.

“Tell me, do you think I should punish you?” he asked, his honeyed voice lulling you into a state you couldn’t even begin to explain with words.

You tried nodding again, hissing at the flash of pain when you tried move your head from his grip.

“Princess, haven’t you learned to use your words? I think I’ll bend you over my knee right here. What do you think about that?”

“Please,” you gasped without hesitation, freezing when you fluttered your eyelids open to meet his gaze.

If you weren’t sure whether his eyes were laced with red before, it was evident now. It only made him all the more enticing, and your vision fell down to his mouth instinctively when he ran his tongue over his teeth. A pang of heat went through you when his fangs bit into his lip, and before you were thinking about it, a hand rose to brush against his mouth.

Your thumb grazed a fang almost reverently, and Seokjin only watched on fondly at the wonderment on your face. You supposed it might have been strange to touch your friend’s – boyfriend’s? – teeth like this, but you had always been curious. Hell, you hadn’t even seen fangs in person before last night. As far as you knew, they only extended when feeding or when feeling strong emotions, and neither tended to be something you could casually see on the street.

You bit at your lip when sharpness pushed into the pad of your finger, but his next words broke you free of your reverie.

“Bend over then.”

He released you from his grip dizzyingly fast, leaning back to watch you.

You were surprised at yourself with how quickly you situated your ass over his lap, the self-consciousness you would’ve expected to be feeling wholly absent. Seokjin was just that captivating.

You wiggled your way into a comfortable position, sticking a cushion under your head. Now that your ass was sticking out right into his view, you felt more vulnerable than ever, knowing that his eyes and ears were trained on your every movement and reaction.

Hands pushed your long shirt up over your hips, fingers trailing lightly over the globes of your ass, separated only by the thin fabric of your shorts. But not for long.

Fingers reached under your waistband and tugged down before you could react, yanking your shorts and panties down in one go.

With air suddenly hitting your sodden pussy, you could feel heat rise to your face at how exposed you found yourself. But any thought of shifting and hiding was erased when you heard Seokjin’s loud groan.

“Shit, you’re soaked, smell so fucking good,” he hissed, fingers reaching to push messily through your folds.

You couldn’t see him putting his fingers in his mouth, but the depraved moan he let out afterward had you squirming in his lap.

After your shorts and panties were pushed onto the floor, a large hand ran tenderly over the skin of your ass, fingers digging in slightly.

“Is ten on each side too much for you?” he asked. There was no hint of teasing in his tone, his voice firm. He continued his soft stroking as he waiting for an answer.

“Uhh... I don’t really know?” you responded meekly. Sure, you had been spanked before, but it was never this... structured? To be honest, you didn’t really know what “a lot” would be in terms of numbers.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “We’ll work our way up and see how it feels. Is that okay?”

You nodded at first, but quickly let out an ‘okay’ when you remembered how firm he was on a proper response.

“This means I’m trusting you to be honest and tell me to stop if it’s too much. I want you to feel good.”

“Okay.”

You released tension you didn’t realize you’d had at his reassurances, allowing your limbs to loosen as you adjusted to lay more comfortably. The sensation of his hands on you made you feel safe and secure, and you knew for a fact that for all his hard words and cold stares, he was still always searching for your approval.

You twitched in surprise as a few light swats came down on each cheek, almost as though he was testing the motion. But after being briefly taken off guard, you relaxed under his hands, body already warming up at each light blow. You barely felt anything aside from a faint sting, but you could already feel your cunt throbbing, anticipation having you dig your nails into the cushion beneath you.

But even despite his preparation, the first real blow had you gasping. Not because it was overly painful – in fact, those pinpricks of pain were laced with pleasure, radiating outward from where his palm had firmly struck you. No, it was more that with the control and precision he showed, another realization struck you at that moment.

He really knew what he was doing.

This wasn’t just a college boyfriend who wanted to experiment with things he saw in porn, or a random bar hookup who thought he was more than he was.

No, Seokjin was the epitome of calculated control, had you eating out of the palm of his hand with one simple word. One look and you were his.

And fuck, if that didn’t make you melt.

You sighed happily as a hit came down on your other asscheek, another wave of arousal soaking your cunt.

“Do you want it harder?” he asked, voice low. The tone felt almost like a personal attack, honeyed words piercing your eardrums.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Yes or no. Don’t just agree to do things because I suggest it,” he scolded, punishing you with a swat to your upper thigh that stung sharper than his previous blows.

“Yes, I want it.”

“Hm,” he hummed, nails scratching over your skin, just barely missing the heat of your core. “I think I would be more convinced if you begged.”

As much as most of your embarrassment had already faded, what with being bent over Seokjin’s lap, it took so much more to put your desires verbally out into the world. But the throbbing in your cunt was fierce, and the warmth from his previous strikes was already fading. And you wanted more.

“Please,” you whined weakly before taking a deep breath to amp yourself up. “Please, Jinnie, I want it harder.”

You barely had time to process the tiny chuckle he let out before his palm came down on you again, the additional force behind it making you shiver despite the warmth that spread through you.

You didn’t know exactly how many more times his hand struck your ass, but your quiet moans were interrupted by his voice once again.

“Harder?”

As much as you felt good, it still wasn’t enough. The sting wasn’t enough, the heat wasn’t enough. You wanted more, needed more.

“Yes, please.”

“Mm, there you go. Maybe I should do this more often if you’re going to be such a good girl for me after.”

He punctuated his statement with a harsh blow to your ass, the strength of it forcing a moan from your lungs. A hand stroked tenderly over where it had struck, before doing the same to the other cheek. You whimpered as you felt another gush of wetness spill from your cunt, squirming as another strike rained down.

Yes, this is what you wanted.

The feeling was heady, your mouth open and allowing all the sounds to spill from your lips. Every cell in your body felt hot, from your fingertips down to your toes. You were certain you must have been making a mess of his lap with how wet you were.

You didn’t realize how heavily you were breathing until the smacks stopped, fingers gently kneading at the raw skin instead. Your skin felt almost burned, but more than anything, you needed those hands to slip between your legs. Now that there was nothing else to distract you, your neglected pussy was desperate for something, anything.

“How are you?” he asked several moments later.

His continued soothing touch dampened the fire of your skin before long, but that only furthered your arousal, shifting in his lap in search of some relief. You itched for some pressure on your clit, but it wasn’t possible in the position he had you in.

“Good,” you breathed, pressing back into his touch.

“Good.” He let his fingers creep ever-so-closer to where you needed him most, rubbing against where your wetness had spread, just beside your outer folds. “I think you deserve a reward. What do you think?”

“Please,” you whined immediately, but luckily, he didn’t seem interested in making you wait any longer. Maybe it was the fact that he had been waiting just as long, or that he was just tired of your constant fidgeting in his lap.

A finger slid in without resistant – unsurprisingly, what with the way you could feel the air hitting your slick skin. Your walls clamped down on the intrusion immediately, and another finger slid down to rub tiny circles onto your clit.

You whined in relief, but Seokjin unfortunately held you down to keep you from thrusting back onto his hand.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, slipping another finger in when he felt how easily you took the first.

As much as one didn’t feel like enough, two of his fingers was so much bigger than your own. The stretch had you gasping, the friction against your walls and clit making you moan out.

As he scissored his fingers inside of you, the slight burn had you hissing, though the constant ministrations on your clit made sure the pain never became your focus.

“Mm, are you sure you can take my cock?” he mused, smirking at the way you were already whimpering, increasing the pace of his thrusts as your moans got more frequent.

“I can!” you blurted out, sounding almost offended. He had to stifle a laugh. You had always been fun to rile up, and sex was no exception.

“Hm, okay,” he hummed, amusement colouring his tone. You almost called him out on it before his fingers pulled out of you abruptly.

“Jin-”

Before you could question him, beg him to come back, hold him against you – three fingers started easing their way inside of you.

You tensed up almost immediately at the harsher burn at your entrance, the stiffness of your body not doing you much of a favour. He paused all movement at your struggle.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

His words had you feeling more at ease, a reminder that he was here, he wanted you to feel good, and he only kept on making that fact clear.

You made a noise of agreement, forcing your muscles to relax despite how much they wanted to clamp down. You wanted his cock, after all. You could take his fingers.

He took his time with you, slowly easing his fingers in and scissoring them apart, all the while his other hand resting beneath your abdomen, rubbing into your clit. You keened under his continuous murmured praise, moaning as he began to thrust his fingers.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his own breaths beginning to get heavy as he watched you twitch and whine at his hand.

Once the discomfort passed, your pleasure crested ridiculously fast with how long you’ve been waiting to be touched, filled. He stretched you open so wide, and you clenched around his digits at the thought of those fingers being his cock instead.

You were easily giving yourself away with how your walls were clamping down more and more, heavier gasps leaving you. The stroking at your clit wasn’t getting any slower, and soon enough you felt like you were going to snap.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, princess?” he asked roughly, his voice showing an uncharacteristic lack of control as he spread his fingers wide again.

“Please,” you said feebly, all other words having left your available vocabulary long ago. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you, baby.” The crook of his fingers took you by surprise, and with one, two, strokes against that spongy spot within you, you were gone.

Your orgasm stole the breath from your lungs, your legs going weak as waves of bliss hit you everywhere at once. His hands on you didn’t stop their motions, only sending new waves up your spine, shivers wracking your body as you grasped the closest object tightly – your nails digging into the cushion beneath you.

He only stopped when you started to squirm away as pain took over the pleasure, a whimper escaping as his fingers were removed.

If you thought you were getting a moment to breathe, you were wrong.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he growled.

Before you could blink, you were on your back, his lips attacking yours in a frenzy.

The grip he had on your thigh was sure to bruise, his still-clothed cock rocking into your sensitive pussy as he consumed your every thought, every desire.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the realization only building the fire that had already been relit within you.

You allowed him to pull the shirt from your body, your skin left completely bare beneath his.

His gaze was somewhere between reverent and demonic, and he looked almost ready to pounce back on you before he paused.

“Bed?” His voice sounded strained, and you thought briefly back to what he said about how much self-control the past day has required from him. You glanced down at the bulge in his pants, and you had to keep yourself from grabbing at it, eager to give him his pleasure the same way he’d done for you.

“Okay.”

You didn’t think your lips formed the second syllable before you were being scooped up, your arms looping around his neck to steady yourself from the abrupt movement.

The walk to the bedroom was somewhat of a blur, your stomach lurching at the speed with which he moved. You’d known the man was quick, but experiencing it firsthand was partly unsettling, and partly... strangely sexy.

Your back hit the sheets with unexpected force, your body bouncing back up from the impact. You’d never considered strength to be such a significant turn-on, but combined with everything else about him, it seemed to make Seokjin the most dangerously attractive man you’ve ever encountered.

You thought you were about to get fucked into the mattress – the hunger in Seokjin’s stare only cementing the thought – but it seemed that he had other ideas.

“Jin-”

You were about to beg him to touch you, fuck you, do literally anything – when his hands wrapped around your ankles, spreading your legs apart enough that you could begin to feel the strain in your thighs.

The way he was gazing at your fully exposed core almost made you self-conscious before you took in the way his breathing was heavier than you’d ever seen it, the crimson completely having taken over the brown of his irises.

“I have – I have to taste you,” he groaned.

He sprung on you in an instant, plush lips wrapping around your clit and sucking before his tongue moved down to lap at your arousal.

While you were still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm, the discomfort was nothing in comparison to the bliss lighting up your nerves. You were a slave to pleasure under his tongue, hands holding you down as you attempted to buck up into him instinctively.

His tongue attacked you like a man starved, his unabashed moans into your heat leaving you gasping.

But as much as he was successfully making you lose your mind, you didn’t want to cum like this.

“Jin, fuck-” you whimpered, body aching to grind up into his face despite your next words.

He only hummed into your pussy at your noises, motions not pausing whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, a hand winding into his hair in an attempt to pull him off you.

You almost thought he was pretending not to hear you when he didn’t react straightaway, but not long after, he pulled off of you.

He didn’t even say a word in response, only shucking off his pants and boxers with a heaving chest.

You swore your pussy throbbed when you saw his cock, only moreso when he fisted it with a hiss, lips that were glistening with your arousal widening to reveal sharp white fangs.

“I have to be inside you right fucking now,” he snarled, dragging your body down by the thighs to meet him where he knelt.

You felt almost feverish, your hands reaching to yank Seokjin by the shoulders, the need to be closer taking over your every thought.

He kissed you frantically as the head of his cock rubbed against your clit, your back arching up into him, his closeness still not close enough for you.

You were so close to pleading with him not to draw this out, but he settled himself against your entrance, his other arm supporting himself by your head. When he started to push in, you could only whimper.

You knew he was big when he grasped himself in his hand only moments before, but for all his preparation, it felt like you were being split open.

You clung onto his biceps as he rocked himself forward at a snail’s pace, nails digging into his skin as you clamped down on him reflexively. It burned, but you wanted it so bad. As much as the discomfort was intense, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, unable to stop panting into Seokjin’s mouth.

You whined as he nibbled at your bottom lip, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles into your thigh, the other in your hair. But when you felt fangs puncture your lip ever-so-slightly before he sucked it into his mouth, all breath was stolen from you.

It was only the smallest fraction of the pleasure you felt the night before, but that was enough to have your head thrown back, hips raising to meet Seokjin’s.

It almost seemed that he wasn’t expecting you to thrust upward onto him, a strangled groan leaving his throat as you shoved more of him inside you.

The stretch remained overwhelming, but the pain felt like a distant memory, new arousal making the glide smoother.

“Good?” he gasped against your collarbone, hot breaths hitting your skin as his hair brushed against your face. The arm holding him up was trembling at your side, the fingers on your thigh tightening their hold as if to physically hold himself together.

Part of you just wanted him to lose control.

“So good,” you moaned, shoving your hips up again, volume increasing exponentially when he allowed you to push him in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he growled, arm moving to form a bruising grip on your other thigh, his chest moving away from yours. “Are you that desperate for it?”

The question was accompanied by a sharp snap of his hips that sent you reeling, too breathless for any sound to escape.

He spread your thighs apart even further, a hand beneath your left knee lifting your leg towards his chest.

The next quick thrust hit you even harder at that angle, a choked-out whine escaping you. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he ground himself into you, your pussy feeling split so overwhelmingly wide.

You were wound up so tight, you thought you were going to go crazy. It was impossible to think straight when he only did quick snaps of his hips at random intervals. You didn’t think you’d ever been hornier than this moment, and you swore you could feel the arousal leaking from your cunt.

You could see sparks of light behind your eyelids with how tightly you had them shut. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, the flesh still tender from Seokjin’s bite.

His thrusts became slow and deep, tiny gasps leaving your open mouth.

“Look at me,” he snarled suddenly, the sheer command in his voice sending shivers up your spine, gaze snapping onto him immediately. It took a moment for your vision to focus properly, still drowning in the sensation of his cock still moving within you.

If you thought he looked fierce, hungry, dangerous – you were his polar opposite.

To put it simply, you were a mess.

You were too lost in it all to notice the stutter in his hips when he locked eyes with you, but he almost stopped breathing entirely.

Your eyes were glazed over in pleasure, the tears just beginning to gather there only making their colour all the more enticing. Your expression was slack, and it looked like you couldn’t decide between clamping down on your bottom lip or leaving your mouth wide-open. You looked so vulnerable, so willing to put all of your trust in him to take care of you, make you feel good.

And fuck, if it wasn’t the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

His movements after that caught you off guard, his abrupt rough thrusting engulfing your body in flames of bliss, loud moan leaving you. As much as holding his gaze made everything feel so much more intense, you just couldn’t. Your head fell back onto the pillow, back arching as much as he would allow you to move in his tight hold.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice sounding almost helpless and he continued his movements, his arms the only thing keeping you from shifting up the mattress. As his gasps transitioned to groans and then loud moaning, you could feel yourself nearing your peak again.

He slowed his movements, the heavy panting reaching your eardrums and having you clench around him instinctively. The choked-out groan in response told you he was close, too.

“Jin,” you called out, the word so breathy that you almost didn’t recognize it despite it coming from your own lips.

You raised an arm to weakly grab at his body, hoping he got the message himself. You wanted him close, but highly doubted that you could manage to form the words right now.

Luckily, he seemed to know exactly what you wanted, dropping your leg and moving to hover over you, your breasts brushing his chest. He started thrusting slowly again, his head dropping to your collarbone as a hand wound into the hair at your scalp.

With him right on top of you, his pubic bone was brushing against your clit, the added stimulation having you whine loudly and dig your nails harshly into the skin of his back.

He didn’t seem to mind, a loud groan leaving him as he started mouthing at your neck, sucking bruises into the flesh.

But when you felt fangs briefly scrape over your skin, only one thought came to mind and refused to leave.

You wanted it, wanted his fangs to sink into you, wanted to feel that again. Now.

“Bite me,” you whimpered, pushing your head into the pillow and arching your back, eager to give him free reign as your orgasm inched closer and closer.

You expected him to protest, expected him to deny you, expected him to pull away.

But he did none of those things.

Instead, fangs sunk deeply into your neck with a feral growl, almost as soon as he heard the words leave your lips.

That same immense burst of pain rendered you motionless for a split second before that all-consuming euphoria descended on you.

You vaguely registered Seokjin moaning loudly above you as his hips stuttered, his lips locked on your neck. But you felt almost disconnected from the world, as though every nerve in your body was firing, your cunt pulsating around him as you reached the strongest high you’d ever felt.

It felt almost instinctual to grip at his back tightly, pulling him close, as if he’d ever want to leave. You didn’t even realize how loud you were being, your peak only going higher and higher, to the point of being overwhelming.

Tears streamed from where your eyes were clamped shut, moans turning into sobs as Seokjin ground against your overstimulated clit, your pussy clenched around him tightly.

You were so far gone you didn’t even notice the warmth spilling into you as he groaned loudly into your skin, his movements slowing before he pulled his mouth from you.

The crash was almost immediate, exhaustion and soreness taking over your limbs as you gasped for breath, the hands on Seokjin’s back falling limp. It felt like all the strength was sapped from your body, your consciousness half-absent.

You thought you heard Seokjin fussing over you, his hands wiping tears from your face, but to be honest, it was all a blur. He disconnected with you easily despite your mumbled protests, dropping a kiss on your forehead with a soft command not to move. You didn’t think you were capable of such a thing anyway.

You hardly registered his absence before he was back with a wet cloth. You didn’t know if that was because of his speed or because you were too tired to pay attention.

The next thing you knew, he had rolled you to lay on top of him, your face tucked into his neck as he stroked at your back. Normally, you might have complained about how much colder he was than you, but your skin was still so heated that the coolness was a relief.

You could tell that he was saying something quietly, unsure whether he was asking you something or not. His voice only brought you warm comfort, your arm moving to wrap around his waist.

You honestly weren’t too sure how long you laid there until your senses started coming back to you, but the hand on your back never stopped its soothing motions. The realization made you strangely embarrassed, wondering how long you’ve been out of it.

“Did I fall asleep?” you mumbled, nuzzling into the softness of Seokjin’s neck.

“Not really, it hasn’t been too long,” he responded, though the way he paused made it seem that he had more to say. It took a few moments before he got the words out. “Did I go too hard? Was it too much?”

Despite the low volume of his voice, he sounded almost frantic, and your brows furrowed. Why was he so worried?

“Of course not. I asked you for it, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

He sighed heavily, his hands on you pausing. “I know, I just – I got worried when you were barely responding to me. I guess I was just afraid that you would be scared of me after.”

You felt a tinge of guilt at his concern, but logically it was nobody’s fault. As much as you wanted to take his face in your hands and tell him that you don’t regret anything and there wasn’t a world where you could ever be scared of him, you doubted your ability to do so right now. Instead, you hoped that simple reassurance could be enough.

“I loved it,” you said plainly, sleepiness clear in your voice. You were fighting past the fog in your brain to talk to him, wanting to make sure he knew where you stood.

“I loved it too,” he whispered before bringing up the blanket to cover both of you. “You sound tired. Why don’t we sleep?”

“Wait.”

“Hm?” he hummed in response, his confused expression hid from your view.

“Are you my boyfriend?” Your words sounded almost slurred with how close you were to unconsciousness, but his chest bouncing as he chuckled told you that he heard you just fine.

You were dangerously close to dreamland, but you caught his answer right before you fell asleep in his arms.

“Yeah, I’m your boyfriend.”

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[babybluebex]

vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 5.5k ➽ summary: the four times bucky said goodbye and the one time he said hello  ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, ANGST, eventual happy ending ➽ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONK!!!! i meant for this to be a fluff blurb but it.... evolved lol. thanks @groupieforbucky​ for beta reading this! masterlist/taglist in bio!

March 10, 1935

You sat on the hood of the car, watching Bucky mess with a candle in front of you. His lighter wasn’t wanting to catch in the cold evening breeze, but he was adamant on lighting the candle up. “What’s the big deal with this candle, Buck?” you asked. “You’re just gonna blow it right out. You really want it that bad?”

Bucky scoffed at you. “Sweet, simple Y/N,” he chuckled. “It’s a tradition for me. My mom used to do it, so I have to.” 

You sighed softly, and you stretched your hands out in front of you. Bucky looked at you for a moment, his eyes sweeping over your frame, and he stepped closer. His large hips settled between your knees easily and he put his hands in yours, and you clicked your tongue. 

“No, you twit,” you giggled. “Gimme the damn lighter.” 

Bucky tilted his head at you and smiled, and he jumped up onto the hood of the car next to you. The two of you had driven out into the countryside for a night alone, just you and your Bucky on his birthday. You had even baked a cake-- you had been saving money for months to be able to afford all of the ingredients for his favorite vanilla sponge. The cake had sat in a box in the backseat of Bucky’s car as you two had walked along the riverside and splashed cold March water on each now, and now it sat next to you as you yourself were sat with Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. James Barnes was a great guy, charming and cordial, turning 18 that day. He didn’t have much family besides you and your friend from school Steve Rogers, but, as Bucky often said, “You’re easier on the eyes than ol’ Stevie.” 

You lit the lighter with ease, shielding the little flame with your body, and you successfully lit the candle and stuck it into the top of the cake. “Make a wish, Buck,” you said, offering him the cake. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember.” 

“Well, why not?” Bucky scoffed. “I wanna tell you what my wish is.”

“‘Cause it won’t come true, whacky,” you giggled. “Blow out your candle before it drips wax onto your cake.” 

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes reflecting the orange of the setting sun, and he finally rounded his pink lips and blew out the candle in one strong, swift breath. The smoke curled upwards and you plucked it out of the cake, and you smiled at the bit of white frosting that got on your finger. “Happy birthday, baby,” you said, swiping the tip of his nose with the frosting, and he laughed. “I hope it’s a good one.” 

“It’s the best one yet,” Bucky said. “Besides the inaugural one, of course.” 

“I wish I could’ve gotten you something more than a stupid cake,” you mumbled. 

“No, I love it,” Bucky insisted. “It’s really tasty; you worked hard on it.” With that, he scooped up the bit of frosting from his nose and offered his finger to you, and you licked up the frosting. 

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” you replied, straightening your posture. “C’mon, eat up. My curfew is at nine.” 

Bucky began to eat the cake with his fingers, offering you bits every so often. The car radio was playing just loud enough for you two to hear, and, even with Bucky’s jacket, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to him. You loved him. This wasn’t typical puppy love. You could see yourself baking Bucky vanilla sponge cakes for years to come. Even though he always told you that there was no chance he’d be sent over, you imagined sending him a letter with the recipe so that, at the very least, he could think of you. 

Finally, the box was empty, and Bucky laid back onto the hod, sucking bits of crumbs from his fingers. “Thanks for that, doll,” he said, and you cuddled up into his side. His arms were behind his head, and you settled your head in his underarm. It smelled so much like him and was so ridiculously warm, and you melted into him fully. “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his arm. “I love this.”

“This?” Bucky asked. 

You shrugged and pressed your hand to his chest. “Just being here with you,” you said softly. “I never want it to end.”

Bucky sighed, and he leaned to kiss your head. “Me too,” he whispered. A few quiet moments passed, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Can you promise me something, dollface?” 

“Anything,” you agreed. 

“We’ll spend every birthday together,” Bucky said. “Even if we’re apart, you’ll send me letters and all. I’ll do the same for your birthday too.” 

You nodded, and you clasped Bucky’s big hand in your little one. “Deal,” you whispered. “As long as I can make you cakes.” 

“I can’t bake worth shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me.” 

“I’d love to do that, Bucky,” you told him. 

March 10, 1942

“Look at you,” you cooed. “All gussied up. What’s the occasion, Sarge?” 

Bucky threw his arms around your waist and spun you around, earning him a squeal. He wore his dress uniform, his tie done perfectly and belt cinched around his jacket. His shoes were shiny and his hair gelled and combed, his face clean-shaven. He smelled like the aftershave you had gotten him for Christmas. There was an obvious occasion, and you figured that it was something more than his 25th birthday. “I wanted to take my dame out to dinner,” Bucky said, turning you so that your back pressed against his front. “Is that allowed, Mrs. Barnes?” 

You giggled as Bucky snuffled his mouth into your neck. “I guess so,” you huffed. “But it’s your birthday! I should be doing something for you!” 

“You let me have dessert for breakfast,” Bucky laughed. Then, he kissed your neck, and he added, “And then you gave me vanilla sponge cake afterwards. You’ve done plenty for me, doll.”

“But it’s usually tradition for the birthday-haver to be the guest of honor,” you said. “And for you to be pleased. It doesn’t make sense that you do all the work today. That’s not how birthdays work.” 

“Well, dollface, that’s why I joined the Army, remember?” Bucky laughed. “Wanna help people, all that business?” 

“I thought it was to get away from me,” you giggled. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, because I joined the Army to get away from you and immediately turned around and married you to keep you around,” he scoffed. “You’re not thinking right, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m still fuzzy from this morning,” you admitted. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and drew you closer into him, and he took a deep breath from your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the powder you had used on your face. “You broke my brain, you and your stupid tongue.” 

“And my lips,” Bucky added cheekily. “Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I won’t ever forget that. But don’t you agree?”

“Christ, woman!” Bucky laughed. “Let me take you to dinner! Why’re you fighting this so hard?” 

“I’m not fighting it!” you said quickly. “I’m just saying that it’s not how it’s usually done!”

“Well, we don’t do things the usual way, do we?” Bucky laughed. “Anyway, I think I like this better. Any day I don’t shower you with my love is a wasted day.”

“You’re corny,” you laughed. 

“But you love it,” Bucky said, and you shrugged. 

“Tolerate, more like,” you said, and Bucky laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment, and you said, “Finish getting ready, I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t take too long, dollface,” Bucky said, knocking your chin lightly with his finger. “I already miss you.” 

You wrestled yourself from Bucky’s grip and went to the door, and you opened it wide to see a man dressed like your Bucky. Older and stern, he struck a sense of fear and apprehension into you. “Is this the home of Sergeant James B. Barnes?” he asked in a thick voice. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked. 

You swallowed thickly. You already knew what this man’s presence meant. You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let the man in, and you called, “Bucky, sweetheart! You’ve got a visitor!” 

“Is it Stevie?” Bucky called from the depths of the apartment.

“No, it’s…” you started. “Just come here, James.” 

Bucky appeared at light speed. You never called him James, not even on the day that you had gotten married. He was your Bucky. As soon as he spotted the Army man at your side, his body went rigid, and he gave the man a salute. “At ease, Sarge,” the older man said. “You two seem in good spirits.” 

“It’s…” Bucky began and cleared his throat. His stance relaxed, and his arm slid carefully around your waist. “It’s my birthday, sir. We were on our way to dinner.” 

“Might have to cancel that reservation,” the Army man rumbled. “The 107th is being called to Germany.” 

Your heart sank, and you couldn’t control the tears that stung your eyes. Bucky’s jaw flexed tightly as he absorbed the information, and he sighed heavily. “When do we leave?” he asked slowly. 

“In the morning,” Bucky’s superior said. “The planes ship out at oh-five-hundred.” 

Even under Bucky’s arm, the room felt cold. The trumpet on the radio sounded so distant, and you heard the two men having a conversation behind a veil of disbelief. Bucky had promised you that he wouldn’t get sent overseas. He said the 107th didn’t do that. He had promised you. He had fucking promised you. You broke out of his grip and escaped into the kitchen, and your gaze focused on the cake that sat on the counter. A piece was taken from it, the slice that you had allowed him for breakfast, and the cake itself was housed in a pretty glass cover that your mother had bought you as a wedding present. The candle was still stuck into the top of it, the tip burnt black and curled up. 

“Y/N,” you heard from the door, and you turned to see your husband. His face was pale, his blue eyes as dark as the ocean, and he chewed his bottom lip. “Doll, I--”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” you whispered. “You have to go. It’s what it is. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” You turned back quickly, sniffling and trying to hide your tears, and you added, “Your bag’s in the spare room. I think your nametag’s in the box in our closet, I can check if you need me to.” 

Suddenly, his strong arms were around you, holding you to his chest. Bucky didn’t say a word. The material of his dress uniform was itchy against your skin and you could only imagine what it felt like for him, and your knees buckled. The tears came, hot and burning your cheeks, and a sob wrecked your throat. “You promised me,” you whimpered. “You fucking promised me, you bastard! You said that the 107th doesn’t get sent over, you fucking lied to me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Bucky said, his voice rising to match yours. “You would’ve made yourself sick with all your worrying about when I’d be sent overseas, and I didn’t want that for you!” 

You broke yourself from his grip, and you sniffled up your tears as best as you could. Even if your heart wasn’t crushed, you cried when you were angry, so tears were bound to happen no matter what. “So you lied to me instead?” you asked. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Bucky? I’ve never lied to you, and I only expected the same from you; I didn’t expect for you to lie about something so fucking big! Jesus Christ, I can’t stand the sight of you.” 

“Doll, please, listen to me,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Bucky was bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you. He had a tough skin and an even tougher heart from years of neglect and rejection. But you were his weakness. He cried when you did, laughed when you did, kissed you harder when you kissed him. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, but your heart burned with acidic hate. “Get out,” you said. “If you’re gonna leave in the morning, I don’t see why you need to stick around here any longer.” 

“Y/N!” Bucky cried. “Darling, please settle down!”

“If you’re so keen on leaving, then do it,” you said, wrenching your arm from his grip. “And don’t call me darling. Don’t call me doll, don’t call me nothing. You gave that up when you lied to me for years! Our entire relationship! You were already enlisted when we met! You have literally lied to me every day for seven years! What else are you lying to me about? What else are you keeping from me?” 

“Nothing!” Bucky said. “Christ, you need to settle down, please. I know you’re upset, but do you really think leaving things like this will make you feel better?”

“It’ll make me feel something,” you whispered. “Something other than missing you. Go stay with Steve or whatever, I just… I just don’t want to fall asleep next to you, and then wake up and not have you there. I… I wanna say goodbye.” 

Bucky took a tentative step towards you, then pulled you close to him. His eyes were watery as he looked at your face, and he swiped away your makeup with his thumb. He smiled wistfully, every single memory of you that he had shooting through his brain as quickly as they could manage, and he said, “Then don’t. I’m coming back, my love. I promise you. And I’m not keeping anything from you. All my cards are on the table here, doll. I’m coming back for you.” 

You two devised a plan. You and Bucky would go to bed, but he would wake you up when he did, and you would get a goodbye. You helped him pack his bag according to regulation, and you carefully slipped in a picture that your mother had taken on your wedding day. You sat in the middle, veil over your hair, flowers still fresh, with Steve Rogers next to you. You were about an inch taller than him in the picture, but you both were smiling. The bride and the best man. You knew that Bucky needed to be reminded of his brother as much as he was reminded of you. 

When the alarm rang shrilly in the morning, you watched from the bed as Bucky got up and dressed in his uniform. An olive green that complimented his skin, his boots tied around his ankle, and his silver dog tags buried under his collar. He turned to you, silent, crying, and he moved back to the bed. You still wore your nightgown, and Bucky took the lacy hem in his fingers and sighed. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. 

Your arms went around his neck and tugged him in, and he buried his face in your neck. You caressed his head as he cried, and you tried to hug him as tightly as he had hugged you. “I’ll miss you more,” you whispered back. Your chest hurt with the urge to cry, but even the notion of it made you feel sick to your stomach. “I love you so much, Bucky.” 

“When I get home,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna hold you and never let you go.” 

“I’ll pencil it in,” you said through your tears.

As soon as the door shut, you pulled his pillow to your mouth, closed your teeth around it, and screamed. 

March 10, 1943

Steve’s heart ached as he looked at the door. It was a normal apartment door, a little plaque with the number on it, above a peephole, but there was a little green ribbon held to the door with scotch tape. Bucky’s place. He remembered when Bucky had told him that you and him had gotten a place in the city. He was excited and said that he couldn’t wait for Steve to come over and see it. But that was before Bucky got sent to Germany. Before Steve joined Project Rebirth, before… Everything. He would be surprised if you recognized him right away. 

He knocked on the door. There was a thumping from inside the apartment, and he heard your voice say, “Motherfucker…” before the door opened. You looked good. Your skin was glowing, your hair was done, and you were even wearing makeup. Steve had always known you as very put together, but you were Bucky’s wife. You were beautiful to him. Confusion was etched across your face, and you slowly said, “Can I help you, sir?” 

Steve slowly took off his uniform hat. “You’re Mrs. Barnes?” he said, even though he knew the answer. There was a protocol to follow. The Army allowing him to be the one to deliver the news was enough of a breach. 

“Yes,” you said carefully. “Can I inquire as to who’s asking?” 

Steve cleared his throat. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he began, and your mouth dropped into a shocked look. “With the United States Army.”

“Stevie!” you cried, and you threw yourself at him. You knew that he had finally managed to join the Army and that he was sent to Germany as well, but you hadn’t had any correspondence with him. Bucky had stopped answering your letters and, while you feared the worst, you tried to keep your anxiety at bay. There was a reason, one that didn’t involve Bucky dying. There had to be. “Oh my God! You’re so… Big! I mean, I heard about the whole Project Rebirth thing and saw pictures of you, but… You’re taller than me now!”

Steve gripped you tightly. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it’s just me and Alpine, but you’re always welcome here, Stevie. Can I make you a drink? There’s some cake in the kitchen…” 

Steve distantly listened to your chatter as he stepped into the apartment. It was warm and smelled like vanilla, and the walls were a pleasant beige with pictures. An official picture of Bucky hung in a nice frame right by the door, and Steve smiled at his best friend. “Cake?” he repeated suddenly, processing your words. 

“Yeah!” you replied. “Buck’s favorite birthday cake. I’ve made it for him every year and, even though he’s in Germany right now, it didn’t feel right not to make it, ya know?” 

Steve carefully sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen, and he watched a fluffy white cat jump up to meet him. You served him a slice of cake on a pretty china plate, and you sat and buried your chin in your palm. “So what’s going on with you? Did you just get back?”

Steve couldn’t even bear to look at the cake. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in the morning.” 

“Oh,” you said, and your heart sank. “Is everything alright?” You pulled Alpine into your grip and gently stroked her back, and you watched Steve’s gaze falter between you and the cake. “Steve. Is something wrong?” 

Steve sighed, and his big shoulders sank. “A few months ago, Bucky and other soldiers in the 107th Infantry were taken as POWs. I led a team and we managed to rescue them. But then Bucky joined a squad that I was a part of, The Howling Commandos. As part of a mission with the Howlies, Bucky was--” 

“Stop,” you hissed. You set Alpine aside and stood up, and you pressed your knuckles to your mouth. You knew it. You knew that Stevie was too good to be true. He was there to deliver bad news, the worst news for a military wife to be told. You sighed and hung your head, and you whispered, “Is there a body, at least?” 

The chair creaked as Steve stood up, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We couldn’t locate one,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You sniffled. “An empty casket,” you mumbled. “An empty home, empty promises… Steve. Is there any hope that he’s alive? Even, like, infinitesimal? Even one percent?” 

Steve shook his head, blond bangs falling onto his forehead. “He fell from a train, Y/N,” he said carefully. “We couldn’t recover a body. If he is alive, then… I think that would be worse. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

Your legs felt weak, and you braced yourself on the table. Bucky was dead. Your greatest fear had been realized. “What do we do, Stevie?” you whispered. 

“We?” Steve asked. 

“He was your brother,” you said softly. “He had you when he had nobody else. I think you’re more important to him than me.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said simply. “I chose him, but he chose you. He chose you to live the rest of his life with. He was stuck with me.” 

You felt like a ghost as you walked into the living room and sat on the floor. You stared at everything, letting the silence gather around you. The coffee table was still crooked from where Bucky had last sat on the couch; his legs were longer and he always pushed it back to rest his feet. You fussed at him about it, but you didn’t actually mind it all that much. His favorite record was still on the player, playing empty static from when it had ended and you hadn’t flipped it over. Alpine had made a nest out of blankets on the couch, and you tilted your head when you saw that one of them was one that Bucky had made you. He was rather adept at knitting and had made it with yarn he had smuggled back to base, and it came in a package postmarked from Germany. You had referred to it as Bucky’s German blanket, but it was soft and smelled like him. You imagined him sleeping with the unfinished scraps every night. He was gone. He wouldn’t ever put his feet on the coffee table again. He wouldn’t ever get up with a grunt to flip his record and sweep you into his arms and dance with you. 

Steve came to sit next to you, and he put a heavy arm over your shoulders. “I managed to nab this from his stuff,” he began, clasping his hand with yours. “Figured you’d want it. He took it off before missions because he said he didn’t want it to get messed up, and it stayed with his bag. It takes forever to out-process a soldier’s personal belongings, and I… I knew you’d want it sooner rather than later.” 

A gold ring. The one you had put on Bucky’s finger that day. The wedding was beautiful for what it was. It wasn’t big by any means, just you and Bucky, Steve, and your mother. Your mother provided the veil and Bucky the rings, and Steve had picked a few flowers from his neighbors’ garden box. You had elected to get married at the courthouse rather than a church, and you remembered Bucky being flushed and giggling the entire time. You still wore your gold rings; you never took them off. 

You grasped Steve’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered, and your tears finally fell. “It means a lot.” 

“You’ll see him again,” Steve told you. “I know you will.” 

You sighed and held the ring tightly in your palm. “I hope so.” 

March 10, 2023

The breeze was cold as it drifted off of the lake, and Bucky nestled further into his jacket. He was sure there was some level of impropriety to wearing a leather jacket to a funeral, but it was a last minute thing. He didn’t want to come. He felt like he was disrespecting Tony by being there, but Steve had talked him into it. The jacket was the only black thing he owned that covered his arm. 

“You sure you wanna go?” Sam asked again, and Steve scoffed. “I mean… There’s so much here.” 

“You know that’s a lie,” Bucky laughed. “There’s nothing here for Stevie.” 

“Or Bucky,” Steve added. “We’re not from here, Wilson. Not really, anyway. We belong… Somewhere else. Sometime else.” 

Sam nodded slowly. He knew that it was true. Steve and Bucky were better off back in the 1940s. “Buck,” he started. “Just… Be good to her.” 

Bucky turned to Sam. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He had never once mentioned his wife to Sam, and he knew that Steve wasn’t one to tell. Any artifact that Bucky had of you had been lost to Hydra or time, and the only concrete thing he had was a little newspaper clipping that he kept tucked away: your name, listed in the obituary section. You were nearly a hundred when you were dusted five years ago. Bucky had Washington DC the first chance he had and had hunted down your name on the memorial. Y/N Barnes. Two simple words that had the weight of the universe crashing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Apparently, you had never remarried. You never had children. You had lived as a social worker, helping kids in the system go to good homes, and Bucky knew that he had chosen a good one 88 years ago.

“You say a woman’s name when you sleep sometimes,” Sam said. “Y/N… That’s why you’re going back, right? To see her?”

Even the sound of your name brought a smile to Bucky’s tired face. “Who told you that you could talk to me about my love life?” he asked, even though he was laughing and smiling now. “We’re work partners, remember? We’re not friends.” 

“Right, right,” Sam laughed, kicking a rock with his boot. “Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. Neither of you. I don’t trust the two of you together… All kinds of shenanigans.” 

Bucky smiled at Steve. “How can we?” he asked. 

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, throwing a smile to Sam. “Be good, Wilson. Maybe get a hobby.”

“I hear knitting’s pretty nice,” Bucky said, and he took Steve’s hand to assist in climbing onto the platform. 

“Or baking,” Steve added. 

“Oh, man, I could do with a slice of cake,” Bucky chuckled. 

“Give it ten minutes,” Steve said. “You’ll get your birthday cake.” 

“Whoa, birthday?” Sam said. “Is it your birthday, Buck?”

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped. 

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled. 

“Punk.” 

The sound of the machinery began to whir, and Sam called, “Happy birthday, old man!” 

And they were gone. 

March 10, 1949

You flitted around the apartment, stepping quickly to avoid the little grey kittens all over the floor. As much as you tried to keep them corralled in one place, kittens did what they wanted. The sun coming through the window kept the kitchen floor warm, and Alpine and her babies were often found lounging on the warm tiles. 

“Christ above, Jefferson, look at the mess you’ve made!” you exclaimed, bending down and picking up the little kitten. Jefferson was the second of five kittens, and he was the most rambunctious of the group. He was the one to skitter around the apartment at three with a sudden zest for life and, as cute as it was, it made your sleep schedule hell. The little kitten had wet food all over his face, and you quickly wiped him clean with the corner of your dress. “Need to get you a bib, you little wild man.” 

The doorbell rang, and a firm knock landed on the door simultaneously. “Coming!” you called, then, quieter, you said to Jefferson, “They really wanna see me, huh?” 

You kept Jefferson under your arm as you traipsed to the door, and you knew that Monroe and Buren were right underfoot; they always were. You could hardly walk anywhere without the risk of smushing a kitten. You really needed to get started on adopting these fellas out, but something about being the crazy widowed cat lady at the end of the hall seemed to suit you. The knock came again, harder, threatening to bust the door in two, and you huffed in annoyance. “I said I’m coming!”

You opened the door and pushed Monroe and Buren away with your foot. Little escape artists, they were. “Can I help you?” you asked, looking up to the man that stood there. 

He was familiar, but so distant. He had long, dark hair tied back, wrinkles around his eyes from exhaustion, dark hair around his mouth. He was all muscle underneath a buttoned shirt, and your eyes canvassed the weird shining metallic sleeve over his left arm. His mouth was slightly open as he looked at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Hello?” you asked, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Do you need anything?” 

“Y/N…” he started, and your body ran cold. “It… It’s you.” 

You quickly set Jefferson on the floor, and you closed the door behind you to prevent kittens from spilling into the hall. “James?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You… Are you real?” 

Bucky laughed lightly, and he took your hand. He looked down at it, still wearing your rings, and he laughed again. “Oh, dollface,” he whispered, and he put his hands on your face. You flinched away from the sting against your cheek, and Bucky quickly pulled his left hand away. “You’re as pretty as the day I left you.” 

“Buck…” you said softly. “I can’t even begin to… How? I was told that you… You died, Bucky. How are you here?” 

“I’ll tell you, doll,” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you everything.” 

Bucky looked around the apartment as he stepped in, his eyes skating in wonderment. “Looks the same,” he said softly. 

“I couldn’t bear to change it too much,” you said softly. “Oh, umm, the white cat’s named Alpine, and all the others…” You gestured to the kittens littered around the room. “Jefferson, Monroe, Buren, Polk, and Pierce… I can’t tell them apart, really. Jefferson is the energetic one, and Monroe and Buren are always underfoot, but the rest--”

Bucky kissed you. You melted into his body, the way you always had, and you tugged him close by his hair and kissed back. You had missed him. Seven years was a hell of a long time to miss someone. You had almost forgotten the feel of his body against yours. He smelled just like himself, sounded like himself, and looked like himself (maybe a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, actually). “Bucky,” you whispered, and his arm went around your waist and pulled you against him even closer. His touch and grip was rougher than before, but that was war, you supposed. “Bucky, I just--”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, doll. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t need an excuse, love,” you told him. You had forgotten the way he looked at you, his blue eyes gazing at you like you had fixed the stars in his likeness, and you felt like the silly little girl back in high school who had a crush on a senior. “I don’t need anything.”

“Just me,” Bucky whispered. 

“Just you,” you agreed. You sighed and kissed him again, and your heart swelled. Your Bucky was finally home. “Actually, I do wanna know about--”

“The arm?” Bucky asked. 

“The hair,” you finished, twirling a dark strand around your finger. “But, yeah, I’m curious about the arm too.” 

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘there’s a lot of moving parts’?” you asked. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘I’ve waited for 81 years to get you back’,” Bucky said, and he pushed your hair behind your ear with a deft metal finger. “‘Long’ as in ‘I was kidnapped by Nazis and frozen for decades’. ‘Long’ as in I traveled back in time to get you’. ‘Long’ as in… Just fucking long, doll. It’s gonna take me a while to tell the story.” 

Your mind was whirling, and you pulled him down to the couch. “So, you fought Nazis and time to get to me?”

Bucky shrugged slowly. “I mean, that’s a vast oversimplification, but, essentially, yeah.” 

You smiled. “You’re gonna need to explain this real slow,” you laughed. “I’ve never been as smart as you.” 

The smile that you had coveted for years was back. “You’re selling yourself short there,” Bucky said. “You’re the best girl I know. You’re my best girl, ya know that? The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” 

After years of crying tears of sorrow, your tears were of happiness. You were smiling and laughing, kissing Bucky and tasting his own salty tears. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered. 

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked. 

You nodded. “Of course. Your favorite: vanilla sponge.”

[espressokiri]

Ok, I have a request! Class 1-A with a classmate who's a witch and is very curious about quirks since she didn't know anyone with quirks growing up (really like's Baku, Kiri, Nejire, Kami and Todoroki's quirks, she thinks they're pretty)

Class 1A x F!Reader

In which Class 1A deals with a classmate who has been hidden from the world of quirks and practices witchcraft.

Warnings: Possible wrong depiction of witchcraft (I was not sure if you meant witchcraft like something from the MCU or actual practice so I'll mix them both in.)

Genre: Fluff

It was a sight for neighbouring students to see class 1-A flabbergasted. It was especially pleasing for the one and only Monoma Neito of class 1-B, who was cackling in the background, to hear something as absurd coming out of Y/n's mouth.

"So you're saying it's not magic but a mutation in human genetics?"

"How are you even in class 1-A without a quirk or knowledge about quirks?"

Y/n shrugged and pointed at Aizawa who merely slapped her hand away at the rude manner.

"Y/n may be quirkless but she has shown something far more spectacular for someone as mundane as her, something I don't believe anyone with a quirk could achieve." Aizawa drawled, "Y/n is a witch and has mastered the art of witchcraft."

"Isn't that technically a quirk?"

"Whoa a real witch! In our school!"

"Do you ride broom sticks?!"

"Whoa! Do you have a wand? Is it like that really old movie, Harry Potter?"

It's going to be a long day.

»»—————————————————————————-————-««

"You're like a human firework!"

"HUH? WHAT'D YOU SAY WITCH?"

Bakugou's hands released his quirk dangerously close to Y/n's face but she kept staring in awe, despite the loud sounds the small explosions emitted, Y/n found it absolutely amazing at how the human body was able to create such a thing.

"Your quirk is so cool!"

"EH? OF COURSE IT IS! I'LL BE THE NUMBER ONE HERO!"

"THERE ARE HERO RANKINGS???"

»»—————————————————————————-————-««

"Kaminari! I don't know if you know this but you could definitely come in handy during medical situations! That electricity you can produce can help someone restart their heart! Like a defibrillator! You’re like a stun gun, defibrillator, and a generator! Three-in-one!”

Kaminari had grown increasingly red as Y/n went on about his quirk, never has the boy been this ecstatic about this own quirk until this new girl showed up and praised him every second. Ego slightly inflating each time. 

“T-thanks Y/n! I’ll be the best hero for you!”

“Yes, you will! With all this practice you’ll even stop frying your brain after extensive amounts of voltage discharge! You’ll be unstoppable!”

“Marry me.”

“What was that?”

“AH! N-Nothing!” 

Kaminari continued to let out a screech as he spotted multiple spiders around the training room they were in, “ah, Loki must be calling me.”

“E-EH?”

Kaminari had forgotten she worked with a norse deity.

»»—————————————————————————-————-««

“Awe man I ran out of matches and lighters.”

Y/n was pouting as she gently held a candle in-between her hands, She was ready to make an offering to Loki but had no access to lighting up the candle. She knocked on the door across from her room and waited patiently.

The door swung open, revealing a confused Todoroki as he stared down at his new classmate. “I was wondering if you have a lighter or a matchstick? I need to light this candle urgently.”

Todoroki stared at her with furrowed eyebrows before he lifted his pointer finger up, a small flame barely licking his skin.

Y/n blinked once. Twice.

“I FORGOT ABOUT QUIRKS!”

Todoroki ignored her outburst and lit the candle with ease.

“Loki would like you! You’re half flame! Well, I think he’d like you.” Y/n muttered as Todoroki looked slightly intrigued. “Who is Loki?”

“Oh! He’s a deity I work with! I needed to light this candle to give him my offerings!”

“Offerings?”

“Yeah! He really likes cinnamon or candy!”

“How does he help you?”

“Well, he gets me out of tight situations, I don’t really know how to explain that but he does help! That and helps me own up to my problems or situation! There’s so much more but I don’t want to take up too much of your time! Thank you for your help, Todoroki.”

Before Y/n could go, Todoroki stopped her. “Maybe one day I can learn more?”

Y/n’s eyes shone bright at his interest and nodded excitedly.

»»—————————————————————————-————-««

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE DEATH CARD?” Kirishima screeched.

“It’s not a bad card! It just means you’re afraid of the changes that will come or that are happening in your life right now!” Y/n reassured as she placed it back in her tarot deck and shuffled them. Kirishima calmed slightly and slumped back down in his seat.

“Hey, Kirishima?”

“Hm?”

“Can I see your quirk?”

“Uh, sure. It’s nothing special or flashy!”

Y/n scooted closer to the male and pressed a finger to his arm, Kirishima gave her a confused glance before hardening the area her finger was prodding. “Whoa!”

“Do it again!”

“Eh?”

“Again! Again!”

Kirishima could swear she looked like a child at that very moment, excited at the thought of feeling his quirk despite him being nonchalant about it. “Oh man that’s so cool! I wish I had a quirk, or knew about them! It sucks how my parents kept me around the quirkless so I wouldn’t get bullied or something. That’s what they said anyway, but look at me now! In U.A! Filled with people with quirks!”

“You’re so cool, Y/n.”

The words came out before Kirishima could process them.

Y/n smiled at him before focusing back on her cards, “lets see where these cards take me.”

Immediately a card falls out and Y/n picks it up before flinging it across the room. It was The Tower.

“NO!”

»»—————————————————————————-————-««

(A/n) Hey there! I hope you like this depiction of your request, I did try to write Nejire’s but despite having caught up with the manga and seeing more of her quirk being used in it, I need more visuals and detailed information regarding her quirk as my brain simply cannot understand it. I do know it is motion waves and it’s a really powerful quirk but I do not know enough information about it to be able to write to my satisfaction. I apologize for leaving her out.

[capt-spooki3]

By The Witch's Grace

Chapter One

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

It seems Y/n, a known and hated magic user in their small town, has a lot to deal with after the rowdy bunch that is Philza, Wilbur, Technoblade, and Tommy, show up at their door step in the midst of a giant snow storm...

Warning: Cursing, talk of hate/discrimination

2.6k words

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“Alright, we need flour, milk, apples... Uh no no stop meowing, please. Shit okay, flour, milk, apples, and what? Oh god, was it- oh! Bottles! Of course, geez.” Y/n laughs at themself before kneeling down, and pets the head of their cat who was demanding their attention. The little feline, who looked like a little toasted marshmallow, purred and meowed as she was happy with the much-needed attention.

“Alright Poppy, I’ll be back. Be a good little girl for me, okay? I’ll be back in time to give you supper I promise.” They baby talked to the cat with little forehead kisses before getting back up to their feet and reaching toward the wall where a large cloak was hung on a large nail next to the door. They threw on the heavy fabric and clasped the small glass button to keep it on their shoulders, their hand lingering as it passed over the glassy eye that permanently stayed on a chain around their neck. The result of a curse placed, not too long ago, that bound it to their person until death. Just the luck of someone who often plays with magic that they can barely comprehend.

The piece would pass as a decoration to any untrained eye, but to those who delved into the arts of magic, any one of them could tell you what this object was. With the deep and light greens with accents of blue and a cat-eye pupil that was forever staring, there was no mistaking an eye of ender. The object was rich in stored-up mana, but it was no joke. Even with the most skilled of mages, they had to be most cautious and limit their time interacting with the eye. The sooner they distanced themself from it the better as the eye has been heavily rumored to take possession of people who use its magic for too long. Mages long past wrote notes in books, Y/n as read countless times, on how the eye has influenced beings to cause great harm and destruction. Its motives are still unknown. 

With the object on their person 24/7, they take caution every moment in case the eye decides it's time to take control. They hope it isn't any time soon.

Tucking the eye of ender under the latch of the cloak, they peeked outside to be met with chilled air kissing their cheeks. The bitter promise of snow.

More the reason to get their errands done as soon as they could to get back home. As if their life being in danger wasn’t the biggest reason to rush so they could hide again. They carefully pulled on their hood and hid as much of their features as they could within the cloak before stashing a satchel that jingled with coins and setting off through the door.

Being able to leave their distant home was always a treat, but also a constant threat to their life. They were never positive if they would return home after each venture. As a magic user, thoughtfully given the nickname of ‘Witch’ from the townsfolk, they weren’t liked much. They made the mistake of trying to show off their powers once before learning quickly that magic was despised among these people. It was only associated with the rich who treated people lower than them like they were dirt under their shiny boots. Luckily they still had a vendor in the town that sold to them, it was the only thing keeping them going.

After about a hour walk down a few winding forest paths that they carved out by themself after years of taking the same route, the port town was in view. Snow littered the ground to the sides of the dirt roads that they walked along and the small breeze that was present ran cold, the overcast sky promised a harsh amount of snow. That is bound to make next week fun. They sure were lucky to bring extra coins so they can stock up.

Once reaching the main town, they made sure to keep their head down and slip through the hundreds of bodies at the markets. It was all routine now, sadly. They took a turn down an alley that harbored a few stray cats and even a dog that scattered when they pressed on down the alley. Softly, they knocked a code to the shopkeep on the old wooden door.

The door just barely creaked open and an old green eye peered out. Y/n looked down to meet the weary eye peeking out at them and couldn't fight a smile. An old cackle rang out and the door opened up wide to an older woman. She was small and had all gray and white hair that was long and braided over her shoulder, but her eyes were alive and she was brimming with joy.

“Oh my little bird, how are you doing?” She said fondly with a slight German accent and Y/n knelt for the woman when she reached to hold their cheeks and look them over.

“I’m well Oma, thank you. You look as young as ever.” The kind words made the woman laugh and she put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh of contentment.

“So what do you need today? I just got in a big order of sugar if you want some.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful actually. I need flour, milk, and is Opa at his shop today? I need apples and he always has those bottles that I need.”

“Actually, he is home sick today,” She started and she walked into the shop to retrieve what Y/n needed. “He caught a small cold but he’ll be better soon. Wait just a moment and I’ll go grab everything.”

The lady went off on her way and Y/n sat on the doorstep, waiting and watching the people walk past the end of the alley. They cringed to themselves whenever they caught the word witch in some distant conversations, they seemed to be a tall tale at this point. At least they weren’t being actively hunted down anymore.

A few long minutes passed and there was a small thump that caught their attention in the shop, when they looked back there were two large sacks and no sign of the woman. Rest assured, after a few moments, the old lady was just barely managing to carry two more large sacks filled to the brim with the few things they had asked for plus much more as they usually only bring one sack home each trip.

“Oma! Oh no, I don’t have enough for all of this! Besides, I can’t possibly carry this all back home.”

“I know, I know. You’ll need it with the weather we have coming on tonight, as payment you can show me that magic you talked about last time. You know that… carrying magic..” She gestured wildly, trying her hardest to remember the word as Y/n stood back up.

“Oh, my spatial magic? I’m not too good at it, but I am sure I can manage this. Alright, are you ready?” They checked the alley for possible watching eyes before holding their hands out with their palms toward the bags.

The old woman stepped back and watched with excitement, her eyes practically sparkling already. Y/n closed their eyes and sucked in a deep breath, their hand flexing a bit and opening wider. A soft purple light began to emit from their hands and two thin, long arms that seemed to be made from the night sky itself stretched out and each hand touched the sack and engulfed it in darkness before retreating back within Y/n’s hands. They let out their held and concentrated breath with a deep sigh, their muscles and bones feeling heavy as they held some of the weight of the sacks within their being.

“That was amazing! Oh, you are so talented, I am so proud of you.” The woman said happily and walked forward, pulling Y/n down and kissing the head of the young mage she seemed to love. “Please hurry home now, stay safe. Opa and I love you and I hope to see you again soon.” 

She waved them off and Y/n waved back, pulling their hood down more for precaution, and slipped into the crowd toward the road they took back home. They felt rather blessed they were able to make it home without even a scare.

They walked along the road, waiting to see their well-worn path as the heaviness of their body grew with walking uphill. Using magic like this weighed on the body and the soul with however much the individual was carrying. They reached up, pulling down the clasp to their cloak to reveal the eye of ender to the world. As much as they didn't want to rely on its power, it was the only way they would confidently make it home. Grasping the warm object tight, it pulsed with magic beneath their fingers as if it were alive, they sent their mana into the eye to mix and grant them a magic boost. They knew quite well the item was evil and no good to toy with, what else should one do when it's bound to them for life? With a soft purple glow to their eyes now, their body felt lighter and the strain to keep their goodies in a personal pocket in the dimension lifted almost completely. They shook off their bits of anxiety with the gain of power and picked up the pace to get home as small flurries were filling the air around them.

The walk back home was fast and they were beyond relieved upon opening the door and feeling the hug of the warm cottage and a string of excited meows when their familiar raced to greet them.

“Hey Poppy, miss me?” They stroked the cat before kneeling on the ground to perform the same technique of magic for consuming the sacks to spit them back out onto the ground in front of them and hummed a soft tune while they went through the goodies and put them in their respected places around the three stories of the home. Before they noticed it, the world outside had grown dark and they lit the lanterns around the house and peered through a window to see the snow blowing strongly and the wind howling, they hadn’t even gotten a chance to see the sunset. This was turning out to be a real blizzard, they did a silent prayer that it wouldn’t last long.

Just as Y/n was trying to put the last of the sugar away there was a heavy thump on the door followed by a hurried couple of knocks of which were all inconsistent but did the job of grabbing their attention. They fumbled with the sugar but safely put it down before hurrying to the door, their fast movements spooked the cat and caused her to scramble away to go hide.

Once getting the locks undone they opened up the door to see four individuals standing there, waiting. Two of the larger individuals there stood on the sides to frame the group in a way. The one on the left most who had shoulder-length pink hair and noticeable tusks sticking out from his bottom lip and inhuman down pointed ears, was using his large, red cloak to hold a blond boy who was about to his shoulder, against him and shield him from the snow. The two both had on heavy armor, though, the blond’s armor was a bit more leather than metal. On the other end stood a taller man with brown hair who also was in armor and was hunched over to be able to get covered by a large dark grey wing that held him. Said wings belonging to a man who was shorter than the brunette and had on expensive-looking mage robes and messy blond hair. The winged man looked to Y/n in desperation as he began to speak.

“Please let us stay for the night. We will leave as the sun rises, please just-”

“Stop talking- just come in. Hurry! It’s got to be below zero out there.” Y/n hurriedly ushered the bunch inside as they held the door open for them.

The burly pink-haired man was the first to make a move as he pushed the blond boy off of him and through the doorway and was already reaching over to push the brown-haired man next. He made sure the winged individual made his way in before going in. He looked at Y/n who was still holding the door and adjusted his jaw, a nervous habit it seemed, eyes darting around a bit before he returned his eyes to them and gave a nod of appreciation.

Y/n barley was able to get the door closed after him before they turned around and was assaulted with a hug from the winged man, he was incredibly cold. They hugged the man back, rubbing his back a little as he said many soft thank yous to them, though they watched the other three who stood close and looked around at the bottom portion of their home. The blond boy hugged himself close, shivering and the brunette rubbed his back as he looked around.

They hope they wouldn’t regret not thinking it through before letting a bunch of strange people into their home.

“I truly cannot thank you enough for this. We would have died out there.” The man said as he finally let go of Y/n and studied their face for a moment, looking for words it seemed. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Phil and the big guy back there is Technoblade. The lanky one is Wilbur and the blond one between them is Tommy. They are my sons.”

Y/n watched them as Phil introduced them, each of them giving them some sort of little greeting when they were called. Whether it was a head nod or a little wave or a smile. They seemed nice.

“One hell of a family..” Y/n mumbled which Phil seemed quite funny and even Wilbur chuckled a bit.

“Oh yeah, but they are my boys.” He said while looking at the three with fondness.

The sweet moment was caught a little short when Technoblade crossed his arms, his body language screaming distrust. He looked down at Y/n and sized them up as he grumbled out a question that sounded more like a command. “What is your name. Who are you.”

“Techno- for god’s sake be a little nicer could ya? Bloody hell, they just saved us.” Wilbur retorted and Technoblade huffed a little growl and looked away. Wilbur gave a short and annoyed sigh, looking back at Y/n as he pulled his hand away from Tommy and instead rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. It wasn’t meant to be seen as a threat, but the gesture did make Y/n a bit uneasy as they shuffled back a tad. Instead, he just spoke kindly with an inviting hand gesture.

“What is your name?” He stated and he and Phil looked at them expectantly.

They hesitated for a moment with the eyes on them and cleared their throat, standing taller. “My name is Y/n... it’s nice to meet all of you.” They thought for a moment about what they should say to these people who stood awkwardly, warming up from the cold. “How about I uh… go get some blankets for you all. Blankets and I’ll set up my two spare rooms.” They added as more of a side note to themselves than the group and hurried up the stairs to get things together. 

This was going to be a long night. They can only hope the snow stops soon.

[Chapter Two]

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Hi!! Spooks here. Like the first chapter? Want to make sure you know when i post the next chapter and any after that?

Click here and interact with this post! I'll add you to my tag list!!

And thank you so much for reading!!

[cinnamonrusts]

i’ll see you in the village -- 5

parts: 1 2 3 4

Chris and his team home in on your location. He comes to learn just what Miranda has done to the woman he loves. (chris redfield x f!reader)

(tags: @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel)

                                                   ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

Chris sat inside the armored van and lit his cigarette. The darkness of the village was thick and the air felt heavy but in the moment, he felt calm. He was finally able to pinpoint your location and although Miranda had you in her clutches, his team confirmed to see you alive before she took you underground into her domain. Chris inhaled the cigarette deeply and recalled the many naggings he received from you regarding his habit.

“You should really stop smoking, Chris,” you complained as you waved your hand around in the air inside of Chris’s truck. “I’ll stop smoking -- when you stop gambling,” he blew a puff of smoke out of the window. You huffed, “I’m telling you, you can’t win if you don’t play!” Chris shook his head and turned toward you with cigarette in between his lips, “I’ll stop when you do,” he winked and your eyes rolled, “I’ll remember that when I’m a millionaire, Redfield.”

His eyes closed as he exhaled, “I’m coming, baby,” he whispered to himself, then exited the vehicle. Chris approached the team members that were staked around the general area and pointed out the location where Miranda was held up at. Around the exit of the village where you were last seen at was blocked with gigantic black roots that writhed about in a hostile manner. Helicopters flew overhead and on the side of the flying vehicles were the BSAA’s logos. Chris took the rifle from Lobo and looked through the scope to observe the situation and took note as to what his former agency was up to. They would only cause more issues for his mission than what he already had dealt with, but the Alpha wouldn’t let this stop them, they would continue on. “BSAA... They’ve gone too far,” he said as paratroopers exited to the ground but the chopper was soon attacked by a root and spiraled out to the ground with an explosion.

Redfield instructed his team to head for the main source of the black roots and destroy it. “I’ve got your back, boss. Let’s get to work.” said Lobo. Chris’s plan was clear in his mind: destroy Miranda, rescue Rosemary, and ensure your safety. With guns at ready, Hound Wolf Squad made their way through the village that was on the brink of destruction. He would fight the Hell and high water to finish what had been started.

✧.* ✧.*

Miranda brought you to the ceremony site and you shivered in the cold under the lab coat. You pondered an escape route but the area around you was mostly frozen forest and certain death awaited you if you tried to venture out into it, so you shifted your focus to the woman. Miranda led you down a small path to the ritual area where she would complete her life’s work. Your body soon began to feel weak and you could barely stand on your feet. When you arrived to the area, you dropped to your knees and struggled to listen to Miranda as she started a speech.

“That damn Ethan Winters turned out to be more of an issue than I expected...” she began. “I originally wanted him to merely dispose of my false children and awaken to the beautiful Megamycete, but he proved to be too troublesome for me to deal with any longer.” she turned to face you and dropped down to her knee, she took your chin into her hand and tilted your head back to meet your gaze. “Winters managed to destroy the four lords and take the pieces of his child back. But now he’s gone and the ceremony may continue.” she let go of you and raised to a stand. “T-Then what do you want with m-me then?” you struggled to ask. Miranda tapped her cheek with her finger as she pondered whether she felt you deserved to know her reasoning for infecting you with the Cadou. “You will be my high priestess for said future, my new Lord, if you may; but if little Rose fails to be a suitable host for Eva... Well, that’s what you’re here for, my dear..” your blood ran cold, everything that had just happened up until this moment was pure chance and you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Miranda didn’t choose you because she thought you were something special. It was because you seemed to be a good enough guinea pig for her trap.

“So- so, I’m just a fucking experiment?”“ your teeth gritted and your fingers closed into a fist. The last bit of strength inside boiled in your stomach and you pushed yourself to stand before taking a lunge at her. She merely slapped you to the side with the back of her hand and you flew several feet and sprawled out on the ground, face first. Miranda approached you slowly and pushed into your stomach with tip her foot as she rolled you onto your back. “Poor, girl. Soon, you’ll crystalize and wait for your mutation to finish. There’s nothing you or that man can do about it.” Man?! “C-Chris?!” you called out and weakly reached your hand upward toward the darkening light but Miranda simply chuckled, “It is useless, child. The Cadou is taking hold of you now and it won’t be long until you’re under its and my, control.”  Your arm began to stiffen as you could see a white crystallization spread out from where the Cadou buried itself in your body. Soon, you were completely frozen in place within a white crystal shell, almost like a cocoon. Miranda turned you from a living human, into a frightening beautiful statue for her to do with as her plans pleased.

✧.* ✧.*

Chris fought his way through the Lycans that popped up from every nook and cranny of the village. The homes burned brightly and the horrors seemed to worsen as he got deeper into the bowels of the area. Soon, he came across the Megamycete underground and planted an explosive that would destroy the village and every evil that dwelled within its boundaries. “Any sight of, [Y/N]?” Chris asked into his earpiece but none of his team members were able to confirm anything. “We do have sight of Miranda however at the ceremony site... wait...” Umber Eyes paused, “I have eyes on [Y/N] but...”

Chris’s heart jumped in his chest, “What!? What is it!?” he yelled as he hurried up a path of steps that led toward the surface. “She -- she isn’t moving. But I can’t see her too well,” his voice dropped and Chris stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?” he barely could spit the words out. “I’m not positive but I can confirm she is there with the target. She seems to be laying on the ground but Miranda is in the way,” Redfield needed to get to the ceremony site as quickly as possible but found himself in a laboratory first. He examined the area and the notes that were scattered around on the many tables, and stumbled upon a connection that he would’ve never guessed. Oswell E. Spencer was Mother Miranda’s subordinate! It all started here, in this European village... Umbrella... everything that Chris had been through started with Miranda and hopefully would end here. This small room held another secret that was tucked away behind a barred cell. Chris’s rifle had its sights on nonother than Mia Winters! The man radioed in to his team to confirm that this was not Miranda and they informed him that she was still in the same spot along with you.

Chris asked why she was there and she told him the story of her being captured and used in experiments. He turned to leave and spoke into his earpiece, “Stick to the mission. I’m headed for the ceremony site.” but Mia followed him and demanded that she went with him. She reminded how Chris promised to keep her and her family safe but those words burned the Ethan shaped wound in his heart. The man struggled to inform the woman that Ethan, her husband, was gone. Dead. But he was done with the secrets, she needed to know and he had trouble with telling her the news. “I’m sorry, Mia. But we have to leave and destroy this village.” Mia wouldn’t let him leave until they would get her husband. Chris grew angry, “Mia! We need to get Rosemary and [Y/N], then we will get the fuck out of here! That is it. Understand?” When he spoke your name, it triggered a disturbing memory of the trauma the Winters spouse witnessed.

“That woman... [Y/N]… Miranda -- she did -- things to her.” Mia’s eyes flickered from Chris to the table that you were previously strapped to. Chris grabbed her shoulders and looked at her with eyes of desperation, “Is she alive?!” his voice cracked. Mia nodded her head slowly, “Y-Yes. But Miranda implanted her with her “gift” and I don’t know what happened after they left.” Chris sucked in his lower lip as his thoughts raced, “Gift? The Cadou?” he asked, his core shook but his composure remained solid. Mia nodded once more and a shadow of fear overwhelmed the man. “We need to go. Now.”

Chris was going to get you back and make Miranda pay.

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.4 — Spencer Reid

Icon by @obiwansjedi

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Sumarry: After the breakup, Spencer and the Reader follow different paths and lives. But, after 8 years, Gideon's death brings an avalanche of emotions, putting the two face to face again in a reencounter that could break their hearts again — season 10 —

Couple: Spencer Reid /Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, death of the father, depressive thoughts, murder, crying, swearing, a lot of anguish, mention of love, fluff (but it has a very fluff too, I'm not a monster)

Word count: 5k.

A/N: This is the most sad chapter that has, I promise that the next will be very cute.💖

I saw Gideon's death episode again to make it as faithful as possible for you guys. I used the original Criminal Minds chronology too, being 8 years from Gideon's last appearance until his death.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Hunting bandits. Save people. Improve the world a little bit every day. Those were the three things Spencer believed it was worth to be at BAU. It was worth fighting for, holding on, staying sleepless for days, being haunted by murderers by day and nightmares at night. For what it was worth looking at the abyss, even when it looks to you

Reid could deal with human perversion, with the thousand and one ways to practice heinous crimes, the sowing of evil and cruelty. He could cope with constantly being inside insane minds, learning his whys and mechanisms. He could take it. He put up with it day after day, case after case. He endured being tortured, stay being held at gunpoint, having a piece of his essence plucked with red-hot iron month after month. Spencer knew he could handle it.

But he couldn't handle death. Goodbye. It shattered his soul far more than difficult cases, pushed his own sanity to the limit. Perhaps burying his feelings as deeply as possible was just a method of delaying the wave that would drown him at one time or another. Inevitably.

Each farewell took a piece of Reid away. His father, his mother, Ellie, you, Gideon, JJ, were just a few of the people who left, living their lives elsewhere. But what about those who died? The victims, the children, Hayley, Maeve, Emily (even if only for a short time) and so many others. These took much more than a piece of him. Maybe costu his whole soul.

Spencer felt himself harden over the years, the cases, loss after loss, day after loss. He felt the purity of his own heart slip through his fingers like sand, the faith in humanity to be put to the test. Sometimes even faith in himself.

Was that the price to pay for that job? Being constantly vulnerable? See his life and the lives of the people his loved most at gunpoint?

It was worth?

Maeve's death shook him more than any other, sucking all the pink glow from his world, leaving him with only the cold feeling of hopelessness. A very deep void. It took a long time for memories of she not to hurt like red-hot iron, for his breathing not to be heavy. It took a long time to be happy again.

And when Spencer felt healed from the deepest wounds, the most visceral pains, he was hit again. Deeply. If Maeve's death was a wave that brought him down, Gideon's death was the tsunami that destroyed him.

“It's Gideon.” Hotch's voice confirmed the fear of everyone in that cottage.

Then Spencer felt shattered. Torn apart. Torn like a rag doll and placed on the fire. He wanted to scream, to scream so loudly that he would never regain his voice. He wanted to break something, destroy some, run away.

But run away from whom? From what? That pain or himself? If Spencer had been able to tear off his own skin at that time and be someone else, he would not have hesitated. Not having dropped to his knees in that cottage was a miracle, because Spencer no longer knew what was holding him upright.

Jason Gideon, in many ways, was all that Spencer had. He knew that they took different paths and traveled different roads, living different lives, but he believed that they always end up on the same, even one they was old. Spencer was sure that if he was dying on his knees, Gideon would be to rescue him. For all those 8 years, it was extremely comforting to think that Gideon was out there, living life, finding the hope he had in college, finding the brilliance the world had.

And Reid knew that Jason had you. And you had Gideon. That was the most soothing and comforting thought. No matter what, he knew that you would take care of Jason, just like he would take care of you. But now... now Spencer's world had dissolved in the air. Like a sandcastle knocked over by the wind.

And the pain was surreal.

When he realized, he had left the room, close to the... body. If he could, Spencer would have moved away from himself. How would he take it? One more death, another psychopath. How many other people he love will are died at the hands of the work he did every day?

The answer to all of these questions was frightening, and Spencer wasn't sure if wanted them.

The trip to the coroner was the worst Reid had ever done, talking about the body was the worst conversation he had ever had. And when Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and said that he couldn't close himself now, that they were going to get that son of a bitch, all Spencer wanted to say was that he couldn't take it anymore. That he couldn't breathe. The emptiness was too oppressive. So much visceral pain.

But that was not what Spencer said. He just clung to the only lifeguard in the middle of the rough and deserted sea: justice. Gideon deserve it.

Reid doesn't know how he managed to get back to the Gideon’s house, how he managed to hear Hotch and Rossi talking about what could have happened. But he was there, standing, by some miracle.

“Do you know who might want to have done this?” Hotch asked Stephen, who had arrived, his eyes red from the crying he struggled to hold.

“No. I know he had a list of things he wanted to do before he died... That's how we came back to speak, one of the things was to get back in touch.” His voice was so reminiscent of Gideon's that it was stabbed in the heart of Reid.

“Didn't he talk about being chased? Feeling anything strange?” Rossi commented.

Reid watched Stephen's expressions carefully, first because he reminded Gideon a lot, and second because he looked for any clues in his reactions.

Stephen took a second to think before saying: “No, but we both don't keep in touch daily, you know?” He swallowed a sob, probably with regret, but then his eyes lit up with some information: “'But Y/n surely know, they both spoke to each other every day, if my father was thinking differently, surely she know.”

The mention of your name hit Reid with a very different wave. Bringing a very different feeling than it should. At that moment, he felt himself holding the air.

For a second, a lapse of consciousness, Spencer had not connected any of this with your physical presence. The notion that you were Gideon's daughter was obvious but, for some reason, Spencer didn't think about the fact that you were going to be there. That you would share the same air with him again, the same place...

“We will have to call her, bring her here to see if something has been left, or taken. If there is anything important on the scene.” It was Hotch.

“I called her as soon as you guys called me.” Stephen said “She arrived from California the day before yesterday, my father and she were going to travel.” He tried to swallow the crying, his eyes trembling.

"And you weren't going?" Rossi added.

“I have a son and a wife.” He gave a smile broken by the sadness of the mourning “They would stop by before I go… Y/n was going to tell me the news, since our schedules hardly match much, she works as an astronomer in…”

“Caltech.” Spencer completed, without even realizing it, like a thought out loud.

“Yea.” Stephen agreed.

Spencer felt a chill go from head to toe, and another ton of feelings were thrown at his back. The reality that he was going to see you again hit him hard. Like an arrow. Suddenly, Reid wanted to get out of there. Run as far as possible.

He couldn't see you. He had no ability to deal with those feelings now. Not now, when his life was so overwhelmed with emotions for Gideon’s death that he still hadn't dealt Not when you aroused the feeling of... hope. Spencer can’t could hope, of any kind. Not for them to be taken from him with visceral force. Reid was already hurt enough for handling another fall.

“... But I don't think it's a good idea for my sister to be here, anyway.” Stephen continued to speak.

Rossi and Hotch frowned: “Why?”

“They were very connected. Seeing this scene is not going to do her any good...” he sobs this time “Y/n is not like me… she is sentimental, emotional. ”

“As long as you're trying to stay calm, she'll be the opposite.” Hotch completed.

“I just don't want my sister to suffer anymore and...”

But it was too late for Stephen to complete. It was too much for Spencer to escape. It was too late to be born again, in a different life.

A gray car moved forward on the stone road, at too high a speed not to have washed several road fines. That was so much typical of you who hurt Spencer's heart pieces more than he thought possible. More than he thought he could feel at the time. You were always so wild at the wheel. But Reid didn't have time to finish a thought, not even Rossi, Hotch, Morgan who was with them or even Stephen. Because car brutally stopped it, the door opened and…

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds after years. As if summer had finally come after decades of overwhelming winter. In a burst, everything you've ever represented for Spencer has come back for him once again. And he felt the same thing that he felt when he first saw you, 8 years ago. And he was catatonic.

You got out of the car in a very hurried and desperate way. And as much as there were tears in your eyes and redness in cheeks, Spencer has never seen anyone so beautiful. Your hair was longer, in a brighter shade, maybe you had dyed it. Your features were more lyrical and beautiful, and Reid thought that the passage of time had no effect on you. While he considered himself just less clumsy over the years, you proved to be blooming like Romania's most superb rose.

“DAD!” But that was when your desperate voice brought Reid's consciousness back to earth.

You weren't calling your brother, you weren't asking why, you weren't in mourning. You were in denial. Disbelieving. You called out to your father, with the certainty that he would show up. And the despair in your eyes hurt Reid more than being shot.

But before the agents could do anything, you were running towards the house and Stephen ran towards you, taking you in his arms, trying to keep you from getting inside.

“LET ME GO, STEPHEN!” You struggled, trying to get rid of your brother's arms, your hair messing with the wind, tears streaming down your eyes. “They are wrong! It's not our father! Let me fucking go! DAD!”

“Y/n” Stephen had a broken heart in his eyes, some tears streaming down his eyes “You need to calm down before you get in there !”

“LET ME GO!” Yours sobs broke the hearts of the four agents over there “DAD!” You was cryng out, almost like a prayer, in a desperate call.

"He's gone, Y/n.” Your brother kept his arms stronger in you, trying to contain you while you struggle in trying to break free and go inside the house, under the illusion that you would find your father there.

“NO!” Now your crying was continuous “I spoke to him yesterday! It's not him, Stephen!” Then your brother turned you to him, holding you tight, and you melted into a visseral pain “It can't be him!”

“I know...” he sobbed, looking at you with the same shared pain “I know...”

So you gave yourself up to a painful, loud and desperate crying, the kind that won't let you breathe. And, unlike Reid, you fallen down. Your knees found the stone and grass floor, your hands clasped on Stephen's shirt, who knelt on the floor with you, delivered the pain you both shared.

You knew what your father's risks were in working in such a dangerous profession. Expose yourself to constant and frightening danger. You always knew about the risks, you just tried to ignore them all your life, sinking your fears about your father not coming home at night. Then, when he let the BAU, that fear dissipated. You felt a colossal weight being lifted off your shoulders, like tons of lead, and you let go of a fear so great that you didn't even know you had it.

For 8 years you thought that the chances of him not coming home were over, that the chances of seeing him the next day had increased dramatically. For 8 years you two traveled together, stopping at every type of diner for milkshake, chocolate ice cream and mint - his favorites - For 8 years you had your best friend, the only thing you knew you had in the world. You always knew that if you were drowning in the ocean, it would be your father who would give his lungs for you to breathe.

You didn't see a life without Gideon.

For you, you were crying for hours in what one day was your father's backyard, totally devastated, but for the rest of the world it was a matter of minutes.

Your sobs were so loud and real that Hotch and Rossi caught themselves with watery eyes, perfectly understanding the pain you were going through, the devastation. The two had lost many people, many of them being essential pieces to be able to continue breathing. Many of them felt wounds that would never heal.

But it was Rossi who approached you, the pain at the top of his throat, his mind wandering the day Gideon said he was going to have a little girl. Unlike Stephen, Rossi never saw you in person, but the sparkle in Jason's eyes whenever he talked about you, or with you on the phone, was enough to know that you were one of the essential pieces to keep breathing.

“Hi, my name is Rossi.” He knelt in front of you and your face went towards him, your cheeks and nose as red as your eyes.

“M-my dad talked about you."” You were still sobbing, slowly letting go of Stephen's shirt.

"Good things, I hope.” The two of you laughed like a sigh, and soon the pain returned to your eyes in a visseral way. “I know this is not fair, and I know it is asking too much, but I need you to go inside and try to find something out of place. Something that whoever did this to your father may have taken or left. ”

You closed your eyes in pain, tears streaming as you sobbed. Your hands, trembling and cold, went to your face, perhaps trying to hide from reality, perhaps wiping away tears. Maybe both. When you looked back at Rossi again, you saw the pain in his eyes too.

"I don't know if I can do it.” You admitted, your voice shaking.

"I know.” Rossi took his hand to yours, squeezing comfortingly “But only you can help us now, help other daughters not lose their father to the same killer. Being inside in the house can bring information that is in your subconscious. I promise you will make it, we will all be here with you.”

His handshake got stronger, and it reminded you of your father. That should have been the same way he comforted the victims' relatives, the way he was supposed to act with people.

'Everyone is somebody's son.' That's what Gideon said. It hit you like an atomic bomb. And, for a moment, you thought it was possible to die of sadness.

You squeezed Rossi's hand tightly, as if you were looking for courage. When you opened eyes again, you gave a weak nod. Carefully, as if any sudden movement is capable of causing you more pain, you stood up, your legs wobbly, your heart bleeding, sadness clouding your vision. Rossi put his hand behind your back, in a way to make sure him were there, as an anchorage in reality that would not let you get lost in the valley of sadness and pain.

As you walked up to the house, you didn't see the other agents, you didn't see the trees, the cars. At that time, you didn't even know what color the sky was anymore. It was like a suspended moment, when the world is in slow motion, the hemisphere is terrified. The sadness was palpable in the breeze, in the way that the rays of the sun did not reach the ground. The whole land looked like mourning.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, the smell of home and Gideon hit your nose, and you felt your face tighten in an expression of pure pain. You didn't notice the agents coming in behind you, you didn't notice Penelope and JJ. You just saw the furniture, the decor, his stuff. As if Gideon had just left for the market and was going to come back.

Everything was in was there. Minus the most important thing: him.

You did not notice when Rossi left you, you did not notice who approached. Everything was in a haze of pain.

But that's when you saw the strong blood marks on the floor, stuck to the wood with possession. A cold shiver as sighed from death ricocheted through your entire body, bristling all over your skin. In a burst, like the bursting of a violin string, the mist dissipated, the state of tupor burst, and reality hit you with overwhelming force.

And then the plug fell.

Jason Gideon had died.

You fell again, barely noticing the sobs and loud crying starting to come out again, the most desperate and painful in you life. But this time the arms that took you were different, bringing with you sensations that you haven't felt in a long time. That a long time ago you forgot that you could feel.

They were long, thin, and contained a vigor hidden beneath the thin facade. The smell of his presence was… heaven. That feeling was your anchorage on the high seas, in the valley of despair, and you clung to him for fear of drowning, of not finding your way back home.

You didn't have to see it to know who it was.

You turned to the arms that took you, now Spencer kneels with you on the floor, and you cried in a way that you never cried before, with a visseral pain. Your hands went to the brown cardigan he wore, closing there as if the fabric was your only chance for salvation.

So you looked at the immensity of the his brown irises.

"He was the only thing I had, Spen.” You sobbed loudly with the crying, gently swaying his coat, your voice utterly torn.

Spencer felt his eyes sting, his throat lock and the remains of what was his heart ache in a hideous way.

“I know.” He felt a tear run down his left cheek, his hands on your arms.

At this time, the two of you supported each other. Gideon meant a lot to you two. An irreplaceable role in yours life. And Spencer knew that was what you were talking about when you said:

"He was the only thing we both had.” You closed your eyes, your hands still firmly on his coat, your heart pounding.

But this time Spencer's voice was just as broken when he said: “I know.”

Then he hugged you.He hugged you for everything. He hugged you because it was a pain that only you two could understand. He hugged you because you needed it, and because he needed too.

Jason Gideon had a special connection with you two, a connection that only the two of you had ever experienced. Each relationship with Gideon was different, special in different ways, but only the two of you had him as a protector, mentor, a much more paternal and confidant figure. He was the kind of person you could leave your life in his hands, the kind who would teach you the secret of the worlds, show you what goodness was and at the same time strength. And you two had that.

You stained Reid's coat with tears, and Reid stained you with the strong smell he had. He stepped far enough away to be able to see your face perfectly, at a considerable distance, and, against everything he had ever done before with anyone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes fixed on your in pain shared.

“We will catch how did it.” Reid assured you, as if he had tattooed this words on your skin. You closed your eyes in pain, but he brought you back “Hey, keep looking at me."

So you did it. Because you would always follow Spencer. To hell if he asked.

"Don't take your eyes off mine, okay?” His voice was so sweet, so gentle, and you couldn't have done anything but agree. “When was the last time you spoke to Gideon?”

“Yesterday.” You replied “We were going to travel to the beach today, I took a vacation from work.”

“Was he at home when you two talked?”

The team looked at each other, with several questions in those look.

You denied it, the hiccup now because of the shortness of breath you had because of the crying.

“He stopped at Roanoke for...” and that's when you seemed to remember something.

Your eyes widened softly, your lips trembled, and you let out a stammering sigh as you try to remember something very important.

“What do you remember?” Spencer stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to calm the beating of your heart that went back to being frantic and making you focus on the question, not the sea of ​​emotions you felt.

“He…” was when your eyes fluttered before meeting Reid's again. “He said he saw a woman on the news who was found dead. And ... and that he had to make sure of one thing ”

Rossi looked at Hotch, who gave an attentive and objective expression.

“Did he tell you why?” His eyes closed again and you sobbed. Reid moved closer, bringing your face back in his direction again “Look at me, Y/n.”

As soon as you did, he gave you a gentle smile, but contained all the pain in the world. He understood what you were felling.

“Why was he interested in the case?” He changed the question.

“I-it was something about...” you searched in your mind “Girl named Tara. I don’t know. He mentioned about a blue butterfly tattoo on her ankle as well, and that it was something to do with a… a case or something.”

“1978” Rossi interrupted and everyone looked at him “Gideon and I worked on a case in 1978, the suspect was never caught and Tara was a teenager who we thought had been kidnapped by him. The killer left dead birds in the hands of the victims ”

“But he didn't mention birds and...” That's when your eyes, fluttering, darted around the room and you stopped abruptly.

Spencer turned his attention to you again, seeing that you were staring somewhere. His hands slowly left your face and he asked:

“What?”

“The board.” You pointed to your father's board, which had a beautiful brown bird.

“Does say anything to you?” Rossi turned his attention to you.

You shook your head, your body too exhausted to go to the painting and examine it.

“He shot the board.” You looked at the agents “My father loved that painting, he never would have done that. Even though my father is stunned, he has the best aim I have ever seen.”

“The devil is in the details." Rossi went to the pinting and, after two seconds, turned to the team and said “I already know who did this.”

You let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the agents split up to continue the case, speaking so fast that you couldn't keep up.

“I helped?” You looked at Spencer, tears still shining in your eyes.

He smiled and nodded “Very.”

But when he got up, you took his hand, making Reid turn his attention back to you again, a questioning look on his face.

“You're going to get it, aren't you?” The sob invaded your voice "Promise me that you will catch him, Spen."

Reid took his hand in your, giving you a strong, comforting squeeze before saying:

"I will. I promise.”

And then he left, along with the other agents.

- - -

You thought you knew what pain was, the loss, the tightness in the heart. You thought that your many relationship breakdowns showed you what it was like to suffer. But you have never been so wrong. None of that compared to how you were now, to what you felt.

You would trade that feeling for anything in the world.

This was terrible. A cold, coercive, brutal and cruel feeling. As if you were at the bottom of a black ocean, unable to breathe, falling deeper and deeper, consumed by the overwhelming cold of the water.

It was impossible to say in words how you felt. But if it were you had to define it in one word you would say: pain. A pain that bends you, a pain that makes you want to scream, that pierces your lungs so that it is not possible to breathe, but that even so, you fight for air.

It was pain at its rawest, most brutal, sharp and atrocious like a dagger blade. You would go through Dante's hells for eternity instead of living one day with that pain.

Since Spencer and the agents went after the person in charge, you have sat on the steps of the front door, watching the nature, the shaking of the trees, but your attention was so far, far away. Perhaps unattainable.

Gideon always loved watching the seasons go by, and in that moment, you wondered if looking at the same thing he looked at every day would make you feel close to him. Feel with him. It had only been three days since you last saw him, when he picked you up at the airport, but you felt like you were past three lives. How would you go without it? How were you able to think of living without it?

You pulled your knees up against your chest, hugging your legs, the metallic, atrocious and icy taste of devastation stuck to yours in your mouth. The trees shook hard, forcing the birds to fly away, but you didn't feel cold. You were not feeling the cold breeze hit your body, nor were your muscles contracting in exhaustion from the hard wood of the steps you were sitting on.

The hunger, the cold, the heat or the craving could not reach you, as if the pain had paralyzed all your system. Probably your soul.

You didn't see when Stephen put father's blanket over your shoulders, nor did you hear his sobs for seeing you so devastated. But you smelled Gideon, and the warmth of the blanket was like having his arms around you again. Then the rest of the water in your body found its way to your eyes and crying was as automatic as breathing.

You were clinging to Spencer taking the son of a bitch who did it, trying to chase away any other thoughts that weren't about that. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he was caught. Which meant his capture for you. It would bring justice to Gideon, honoring his name, his life, but it wouldn't bring him back. What was taken from you would not be repaired, regardless of the end of that damned man.

When he was caught, you would have nothing else to focus on instead.

You don't know how long you stayed there. Hours? Days? The those peach and gold tones in the sky is from dusk or the dawn of a new day?

You had lost track of time, as if your watch had stopped since the time Gideon died.

The sound of cars on the road was the only thing that pulled you out of your fucking valley, and as soon as the black SUVs stopped, you stood up as if you had been waiting your whole life for that moment. The blanket fell from your shoulders, heart accelerated at an alarming rate, and for a second, everything was gone from your mind.

Rossi was the first to get out of the car, but yours eyes darted to Reid. You wanted to run, ask what had happened, listen to the answers. But you were paralyzed in place. Afraid of the truth, of reality.

What would become of you after that news?

Spencer came towards you without hesitation, and you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second. He didn't say anything, nor did he explain anything. It was not needed. The way he reached out his hand and placed your father's rings in your palm were enough answers.

Your whole body shook and you looked at Reid with more emotions than askers.

"He is dead." He told you, and it made you fall down again.

But this time you fell into his hugging, clinging to him in despair. There were many meanings in that embrace: gratitude, relief, fear, pain and grief. And Spencer hugged you back in the same way.

You two stayed that way for a while, even when the agents went to talk to Stephen, even when Garcia and JJ left the house, even when the cold wind hit you both.

“Thanks." You heard yourself say it, and Spencer shook his head, signaling that it wasn't necessary, and the two of you moved away.

So you went to Rossi, and hugged him too. In that second, Rossi could feel Gideon in that hug, and it took a second to not cry.

“Your father was a great man." He told you when the two of you walked away, and you agreed on a sad smile.

"He was." You looked down at the rings in your hand, staying a second there before turning to the agents and saying: “You guys are going to the funeral, aren't you? I ... my dad would like it w-very much.”

"Of course." Rossi guaranteed it.

As they walked away and went back to the car, heading for their own houses, your eyes met Spencer's and he whispered in the air to you:

“I will see you at the funeral."

You nodded, giving you a sad, grateful smile. And while everyone was leaving and you were looking at the rings in your hand again, you had a feeling that your story with Spencer had just started over.

A/n: I also lost a very important person to death, and for everyone who went through it too, I mean that no one is alone! My message box is open if you need anything! Love you❤️

Tagged @gublersuvula

@peculiarinsomniac

@measure-in-pain

@nobutalsoyes

🍒 @misshale21

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice I

Choose your own adventure ~ “Die With Memories, not Dreams“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You decide to let Techno sleep with you. He spoons you, keeping you warm, and you dream about him… You wake up in the morning to him preparing your room. When you get downstairs, you notice him hiding a hard-on, and you both decide to deal with it the rough way.

Warnings: Cussing, praise kink, rough sex NSFW!! MINORS DNI

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

~Recap~

I could feel my blood rush to my face as they asked if I’d sleep with them. I turned to the fireplace and lit the fire, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Only if you’re ok with it,” I said.

They paused and my heartbeat harder, unsure what they were going to say. I started preparing the fire, putting the hesitation out of my mind.

~Recap Complete~

— The Bird —

Techno is so cute when he’s trying to hide his shame. As if he should be ashamed of offering to sleep with me. It didn’t need to mean anything, but it obviously did to him. Never one to pass up and opportunity to make fun of him, I took the bait.

“Please, that fire is not going to be enough,” I cuddled up into the cloak, looking bashfully at him, “I need some body heat, pig boy.”

“Is it really that cold in here?” His voice was slightly shaky.

“Yeah, and I promise I won’t try to fuck you,” I said, “Unless you want to, of course,”

He stopped, not looking up. I could tell his face was burning because his ears were bright red, a sure sign of embarrassment. I hit the right nerve, and I watched eagerly to see what he did next.

“Let’s take a raincheck,” he said, “but if that’s what dates do then I’m down.”

I turned his words over in your head, half dumb-struck, half… well…

“I’m joking, Bird,” He says, his blush is gone, replaced by a victorious smile, “And I think you were, too,”

“What makes you think that?” I said innocently.

“Shut up and get dressed,” He squinted at me and shook his head, “I’ll be back up in a few.”

With that, he left. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand, my hands getting clammy. His cape around me felt heavy as if he were there holding me. I shook the thought out of my head, ignoring the sudden arousal stirring inside of me.

Bracing for the cold, I shucked his cape off and then the rest of my clothes. Part of me silently hoped he’d walk in on me undressing, see me there and… no. I slipped on a pair of comfy pants and a soft shirt. Even if Techno wanted to, he would never say it, and it’s too hard to read him to risk bringing it up.

I draped his cape across the back of a chair and scurried under a pile of woven blankets and furs on the bed. It was still cold, but I ignored my goosebumps and shut my eyes.

— Techno —

By the time I had gotten upstairs, it looked like they were already asleep. I thought about leaving them there, deep in slumber, and going downstairs to sleep on the couch, but when I touched their neck, my hand froze. They were incredibly cold and still shivering. Thank god the banquet isn’t supposed to take place here, I think they’d freeze to death.

I wriggled under the blanket, heart pounding. They were cold to the touch all over, but I held them close to me anyway. Slowly, I tucked my leg in between theirs to warm their legs. I wrapped my arms around them and held them close to my chest, quickly realizing they were still awake.

“Mmm, Techno,” They mumbled.

“What?”

“You’re so warm,” they quietly laughed, “like a radiator.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“So you’re cute and hot, huh?” They teased. I blushed again, this time not hiding it. There was no chance I’d be able to hide that and my arousal at the same time, and one was obviously more important.

I did not want them freaking out if they realized I was hard, so I shoved those feelings deep down somewhere in an attempt to forget about it.

Soon, my eyelids grew heavy, and Bird was asleep in my arms.

— The Bird’s dream —

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way that I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” A voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

I’m below him, he’s thrusting into me in a white space, the voice was gone and there was no sound except for the quiet moans escaping his lips.

— The Bird —

I gasped, suddenly wide awake. Techno wakes, breathing into me. I’m back in his bed, the man behind me was stirring, opening his eyes. His arms were wrapped around me, pressing my back against his chest, his leg was between mine.

“Bird,” He whispers.

I shifted so I faced him, burying my face into his chest, which I realized was bare. He pulled me closer, softly squeezing me.

“Sorry, go back to sleep,” I said. He was already sleeping

— Techno —

The sun was in my eyes, making my vision red before I even opened my eyes. I was holding them in my arms, they silently snored, unaware I was awake. The curtains had been left open and sunlight spilt into the room in an orange glow. The fire had gone out sometime last night and the stale air was cold in my nose.

I kissed them on the forehead, reluctantly letting them go and standing up. I carefully shut the curtains and lit the fire. When I looked back at the bed, they were watching me, smiling.

“Good morning,” I said.

“G’morn’n” they muttered, still half asleep.

This was a strange feeling. Everything was right in the world, the gods were finally smiling down at me. Fuck, they’re so cute.

I picked myself up, moving to open the furthest curtains slightly to allow them to get up if they wanted. In what would be a small gesture for most people, I put their clothes for today out on the chair, where they’d left my cape.

I lifted it up, pulling it close to my face to free the end from the top of the chair. It smelled like them, even though they’d only been wearing it for a few minutes.

I trot down the stairs, leaving them to awaken alone. I hung my cape on its stand and went to the kitchen. I grabbed some bread and tore a chunk out of it, absentmindedly chewing.

We know what you want, Techno. They know, too. They want it, you want it, so what’s stopping you? Huh? Oh, and you can feel that?! It’s lust, Techno. I know you know who it’s for. I cursed at the voices to shut it, I’d had enough teasing for today. I didn’t need to be enticed further, just being around them was enough.

The floor creaked above me, meaning they’d gotten up for the day. I tried to take deep breaths to slow my heartbeat, but I couldn’t stop the hard-on I was getting. What are you gonna do now, big boy? They’re gonna see you biting back an erection in the kitchen. You’re going to scare them away. You’re going to put them on their knees-

Their face peeked around the stair entrance, searching for me. I composed myself as best I could. They nodded at me and rushed down the stairs, still dressed in the clothes from last night.

Their hair was a bird’s nest, fitting. Their shirt was half-tucked into their pants, which hugged their form and cut just before the ankles. Their bare feet were playfully pattering towards me.

“Like what you see?” They asked.

I cleared my throat and swallowed the bread, “I left clothes for you on the chair if you want to change.”

“You’re not changed,” they poked my chest, eying my abs, “You’re being a hypocrite.”

“Am not,” I was. “You’re going to freeze in that, I’m fine as I am.”

“That’s why you’re here, remember?”

The blush was too fast to hide. Thankfully, they’d already looked away and at the bread in my hand.

“Can I have it?” They asked as they plucked it from my hands, not waiting for a response.

“Um, you already do…” The voices were picking up again, shoving themselves into the front of my mind. You want them to devour you like that, don’t you? You want to feed them something more… substantial.

“Shut-“ I said.

They paused, “What?” Their mouth was stuffed with bread and my mind raced. I could fit in there, and it would be so nice, tight, wet…

“It’s nothing. I need to get dressed if you’re not going to,” My dick pulsed, begging for release. I knew I liked them, but this was new. Last night, I couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to fuck them. They’re so small compared to me. I’d fit in so nicely.

“No, stay.” They demanded.

I was already heading for the stairs, and I didn’t face them, knowing the tent in my pants was a dead giveaway. “Why? What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll suck your dick.” They said. It was a bit too honest and my face burned, my mind pleading for me to flip them over and destroy their innocence.

“Bet,” I said, or rather, the voices said through me. Regret rushed through me as their footsteps approached.

“As if I didn’t notice, Technoblade,” They said, now in front of me. My shame was palpable. “I felt it last night, and I saw it this morning. You are so adorable.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at them blankly.

“I’m being serious,” They said, crossing their arms, “I need to destress and honestly, I haven’t been fucked in a long time, so just let me know. The offer’s open.”

They began to walk away, taking my blank stare as disinterest. I grabbed their arm, holding them in place. I looked them in the eye, glimmering in the morning light, the last bits of dusk were barely visible in their pupils. Their lips parted partially as their eyes met mine. Do it, I know you want to.

“I do,” I said, out loud. My thoughts were getting a little too audible.

“You do… what?”

I grabbed their face and kissed them harshly.

— The Bird —

When I first saw Techno cleaning upstairs, I was enthralled in his form. He looked lean with his shirts on, like an emaciated cow. With it off, I could see the curves of his muscles, how they flexed when he picked something up.

He was also covered in scars. They were lighter than his normal skin tone, and they were raised slightly. Some of them looked older than others, and I couldn’t help but imagine him telling the stories behind each and every one.

As I woke up more and my eyes adjusted to the light, I also noticed his bulge, which I was desperate to unsee. The dream from last night was fuzzy, but my pants were still damp from it. I remember him over me, letting me have it and-

“Good morning,” He said.

I barely mumbled a reply, silently running scenarios through my mind. He could slip back into bed and destroy me. I would be screaming his name in minutes. The tent in his pants was nothing less than an invitation.

-

“You do… what?”

He grabbed my face and pushed his lips onto mine. I moaned slightly into it, knowing it would put a sizable dent in the walls he’d put up around his heart.

He pulled back, “I can… can you?” He couldn’t even form full sentences. It’s almost like he was in heat.

I pushed him lightly against the wall and got on my knees. Fuck, am I really doing this? He’s my best friend, does he even care about me? Am I doing this just to have it ruin the banquet? Our relationship is going to go off the fucking rails if I do this.

I was already putting my hand on his dick. I could feel the precum soak through the fabric. I rubbed its head, putting my other hand in his pants to get a real grip on it.

“Is this ok?” I had to ask. There’s no dignity in assuming.

“Yes,” he growled, pushing my hand down into his pants, “Just… oh gods-“

I put my hand around his dick, my fingers couldn’t even touch, that’s how thick it was. It was not going to fit all the way in my mouth. It’d be like trying to eat a fence post, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.

I put my thumb on the tip, rubbing the precum on the head, then licking my fingers, tasting his lust for me. Sizing it up, I licked the tip, then kissed it, trying to test my limits. Each time I touched a new area, he would quiver slightly. Had he ever even fucked anyone before? That was a nice thought… I’d take his virginity.

I tucked my teeth behind my lips and took the head of his dick into my mouth. I sucked slightly, relishing at the moment.

“Please…” He begged for me to take it deeper. I obliged, pushing my mouth further down the shaft, feeling the veins and curves with my tongue, sending him spiralling. For a man who’s killed entire countries, he was incredibly sensitive.

I started to bob my head on his dick. His hand flew to my head, grabbing my hair by the roots. He followed my lead and stayed still, breathing heavily as I got further down the shaft, close to the base.

Instead of waiting, he took it upon himself to thrust into my mouth and down my throat. I gagged hard, my eyes tearing up from the pressure. He slowed but did not fail to push himself deep into my throat over and over again.

He pulled out, panting. “Techno…” I moaned. I was starting to sit in a pool of slick, my body preparing for his entrance. I could feel my insides tense up and release over and over, gripping around nothing, desperate for his dick.

“Fuck me, Techno…” I muttered.

He picked me up from the waist, his dick still hard and pulsing. He carried me to the couch and flipped me onto my stomach, facing away from him. My legs hung off the end of the couch, spread to allow for easy access. I could hear my own heartbeat. I’d never had anyone inside of me, and he was a scary first-time.

“Go easy, Tech,” I said.

“I can’t make any promises,” He said, adding, “But if it’s too much, tell me to stop.”

He grabbed me by the hips, positioning himself behind me. The head of his dick was pressed to my hole, his hands digging into my sides, preparing for penetration.

I was soaking wet by now, practically dripping onto the carpet. Thank gods I was because he pushed in without warning.

“F-FUCK,” I screamed, the moans no longer being held back.

“Shh, Phil will hear you,” He whispered in my ear.

He pulled out and thrust in again. This time pleasure outweighed the pain. My insides were making room for his enormous penis. My walls gripped around him, trying to milk the cum out of him.

Now he started a rhythm, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was loud enough that Phil could definitely hear it. Techno was not going easy on me.

He pounded into me, rearranging my insides. Every thrust was met with an accompanying moan escaping from my mouth, loud and unrelenting. I held onto the couch for dear life and prayed to the gods I’d make it out of this able to walk.

My core tightened, signalling what was to come. He leaned over, his chest on my back like we were in bed, and he whispered praise into my ear.

“You’re so tight, ugh”, “You’re doing so well,”, “I’m gonna cum into you”, “I’m gonna make you quiver and scream in ecstasy, baby”, “be a good bird and cum for me, huh?”

He was so close, and I was close behind. His thrusts lost rhythm as he lost his sense of words. They became spastic, spaced randomly, going down to the base every time. His moans and grunts were getting louder and my moans had turned into whines.

I felt my eyes water as the pressure in my gut built. He thrust in hard a few more times, sending me over the edge.

“Techno, ah, fuck… AAAAH!” I screamed. My legs shook as my body tensed up, squeezing his dick inside of me, he pulled out and pushed back in again as I shuttered under him.

“I’m - ‘m gonna,” he stuttered. He shoved himself all the way in, pushing everything inside of me out of the way. I felt the liquid fill me up, his cum hitting my walls and making me shake uncontrollably. He held my hand as I continued to moan and whine, overstimulated from his load.

“Holy… shit,” He huffed.

“T-Techno,” He was still inside of me, shooting another rope of cum into me.

“Fu-uck.”

My orgasm ended with a final squeeze, leaving me to quiver below him as he came. Eventually, he pulled out. I felt empty but more full than I was before he went in. His cum was still sloshing around inside of me. I rolled over to look at him, our cum dripping out of me. He looked at me, no, through me. It was the face he made when he was thinking about the future, when he was testing his possibilities.

“Techno, I-“ I whined, still sensitive.

“This stays between us alone, alright?” He breathed.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said.

He laughed, now finally looking at me properly. I smiled and laughed back, just basking in the ridiculousness of what just happened. Part of me wished he picked me up and put me back on him. Another part of me wished I’d somehow end up carrying his children. The rational part of me was worried he’d shove this memory so far down that he’d forget about it completely. I wouldn’t let that happen.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin. The couch was a mess like someone had tipped it over and roughly put everything back in place. Oddly, nothing else was awry, and Techno was in the kitchen, making eggs like nothing ever happened.

The bird smiled at me, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was dishevelled, to say the least.

“What was all that screaming about? Did a creeper almost explode in here or something?”

Techno’s ears pinked, the bird responded, “No, Techno just scared me. I woke up and I just saw this silhouette standing over the bed. Apparently, he was not a demon, and I startled him more than I think he did me.”

“Jesus, you have to stop standing creepily in people’s peripheral, Techno.” I laughed.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know they were awake. They were completely hidden under the pile of blankets.” Techno responded, not looking back at me. I detected a hint of deceit but brushed it off.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flowy things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION BRRRRRRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

[echos-newlegs]

if you’re still doing requests, would you maybe do #9 with Crosshair & a reader that uses he/him pronouns (but is maybe not cis idk?)?? Like maybe the batch rescued the reader from some sort of bad situation, & Cross is the only one awake to comfort him when the reader wakes up from a nightmare or has a flashback??? If this is too specific just lmk I just have a lot of Feelings about Crosshair ahdjajdjsksm

-boba-filth (<— side blog I check more for fic stuff)

Bad Dreams

Heck yes 😎 sorry if it is out of character and cruddy. Running into a bit of a writers block, but I’m tryna force it over— maybe.

@boba-filth

Crosshair x reader: “I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever. You’ll never have to suffer alone again.”

Warnings: brief mentions of family death, touch starved, slightly out of character. Passing out/fainting from being malnourished. Reader is a Slave and TBB save them.

You were born into slavery. It was what made up your life. You never once imagined that you could be free. Live your own life. Make your own decisions. The idea of freedom made you laugh, honestly. It was just such a far stretch and unimaginable. You figured you'd die in the spice mines like the rest of your family did.

You were on lunch break. Eating quickly to avoid getting harassed or beaten by one of the soldiers watching you and the other workers on break. You guys rarely got time to yourselves. When you did, it was barely even a half hour long. So food was often shoved into your system like it was your last meal.

You looked up when you heard the sirens go off. Breath catching in your throat. They only went off for intruders or when there was a group of miners attempting escape. The noise was enough to have you and the others standing and starting your own commotion.

Fights broke out, blasters were fired. You didn't want to be caught in the middle of the fire, so you ran. Your eyes wide and darting around. You had to hide. Sure, life sucked, but you didn't want to die. Not today at least.

"Hey, you there!" A guard shouted, pointing to you. Making you run faster in a panic. You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes when a hand grasped your arm. Pulling you to the side. "Where d'ya think you're goin', wise one?" Another guard asked. Your body trembling as you stared up to him. "I was, I was just, I was getting out of the mess. They were firing-" you rambled. The guard snarling and shoving you. "Can it, fool."

You were sure you'd be shot. Closing your eyes when the one holding your arm raised a blaster to your forehead. "We don't do well with run aways, do we?" "Nope," the other guard answered. "What do ya say we play a-" Bang! Bang!

You inhaled sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut more than they were. Jumping as your fists clenched at the sound of the blaster. The smell of burning flesh and blaster residue filling your nose. "Hey, you alright?" A voice came from in front of you. Eyes parting to see someone in armor, with goggles? You were alarmed, to say the least. They had to be an intruder. But why did they save you..? A nobody?

"You saved me.." you babbled. Blinking in shock as you stared at the other. "Well, you looked like you needed the help, are you alright, though?" You nodded, rubbing your arm where the guard squeezed. You were sure there would be a bruise there. Your skin was so sensitive anymore. "Good," he started walking off, and you felt your body tremble again. "Wait! I know the exits. I can help you, if you get me out of here." You bargained. The man turning back to face you. Sighing, then kicking a blaster from one of the motionless bodies to you. "Alright, but stay close."

You did as told, and kept your piece of the deal. Following who you soon learnt to be named Tech, around the mines. The two of you meeting up with four other men. Who each had bags full of viles of spices. "Who's this?" The one asked, motioning to you with his helmet. "Our escape plan, they claim to know some exits." "The guards don't even know about them. We use them to get out of the mines for our breaks." You added, and the bigger of the men shoved you a bit. Though it wasn't in a forcing way. "Then let's get going!"

The six of you took through the tunnels. Feet grinding against the gravel as you ran. You felt so weak, tired. You wanted to rest, but this was your chance at freedom. Even if you didn't know these men. Life as their servant or whatever they planned on doing with you, would be a hell of a lot better than this life you portrayed.

You pressed your back against the wall when you heard foot steps that weren't your guys. Motioning for them to do the same, and they did. Men running by the tunnel hall heading the other direction. "How much further?" Tech asked, and you pointed to a latter. "There, that latter. It leads up to the surface." You spoke, and they nodded. Motioning for you to head there first, so they could keep watch.

The ground began to shake, parts of the tunnel behind you collapsing. "Hurry!" You shouted. The pain in your chest making your throat clench. Climbing up the latter as quickly as you could. The boys following after you. Making it out just as the tunnels caved in.

You practically threw yourself on the ground as you made it to the top. Everyone doing the same. Each of you panting, adrenaline racing. "So who are you guys?" You asked in between breaths. Standing to your feet a bit shakily. "We're Clone Force 99," one spoke. "We call ourselves the Bad Batch, I'm Hunter, this is Tech, Crosshair, Echo, and Wrecker." You nodded a bit. "Thank you," you murmured. Them all giving you a questioning look under their visors, and you were sure of it by the way Echo and Tech tilted their heads. "For helping free me."

Tech nodded. Approaching you, helping steady you as you swayed. "You can some with us, least we can do for you helping us." You looked to the others, and they all nodded. "Got any family?" You frowned. "No." Everyone was silent at that. "Well, it's settled then, Tech, Echo, help them to the ship. Cross, keep a look out for any guards or clankers. Wrecker, help me carry the cargo." Hunter spoke, causing you to weakly smile. Passing out at some point to the ship.

When you went limp in their arms everyone panicked. Echo and Techs grip tightening on you to help lift your deadweight. "Are they alright?" Wrecker asked, and Echo sighed as the two raced you into the Marauder. "I'd say they're just wore, they look extremely malnourished, I know from experience it's hard to not pass out in that state." Echo informed. Lying you on a bunk, and Tech nodded. "They aren't a clone, either, so I'm shocked they kept standing as long as they did."

You were fine, really, but Tech and the others took turns watching over you while you rested. Water and rations next to the bunk you rested on. It was Crosshairs turn for the night to keep watch. Make sure if you woke up before they got back to Naboo to return the cage that he could explain where you were. Keep you from panicking, or so they hoped.

You were beginning to sweat. Eyebrows creasing, hands balling into fists at your sides while you dreamt. It was hardly a dream, more a reply of your past. Your family. Watching them die before you. Held at gun point. Bags over there heads, blaster shot to their foreheads. Out of your parents and four younger siblings, you were the only one kept alive.. 'This is what happens to slaves who don't listen! '

You jerked up with a startled sob. Hands clenching the sheets. Feet scrambling while you looked around. Chest rising and falling in a quickened pace as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room.

Crosshair looked up from polishing his gun at the commotion. Setting the rifle and cloth aside. "You okay?" He asked, he wasn't too confident on what to ask. Other than that. Watchibg as your head turned to look at him. "Who are you?" You asked with worry. He was about to question you, until he remembered you hadn't seen them without their helmets. "It's crosshair, you saved my brothers and I from the mines." He explained. You calmed slightly at that. Licking your lips, then looking down. "Oh okay," was all you spoke.

You both sat there in silence for a bit. Your hands relaxing. Now resting in your lap as you leant against the wall. Attempting to steady your breathing. "There's some food and water for ya." He motioned to the small table beside you, and your eyes darted to it. You were starving, you didn't get to eat today before the alarms sounded. Raching over to take the rations and water. Dowing them both like you'd never eaten in you life. Which sometimes it felt that way.

Crosshair watched with a small smirk. "Hungry, little one?" You felt a bit self-concious at his words. Only nodding slightly as you took a final sip of the water. Then placing the tray back down next to the bed.

"You have bad dreams often?" He questioned, and you looked down to your hands. Fiddling your thumbs as you nodded shyly. "Sometimes, yeah.." he sighed at that. "I can lay down with you," he joined, causing you to glance over to him. Watching as he stood and approached where you were resting. Taking this time to notice he wasn't in his armor anymore. Only his blacks, which gave you a better image of his body. As the fabric hugged his skin.

Your heart was racing. Squeezing your hands together to keep them from trembling. You hadn't had physical contact in so long, even the offer of it intimidated, but also excited you. "You don't have to," you told him, and he shrugged. "It'll help us both."

You scooted over as he began to climb into the bed. Pulling the covers over the both of you. The two of you sinking down to lay on your backs with small sighs. "You this nice to every new comer you come across?" You asked. Turning onto your side to face him. Cross turning his head to look at you with a small shrug. "Maybe I am," he gruffed. Making you smile a bit. "I doubt it."

Crosshair didn't respond to that. The room falling quiet again. "You get bad dreams too, then?" You blurted, and he exhaled. "Yeah," you nodded a bit. "Do you ever.. Dream about memories? Bad ones?" You asked. Playing with the fabric of the pillow, and he nodded again. "I keep dreaming about my families death." You admitted, and he looked over to you. His expression unreadable, but his eyes screamed worry. "Does it ever stop?" You asked. Voice cracking.

He thought for a moment, then licked his lips. "Somedays." You felt a little better hearing that, you guessed. "Sometimes they're worse." You frowned at that.

He looked over, catching your look of disappointment and displeasure. Turning to his side to reach out for you. It was weird for him, touching someone he barely knew, but you seemed like you needed it, and something about you struck his interest. He saw part of himself in you.

"Hey, I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever. You’ll never have to suffer alone again.” He reassure. Rubbing small circles into the small of your back. Causing you to stop breathing for a second. Processing what was happening. "But you tell aby of my brothers about this, I'm leaving you in the streets of Naboo." You smiled faintly at that. Unsure if he was serious or not, but you could hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice. You hummed, curling up closer to him. "I won't."

[hivequest]

Taking a Risk » Mallek Adalov/Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, stressed out reader, chillboy Mallek. TYping quirk only used when texting cause I could not be bothered lmao Originally posted on AO3

A/N: One of my favorite things that I’ve written, ever. I love Mallek and he’s for sure one of my favorite Friendsim characters. When I wrote this I was really feeling those Quarantine Woes

You didn't know what you were doing here. You felt out of place in the worst possible ways. It was a weird, squidgy feeling like stepping on wet grass. But not like the fun kind where you were running around in a sprinkler on a hot-as-balls summer day. No, this was the bad kind of wet grass that you stepped on without knowing it was wet. Why weren't you wearing shoes?

This analogy is stupid. The point is, you're feeling bummed out.

And what better way to not have to deal with that than hang out with someone you knew wouldn't push you into talking about all the ways crashing on this planet sucked! The point is, you're on your way to see Mallek. Mallek is absolutely the kind of friend who can tell when you just need to sit down and veg out. You had been so caught up in everyone else's bullshit that you weren't looking after your own damn self. So now you were doing that.

All it took was a quick text, asking Mallek if he had any company. He texted back only a moment later with a no, obviously not. You asked him if he wanted any. Not really. You ask him if you can come over anyway. Obviously.

You smiled at the palmhusk in your, well, palm. You could already feel the chill vibes of your hacker friend. Friend? Was that the right word for it? You didn't know anymore. When you first met there were definitely some sparks there. You could still feel them now and it made weird butterflies flutter around in your stomach. When you slapped his phone out of his hand and he sent you ass over applecart into the slimy depths of sewer water and he saved you, tits out and all.

You shook off the weird wistful feeling of maybe possibly crossing the friendship barrier and told him you'd walk to his hive. You'd been moping in some bookhive, not your usual hang-out spot with Tagora or Tyzias. This was some upper caste bookhive with purple bloods and some indigos and definitely not where you were welcome if the looks you were getting were any indication. They ranged from snooty to downright murderous. Yeesh.

Your phone -palmhusk, stupid troll names- beeped again. You got another text from him and those cheery fucking butterflies were back. God, you had it bad.

yeah were not doing that lmao;

im not going to let my robobuddy walk out in the sun

do you even know what time of day it =

just stay put ive already got your location ill pick you up;

And like a good little friendsimp. You park your ass on a chair and wait. You hadn't released your moping had taken up most of the night. But with the quick look around, yeah, no, this place was nearly empty by now. Just some older bluebloods trying to cram before their Ordeals and get shipped off-planet. Again: Yeesh.

You kept your ears open for the telltale sound of Mallek's limo. It was a sound you were getting used to these days. He always seemed ready to drop whatever coding shit he was working on to come to see you. You tried not to think too hard on what that might mean. No need to get your hopes up now. It's probably just your bad mood making you imagine some context where there's nothing. Yeah.

Damn, that shit hurted.

Just as you were about to add that to the reasons you were considering just screaming your lungs out who cares whose listening? you heard the wonderfully familiar sound of an approaching elongated scuttlebuggy. If that wasn't enough of a clue as to who the ride was for the quiet of the bookhive was very abruptly disturbed by a series of rhythmic beeps.

Holy shit was that the Tetris theme?

You shoved your palmhusk into your hoodie pocket and yanked the hood over your head. Even if the sun was only out a little bit you didn't want it anywhere near your freshly healed skin. You had no kind cowgirl to nurse you back to health right now if you got your asscheeks baked by the flaming death orb. You peeked your head out and even with the blinding light of Alternia's suns you could Mallek had opened the door and was waiting for you.

Aw. No, shit. You're in a bad mood don't get all heart eyes at him. Don't make it weird.

You took a few steps back into the bookhive, ready to make a run for it. You turn to a sitting indigoblood, who is just staring at you disdainfully for keeping the door open. You give her a two-fingered salute. Godspeed young cosmonaut. She gives you a one-fingered salute. Close the door you insufferable bulgebiter. Fair.

Taking a running start, you book it out into the heat of the Alternian sun and dive for the open car door. It's then that you realize he's halfway parked on the sidewalk to lessen the amount of time you'd have to spend in the sun. Aw. That also means that you came barreling like a cannonball at something that was like two feet out of the door. FUck.

Your face meets carpet and you can already feel the rugburn starting to set in. You hear a startled wheezy laugh from above you, a sound you know better than anyone else on this planet. You smile. It's not like you had any dignity to begin with.

You say hello to him as you peel yourself off of the floor of his car.

"Hey, there robobuddy. You stuck the landing this time," He smiles down at you as he reaches over you to shut the door, closing the space out from natural light and leaving you both lit by his colorful LEDs. You shrug and tell him you've been getting a lot of practice landing on your face these days. The look he gives you is still smiling but there's some level of disbelief at the dumbassery that is your whole existence.

"I know you can get yourself into it. Nothing too bad this time, though, right? No drones or broken bones?" He sounds concerned which is nice but he doesn't drown you with his concern. He leans back on the bench of his limo, keeping an eye on you as the vehicle begins to move on its own. You've been staying out of big messes but the little messes are starting to mess with you. He makes a sound of understanding the sounds as it comes from deep in his chest. Whoa. "Believe me, I've been there. Glad you're not cracking under it though."

He smiles and you can see his little fang and you can feel your heart melt a little. And also you're getting a bit teary-eyed and now Mallek looks alarmed. Shit. You try to quickly explain that you're fine, just, alien allergies am I right? He must be using some new air freshener to mask the musty smell of his limo. Since doesn't use it enough. Ha ha?

He isn't buying it.

With a rare show of cerulean prowess, he lifts you up off of the shitty car rug and sets you on the seat beside him. He feels uncomfortable and you can tell. Ah, goddammit you made it weird. You didn't mean to. Fuck. Fuck now you're feeling even worse. You thought you were starting to balance out. You're with Mallek now, shouldn't everything start to quiet down like it always does? Fuck. He doesn't say anything at first, just leans back against the seat and stretches his arms across it, letting you lean on him if you choose to.

...You choose to.

Your head finds itself somewhere between his shoulder and his collarbone, and you just. Shove your face there. Then scream.

To his credit, Mallek doesn't even flinch. He doesn't wince or shy away from you as you let out every bit of anger, sadness, and frustration out against his sweater. He just sits quietly, staring straight at the blacked-out windshield. You get the feeling he's needed to do this more than once.

Screw this planet. Screw everything about it that makes all of your friends suffer. Why can't you just get them away from all this bullshit?! Why do you have to deal with everyone's bullshit! You love them, you do but holy fuck they're looking to you like you can undo all the damage this place has done to them when you've got literally no god damn idea what's happening at any point ever!

And then, just like that, it fades into the background. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts and you think you might be crying. But it feels lighter. Better now that you've gotten some of that aggression out. You aren't like the trolls on Alternia. You can't kill people when you experience an Emotion™. But that doesn't mean you don't get pent up with rage.

Mallek realizes that now. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and his left hand slowly moves down from the back of the seat the rest against your back. His thumb brushes against your back, the claw drawing little patterns against the fabric of your sweater. His sweater. He tries not to think his sign your chest. This isn't the time.

"Feeling any better?" He asks and you don't know how to answer. You kinda don't want to. But you nod anyways, and you feel some tension leave his body. You knew he was worried about you. You apologize for making him witness your meltdown but he just makes another deep-chested hum. "Nothing to apologize for. I got the feeling you weren't feeling great. I could tell from the texts, you didn't use nearly enough ugly emojis."

You scoff and smack a hand against his chest and once again you hear that wonderful laugh from him. Hey! Your purrbeast emojis are adorable, thank you very much! And you'll not hear another word of it or else you'll send him pictures of rocks and rocks exclusively. No more memes.

"Jokes on you I'm into that shit." You laugh and thump your head against his collarbone. You thank him for being with you when were needed it. And picking you up to make sure you didn't deal with it alone. You don't want to make it weird but...yeah.

He doesn't respond this time, just letting you both enjoy the silence and the comforting sound of the engine. You should almost be at Mallek's apartment by now. It's as you're settling in for the last bit of the drive that you notice that the limo isn't moving. And hasn't been for a while. Your head pops up in confusion and the little GPS display on the back of one of the seats says... yep.

You're already at Mallek's.

But then why is the engine still on? That can't be good for the environment. Do these things even run on gas or is it bugs? Bug gas? Gross.

You notice then that the rumbling is coming from behind you. Like. From where Mallek is sitting. He doesn't look away when you turn to him, just kind of tilting his head to the side with a little bit of a cerulean hue to his cheeks. Oh. Oh, the sound is coming from him. He's purring. That's.

That's adorable.

You feel yourself soften even more when he lifts his arms, silently offering a hug if you want it. Is this platonic? Is this more? You've never had too much trouble identifying what people wanted from you. (Debatable.) If was overtly flushed you could shut it down or divert it to something very much friends only. (Like your every exchange with Zebruh.) But did you even want to do that to your hackerman? You could feel yourself screaming, no, absolutely not. But at the same time, you didn't want things to change. You didn't want to make his issues any worse than they already were. He didn't have too much longer on the planet and you knew it would tear him apart.

But then he turned those blue eyes to you. He looked just as unsure as you were but he was willing to take the risk. He shoved himself so far out of his comfort zone for you and was asking you to be selfish. To want something for yourself and do something for yourself. Not put him or anyone else's wants first. Just your own. And so you did.

You crawled up into his lap, pressed yourself as close to him as you could and clung to him. His arms didn't hesitate to wrap around you and you could feel a shuddering breath from above you.

"We don't have to put a label on this... not yet. Or ever. Either way is chill with me. I just... yeah." He gave up with a little shrug of his shoulders but you knew what he meant. Unless you could find a way to fight fate he was going to go off-world. He was going to leave you and you doubted you'd be able to go with him. You'd probably get gored by a drone for even trying.

But even if it was just for now, just for a moment, you were going to take it. You were going to let yourself have something, have someone who would care for you no matter how long or short your time was. You'd take it. You had stomached some of the most horrible things on this planet but Mallek had always been a constant. And you got the feeling he thought the same way about you.

So, you'd take it. Whatever comes next, you'd take it. You listened to the sound of his purring, in no hurry to move to get inside the apartment. Mallek felt the same.

You exhaled.

You would be okay.

[therenlover]

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...) 

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask. 

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16) 

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?” 

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation. 

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,” 

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?” 

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket. 

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?” 

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly. 

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded. 

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him. 

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?” 

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,” 

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

 A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,” 

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?” 

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,” 

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,” 

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence. 

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips. 

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian… 

Y/N. 

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…” 

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

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,” 

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,” 

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,” 

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him. 

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already. 

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?” 

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily. 

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it. 

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!” 

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it. 

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,” 

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause. 

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,” 

The jab didn’t land, though. 

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense. 

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name. 

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?” 

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,” 

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,” 

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature. 

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers 

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it. 

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much. 

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach. 

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,” 

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,” 

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed. 

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,” 

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia. 

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch. 

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?” 

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be. 

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games. 

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

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up. 

They did quite the opposite. 

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw. 

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,” 

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right. 

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them. 

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all. 

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike. 

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning. 

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th. 

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?” 

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for. 

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up. 

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves. 

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though. 

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed. 

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey. 

“A drink, dear leader?” 

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?” 

“Too many,” 

“For once, I agree with you,” 

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it. 

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,” 

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan. 

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?” 

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?” 

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?” 

“You know that’s not what this is about,” 

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked. 

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing? 

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with. 

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,” 

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?” 

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?” 

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?” 

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all. 

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that. 

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too. 

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan. 

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible. 

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,” 

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible. 

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,” 

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,” 

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips. 

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,” 

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?” 

“Why would that be wonderful?” 

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own. 

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first. 

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one. 

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

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine. 

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him. 

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained. 

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself. 

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?  

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group. 

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached. 

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch. 

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too. 

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this? 

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end. 

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,” 

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,” 

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?” 

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over. 

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back. 

“I’ll try not to,” 

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,” 

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours. 

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed. 

“What?” 

“You weren’t invited,” 

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?” 

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,” 

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?” 

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,” 

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,” 

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”  

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been. 

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,” 

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it. 

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky. 

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,” 

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,” 

“Do you think I don’t know that?” 

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,” 

“Yeah, he would have…”  

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick. 

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again. 

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?” 

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?” 

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,” 

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-” 

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,” 

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,” 

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,” 

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip. 

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,” 

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,” 

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it. 

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea. 

It fell on deaf ears. 

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave. 

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live. 

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before. 

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again. 

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

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better. 

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued. 

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck. 

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded. 

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth. 

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died. 

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life. 

What remained now? 

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it. 

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”  

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N. 

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen. 

It was only right that they go together. 

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,” 

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun. 

“Quiet,” 

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them? 

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles. 

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,” 

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time. 

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet. 

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

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end. 

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it. 

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that. 

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be. 

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him. 

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there. 

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side. 

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it. 

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.  

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment. 

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly. 

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back. 

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning. 

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,” 

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead? 

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,” 

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,” 

Married. 

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?” 

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,” 

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,” 

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips. 

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

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

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it. 

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all. 

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,” 

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them. 

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket. 

“We buried them in Ciczheni,” 

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand. 

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,” 

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word. 

Ciczheni. 

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks. 

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two. 

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home. 

Making a family. 

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been. 

For Y/N, though... 

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling. 

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives. 

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare. 

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace. 

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer. 

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them. 

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know. 

They both would. 

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying. 

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